I told myself I was imagining it.
That he wasn't watching me.
That he hadn't lingered in the hallway after I walked away. That the sound of a door closing a beat too late had nothing to do with him.
But then it happened again.
At the copier, I felt it—the weight of someone's attention. I turned, casually. No one was there.
Later, in the break room, I caught his name in a conversation I wasn't part of.
"He usually keeps to himself."
"That's the one from floor fifteen, right?"
"No—he's in with the board."
The name passed between them like something sacred. Untouchable.
They didn't say it the way I remembered.
They didn't say it like it was dangerous.
They didn't know.
They didn't see him under moonlight, shifting, snarling, bleeding into something that wasn't human.
They saw a man in a tailored suit.
I saw what he'd been underneath it.
Still, I told myself it was fine.
He hadn't said anything. Maybe he wouldn't.
Maybe that was it—our entire reunion. A glance. A question. A lie.
I could live with that.
Until lunch.
I was walking past one of the glass conference rooms when I felt it again.
Pressure.
A prickle down the back of my neck.
I turned, slowly this time.
Lucas sat at the head of the table.
People around him were talking. Pointing at a slide deck on the screen. Gesturing toward numbers and margins and strategy.
He wasn't listening.
He was looking at me.
Not casually.
Not like I was part of the background.
Like I was the reason he was there.
Our eyes met through the glass.
And stayed.
Too long.
Too quiet.
Someone in the room noticed. They said his name. He blinked, turned his head, and nodded at a graph like it meant something.
I stood there another second.
Then walked away before I could do something stupid.
I didn't say anything when I got back to my desk.
I just sat down and stared at my screen.
Emails blinked. Notifications chimed. None of it registered.
He looked right at me.
Through glass. Through time.
It was like he could still see who I used to be—even though I barely recognized that girl anymore.
Isla glanced at me once, then again, and then rolled her chair closer.
"You're doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"The staring-into-the-void thing. With the tight jaw and clenched fist combo."
I looked down. My hand was curled so tight around my pen that it left grooves in my skin.
I dropped it like it burned me.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"Yep."
"That's not a real answer."
I shrugged.
She sighed. "You don't have to talk about it, you know. But you also don't have to keep pretending you're fine if you're not."
"I am fine," I said. A little too fast.
Isla didn't say anything.
I hated how kind she looked when she went quiet. It made it harder to lie.
She turned back to her screen, but not before saying, "Okay.
I nodded, even though she wasn't looking.
The kindness made something tighten in my chest.
Not pain. Not panic.
Just the quiet ache of realizing how alone I'd made myself.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. A notification.
Company-wide announcement.
I unlocked it.
Upcoming Strategy Review – All Project Assistants + Support Staff Required.
Date: Tomorrow.
Location: 15th Floor Executive Conference Room.
Lead: Lucas Vale.
My chest went cold.
Of course.
Of course, it would be him.
I didn't sleep that night.
I tried.
I turned the lights off at ten. Stared at the ceiling for forty minutes. Got up to pee. Came back. Checked my phone for no reason. Put it down. Picked it up again.
Lucas Vale.
The name stared back at me from the email header like a blinking cursor on an unfinished sentence.
I could feel him in the memory of his old name. Lucas Gray. He never said it like it meant much. But I did.
Back then, I said it like a prayer.
Now, it felt like a warning label.
I finally fell asleep sometime after two and woke up at six feeling like I hadn't rested at all.
Coffee helped. Not much.
Makeup helped. Barely.
Nothing touched the unease under my skin—the hum in my bones that wouldn't quit. The part of me that remembered the sound of him growling in the dark.
That part didn't care how expensive his suit was now.
It knew what he was.
It would always know.
At 8:03 a.m., I stood in front of the mirror by the office bathroom and rehearsed my expression.
Neutral.
Professional.
Unbothered.
I practiced and practised but it didn't change my eyes. Just enough curve to look polite. Disengaged. Unshakable.
Then I wiped it off.
Fake felt worse.
At 9:11 a.m., I stood in the elevator with four other people, all of them chatting about the agenda for the meeting like we weren't about to walk into the lion's den.
At 9:14 a.m., we reached the 15th floor.
The doors opened.
Polished tile. Quiet hallways. Frosted glass.
Everything up here was too clean. Too perfect. Like it had been curated for gods, not humans.
At 9:15 a.m., I stepped into the executive conference room and saw him.
Lucas.
Standing at the head of the table.
Reading something on a tablet.
He didn't look up.
But my whole body did.
Every nerve.
Every scar.
Every piece of me that hadn't healed.
He hadn't seen me yet.
Not really.
But he would.
And I had no idea what I was going to do when he did.
The seats filled one by one.
I kept my head down as I walked to the far end of the table, the side closest to the window. Natural light felt safer somehow. Like if I sat in the dark, I'd forget who I was again.
Isla sat to my left.
She gave me a look—quiet but steady. Not pity. Not curiosity. Just presence. It helped more than I wanted to admit.
Lucas still hadn't looked at me.
He tapped something on the tablet, then placed it flat on the table. The CEO whispered something to him. He nodded.
Then he spoke.
"Thank you for being here this morning. I won't waste your time."
My spine locked up.
The voice was older. Deeper. Less raw.
But it was him.
It was his voice.
Clear. Cold. Measured.
I didn't breathe.
"Some of you already know the parameters of the expansion project. For those who don't, you'll be briefed in the next forty-eight hours. Until then, I expect compliance, discretion, and transparency."
Compliance. Discretion.
He had no idea what those words sounded like coming from his mouth. How sharp they were. How they cut deeper than they should have.
He spoke for maybe ten minutes.
Never stuttered.
Never paused.
Never looked at me.
And I hated how that stung more than anything else.
The man who'd once called me his favourite couldn't even glance my way now.
Or maybe he knew.
Maybe looking at me would break something.
When he finished, he nodded toward the room like he was done with us, and the CEO stood up to cover follow-up notes.
Chairs shifted. Notebooks closed.
I kept my hands still.
Isla leaned in. "You okay?"
I nodded once. "Fine."
"Convincing."
She didn't press. Just slid her phone into her pocket and stood.
People started filing out.
I stood too—but not fast enough.
He was still at the head of the table.
Still not looking at me.
But when I passed by—quiet, small, not even trying to be noticed—he spoke again.
Low. Just loud enough for me to hear.
"Mai."
I stopped.
I didn't turn.
My name in his voice felt like ice water down my back.
"I wasn't sure," he said. "Now I am."
I turned just enough to meet his eyes.
"I didn't think you remembered," I said.
His gaze didn't waver.
"I never forgot."