Chapter 34: Crossed Paths
Monday morning arrived, and with it, a sense of newness.
Lara woke up at 5:00 AM, like she always did. She sat up, stretched her arms, and rolled her shoulders to shake off sleep.
The morning air was cool against her skin as she stood and moved through her routine. She brushed her teeth, took a warm shower, and changed into her neatly pressed school uniform. She dried and curled her hair in soft waves, did her makeup routine—just a touch of blush, gloss, and mascara. Simple, yet put together.
She made her way downstairs, heels clicking softly against the floor as she headed to the kitchen with her bag slung over her shoulder. She placed it on the quartz countertop and began making a quick breakfast: toasted bread, boiled eggs, and a cup of brewed coffee. On the side, she prepared two egg and ham sandwiches; one for herself, and one… just in case. She wrapped it carefully in wax paper, and slipped it into her bag for later.
By 6:30 AM, she was ready to leave. She locked her unit and made her way to the elevator.
As it descended to the underground parking lot, she scrolled briefly through her phone, her mind already organizing her day's tasks. But when the elevator doors slid open, her peripheral vision caught movement to the right.
The private elevator adjacent to hers had also just opened, and a tall man in a crisp blue dress shirt stepped out.
Their eyes met. Both stopped.
"Reagan?" Lara asked, blinking in surprise.
Reagan, looking equally caught off guard, gave a small nod. "Lara."
She offered a sheepish smile. "Wow. What a surprise. Do you live here?"
"I do," he said simply. "And you?"
She hesitated for a moment before answering. "Well… I recently moved in. I'll be living here from now on."
There was a small pause, and Lara mentally braced herself for the inevitable follow-up question such as 'Why?' 'What happened?'
But Reagan didn't pry. He didn't ask why, didn't push for details, and Lara was quietly grateful for it.
Instead, Reagan just gave a light nod. "I see," he said simply. "You heading to work now?"
She smiled. "Yeah. You too?"
"Yes," Reagan answered, matching her pace as they began walking toward the parking area.
Then, almost in sync, both of them asked, "Have you had your breakfast?"
They stopped and looked at each other, surprised.
Lara chuckled. "Jinx."
Reagan let out a soft, amused chuckle. "That was unexpected."
"Oh, wait one sec," she said, stopping briefly to open her bag. She pulled out the neatly wrapped sandwich she made earlier and held it out to him. "Here, have this. I made an extra."
Reagan looked surprised. "Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"Well, you can decline," she said, a small grin playing on her lips, "but it'll be your lose, my homemade sandwiches are the best."
Reagan let out a small chuckle, then he took the sandwich and gave a small, grateful smile.
"Thanks. I actually haven't eaten yet," he said. "This is perfect."
A quiet warmth bloomed in Lara's chest. She loved cooking and sharing food she makes. It had always been her love language. And it felt nice, giving without expectations this time.
"Great. I promise it tastes good. Still, let me know what you think," she said with a playful tilt of her head. "I take my sandwiches very seriously."
Reagan raised an eyebrow, his lips slightly grinning. "I'll be sure to give you a detailed review. Presentation already gets a five out of five."
Lara laughed, the sound light and genuine. Just then, she spotted her car parked a few meters ahead.
"Oh, my car's here," she said, stepping away. "I'll get going first. Drive safe, Reagan."
"You too, Lara."
She turned, walking toward her car with a lighter step. She slid inside and started the engine.
As she drove out of the parking lot and onto the open road, a quiet smile lingered on her lips.
⫘⫘⫘
Lara spent her Monday doing what she did best—teaching.
Her day flowed with the usual rhythm, moving from one classroom activity to the next, smiling at her students' boundless energy. She sang with them, helped them trace letters, tied shoelaces, wiped tears, and laughed along with the kind of unfiltered joy only five-year-olds could bring.
By lunchtime, she opted for food delivery, too tired to go out. While eating inside the faculty room, surrounded by the low hum of chatter and clinking utensils, her thoughts began to drift.
Specifically, to Reagan.
What were the odds? she thought, poking at her meal with her fork. Out of all the places in the city, he had to live in the same building.
And not just any part of the building, he stepped out of the private elevator earlier, which she knew was only accessible to penthouse residents.
Well, it's not that surprising. He does own a tech company, after all.
She took a bite of her food and chewed slowly, her mind drifting again.
His coat.
She had brought it with her during the move and it was now hanging neatly in her walk-in closet. She hadn't had the chance to return it, but now seemed like the perfect time. He was just a few floors away.
She reached for her phone on the table and typed a quick message.
Lara: Hi. Do you have time later? I was planning to give your coat back.
She hit send and set her phone down, not really expecting a prompt reply.
But a few minutes later, her phone buzzed.
Reagan: I'll be home by 6 this evening. Are you fine meeting with me by that time?
A small smile tugged at her lips. She typed back.
Lara: Yeah. We can meet up at the café in the lobby.
His response came swiftly.
Reagan: Sure.
Lara: Alright. See you later.
She placed her phone back on the table and finished the rest of her meal.
The rest of her afternoon passed with her Kindergarten 2 class. She danced, sang songs, read picture books aloud, and by the time the final bell rang, Lara was equal parts energized and exhausted.
She left the school and drove back to her condo.
Once inside her unit, she set her things down and took a brief rest on the couch, scrolling through her phone before getting up for a quick shower.
After drying off, she changed into a rust brown terno: A sleeveless, V-neck, button-down top with a slightly cropped cut that flared gently at the hem, paired with matching high-waisted shorts that hugged her hips comfortably.
She didn't bother with blow-drying her hair. Just brushed the damp strands and let them fall naturally down her back. She kept her look bare, just some powder to even out her skin and a dab of lip balm. There was no need for make-up, she was just returning a coat, after all.
She grabbed Reagan's black coat from the closet, folding it neatly before slipping it into a clean white paper bag. She grabbed her phone, wallet, and keys, then stepped out of her unit, locking the door behind her.