CHAPTER 7

I noticed there were no other people in the restaurant—no chattering voices, no clinking glasses, just the faint sound of soft classical music playing in the background. So far, I'd only seen the waiter who had greeted us at the entrance. This wasn't the kind of place you'd expect to be empty, especially at this hour.

"Where are the other customers?" I asked, turning to Syrus with curiosity.

He smiled, his gaze steady and calm. "I wanted some privacy," he said, his voice smooth and confident. "I booked the entire restaurant just for us."

For a moment, I was stunned. My heart skipped a beat, not out of nervousness this time, but out of genuine surprise. He'd gone to such lengths just for this dinner? A sense of relief washed over me. It was as if he'd read my mind.

I let out a soft breath, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease. The thought of dining with strangers' prying eyes on us had made me uneasy from the moment I saw the grandeur of this place. But knowing it would just be us tonight made me feel more at ease.

"I… I don't even know what to say," I admitted, offering a small, genuine smile.

"You don't have to say anything," he replied, his eyes warm as they met mine. "I just wanted to make this evening special for you."

Special. The word echoed in my mind, making my heart flutter slightly. How could I, of all people, deserve such attention from a man like Syrus? I pushed the thought aside, determined to enjoy the evening without overthinking it.

He gestured toward a table near the center of the room, elegantly set with candles and fresh flowers. "Shall we?"

I nodded, allowing him to guide me to my seat. This wasn't what I expected when I agreed to dinner, but so far, it was more than I could have imagined.

The meal was absolutely amazing, and every bite felt like a burst of flavor crafted by a true culinary artist. But as wonderful as the food was, it was Syrus' company that truly made the evening memorable.

I hadn't expected him to be so funny or effortlessly charming. He had this way of sprinkling humor into our conversation that felt natural and warm, not forced or pretentious. His laughter was contagious, and before I knew it, I was laughing too—really laughing, the kind that made your cheeks ache in the best way possible.

He had an aura that made the mood so calm and comfortable, and as we talked, I found myself letting go of all my earlier anxieties. The nerves that had gripped me when the car pulled up to the restaurant were gone, replaced by an unexpected ease.

For the first time in a long while, I felt truly free, like I didn't have to hide who I was or worry about being judged. I could just be myself. With him, it didn't feel like we were two people from completely different worlds. Instead, it felt as though we'd been old friends reunited after years apart—comfortable, familiar, and completely at ease.

I wasn't sure how he managed it, but Syrus had a way of making me feel like I belonged, like I wasn't just another person in his orbit. And for someone like me, who had spent so much of her life trying to stay under the radar, that was a feeling I hadn't realized I'd been missing until now.

By the time we were done with dinner, it was really late. The time had flown by so effortlessly that I hadn't even noticed the hours slipping away. It was as though the world outside had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of us in our own little bubble.

Now, as we stood in front of my door, I could feel the weight of the moment. I wasn't ready for the night to end, and, judging by the way Syrus lingered, neither was he.

"I've really enjoyed the time we spent together," he said, his voice soft and sincere. "I wish the evening didn't have to end. We should do this again. Your company is... so soothing, and I'd really like to spend more time with you."

His words made my heart skip a beat. It was rare for someone like him—so poised and seemingly untouchable—to express himself with such vulnerability.

"I also enjoyed our time together," I said, my voice mirroring his quiet tone. "Yeah, we should definitely do this again."

He smiled, that dazzling smile of his that had the power to make anyone feel special. Then, leaning in, he kissed me softly on the cheek.

"Goodnight, Carmen," he said, his voice barely above a whisper before turning to leave.

I watched him walk away, my heart fluttering as the sound of his footsteps faded into the night. Once his car disappeared from sight, I opened the door and stepped inside.

Closing the door behind me, I leaned my back against it, my fingers brushing the spot on my cheek where his lips had been. A smile crept across my face as I let the events of the evening replay in my mind like a perfect dream.

It felt surreal—the laughter, the easy conversation, the way he made me feel like I was the only person in the world that mattered. I couldn't believe that someone like Syrus, someone who could have anyone or anything, had chosen to spend his evening with me.

As I stood there in the quiet of my apartment, the only sound was the steady beat of my own heart, and I couldn't help but wonder... what happens next?

It had been days since I last spoke to Max—since our date, to be exact. And in those days, the silence between us had grown deafening.

We hadn't spoken about that night, not even a passing comment. Whenever we crossed paths, it was always in the presence of colleagues, never alone. Those lingering glances he used to give me, the ones that made my heart race, had disappeared completely.

It was as if the date had never happened.

Sometimes I found myself questioning whether it was real at all. Had I imagined the whole thing? The only proof that it had actually happened were the now-withered flowers he had given me. Every time I looked at them, a dull ache crept into my chest, mirroring their slow decay.

I couldn't help but feel like he was pulling away, becoming more distant with each passing day. Had I misread everything? Did I imagine the connection, the spark we had that night? Or had I done something wrong—something to make him change his mind?

The questions swirled endlessly in my mind, gnawing at me with no answers in sight. Yet, despite the confusion and growing doubt, I couldn't summon the courage to ask him directly.

Why does he act like nothing happened?

I had expected something different after that night—more conversations, more stolen moments outside of work, something that would help the spark grow into something real. But now I wasn't even sure if the spark had existed at all, or if it had only been on my end.

The uncertainty was eating me alive, but I didn't know what to do. Should I confront him? Should I let it go? Or should I accept that maybe... maybe it had just been one perfect night, nothing more?

Or maybe… maybe he knew my secret.

That thought struck me harder than I wanted to admit. What if Max had somehow found out the truth about me? My background, my father, the lies I've had to live with. It was the only explanation that made sense. Why else would he suddenly lose interest, acting like that night between us never happened?

I couldn't see any other reason.

That night, I was certain he was captivated by me. I saw it in his eyes—the way they lingered on me, softened when I spoke. The way he had almost kissed me. It wasn't just in my head; there was something real between us. But if he had learned about my secret, then everything would have changed.

If he knows and doesn't want anything to do with me, I'd respect his decision. I really would. But it didn't make the ache in my chest any less painful.

It wasn't my fault who my father was or the kind of man he had chosen to be, but I've always had to live with the consequences of his choices. That's why I ran away in the first place—to start over, to build a life that was mine, untethered to his legacy of lies and false grandeur. A fresh start, a new identity, a life where I wasn't judged by his shadow.

But it seems no matter where I go, no matter how far I run, his shadow will always find me. Looming, suffocating, and waiting to destroy whatever little happiness I manage to create.

Maybe Max wasn't the man I thought he was. Or maybe… maybe I was never meant to escape my father's shadow after all.