My strawberries

Severa's POV

Four days had passed since the site visit, and things were finally settling back into a routine. The team was back in the city, and Celine and I were buried in preparations for the upcoming groundbreaking ceremony.

Meetings, supplier confirmations, and last-minute adjustments filled my schedule. My inbox was overflowing, my phone buzzed nonstop, and Celine, ever the perfectionist, kept pulling me into more discussions than I could count.

It was exhausting, but I didn't mind.

Because at least, with my schedule packed to the brim, I didn't have time to think about Eugene.

I hadn't seen him since that night at the beachfront. Not at the hotel. Not during the final meetings before we returned to the city. Not even during the daily check-ins with the suppliers.

And I hated how aware I was of that fact.

Not seeing him should have been a relief.

Instead, it left an unfamiliar void—like a presence I had reluctantly gotten used to was suddenly gone again.

Not that it mattered.

With the groundbreaking ceremony fast approaching, I had more important things to focus on.

Celine and I spent most of the morning reviewing the guest list, finalizing the event's flow, and ensuring everything was in place. After hours of discussions, she finally waved me off, insisting that I take the rest of the day to rest.

"You've been running around nonstop, Sev," she said, eyeing me with concern. "Take the afternoon off. Do something for yourself."

I started to argue, but she shot me a look that left no room for debate.

So I left the office.

And, as usual, I found myself running errands instead of actually relaxing.

---

I arrived at the grocery store in the late afternoon, pushing my cart lazily through the aisles.

I wasn't really in the mood to cook, but my pantry was practically empty, and I was tired of ordering takeout. I grabbed a few essentials—fresh vegetables, some frozen meals, and snacks—before heading toward the beverages section.

I had just placed a box of tea in my cart when I turned a corner—

And nearly crashed into someone.

"Whoa—sorry," I muttered automatically, stepping back.

Then I looked up.

And my stomach dropped.

Of course.

Eugene.

Because of course, he had to be here too.

He was dressed casually in a plain black shirt and jeans, looking effortlessly put together. There was something unsettling about seeing him like this—like he belonged in my world again, instead of the one I had been trying to keep him out of.

His brows lifted slightly, clearly just as surprised to see me.

"Severa," he acknowledged, his voice neutral.

I exhaled sharply, forcing myself to act normal. "Eugene."

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched between us, awkward and heavy.

Then, his eyes flickered to my cart. "You drink tea now?"

I glanced down, realizing he was right. Back then, when we first met, I had never been a tea drinker. But things change. People change.

I shrugged. "I like it now."

Eugene hummed, pushing his own cart slightly forward. My eyes flickered to its contents—fresh ingredients, cooking essentials, a bottle of wine.

"You cook now?" I asked before I could stop myself.

Eugene chuckled. "I have to. Can't survive on takeout forever."

I nodded, unsure what else to say.

We weren't supposed to have these conversations.

We weren't supposed to fall into these easy, familiar exchanges like time hadn't separated us.

I cleared my throat. "Well, I should—"

"You never texted back."

I froze.

Slowly, I met his gaze again. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something unreadable, yet heavy.

I swallowed. "What?"

"That night," he said quietly. "When I messaged you after the site visit."

I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening around the shopping cart.

I had seen his message.

I just hadn't replied.

And I didn't plan to.

"There was nothing to say," I said finally.

Eugene studied me for a long moment before nodding, as if he had expected that answer.

"Okay," he said simply.

And just like that, he turned away.

No argument. No insistence.

Just okay.

Somehow, that made my chest tighten even more.

I watched as he walked toward another aisle, disappearing from view.

And only then did I allow myself to exhale.

I should be relieved.

I should be glad he didn't push.

But instead, all I felt was a weight I couldn't quite shake.

---

I finished my shopping in a daze, barely remembering what else I put in my cart. By the time I reached the checkout counter, I was still lost in my thoughts.

"Miss?"

I blinked, realizing the cashier was waiting for my payment. Quickly, I pulled out my card, avoiding eye contact as I tapped it against the machine.

I needed to shake this off.

I needed to forget about it.

About him.

Again.

After bagging my groceries, I made my way to the parking lot. The air was slightly cooler now, a soft breeze drifting through the evening sky. It was a relief from the thick tension sitting in my chest.

But just as I was loading my bags into the trunk of my car, I heard footsteps approaching.

I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"You forgot this."

I looked over my shoulder, and there he was again.

Eugene held up a small carton of strawberries.

My strawberries.

I frowned, taking them from his hand. "You followed me just to return this?"

He tilted his head slightly. "You always liked strawberries."

I stared at him, caught off guard by the casual familiarity of his words.

I did.

I still do.

But how did he remember?

And why did it feel like that small detail was a reminder of something much bigger?

I swallowed hard, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Thanks."

Eugene nodded but didn't move.

For a moment, it felt like he wanted to say something.

But instead, he took a step back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"See you at the groundbreaking."

Then, he walked away, leaving me standing there—strawberries in hand, heart pounding in my chest.

And just like that, I knew.

No matter how much I tried to avoid him.

No matter how many years had passed.

Eugene Dominguez was never going to be just someone from my past.