The symposium hall buzzed with energy as respected doctors and researchers presented their latest findings.
The anticipation hung thick in the air, especially for the evening's final presentation—Jillian's turn to step onto the stage.
The large screen behind her flashed with her name, highlighting her position as one of the brightest in the field.
Her heart raced as she stood up from her seat, adjusting her glasses, then collecting herself.
This was her moment. She'd worked hard for it. But as she made her way toward the stage, her eyes scanned the crowd, and there—near the front—sitting with an intensity that seemed almost impossible to ignore, was Ethan Hunter.
Jillian's breath hitched.
Ethan, the man whose presence still haunted her in quiet moments.
The man who, despite his wealth, success, and guarded demeanor, held a piece of her heart.
It was surreal to see him again, but even more surreal to know that his eyes were now locked onto her.
For a brief second, she felt the familiar pull of anxiety rise in her chest.
Her fingers brushed against the microphone, and her palms grew clammy. Was her presentation ready? Would her research make sense? What if she faltered in front of him?
But then, Jillian closed her eyes for a moment, taking in a steadying breath. She'd prepared for this.
She wasn't a nervous student anymore. She wasn't the girl who had once been caught in his world.
She was Dr. Jillian Smith—a doctor who had earned her place here, whose mind had shaped breakthroughs in the medical field.
She straightened her posture, grounding herself in the knowledge that her hard work had brought her to this stage.
A smile flickered across her lips, and she began to speak.
"Good evening, esteemed colleagues," she said, her voice steady now, as her gaze swept over the crowd, only briefly meeting Ethan's eyes before moving to other faces in the room.
"Today, I will be presenting a breakthrough in cardiology, a result of years of research and collaboration.
Our understanding of heart disease has evolved, but now we are entering a new era of treatment that promises not only to save lives but to transform them."
The room fell silent, all ears on her. Jillian felt the weight of their attention, but for a moment, it didn't seem so heavy.
She was in her element, and nothing could shake that confidence—not even the haunting presence of Ethan Hunter.
She pushed forward, discussing the data, the studies, and the future.
But somewhere in the back of her mind, his gaze remained, burning into her, even as she remained poised and professional.
As she reached the end of her presentation, Jillian gave a final nod to the audience, acknowledging their attention.
She took a step back, her breath finally coming a little easier.
Then, as she turned to exit the stage, she caught his gaze again—this time, he was watching her with a mixture of admiration and something else.
But she didn't stay to analyze it. There was no time for that.
As the applause echoed in the room, Jillian exited the stage.
Her heart beat a little faster, not just from the presentation's success, but because Ethan Hunter's shadow still loomed close behind her.
Backstage, the lights were dimmer, and the buzz of the symposium faded into muffled applause and distant conversation. Jillian exhaled slowly, her fingers still trembling slightly from the adrenaline of the presentation. She had done it—delivered her work flawlessly, even with Ethan in the crowd. She reached for a bottle of water, trying to calm her racing heart.
Just then, a familiar voice broke through the quiet.
"Impressive, Dr. Smith."
She turned.
Ethan stood there, tall and composed, still dressed in his tailored suit. His eyes searched hers, unreadable as ever—but there was a softness there. Something unspoken lingering beneath the surface.
"You followed me backstage?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I had to." His voice was low. "You walked off that stage like it didn't shake you. But I saw it in your eyes."
She didn't reply. What was there to say?
He took a step closer, keeping a polite distance. "Have dinner with me tonight."
Jillian hesitated, unsure if it was the right time—or if there would ever be a right time.
Ethan added, gently, "Just dinner. No expectations. I just… I want to talk. Really talk."
For a moment, the hum of the symposium disappeared, and all that remained was the silence stretching between them.
Her fingers tightened around the water bottle.
She looked up and asked quietly, "Why now?"
Ethan didn't answer right away. Instead, he said, "Because I realized tonight that I don't want to just be a part of your past."
The silence returned. But this time, it didn't feel heavy—it felt like a choice waiting to be made.
Jillian stared at him, her thoughts a tangle of memories, questions, and that persistent ache she'd buried long ago. She could have said no. She should have, maybe. But instead, she heard her own voice before she could stop it.
"…Alright," she said softly. "Just dinner."
Ethan's shoulders relaxed slightly, and for a second, Jillian swore she saw something like relief flicker in his expression. But he didn't press her. He only gave a small nod and said, "I'll send the location once the symposium wraps."
She watched him turn and walk away, leaving her with the echo of her decision.
---
Later that evening…
The city lights of Beijing shimmered outside the restaurant window as Jillian stepped inside. The place was elegant but quiet—one of those spots that knew how to keep conversations private. Ethan was already there, standing as she approached, pulling out her seat without a word.
They sat.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Jillian, with a small smile, broke the silence.
"So… what did you want to talk about?"
Ethan met her gaze. "You."
Jillian blinked at his answer, her fork pausing midway to her plate. "Me?" she echoed, a touch of disbelief in her voice.
Ethan gave a small nod, his expression unreadable but sincere. "I've read every article you've published. Every time your name appeared in a journal, I read it. I knew you'd be great, Jillian. I just didn't know how far I'd have to stand back to let you fly."
The words hung between them, soft but heavy.
Jillian lowered her gaze, her fingers brushing the rim of her water glass. "I didn't expect you to come tonight," she said. "When I saw you… I almost forgot what I was supposed to say on stage."
He smiled faintly. "You didn't look like you forgot a thing."
"I'm still trying to understand why you're here," she admitted. "Why now?"
Ethan leaned back, folding his hands together. "Maybe I needed to see for myself what I already knew. That you're not the same girl I thought you were.
You've become and are someone even stronger." He paused, then added, "And maybe I hoped I hadn't lost the right to say that to you."
Jillian looked up, her eyes searching his.
For the first time that night, she didn't feel the weight of the past pressing on her chest.
Just a quiet warmth rising.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Not for the dinner. Not for the compliments.
But for seeing her—truly seeing her.