Going back to the past

Severa's POV

"Sev, are you okay?"

Diane's voice pulled me out of my thoughts. I blinked a few times, realizing I had been staring blankly at my computer screen for who knows how long.

"I'm fine," I muttered, stretching my fingers before placing them back on the keyboard.

Diane didn't look convinced. She crossed her arms and leaned against my desk. "You've been weird since the other day. Spill it."

I sighed, pretending to focus on the email draft in front of me. "I'm just tired, Di. The project is demanding, and Celine expects me to make sure everything is in place."

"Uh-huh." Diane didn't budge. "Then why does it feel like it's more than just work stress?"

I clenched my jaw. Because it is. Because my past just walked back into my life like a ghost I never wanted to see again.

I hadn't told Diane about Eugene. Not about Esperanza, not about how my summer ten years ago ended with my heart shattered into pieces. I had never told anyone about it, not even my closest friends in college. It was something I buried so deep, hoping it would never resurface.

Yet here we are.

My silence must have given something away because Diane narrowed her eyes. "Sev, you know I can read you like a book, right? I won't force you to tell me, but... if something's bothering you, you can talk to me. I mean, at least give me an idea if I need to kill someone for you."

A small chuckle escaped my lips. Diane always knew how to lighten the mood. "Thanks, but there's no need for murder."

"For now," she teased. "Alright, I'll back off—for now. But if you start acting weirder, I'm dragging the truth out of you."

With that, she walked away, finally allowing me to breathe.

I wish I could tell her. But what would I even say? That the boy who had once made me believe in love turned out to be the same person who broke me beyond repair? That he was now sitting across from me in meetings, looking unaffected, while I struggled to keep myself together?

I exhaled, pushing those thoughts aside. I needed to focus.

--

The next morning, I was reviewing the progress reports in the conference room when I heard the door open. I didn't have to look up to know who it was.

The air shifted.

Even without seeing him, I could feel his presence.

"Good morning," Eugene's voice was calm and composed, just like it had been in our meetings. As if nothing had ever happened.

I gripped my pen a little too tightly. How does he do that? How does he act so normal while I feel like my chest is being ripped apart every time we're in the same room?

"Good morning," I replied, my voice steady.

If he noticed the slight edge in my tone, he didn't show it. Instead, he placed his laptop on the table and started setting up his files.

We were the only ones in the room for now. The others were still finishing their tasks before joining us for the discussion.

Silence stretched between us.

I should ignore him. I should focus on my work. I should pretend like he wasn't there.

But then he spoke.

"You still work late."

I froze for a second before glancing at him. He wasn't looking at me—his eyes were fixed on his screen—but I knew his words were directed at me.

A bitter chuckle escaped me. "And you still think you know me."

That made him pause. He turned his head slightly, finally meeting my gaze. His expression was unreadable, just like it had been the last time we stood face to face all those years ago.

"I don't," he admitted. "Not anymore."

Something in my chest twisted. I hated that he said that. I hated that it was true.

We weren't the same people we were ten years ago.

I wasn't the girl who believed in summer love. And he wasn't the boy who made me laugh under the stars.

Eugene studied me for a moment before speaking again. "About the past—"

"I don't want to talk about it," I cut him off.

I saw his jaw tighten, but he didn't push it. Instead, he nodded once. "Alright."

The door opened, and the rest of our team entered, breaking whatever strange moment we were about to have. I immediately shifted my attention back to work, pretending like our conversation hadn't happened.

But deep down, I knew it wasn't over.

It never was.