The forecast said it would rain.
The city prepared for it. Umbrellas bloomed like black flowers on sidewalks. Shops closed their awnings. Children stayed home. Aria stared out her window that morning, waiting for the downpour, her mind tangled with thoughts of Elias's letter. But the rain didn't come.
Instead, there was silence. The kind that presses against your chest and makes you aware of your every breath.
Elias had sent the letter.
And now, Aria was the one frozen — not by fear, but by the unsettling idea that Elias Blackwood meant what he wrote.
It had always been easy to hate the man she left. His arrogance, his ambition, the deal that had never been about love, only business. But it was getting hard to hate the one who had shown up with a letter instead of lawyers. His words had been unexpected, but they were... real. Too real. The kind of real Aria had spent years avoiding.
She shook her head and tried to focus on the present — on the moment — but Elias's voice echoed in her mind. "I'm not asking you to forgive me today. But I'm not going anywhere, Aria. Not this time."
She sighed, pushing herself up from the couch to make breakfast. Eli, oblivious to the weight of his mother's thoughts, was already in his own world, a world full of dragons and superheroes. Aria smiled softly as she watched him toddle into the living room, his cape on backward again, dragging his favorite plush dragon behind him.
"Mommy?" he asked, looking up at her with those big brown eyes that never failed to make her heart soften. "Can I meet the man in the car again?"
Aria blinked, her heart skipping a beat. "The man in the car?"
Eli nodded, his little face serious. "He waved. But you didn't let him in."
Her breath caught. Elias had come again. And she hadn't known.
It took a moment for the words to leave her mouth, as if she were still grappling with the impossibility of it all. "Eli, darling, why don't we go see what we can find for breakfast?" she said, trying to keep her voice steady, but the truth was, her body was already betraying her. She had felt it—the pull of that letter, the hesitation in her chest when she saw the familiar figure of Elias Blackwood standing on the threshold of their past.
Elias sat in his car, his hands gripping the steering wheel. He hadn't planned to come today. He had promised himself that he wouldn't, that he'd give Aria space. But something about the image of Eli—his son—kept haunting him. The way the child had looked at him with those wide, unknowing eyes. It was like he was staring into the face of his own future—one he had never expected to have. The idea of him, of them, had become too powerful to ignore.
And then there was the letter. The one he had written, confessing more than just his desire to know Eli. He had written it with the hope—no, the belief—that Aria might listen, might see the sincerity in his words. But did he really believe that? Or was it just a desperate wish?
His phone buzzed, snapping him out of his reverie. He glanced down at the message, reading the reminder from his assistant: "Mr. Blackwood, the board is asking about the Chicago deal. They need you in the 4PM call."
He ignored it. The board could wait. For once in his life, something else had to come first.
Aria opened the door in the afternoon, a thin sliver of light spilling out into the grayness of the day. The sky, heavy with clouds, threatened rain, but there was only that same unsettling stillness.
Elias sat in his car, his eyes locked with hers. There was no need for words—there never really had been. Not with Aria. Not with the woman he once thought he knew so well, but who had become an enigma the moment she walked out of his life.
She didn't open the door all the way, just a crack, a moment of hesitation before she gave him a single nod. It was small, imperceptible to anyone who didn't know her as he did, but it was enough. A silent invitation.
Elias stepped out of the car slowly. Every movement, every step was calculated, as though the weight of his past mistakes hung over him, holding him back.
When he crossed the threshold, he didn't look around at the cozy living room or the faint scent of jasmine in the air. He didn't comment on the way the apartment had remained much the same as it had been the day she left him, only now with the added element of a child—his child—running through the halls, leaving tiny footprints on a path he had never taken.
Instead, Elias focused on Eli. The boy. His son.
They stood in a quiet standoff, both of them unsure of how to bridge the gap between them. The silence stretched on until Eli broke it, holding up a drawing on the fridge.
"I drew this," he said proudly.
Elias knelt down. "Is that a dragon?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"Nope," Eli said, shaking his head. "It's me. Flying."
Elias smiled, a rare expression that softened the hard lines of his face. "Well, you've got good wings, kid."
Eli tilted his head, looking up at him curiously. "You got wings too?"
Elias hesitated, the question catching him off guard. A million responses flashed through his mind—none of them easy, none of them true. But this time, something inside him whispered that maybe, just maybe, he could try honesty.
"Not yet," he said, his voice quieter than usual. "But maybe one day."
Eli nodded, satisfied, and ran off to continue his play. The simple exchange felt like a small victory, but to Elias, it was more than that—it was the beginning of something, though he couldn't yet understand what.
Aria stood at the edge of the room, watching them. Her arms crossed, but not in defense. She had softened in the time since their first meeting, and Elias could see that. She was still guarded, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes. Hope? Uncertainty? Perhaps both.
As the evening drew closer and the light outside began to fade, Elias stood to leave. His posture had relaxed slightly, but the tension in the air remained.
"I'm not asking you for answers yet," he said, his voice lower, more vulnerable than it had been before. "But I'll come back tomorrow. If you'll let me."
Aria didn't answer immediately. She stood still, looking at the floor, as though searching for the right words, the right thing to say. But the moment stretched, and Elias couldn't help but wonder if there was more he should have done, more he could have said.
And then, when the silence was almost unbearable, Aria spoke. "I won't stop you."
It wasn't a yes.
But it wasn't a no either.
Elias stepped out of the door, leaving it open just a crack as he walked away. The air outside was cool, the world on the edge of something—change, resolution, perhaps even the storm that hadn't come.
Aria closed the door behind him, the sound of the lock clicking into place reverberating through the room. She moved to the window, looking out at the skyline that seemed to stretch on forever. The city felt distant now, as though it had lost its hold on her.
Still no rain.
She waited.
Sometimes, the storms you expect don't come.
Sometimes, it's the calm that terrifies you more.