Lola's Affection

The morning light slipped through the dusty blinds of the small hotel room. Callum Jay sat upright on the single bed, unshaven and restless, eyes fixed on the window that overlooked the street below. His fingers twitched on the frame, heart tightening with each passing second.

Bloom's Botanical stood quiet. The lights were off. The sign rocked gently with the morning breeze, but the door never opened.

"Where is she?" he muttered, eyes narrowed, scanning every shadow. "Why isn't she here?"

He had hoped to catch her again. The girl with the face of a ghost. Iris Bloom. No... Liora.

But she never showed up.

A sharp frustration pulled him to his feet. He rubbed his face roughly, then turned to the old mirror above the sink.

"Damn it," he whispered, staring into his own tired eyes. "How did I even drift off last night?"

He had waited. Watching the window across the street like a man possessed. But somehow, at some point, memory had pulled him under into a dreamscape of kisses long gone, laughter buried, and a love that death had stolen. When he woke, the shop was dark.

"She walked out," he said through clenched teeth. "And I missed her."

He grabbed his coat and the worn photograph, Liora's photograph. Taken fifteen years ago, still soft at the edges from being handled too often. The resemblance was too exact. There was no mistaking it. The voice, the smile, even the tilt of her head when she spoke.

"Liora..."But for now, he had to return. Just briefly. Handle matters at home. Grab his car. Then he would be back in Daxta. Back to Bloom's, back to her.

He didn't wait for the hotel staff. He took the back stairs, hoodie up, and caught a public transport van that rattled and coughed its way toward the city. The world around him bustled, but Callum was a shadow. No one could tell that the man beside them, slouched and silent, was the billionaire heir to Callum Jay Enterprises.

Home. Or what passed for home these days. The large estate loomed in silence as he stepped out of the van. He walked past the gates, unnoticed by the guards who only glanced once before dismissing the hooded figure.

Inside, Lola was already waiting.

"Mr. Callum!" she called, heels clicking across marble. She had been checking her watch every two minutes since dawn. "You're finally back. I was getting worried."

He didn't remove his hoodie. Didn't stop walking.

"Call Boston. Tell him to arrange the convoy. We have a business trip."

Lola blinked, surprised. "Right now? Should I get ready too?"

"No. You're not coming."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

Lola's chest rose and fell. Her lips parted slightly, and then closed. She followed him, her voice softer now. "Callum... you've been away for days. You barely call. You don't check in. I keep this place running for you, and I wait. Always wait. And now I can't even come with you?"

Callum turned halfway, his hood shadowing his eyes. "It's not about you. I just need to go alone."

But Lola stepped closer. "It is about me. It's always been. You just never admit it."

"Lola, not now."

"Then when?" Her voice cracked. "Callum, for fifteen years I've watched you grieve her. I've given you space, support, everything. But what about me? Don't I matter to you? Even a little?"

Callum turned away. "You matter, but only as my assistant."

The silence was brutal.

"Don't do that," she whispered. "Please, don't reduce me to a title."

Her eyes filled. She walked around him, standing directly in his path. "I know it was supposed to mean nothing. I know you said that. But how can four times of touching me, holding me, kissing me... how can that mean nothing to you?"

Callum inhaled sharply.

"Lola, I never promised anything."

"But you came to me," she said, barely holding herself together. "You let me in. Into your pain, your bed. And not just any bed... her bed. Liora's bed."

He flinched. "That night," she continued, voice trembling, "you were shaking…I stroked you. I kissed you…you whispered her name as I held you. You bent me... touched me like I mattered. And after, you wept."

Callum closed his eyes, the images crawling back like vines. Her hands, her mouth. The warmth of her body in the coldest corner of his grief.

He had been lonely. Weak, drowning in memories.

"I never wanted it to be love," he said.

Lola wiped her tears but stared at him, her voice steadier. "But it is love. Mine is love. And maybe yours too if you would let her go. Let her rest. Let me in."

Callum stepped back. "You think I haven't tried?"

He turned sharply. "Get Boston. I leave in thirty minutes."

She stood frozen, lips trembling.

"Callum... is it her again? Is it Liora?"

He didn't answer. Lola watched him leave. Her chest rising with silent sobs. Behind her, the walls of the estate felt colder, like the house itself had rejected her.

Callum didn't look back.

The convoy roared to life. Black SUVs rolled through the gates, and Boston, his personal guard, joined him in the backseat.

"Where to, sir?" "Daxta."

Boston raised a brow but said nothing.

As the city faded behind them, Callum pressed his head to the window, fingers gripping the photograph in his coat pocket. Iris Bloom. Bloom's Botanical.

She was the reason now. The only reason.

Boston spoke after a long silence. "You sure about this trip? Doesn't feel like business."

"It's personal." Boston nodded once. "Understood."

The car sliced through the afternoon. Miles vanished beneath their tires.

By the time they reached Daxta, the sky had turned orange with the coming dusk. Callum stepped out quietly, unnoticed again in his disguise. The town moved slowly, oblivious to his presence.

He stood before Bloom's Botanical once more. The small flower shop looked exactly the same. The vines still curled across the windows. The little bell above the door jingled with the wind.

He took a deep breath and stepped forward.

But the door was locked. A small handwritten note hung on the glass: Closed for the week. Personal reasons.

His heart thudded. Eyes scanned the note again. His reflection stared back at him in the glass. 

"Where are you, Iris?" he whispered.

Boston appeared beside him. "Do you want me to find out where she stays?"

Callum hesitated. "Yes. Discreetly. No one should know."

Boston nodded and walked away, phone in hand.

Callum leaned against the door. He closed his eyes. He was worried. He said a prayer, 'God please guide me to her.'