The moment I see his name, my body forgets how to breathe.
Noah.
The boy who used to write my name on his guitar. The boy who promised forever when we were just kids, who knew nothing about the real world. The boy who vanished without a goodbye.
And now, he's texting me on the night of my wedding.
Noah:Zara, if you're reading this… it means I found you. Finally.
I stare at the message until my screen dims. Then I unlock it again, just to make sure I didn't imagine it.
I didn't.
My heart races. My chest tightens.
I should delete the message. I should block the number. I should remember that I'm not just Zara anymore.
I'm Mrs. Thorne now.
But my fingers betray me.
Me:Noah?
The response comes so fast, it's like he's been waiting.
Noah:It's me. I'm in the city. Please. Meet me.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard, then—
Me:Why now?
Noah:Because I didn't come back for money. I came back for you.
I stare out at the skyline from the penthouse balcony, the lights of Manhattan blinking like stars on a dimmer switch. This city is loud, but right now, all I hear is my heart crashing against my ribs.
Noah. My Noah.
The one who left me behind.
The one I never stopped waiting for, even when I told myself I had.
Even when I said yes to a man I barely know.
Even when I married Kairo.
The penthouse is silent when I sneak back in. Kairo's door is shut, but the light beneath it glows faintly.
He's awake.
Probably working. Probably planning. Probably doing anything but thinking about me.
Kairo doesn't ask questions. He's the kind of man who gives you his name, his power, his protection, but never his heart.
I married him to save my brother. To pay off the debts I was drowning in.
I didn't marry him for love.
But now, love is back.
And it's knocking on my phone.
I barely sleep.
At 6:30 a.m., I roll out of bed with my nerves shot and my thoughts loud.
Kairo's already dressed by the time I enter the living room. Charcoal suit. No tie today. But somehow, that makes him look even more intimidating.
"There's a board meeting at ten. You're coming with me," he says without looking up from his phone.
I blink. "I didn't know I'd be involved in board meetings."
"You're my wife now. Smile, nod, wear something that isn't wrinkled, and don't speak unless someone asks you a direct question."
"What am I, a mannequin?"
"You're Mrs. Thorne," he says simply. "That comes with expectations."
I clench my jaw. "Do you ever stop being this cold?"
He glances at me finally, grey eyes as blank as a winter sky.
"Do you?"
The car ride is quiet.
I scroll through my phone, pretending I'm not checking to see if Noah texted again. He hasn't. Not since last night.
Probably for the best.
But the ache in my chest says otherwise.
When we pull up to Thorne Industries, the media is already out in full force.
Camera flash. Microphones wave.
"Mr. Thorne, what does your wife bring to the company?"
"Kairo, any comment on the secret wedding?"
"Zara, how long have you been together?"
Kairo wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me close. His fingers tighten, like he's staking a claim.
"We're happy," he says smoothly, like he's played this role before.
I smile for the cameras. My heart? It's doing anything but.
The boardroom is pure glass and power.
Men in suits. Women in stilettos. Coffee that costs more than my old rent.
I take the seat beside Kairo, hands folded tightly in my lap.
And then I see him.
Third seat from the right. Navy suit. Neat hair. That little scar above his brow.
Noah.
He's not the boy I remember anymore.
He's a man now, taller, manly, but with eyes that still make me feel sixteen again.
Our eyes lock. My pulse skyrockets.
Kairo leans in just a fraction.
"You know him?" he murmurs.
I freeze.
He saw it.
"No," I whisper. "I just thought he looked familiar."
"Hmm."
He doesn't believe me. But he lets it go.
For now.
After the meeting, I head straight for the private bathroom, slam the door shut, and lean against it like I've run a marathon.
Seconds later, it opens again.
Noah.
"Zara," he breathes. "You married him."
I push off the sink and turn to face him. "You shouldn't be here."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Because there's nothing to say. You left, Noah. For eight years. No word. Nothing. And now you show up?"
"I didn't have a choice. I had to leave. But I came back for you."
"You're too late."
"I don't believe that."
I laugh bitterly. "You think one dramatic text and a meeting are enough to undo everything? My life isn't yours anymore."
"Is it his?"
That shuts me up.
His voice lowers. "Zara, I remember the girl who used to wait at the train station with sunflowers in her hair. The girl who made me believe in things I'd never seen. Don't tell me she's gone."
"I had to grow up."
"So did I. But I never stopped loving you."
The silence is a wound between us.
"I can't do this," I whisper.
"I'm not asking you to do anything. Just… remember."
He leaves before I can say anything else.
Before I can fall apart completely.
That night, Kairo doesn't speak over dinner.
Not a word. Just the clink of silverware, the sound of wine pouring into crystal, and the ticking of the clock behind us.
"You're distracted," he says suddenly.
I look up. "Excuse me?"
"You're not here. Not really."
I set down my fork. "Maybe I'm just tired."
"Or maybe you're remembering someone."
His voice is quiet. Dangerous.
I meet his gaze. "Would it matter if I were?"
He tilts his head slightly. "Depends. Are you going to embarrass me?"
I stand up. "Good night, Kairo."
But as I walk away, he says one thing that chills me to my bones.
"Don't fall for sentiment, Zara. It's not love. It's just memory in a prettier outfit."
Later that night, I check my phone one last time.
There's a new message.
Noah:Meet me. One night. No pressure. I just want to talk. Tomorrow, 8 p.m. Rooftop café on 9th. You used to love it.
My heart is already there.
But my body? It's still stuck in a marriage built on lies.