Chapter 35 : No Warning

Friday in the city felt different somehow, like the world was holding its breath before the weekend's rush. The late afternoon sun hung low, its golden rays softened by a lingering haze, casting a warm amber glow across the glass and steel of the high-rise buildings. Shadows stretched long on the pavement, mixing with the faint scent of rain from the night before, still fresh and cool in the air.

From her apartment window, Maddy watched the slow dance of traffic below the occasional honk, the murmur of distant footsteps, the soft hum of life in motion. Yet inside her own space, the stillness was thick. The walls, painted a pale dove gray, seemed to close in, their blankness a stark contrast to the vibrant city outside. The small framed photographs she'd hung—scenes from her travels, snapshots of family, candid laughs—felt like silent witnesses to her restless thoughts.

She found herself pacing the length of the room, the worn wooden floor creaking softly beneath her feet. The muted ticking of the clock on the wall echoed in the quiet, each tick a reminder that time was slipping away. Her phone lay on the kitchen counter, screen lighting up occasionally with muted notifications. But it was the absence of one message that gnawed at her, the kind that usually arrived late at night, Elias's name glowing on the screen like a promise.

Her mind replayed fragments she'd held onto too tightly: the way his smile softened in candlelight during family dinners, the calm silence between them in crowded rooms, the way his fingers once brushed against hers as they both reached for the wine at a gathering. Moments so fleeting, so mundane—but she'd memorized them all. She could almost hear the echo of his laughter soft, low, distant like something precious just out of reach.

Yet today, the distance between them felt sharper. Two days remained before Elias was due back at the family estate, the place she'd only glimpsed through his stories and occasional photographs. But he was still absent, swallowed up by business commitments that pulled him away from her world.

The thought twisted in her chest, Why am I still waiting? Why am I here, pacing these quiet rooms, when he's somewhere else, so close yet unreachable?

Her fingers absentmindedly smoothed the fabric of the cardigan draped over her shoulders, a thin barrier against the creeping chill in the air. It was soft, comforting, like a small shield against the uncertainty that had settled around her.

Without telling anyone, there was no need for explanations or goodbyes she grabbed her keys and slipped into her shoes. The elevator doors slid shut with a soft whoosh, enclosing her in the small capsule of light and silence as she ascended to the floor where Elias's penthouse waited.

Her heartbeat quickened, a flutter of nerves and something dangerously close to hope. She didn't know what she hoped to find when the door opened answers, closure, or maybe just a moment, a glimpse of the life they might still share.

For now, all she knew was that she needed to see him. Just once more. Before everything changed.

Thoughts in Transit

The hum of the road had long since faded into a dull background noise, the kind that left room for too much thinking. Maddy sat behind the wheel of her sleek black sedan, one hand resting limply on the gearshift, the other gripping the steering wheel just a little too tight. The city skyline had just begun to rise on the horizon when that familiar feeling returned, tight in her chest, knotted and unsure.

It had been nearly three hours since she left her apartment on the outskirts. A long, uneventful drive, highways lined with sterile signage and sunburnt billboards, punctuated only by rest stops and the occasional gas station. She hadn't planned on visiting him today. Not really. She'd told herself she was just in the area. Just curious. Just checking.

But that lie had thinned an hour ago .Now, the GPS whispered its final directions as she took a sharp right turn past the familiar intersection near the restaurant.

Why is he working from home today? The question looped again in her mind as the city skyline grew closer, rising behind glass and steel like it was daring her to blink. Maddy's hands rested tensely on the steering wheel, her nails tapping lightly, rhythmically, as she drove the final stretch into the heart of the city. Skyscrapers climbed into the afternoon haze ahead, their glass exteriors catching the sun like mirrors. Traffic thickened as she merged off the expressway, the engine humming steadily beneath her, but her mind was louder—restless, crowded with half-thoughts.

He could've shown up. Once. Her lips pressed into a thin line. What kind of man skips out on the restaurant completely when he knows I'm back in the country?

She scoffed under her breath, fingers clenching around the strap of her bag as she crossed the street. He didn't owe her anything, fine. They weren't "together." Not officially. Not publicly. But still. After everything their families had discussed, after all the time she had invested...

It stung.

And more than that, it infuriated her.

The traffic lights flickered to amber ahead, and she slowed, eyes narrowing at the blur of pedestrians crossing with umbrellas and coffee cups. Her gaze flicked toward the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of herself; flawless makeup, pearl earrings, the silk blouse he once complimented (barely, but it counted). Everything in place. Everything polished.

Maybe he's just being cautious. Distant. Maybe he needs to be reminded what's waiting for him.

That was what she told herself.

But underneath that, buried beneath the glossy surface of charm and poise, was a pressure she hated acknowledging: If he cared, why hadn't he asked to see her? Why had he extended his trip without telling anyone especially her?

It had been two weeks. She had waited. She had smiled. She had answered his mother's questions with grace and filled silences at dinner tables like the perfect future daughter-in-law she was expected to be.

And now he was still in the city.

Still away.

Still keeping his distance.

If you're working from home every day, why are you still here?

The words burned at the back of her throat.

So instead, she pressed her foot down and drove past, the scent of rosemary and ambition following her for half a block.

Five minutes later, she pulled into the underground car park beneath Elias's high-rise. The familiar luxury of the place almost soothed her. This building was status, wealth, future. This was where she belonged, and where she'd always imagined she'd someday move into, with him. His penthouse had always felt like a glimpse of the life she was meant for.

The elevator ride was quiet, the mirrored walls showing her reflection from three angles. She adjusted her blouse collar and smoothed her lip gloss, then flexed her fingers against the small designer clutch in her hand.

Just a visit, she told herself. A warm, caring drop-by. No expectations.

But her stomach told a different story, tight, simmering. Her mind ticked through the possibilities. What if he isn't alone?

Her jaw twitched.

The elevator chimed as it reached his floor. The soft carpeting, the muted lighting, the understated opulence of the hallway, it all whispered familiarity. But it wasn't comfort she felt. Not really.

It was something closer to claiming.

Inside the lobby, the air smelled of fresh linen and soft floral diffusers. Soft jazz drifted from the console speakers. The elevator ride felt endless, but the doors finally opened to a quiet landing. She could taste the hushed calm, like the world paused behind the doors of his home.

Each footstep toward the apartment felt loaded. She practiced her knock in her head: polite… firm… not desperate. Something in between.

He should be glad to see me, she told herself. He should have missed me. No one else knows him like I do. Not really. Not the way I could.

She reached the door.

Paused.

And knocked.

Not too hard, not too eager.

Just enough.

A perfect knock—practiced, poised, expecting to be answered.

Meanwhile, Inside the Penthouse

Anya moved with quiet ease in the kitchen, bare feet against the smooth wood floor, the late afternoon sunlight spilling across the marble counters. She stood at the island, slicing through a yellow bell pepper with unhurried precision. The knife made soft, satisfying sounds against the cutting board, sharp, clean, steady. It was therapeutic, in a way.

The salad she was assembling wasn't complicated, just her favorite mix of crisp greens, roasted sweet potatoes from the night before, toasted pine nuts, crumbles of feta, and a zingy citrus-honey dressing she'd whisked together while humming along to a playlist.

The air smelled like rosemary and lemon. Somewhere behind her, the faint hum of the dishwasher created a kind of gentle domestic rhythm.

She glanced toward the living room where Elias had been camped for most of the day. His laptop was open, several files spread across the coffee table. He'd been wearing a light, charcoal button-down, sleeves rolled up, dark stubble along his jaw, glasses perched low on his nose as he scanned line after line of a proposal draft.

Focused. Calm. Present in that steady, grounded way that had started to feel familiar.

Earlier, he had looked up from his screen when he noticed her passing. "Want anything else?" he'd asked, nodding toward the kitchen as he removed his glasses. His voice was low, even—genuine, but casual.

She'd shaken her head with a grin, nudging her chair back with a toe as she scooped up a forkful of roasted carrots. "I could go for a coffee," she'd teased. "Strong. Dark. Like your brooding personality."

He had smirked at that; just slightly, just enough. "I'm not brooding."

"No," she'd said, mock-serious. "Just emotionally elusive and fond of long silences."

That earned a low chuckle as he stood, stretching his arms behind his back before crossing to the espresso machine.

Anya watched him move, a quiet warmth blooming in her chest. Not romance not yet. But something gentle, tentative. The kind of trust that only comes in moments like this. No pressure. No performance. Just two people existing near each other, side by side, in a room filled with sunlight and shared silence.

She took her plate to the sink now and rinsed it, fingers lingering under the warm water. Behind her, the door clicked as Elias stepped out, grabbing his keys and murmuring something about the café down the street being faster than wrestling with the machine.

"Back in ten," he called over his shoulder.

"Get the one with oat milk this time," she called after him with a grin.

He waved her off without turning around, already halfway down the hall.

Now alone, Anya moved back into the open-plan living space and curled up on the edge of the sofa, tucking her knees under her and flipping open a book from the coffee table. The windows stretched wide across the skyline, letting the city's golden haze pour in.

Everything felt still.

Which is why when the knock came short, firm, unmistakable—it startled her.

She blinked up from her book.

For a second, she stayed frozen, listening. The building was secure, the lift key-locked to this floor. No one knocked up here unless,

The Knock

The knock came just as the last of the afternoon light shifted over the skyline, stretching golden streaks across the polished floor.

It was sharp.

Measured.

Unexpected.

Anya blinked up from her book, her body still curled on the sofa, spine melting into a cushion as the quiet city hummed around her.

A pause.

Another knock firmer this time.

Her brows lifted. That's weird.

She looked toward the door, half-expecting Elias to walk back in, fumbling with his keys like he had last week. But then she remembered; he'd just left, barely five minutes ago.

She smirked to herself. "Elias," she said under her breath, standing and brushing invisible crumbs off her leggings. "If you forgot your key again…"

She padded softly across the floor, the distant elevator silent. No footsteps. No tell-tale rustle of his coat.

Still, the idea amused her. Maybe he was trying to mess with her. He'd teased her like that before—quiet games, dry wit hiding behind those serious eyes.

She unlocked the door, already chuckling. "Really?" she muttered.

And pulled it open—

Click.

Everything stopped.

Maddy stood on the threshold.

Perfectly composed, as always. Tailored blouse tucked just so. Hair sleek. Lipstick sharp. Eyes sharper.

For a heartbeat, neither woman moved.

Anya's breath caught, the casual smile sliding from her face in an instant.

Maddy didn't speak. Didn't blink. She simply stood there, chin slightly raised, as though she belonged there, though her presence said otherwise.

Anya's hand stayed on the edge of the door.

Maddy's eyes flicked once past her, into the apartment.

Silence.

Dense, unyielding silence.

And then stillness. A long, breathless pause stretching between two women and one wide-open door.