Our Love Story

Finally The Reunion

Emily’s pulse thundered in her ears. Standing here, facing Sebastian Castillo, was like opening a door she didn’t even know she had locked. His presence unsettled her—not just because he looked so impossibly self-assured in his black tuxedo, but because he reminded her of a version of herself she had long buried, the girl who once played in the grand gardens of the Castillo estate while her mother worked inside.

She swallowed hard. Don’t let him see you falter.

Sebastian’s gaze lingered on her, curious but calm, like someone studying a painting and trying to recall where they had first seen it. “You were always quiet,” he said slowly, as though testing the memory aloud. “I remember now. You followed your mother around everywhere, clutching that notebook of yours.”

Her breath hitched. The detail struck too close. The notebook—how could he remember that? It was her treasure back then, filled with messy sketches and little poems she scribbled when no one was looking.

“I…” Emily faltered, then shook her head quickly. “That was a long time ago. We’re not children anymore.”

“No,” Sebastian agreed, his voice steady. “We’re not.”

For a moment, their eyes locked, and the noise of the gala melted into nothingness. Emily felt exposed, as though he could read her every unspoken thought. She wanted to look away, but some invisible thread kept her rooted in place.

Her mind raced. Why him? Why now? Out of all the faces in this crowded room… why is it his that feels like a storm I can’t escape?

“I should go,” she muttered, trying to break the tension. “It’s late. My friend is waiting for me.”

But just as she turned, his voice followed her. “Wait.”

Something in the way he said it—not commanding, but weighted—made her pause. She glanced back.

“Don’t you think it’s strange?” he asked. “That after all these years, our paths cross again like this?”

Emily shook her head, forcing a laugh that sounded brittle even to her own ears. “You make it sound like fate. It’s not. It’s just… coincidence.”

His lips quirked, as though amused by her denial. “If you say so.”

And just then—

“Emily!”

Morenike’s voice sliced through the haze. She came rushing from the crowd, her red dress a flash of fire under the chandeliers. She slowed when she saw them together, her eyes widening with surprise.

“Oh…” Morenike glanced between Emily and Sebastian, her brows lifting. “What’s going on here? Do you two… know each other?”

Emily opened her mouth quickly, before Sebastian could answer. “Yes—well, sort of. My mom worked at his family’s house when we were kids. But it’s nothing. We’re just… catching up.”

Morenike looked from one to the other, her smile curling with intrigue. “Mhm. Catching up, you say?”

Emily shot her a sharp look, silently begging her not to make it bigger than it was. “Anyway,” she said quickly, tugging at Morenike’s arm, “we should get going. It’s late.”

--

Sebastian stepped forward slightly, his gaze never leaving Emily. “Before you go,” he said, his voice calm but edged with something deeper. “Would you mind giving me your contact? Just… so we don’t lose touch again.”

Emily froze. Every instinct screamed at her to refuse, to retreat, to guard herself. Yet there was another voice inside her—a quieter one—that whispered, What harm could it do?

She opened her mouth, struggling for an answer, but Morenike beat her to it.

“Her number is—” Morenike rattled off Emily’s digits before Emily could stop her, grinning mischievously all the while.

“Morenike!” Emily hissed, horrified.

“What?” Morenike said innocently. “It’s just a number. Not like you’re marrying the guy tonight.”

Sebastian’s expression softened into something that might have been gratitude—or perhaps triumph. He slipped his phone from his pocket and tapped the number in quickly. “Thank you,” he said, his gaze locking with Emily’s again. “I’ll be in touch.”

Emily could feel her face burning. She wanted to argue, to snatch back her number from the air, but it was too late. The exchange had already happened. And part of her—though she hated to admit it—was relieved.

As she turned to leave with Morenike, her heart was a tangled knot of emotions: anger at her friend’s meddling, confusion at Sebastian’s sudden reappearance, fear of what it all meant… and beneath it all, a spark of something she couldn’t name.

Something dangerous. Something electric.

Outside, the night air was cooler, calmer. The sound of the gala faded behind them. Emily pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, but no fabric could steady the storm now raging inside her chest.

And somewhere behind those glittering walls, Sebastian Castillo stood with her number in his phone—smoking out the embers of the night, waiting for the spark to catch flame.