Chapter 27
1292 Words
Mara's POV
“Please excuse me,” I said softly as I stood, slipping out quickly before anyone could question me. The door closed behind me and my phone vibrated again. My heart jumped. I answered.
“Finally,” David’s voice slid through the speaker, low and irritated. “You took time to answer me.”
My throat tightened. “I…I was in a meeting”
“Oh!" he hummed. “So you weren’t ignoring me on purpose? You know I don’t like that, Mara. I care about you—too much—and you keep forgetting what we once shared.”
He exhaled slowly, the sound brushing over my ear.
“I didn’t mean the text I sent,” he continued. “You got me worried, and I had to say something.”
I froze. His tone felt wrong. Strange. Like something darker hid underneath it.
“I want us to talk,” he added.
“We shouldn’...” I tried, but he cut me off immediately.
“I’ll text you the address.”
Immediately, the line went dead.
I let out a shaky breath and turned to go back inside, but before my fingers reached the handle, the door opened.
Elias and Amira walked out together.
Elias’ hand rested lightly against the small of her back, guiding her through the doorway. She smiled up at him, her posture elegant, her heels clicking softly like she belonged right beside him.
“We’re done with the meeting,” Elias said without once looking at me. Then he shifted toward her. “Let me show you your temporary office for the week.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Amira replied with an easy smile.
They walked away side by side.
A sharp sting pushed into my chest. I hated that it hurt. I didn’t even understand why.
I turned and headed toward my office, David’s strange tone replaying in my head.
By 6 PM, my phone buzzed again. A message from him flashed across the screen.
He sent the address.
My breath stalled.
I knew that address… too well.
The place where that scandal picture had been taken.
Our second anniversary—years ago.
The exact spot.
My hands shook.
Why would he choose that place?
What was he planning now?
I typed, replying to him that I couldn’t come, my fingers trembling. The message sat ready, my thumb hovering above the send button—
Until the memory of his words crashed back into me.
“If you don’t do what I say, I’ll announce publicly that I’m cancelling my wedding because of you.”
My stomach tightened painfully.
He wasn’t bluffing.
I deleted the message, grabbed my bag, and walked out.
As I stepped into the lobby, Elias was there with two board members, speaking calmly. His eyes flicked to me for a split second—cold, unreadable, before turning away again.
That hurt more than David’s threat.
And I still didn’t know what I had done wrong since the anniversary.
I left the building and drove off, hands numb against the steering wheel. My mind spun in circles.
Why was David doing this?
What did he want?
A familiar street slid into view, and my foot eased on the brake.
The big signboard of my father’s restaurant glowed beneath the streetlight—bold, warm, unchanged.
I froze.
The address David sent… it was close to my childhood home.
How had I forgotten?
My eyes burned instantly.
Through the glass window, I saw him.
Dad.
Alive. Healthy. Moving with the same quiet rhythm I’d grown up watching.
Like nothing had ever broken.
Like I hadn’t broken him.
I parked abruptly, breath snagging in my throat. Tears came hard and fast.
God, I missed him.
I missed his cooking.
His presence.
His voice.
His everything.
I wrapped my arms around myself as sobs shook through me. One mistake—that was all it took. And I lost him.
Would he ever forgive me?
After several minutes, I forced myself to breathe, wiped my face with trembling hands, grabbed my sunglasses, and tied a scarf around my head. Then I stepped out and walked inside, choosing the seat beside the glass wall, close enough to see him, far enough to hide.
The bell chimed softly.
He walked toward me with a polite smile, the same one he used to give customers when I was little.
For one aching second, I wished he’d recognize me.
Say my name.
Pull me into his arms like he used to.
But he didn’t even know his daughter sat before him.
“Good evening, ma’am,” he said warmly. “What would you like?”
I coughed lightly, lowering my voice so he wouldn’t catch the familiar tone.
“Um… whatever you recommend is fine.”
He nodded and walked back to the kitchen.
He's hardworking for his age.
He shouldn’t still be doing this.
Not alone.
A few minutes later, he returned and set the dish before me.
“This is our signature dish. I think you’ll like it.”
“Th…thank you,” I whispered.
My heart splintered as I lifted the spoon with shaking fingers.
The moment the flavor touched my tongue, I froze.
The taste.
Home.
Warmth.
Memory.
His cooking hadn’t changed at all.
Tears slipped down my cheeks behind my glasses.
He noticed my slow eating and came back. “Is it too spicy? Should I make something else?”
I shook my head quickly.
He leaned closer, concern softening in his voice.
“Are you alright? You seem… troubled.”
My voice cracked.
“It’s… it’s really delicious. It reminds me of my dad.”
“I’m so sorry…” he said gently. “Is he late?”
“No,” I whispered. “Just… far away.”
His voice softened even more.
“Then eat as much as you want. I can pack more for you. You don’t need to pay.”
I almost broke again.
Had he always been this kind to strangers?
Or was this still the father who once protected me from everything?
When I finished, I placed enough money on the table to cover three meals and hurried out before he returned.
I hid behind a signpost as he stepped outside with my change.
“Ma’am? You forgot your balance! Ma’am?”
He looked around, confused, before heading back inside.
A fragile smile touched my lips.
At least I tasted his food again.
I wiped my eyes—and then remembered.
David.
Shit.
I headed toward the meeting spot on foot. It wasn’t far.
The street was quiet, the evening breeze cool against my skin. My mind drifted back to my father—his voice, his food, his warmth.
I wished things could go back to how they were.
I wished I had never married Philip.
Then footsteps echoed behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts, dragging me back into the present.
I turned, but saw no one.
I kept walking.
Slow at first.
Then I heard it again, the same steady footstep trailing behind me. I spun around sharply, but the street was empty. Not even a shadow.
A chill crawled up my spine.
I quickened my pace.
The footsteps quickened too.
My heartbeat spiked. I clutched my phone tighter, breathing harder.
I walked faster.
The footsteps matched my pace too.
Panic rose like a wave in my throat.
I turned to a corner sharply.
The footsteps followed.
I nearly broke into a run
When suddenly a hand clamped around me from behind—strong, solid—pulling me back with brutal force,
Slamming me into a hard chest.
Their arms wrapped around me, locking me in place with a grip I couldn’t escape.
- Writer
