Chapter 5: A Night of Apologies

A week had passed, and Elara hadn't heard a word from Raphael. Though she told herself she needed to move on, her heart stubbornly refused to let go. Still, she carried on with her days, keeping herself busy, trying to convince herself that things would get better.

With school on vacation, she had taken up a part-time job at an upscale brand clothing boutique, hoping that work would help occupy her mind. The quiet hum of the store, the neatly folded designer clothes, and the scent of expensive perfume in the air offered a temporary distraction from the ache in her chest.

Then, one afternoon, as she was helping arrange a new display, the chime of the entrance bell rang, signaling a new customer. She turned toward the door, ready to assist—only for her breath to hitch slightly in surprise.

Nathaniel Vaughn.

The charismatic yet calculating son of Leon Vaughn strolled into the boutique, exuding confidence as if he owned the place. Dressed in a tailored designer suit, he had the air of a man who knew exactly what he wanted—and how to get it. His sharp eyes scanned the store before landing on Elara, a flicker of recognition passing through them.

A slow, knowing smirk curled at his lips.

"Well, well," Nathaniel drawled as he stepped toward her. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Keeping her composure, Elara gave a polite nod. "Welcome, sir. How may I assist you today?"

Nathaniel chuckled, amused by her formal tone. "Oh, I can think of a few things," he said smoothly. "But for now, let's start with finding me something that suits my taste."

Though she didn't particularly like him, Elara was a professional. For the next several minutes, she helped Nathaniel browse through the boutique, offering recommendations, keeping their interaction strictly work-related.

But Nathaniel wasn't just there to shop—he was watching her, reading her, assessing her.

And Elara had the unsettling feeling that he wasn't going to leave it at just a casual encounter.

As time passed, Nathaniel casually picked out a few expensive items, letting Elara assist him as if she were just any other boutique employee. He made subtle comments here and there—nothing outright offensive, but each one laced with amusement, as if he were enjoying her discomfort.

Once he was satisfied with his selections, he strolled toward the counter, handing over the items for purchase. But instead of simply paying and leaving, he turned back to Elara, leaning slightly over the counter with a smug expression.

"You know," he said, his voice smooth yet taunting, "I haven't seen you around much these days. Not as important as you thought you were, huh?"

Elara stiffened slightly at his words, but she remained composed, keeping her professional demeanor intact.

Nathaniel smirked, tilting his head as he continued, "Why don't you stop wasting time on people who don't appreciate you? If you were mine, I'd make sure you never felt ignored." He leaned in just a little more, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "You should consider it, Elara. Be my girlfriend, and I'll treat you better."

Elara's fingers curled slightly against the counter, but she forced herself to maintain her usual polite smile. Looking him straight in the eye, she replied evenly, "I appreciate the offer, Mr. Vaughn, but I'm perfectly fine on my own."

Nathaniel let out a low chuckle, as if amused by her resistance. "Suit yourself," he said, picking up his bags. "But don't say I didn't warn you. One day, you'll realize I'm the better choice."

With that, he turned and walked out, leaving Elara standing there, her heart pounding—not from excitement, but from frustration.

At the end of her shift, Elara sighed as she finally stepped out of the boutique, exhaustion weighing on her shoulders. The encounter with Nathaniel still lingered in her mind, stirring emotions she didn't want to deal with.

As she reached home and set her bag down, her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen—his name flashed across it.

For a moment, her fingers twitched as if tempted to answer, but then the weight of all those unanswered calls, all those days of being pushed aside, came crashing down on her. The bitterness settled in her chest, and with a quiet exhale, she pressed the side button, silencing the call.

Without another thought, she got ready for bed, slipping under the covers and staring at the ceiling. Just as she was about to drift off, a soft tap against her window startled her.

Then another.

And another.

Frowning, she sat up, pushing the blanket aside and walking over. As she peered through the glass, her breath caught.

There he was—standing in the dim glow of the streetlights, hands in his pockets, his gaze lifted toward her window.

Her childhood friend. The boy who had always been there.

The boy who had left her behind.

Elara's fingers curled against the window frame as she watched him.

Elara hesitated for a moment, staring down at him from her window. Her anger told her to stay, to turn away and ignore him the way he had ignored her. But her heart, no matter how much she tried to suppress it, wouldn't let her.

With a frustrated sigh, she grabbed a jacket and slipped out of her room, careful not to wake anyone. As she stepped outside, the cool night air brushed against her skin, and there he was—waiting, just like he always had in the past.

He didn't say anything at first, just held out a helmet toward her. His usual confident smirk wasn't there tonight. Instead, there was something softer in his gaze, something uncertain.

Elara snatched the helmet from his hands, shoving it on as she climbed onto the back of his bike. She was still mad—furious, even—but she couldn't stop herself from going with him.

The engine roared to life, and in the next moment, they sped off into the night. The city lights blurred as the wind rushed past them, and for a while, neither of them spoke.

It wasn't until they stopped at a beautifully lit river bridge that he finally turned to her. The reflection of the lights shimmered on the water below, casting a golden glow around them. It was breathtaking.

Wordlessly, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small box. He hesitated before handing it to her.

Elara narrowed her eyes at him before slowly opening it. Inside, nestled against soft velvet, was a delicate necklace—a simple yet elegant piece that sparkled under the lights.

She swallowed, her fingers brushing against the cool metal.

He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "I know I screwed up." His voice was quieter than usual. "But I didn't forget everything. I just... I've been trying to do what's right."

Elara clenched her jaw, her emotions warring inside her. The necklace was beautiful. The gesture was thoughtful. But was it enough?

Elara's fingers tightened around the necklace as her vision blurred. The weight of everything she had been holding in—the loneliness, the frustration, the hurt—came crashing down all at once.

Her hands trembled as she clutched the small box to her chest, and before she could stop herself, the first tear slipped down her cheek. Then another. And another.

"You idiot!" she choked out, her voice breaking.

Before he could react, she raised her fists and hit him—weakly at first, then harder, pounding against his chest. "Why did you ignore me?! Why did you disappear like I didn't matter?! Do you have any idea how much I waited? How much I—" Her voice cracked, and her knees buckled.

His arms were around her before she could fall.

She pressed her face against his chest, sobbing. "You can't do that again," she whispered, her voice shaking. "If you ever push me away like that again… I'll disappear. I'll never come back. You'll never see me again."

For a moment, he didn't say anything. She felt his arms tighten around her, his grip almost desperate. Then, he let out a low chuckle—a warm, relieved sound.

"You're such a crybaby," he murmured, pressing his chin against the top of her head.

Elara wanted to hit him again, but his embrace was steady, comforting. The familiar scent of him—faint cologne mixed with something uniquely him—wrapped around her like a safety net.

He pulled back just enough to look down at her, brushing his fingers against her damp cheeks. "You're not going anywhere," he said softly, his voice laced with certainty. "I won't let that happen."

His confidence, his arrogance—normally, it irritated her. But tonight, standing under the soft glow of the bridge lights, she wanted to believe him.

He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I promise," he said. "I won't let this happen again."

Elara sniffled, staring at him through wet lashes. "You better keep that promise."

His lips curled into a smirk, the one she had missed so much. "I always do."

Liar.

But for now, she let herself believe him.

After spending some quiet time by the river, enjoying the peaceful night, he finally said, "Let's get you home."

Elara, still emotionally drained, simply nodded. He handed her the helmet, and she climbed onto the back of his bike. As they rode through the cool night air, exhaustion weighed heavily on her. The steady rhythm of the engine, the warmth of his back against her, and the lingering emotions from their conversation lulled her into a drowsy haze.

Her grip around his waist loosened as her eyelids fluttered shut. Just as she began to slump forward, he felt her weight shift dangerously. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist just in time to steady her.

"Seriously?" he muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a small smirk. "You're unbelievable."

He tightened his hold on her hand, making sure she wouldn't fall as he continued the ride.

When they finally reached her house, he turned off the engine and glanced back at her sleeping form. Her head rested against his back, her breathing soft and even.

With a sigh, he carefully climbed off the bike and scooped her into his arms. She stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but didn't wake up.

He carried her through the familiar path to her room, nudging the door open with his foot. Gently, he laid her down on the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

For a moment, he simply stood there, watching her sleep. A faint smile played on his lips before he turned to leave.

Pausing at the doorway, he glanced back one last time. "Goodnight, crybaby," he whispered before slipping out into the night.