Chapter -7

Ian's Pov

"You know," she said after a moment, "for a guy who can close billion-dollar deals without breaking a sweat, you're completely useless when it comes to love."

I shot her a look. "Thanks, Lily. That's really helpful."

She smirked. "Oh, I know. But since you asked so sincerely this morning—how do I still love Joseph?" She tapped her fingers against her arm, pretending to think. "Well, let's see. Maybe because love isn't just about passion or some grand, once-in-a-lifetime romance."

I frowned, shifting in my seat. "Then what is it about?"

Lily gave me a pointed look. "It's about choosing someone. Over and over again. No matter how exhausting, frustrating, or messy life gets. It's waking up every day and saying, Yeah, this idiot is mine."

I scoffed. "Sounds romantic."

"It is," she shot back. "Because it's real. Love isn't about being perfect together—it's about deciding that even when it's imperfect, even when it's hard, you still want them."

I exhaled, drumming my fingers against the desk. Choosing someone. Over and over again.

"I never asked her to leave," I muttered, almost to myself.

Lily sighed. "No, but did you give her a reason to stay?"

I stiffened, gripping the edge of the desk.

She tilted her head, watching me carefully. "You're not the type to just lose people, Mr. Sinclair. You push them away. Maybe because you think you're protecting yourself. Maybe because you think you're protecting them."

I clenched my jaw. "And what if some people leave anyway?"

Lily studied me for a long moment. Then she gave a small, knowing smile. "Then they were never yours to keep."

Silence stretched between us.

I could see it in her eyes—she had already made peace with whatever ghosts haunted her past. But me? I was still standing in mine.

She let out a breath, pushing herself off the desk. "Anyway, that's my wisdom for the day. Feel free to ignore it like you ignore everything else that makes you feel things."

I let out a dry chuckle. "I'll keep that in mind."

She smirked, then finally turned toward the door. But just before she left, she glanced over her shoulder.

"For what it's worth, sir," she said, her voice softer this time, "if you still care this much after all these years… maybe it's not too late."

And with that, she walked out, leaving me with nothing but my own thoughts—and the weight of something I wasn't sure I was ready to admit.

I watched as Lily left, her words lingering in the silence she left behind. My fingers absentmindedly reached for my phone, unlocking the secret gallery I hadn't dared to open in a long time.

Sixty-seven photos. Each one frozen in time, capturing Evelyn at nineteen—young, radiant, untouchable. And among them, five pictures of us together. My thumb hovered over my favorite one.

A selfie. The last one we ever took.

In the photo, Evelyn was looking directly at the camera, her eyes gleaming with mischief, the corner of her lips slightly curved into an unreadable smile. But I—God, I was looking at her. Just her. As if she was the only thing in my world that mattered.

I thought it was a date. I thought that night was special. But instead… it turned out to be the worst night of my life.

---FLASHBACK---

The park was quiet except for the distant chatter of people passing by, the occasional rustling of leaves in the evening breeze. The golden glow of the streetlights barely touched Evelyn's face, but even in the dimness, she looked beautiful. I was nervous—excited, even—thinking that maybe, finally, this was something real.

"You really love taking photos, don't you?" she said with a soft chuckle, watching as I held up my phone.

"Only when you're in them," I replied, half-joking, half-serious.

She rolled her eyes but leaned in, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her skin. I snapped the picture—the last picture of us together.

"Perfect," I murmured, looking at the screen.

But when I turned to her, her expression had changed. The playful glint in her eyes was gone, replaced by something colder. Something distant. My heart lurched with unease.

"Ian," she started, her voice too soft. Too careful.

And then, she said it.

"I love someone else."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. The world around me blurred, but her face remained painfully clear.

I forced a laugh, shaking my head. "Very funny, Eve."

She didn't laugh. She didn't even smile. She just stared at me, her hands clenched into fists.

"I'm serious," she whispered. "I can't be with you. I never could. I was just… caught up in the moment. But it wasn't real, Ian."

Not real?

My mind reeled, grasping at every memory, every moment we had shared. The stolen glances, the way she let me hold her, the way her lips had brushed against mine more times than I could count.

"We kissed," I said hoarsely, my voice barely above a whisper.

She looked away. "That was a mistake."

"A mistake?" My throat tightened, anger and pain clashing inside me. "Then what the hell was I to you, Evelyn? Just—just something to pass the time?"

She didn't answer immediately, and that silence was worse than any response she could have given.

"You were my friend," she finally said.

Friend.

Just a friend.

My chest ached so fiercely I could hardly breathe.

"Eve, please—"

"Don't," she cut me off, stepping back as if putting distance between us would make this any easier. "Please don't make this harder than it already is."

My hands curled into fists. "You're making this hard, not me. You're the one throwing this away like it meant nothing!"

She flinched.

"I'm with Lucas now," she said firmly, as if that was supposed to explain everything. As if that was supposed to make this okay.

I stared at her, waiting—begging—for her to take it back. To tell me this was some cruel joke, that she didn't mean it, that she was just scared.

But she didn't.

Instead, she turned around.

"Don't interfere with me and Lucas," she said, her back facing me. "And don't contact me again."

And just like that—she walked away.

I stood frozen under the streetlights, watching her disappear into the distance.

I wanted to call out to her, to tell her she was making a mistake. To tell her I loved her.

But the words never left my lips.

And when she was finally gone, I collapsed onto the park bench, burying my face in my hands as the first tear fell.

---END FLASHBACK---

My grip on the phone tightened as I stared at the old photo, my vision blurring with unshed tears.

She was gone.

Not just from my life, but from this world.

I wasn't crying because of the heartbreak anymore. I wasn't crying because of Lucas, or because she chose someone else over me.

I was crying because, after all these years, I still missed her.

And now, I would never get the chance to ask her why.