I got an admission letter from the college of my choice and i was overjoyed .
I was trymy very best to forget about Justin and by the time i finally got to ivy college in Chicago i was pretty much ready to forget about him
I decided to stay off campus so i lodged in a hotel and searched for a small apartment before classes started.
I found a small but awesome apartment not far from campus, within walking distance.
The place had big windows that let in tons of light, and although it wasn't fancy, it felt like mine. I bought a few things to make it cozy—a coffee maker, some fairy lights, a soft throw blanket. It felt good to start over, to build something new just for me.
Orientation week came fast, and I threw myself into it. I met people from all over, joined a few clubs, and even signed up for a creative writing class just because it sounded fun. For the first time in a while, I wasn't constantly checking my phone or wondering what Justin was doing.
One afternoon, after class, I stopped by a nearby café with my laptop. It was a quiet spot with indie music playing and a friendly barista who already knew my order after just three visits. As I sat down to work on an assignment, I noticed a guy at the next table glance over and smile. He had messy curls and a sketchbook in front of him.
"Hey," he said, nodding toward my laptop. "Writing something interesting?"
I smiled back. "Trying to, at least."
<<<<<<
I was in my Fourth year of college and I was doing great.
The café guy, Calvin, and i dated for a while but then we broke up,
He claimed i wasn't over Justin yet and i had admit, maybe he was right.
I often found myself thinking of Justin while i was out with Calvin and I honestly didn't mind much when we broke up.
I had a year left till i graduated college and i started thinking of what i would do after graduation.
Obviously, the main thing one would do was find a job so i. Started thinking of companies i might want to apply for a position in .
As quickly as it came, a year went to by fast and before i knew it i was wearing my second graduation gown.
Coincidentally my graduation was the same day as my birthday, which meant it was a double celebration.
It was my 23rd birthday.
As my mum, who had come to Chicago for my graduation and i left campus a man called out my name from behind.
I turned, it was the same man who had delivered the roses on my high school graduation.
The man smiled and said politely "Miss Riya McKenzie, congratulations on your graduation, i have a delivery for you"
I stared at the man stunned as he handed me a bag and another bouquet of white roses.
And just like he had 5 years before, he turned without a word and walked away.
I glanced my mum seeing she looked as stunned as i felt.
I glanced at the bouquet and took out the note.
My fingers trembled a little as I unfolded the note, heart pounding with a rush of déjà vu. The handwriting was unmistakable—elegant, slightly slanted, and achingly familiar.
"Happy Birthday, Riya.
Congratulations on your graduation.
You've always been destined for great things.
I hope you still love white roses.
—Justin."
I stared at the note, reading it once, twice, three times, as if the words might change. My throat tightened, and I had to blink fast to keep the tears from falling. My mum gently touched my arm.
"Is it… him?" she asked softly.
I nodded.
"He never really left, did he?" she added, almost to herself.
I held the bouquet close, the scent sweet and delicate, tugging me back to a time that felt like a whole other life. Justin. After all these years, and not a word. And now this?
Back at my apartment that night, I sat on my bed, the roses in a vase on my desk, the note lying beside my laptop. I couldn't stop staring at it. A thousand questions swirled in my mind. Why now? Where ha he been? How did he seem to know everything happening in my life?
I finally decided to open the bag .
Inside i found a jewellery box.
Opening it i found a simple diamond necklace, it came with ear rings and knuckle rings. I also found a white Chanel bag.
I put in in my closet and climbed back on my bed and slept.
The next morning, sunlight poured in through my big windows, dancing across the floor and brushing my face like a soft nudge. For a second, I forgot about the roses, the note, the necklace—everything. Then I turned my head and saw the vase on my desk, the white petals catching the light, and it all came rushing back.
Justin.
I sat up slowly, reaching for the note again. I read it once more, as if the words would somehow tell me what to do. They didn't. But they did stir something inside me—something I hadn't felt in a long time. A mixture of curiosity, nostalgia, and the tiniest flicker of hope.
I got up and walked over to my closet. The Chanel bag peeked out from the shelf, looking elegant and expensive and very unlike anything I'd ever owned. I touched the diamond necklace gently—it sparkled like it had something to say.
Who just disappears for five years, then sends a bouquet, a heartfelt note, and jewelry?
And why?
I needed answers. I needed him.
So I did what anyone with half a brave heart would do—I opened my laptop and typed his name into the search bar. Nothing. No social media. No recent articles. Not even a LinkedIn profile. It was like he'd vanished off the face of the earth.
I went for my morning run a few minutes later.
I got to the valley were i always took a break and I started hearing voices. Angry voices.
I turned round a corner just in time to see a big looking guy shoot another guy.
I gasped loudly and the guy turned. Suddenly i felt a sharp pain at the back of my head and i collapsed.
I woke up an hour later to see myself in a dark room and i heard two guys arguing.
Guy1: "i honestly think we should tell boss before we finish her off"
Guy2:"Are you crazy? He'll kill us both."
Guy1:"And he'll fo worse when he finds out about this and we didn't tell him"
Guy2:"Fine, you're right. Let's take her to him "
They bother turned to look at me and roughly took me forcing me inside a black van .
They blindfolded me.
A few minutes later the van stopped and they forced me out dragging me along.
As we entered a house i heard one of them say
"Boss there was a witness, we decided to bring her over before we finish her voice"
A deep cold voice replies
"You didn't have to bring her over here, you should have just done your job.
The guy replies"we'll get right on it"
As he grabbed my arm the cold voice tells them to leave.
A few seconds later i heard footsteps and a door close.
I felt someone walk up to me and removed the sack they put over my head.
I looked up and my eyes widens in shock.
Justin.
Justin froze. His hand was still on the sack he'd just pulled from my head, and he took one slow, staggered step back.
"Shit," he breathed, barely above a whisper.
My chest was rising and falling rapidly, breath caught somewhere between a scream and disbelief. I blinked at him, as if my eyes were playing some cruel trick. But it was him. His face was sharper, hotter, older. There was a scar just beneath his right cheekbone I didn't remember. But it was Justin. My Justin.
Or at least, he used to be.
"Riya?" he said, like he wasn't sure I was real either. "What the hell…"
For a moment i forgot about the situation we met in, all i could think of was 5 years before.
"You disappeared," I choked out, voice cracking. "You disappeared and I waited… and you never came back."
He flinched like my words had physically hit him. "I know," he said quietly, his gaze falling to the floor for a second before returning to me. "God, I didn't know it was you they brought in. I didn't… I never wanted you anywhere near this."
"This?" I snapped, suddenly finding my voice. "What is this, Justin? Are you part of some criminal ring now? Do you kill people now?"
He didn't answer. The silence that followed was louder than any scream.
I stepped back, my back hitting the wall, hands shaking. "You left. No goodbye. No note. Nothing. And now I get kidnapped and end up face to face with you in some dark room like I stepped into a movie?"
His jaw tensed. "It's not like that."
"Then what is it like? Because the last time I saw you, we were teenagers in love, dreaming about the future. And then you were just gone. Like you never even existed."
"I had to go," he said, taking a step toward me. "I was protecting you."
I laughed—a short, bitter sound. "By vanishing? By letting me think you were dead or worse? You could've called. You could've sent a letter. Anything."
He opened his mouth, but I cut him off. "Why now? Why send the roses, the necklace, the note? Why come back into my life only to let me see you like this?"
Justin looked at me like he was breaking apart inside.
"Because I never stopped loving you," he said, voice low, almost trembling. "I thought I could let go. That staying away would keep you safe. But you were always there—in my mind, in everything I did. I sent those gifts because I wanted you to know I never forgot you. I still haven't."
I stared at him, heart pounding. Everything inside me was warring—anger, confusion, grief, love.
"You have no idea what you did to me," I whispered.
"You're right," he said. "I don't know what i did to you, but it was never my intention"
Before I could respond, another voice called out from behind the door.
"Boss. We've got company."
Justin's eyes darkened instantly, that softness in his gaze replaced by something hard, calculating. But when he looked back at me, it softened again.
"I have to deal with this," he said. "Don't move. Don't open the door for anyone but me."
He started toward the door, then paused.
"I'm sorry," he said without turning around.
And then he was gone, leaving me alone, shaking, and drowning in everything I never thought I'd feel again.
My mind browsed through everything this had just happened.
Seeing Justin again after five years was alot of shock.
And seeing him like this was even more shocking.
As i processed everything i realised he was some kind of Mafia.
I sank slowly to the floor, my back pressed against the cold wall. My heart was still thudding in my chest, a wild rhythm that refused to settle. Justin. Alive. Here. And apparently… the boss.
Mafia boss.
The words felt foreign in my mind, like they belonged in a movie and not my life. But I couldn't deny what I had seen—the guns, the men, the way they all listened to him, like he was in charge. The cold authority in his voice. And yet… the way he looked at me wasn't cold at all. It was raw. Real. Like nothing had changed for him.
But everything had changed for me.
I wrapped my arms around my knees, trying to piece together the broken images flooding my mind. Justin at seventeen, handing me white roses outside the library. Justin at twenty-three, standing above me in a dimly lit room with blood on his hands—maybe not literal, but definitely metaphorical.
He said he was protecting me. That he never stopped loving me. But how could love and this life coexist?
Before I could fall deeper into my thoughts, the door creaked open again. I jolted to my feet, pulse spiking—but it was Justin.
His eyes met mine immediately, like he was making sure I was still here. Still safe.
"We have to go," he said, walking in quickly. "It's not safe here anymore."
"Go where?" I asked, voice hoarse.
"My safehouse," he replied. "I can explain everything there. But we don't have time now."
He reached for my hand but hesitated, as if unsure if I'd let him. After a beat, I placed my hand in his.
Maybe I was insane. Maybe I should've screamed or run. But my heart was louder than my fear, and I needed answers.
As we rushed through a back hallway, I whispered, "Who are you, Justin?"
He didn't look at me. "Someone I never wanted you to meet."
We stepped into a sleek black car. Justin took the driver's seat, and I slid in beside him. As the engine roared to life, I glanced at him again.
His jaw was tight, eyes locked on the road—but I could see the storm behind them. He wasn't just a man who vanished. He was a man carrying secrets deep enough to drown in.
And now, I was in it too.
We arrived at a mansion which i assumed was his house.
He parked the car and jumped out to open the door for me.
I followed him into the house without a word. I could feel his gaze on me more than few times as we entered the house.