He locked the door. Not to trap her but to stop himself from chasing a memory.
The sun was low in the sky.
Golden light streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass panels of the conference room, slashing across the dark wood table like deliberate cuts
—sharp, precise, and painful in their beauty.
Everything about this room was curated to intimidate.
From the minimalist black chairs, to the digital board glowing silently in the background, to the absence of sound.
No one else was there.
Just the room.
The light.
The silence.
And them.
Selene stepped inside first.
Every movement was controlled. Not because she was nervous—but because she didn't want to show even the slightest hint that she was hurting.
Her heels clicked softly on the polished floor, the sound oddly loud in the emptiness.
Ezra followed.
Silence. Each step was weighted—like with every inch he moved closer, something deeper clawed its way out of his chest
And then—something click
He locked the door.
The metallic sound echoed like a gavel.
Not violent.
But final.
Selene didn't flinch.
She merely tilted her head, eyes scanning the sleek space, noting every detail.
Nothing slipped past her—not the alignment of the papers on the desk, not the faint scent of Ezra's cologne: sandalwood, laced with control issues
Ezra walked to the far end of the table and gestured to the chair across from him.
"Sit."
There was nothing casual about his tone.
It was short.
Sharp.
Like a test.
But Selene—ever the composed storm—arched one brow.
Slowly.
Almost mockingly.
"Interrogation?" she asked, voice tinged with polite sarcasm.
"Or invitation?"
Ezra didn't answer.
Instead, he looked at her like she was a puzzle he hated not being able to solve.
His eyes scanned her face, inch by inch, as though searching for a fracture in a mask he couldn't name.
The tension built like a heartbeat.
Thick.
Unrelenting.
"You're different," he said finally, his voice quieter, as if the words were harder to admit than he expected.
"But you have the same stubborn eyes… as someone I used to know."
Selene's heart skipped a beat.
But her face didn't show it.
No tremble in her lashes.
No shift in her breath.
Only her fingers moved.
Just a little.
They reached for her sleeve instinctively, like muscle memory.
A movement so small, so quick, details too subtle for the average person to notice.
But Ezra wasn't ordinary.
And neither was what she was hiding.
Beneath the fabric of her sleeve, cold against her skin, was the bracelet.
Thin.
Silver.
It's been old for a long time, but time never erases the weight of memory.
The same bracelet he had given Luna the night before she "died."
"Something to remind you I'll always come back."
The irony?
He never did.
Not when it mattered most.
And now, the weight of it burned like metal forged in betrayal.
Ezra's gaze flicked to her arm.
He saw it.
The way her fingers hesitated.
The way she subtly protected something beneath the sleeve.
His eyes narrowed.
He leaned in slightly, not threatening—but curious. Cautious. Pulled by instinct more than logic.
"You hiding something under there?"
Selene didn't flinch.
She met his eyes head-on.
And that look?
It was blade-sharp.
Cold-fire.
Like looking into the eyes of someone who'd already walked through hell—and memorized the path back.
She gave a slight shrug.
Effortless.
Dismissive.
"A lot of things, Mr. Villanueva."
"But not for you."
The words landed like a slap—elegant, quiet, but brutal.
Ezra blinked once.
Just once.
Like he felt it in his chest but didn't know where the pain was coming from.
He leaned in further, elbows pressing against the table, jaw slightly clenched.
His voice dropped low—like he was confessing a crime even he didn't understand.
"Then why, do I feel like I already lost you and I don't even know your name..?"
The silence that followed cracked the air open.
Selene didn't respond.
She just stared at him.
Not with rage.
Not even with sorrow.
But with something worse.
Knowing.
The kind of knowing that only ghosts carry when they look at the ones who buried them.
Some memories aren't recalled by thought—but by touch.
It was an ordinary moment.
The kind that shouldn't mean anything.
The kind people forget five seconds after it happens.
But this one?
Would split something open
They stood side by side in the tech review lab—glass walls, glowing monitors, and a long white table scattered with encrypted tablets and project proposals.
Selene held one of the tablets, scrolling through her notes.
Clinical. Precise. Detached.
Ezra leaned over slightly, scanning the screen beside her.
"May I?" he asked, voice neutral.
She nodded, her eyes never left the screen.
Then—it happened.
His hand reached for the tablet.
So did hers.
Their fingers brushed.
Just for a second.
But that second didn't feel small.
It felt charged.
Lit.
Alive.
Skin on skin.
No warning.
No noise.
Just a jolt—like wires reconnecting after years of blackout.
Ezra flinched.
Like he touched something sacred… or haunted.
His hand withdrew fast, like it was burned by something he couldn't see.
His shoulders tensed. Eyes blinked twice. Mouth parted—confused, shaken.
But Selene?
She didn't move.
Didn't even blink.
Because for her?
That electricity isn't new.
It's muscle memory.
It's the echo of a night she never buried.
It's the touch of the boy who once promised to keep her safe—then became a stranger behind smoke and ash.
She inhaled, calm and controlled.
But inside her chest?
A memory stirred. One she'd locked up in chains.
Ezra recovered first—at least, externally.
He cleared his throat. The flush in his face barely noticeable under the lab lighting.
"Sorry," he said softly, almost unsure if he meant it.
Selene turned to him then, meeting his eyes.
No rage.
No recognition.
Just that faint, devastating smile.
"For what? Touching a stranger?"
The words hit like a knife dipped in silk.
Polite. Beautiful. But dangerous.
Ezra's brows furrowed slightly. His gaze lingered on her, something deeper shifting behind his eyes.
And then—Flash.
Not light.
Not memory.
But something between both.
A rain-soaked night.
A scream.
His voice breaking—"Luna!"
Blood smeared on skin. Sirens. Smoke.
The feel of her hand slipping from his.
A stretcher. A nurse yelling.
He gasped.
A quiet, almost inaudible breath,
—Like a ghost just kissed his brain.
His hand unconsciously pressed to his chest.
Right over the spot that always ached during rainy nights.
Selene watched him.
Didn't speak.
Didn't smile.
Just watched.
Because the past was doing its job.
And she didn't need to lift a finger.
Ezra straightened slightly, trying to compose himself. But the storm in his eyes gave him away.
He turned to her, eyes dark, haunted.
"Why do I feel like I've failed you?"
Selene froze.
Just for a second.
Then smiled again—soft, deadly.
But her silence?
Louder than any scream.
Because ghosts don't answer.
They haunt.
You can burn letters. Bury bodies. But some gifts refuse to be forgotten.
The meeting ended late.
Inside the half-lit lab office, the lights overhead dimmed to save power, throwing soft shadows against the floor and screens.
The air had that faint sterile hum of machines resting for the night—quiet but alert.
Ezra's phone buzzed.
A name flashed on the screen.
He frowned slightly and stepped away to take the call.
His silhouette disappeared around the glass divider, leaving Selene alone in the room for the first time that day.
Finally.
She exhaled quietly, as if she had been holding her breath for hours.
Her left hand, tense against the table, slowly lifted toward her right wrist. She hesitated—then carefully slid her sleeve up.
There it was.
The bracelet.
Bent.
Slightly charred at the clasp.
But still intact.
Still hers.
The thin silver band had once been smooth, polished—shining like the promises that came with it.
But now?
It bore marks of smoke.
Fire.
Ash.
And memory.
It wasn't just metal.
It was a reminder.
A curse.
A vow that never got fulfilled.
In a blink of an eye, memories of yesterday flows...
Rain tapping on a window.
Ezra's fingers brushing lightly against her skin.
He was younger then—eyes warm, voice low.
The storm outside was nothing compared to what they carried inside them.
"So you don't forget who you belong to," he whispered.
He clasped the bracelet around her wrist, his thumb lingering for a heartbeat longer than it should have.
"You're mine, Luna. No matter what they say. I'll always find my way back to you."
Back then, she believed him.
She believed everything.
But it was all pack of lies.
Back in the present, Selene's eyes hardened.
Her fingers curled tightly, knuckles paling.
"You forgot anyway," she whispered under her breath.
Then—She heard it.
A shift in the air. A soft rustle of movement.
A breath that wasn't hers.
She looked up.
Ezra had returned.
Silently.
Too silent.
He stood just at the edge of the glass wall, paused mid-step—His eyes locked on her exposed wrist.
On the bracelet.
Just a second.
Just a glimpse.
But long enough.
His gaze changed.
The calm curiosity from earlier vanished, replaced by something darker.
Sharper.
"Where did you get that?"he asked.
His voice was low.
Flat.
Controlled.
But she could hear it—the tremor underneath.
Selene didn't panic.
Didn't rush to hide it.
She let him look.
Just for another beat.
Long enough to plant doubt.
Then, slowly, she slid her sleeve back down.
The shadows swallowed the bracelet once more.
"Pawn shop," she said smoothly.
No blink.
No tremble.
Just the kind of lie that tasted almost beautiful.
Because in this game?
Truth is power.
And if he remembers too soon…
The game ends before the real fire starts.
Ezra's jaw clenched.
He took a step forward.
"That bracelet was custom. One of a kind. I had it made."
His voice cracked slightly.
Like memory was beginning to cut through the fog.
Selene tilted her head, gaze calm, words deliberate—"Then maybe you should ask yourself how many ghosts wear your gifts?"
The silence shattered everything.
Not with noise.
But with weight.
Because Ezra?
He was no longer sure what haunted him more: The girl he lost… Or the woman standing in front of him—wearing her ghost like a second skin.