He turned back toward the hotel.
The walk had cleared his head, but only just. The memory still clung to him like sea spray.
By the time he reached his suite, the evening had deepened into night. The city lights glittered below his windows, indifferent to whatever was churning inside him.
He loosened his collar and pressed the button on the room phone.
"Front desk. Can I send someone up?"
"A drink. Whiskey. Neat."
"Right away, sir."
---
The drink arrived within minutes. A young server placed the crystal glass on the side table, nodded, and left without a word.
He settled into the armchair by the window, lifted the glass, and took a slow sip. The whiskey burned going down. Good. He needed to feel something other than this.
But the thought of her kept resurfacing.
Her face. Her laugh. The way she had promised never to give up on them.
He set the glass down and picked up his phone.
His thumb moved before his mind could stop it. Scrolling. Scrolling. Past business contacts. Past old colleagues. Past numbers he hadn't dialed in years.
Then he stopped.
A contact. No name. Just a date.
7years.
He had saved it that way because he couldn't bring himself to type her name. And he couldn't bring himself to delete it either.
He stared at the screen. The number glowed softly in the dark room.
His thumb hovered.
Don't, he told himself. It's late. She probably doesn't even—
His thumb slipped.
The phone dialed.
His heart stopped.
One ring. Two.
End it. Hang up now.
But he didn't.
Three rings.
Then—a click. A breath.
And a voice. Bright. Warm. Unmistakably hers.
The same voice from his memory. The same voice from his dreams.
"Hello?"
He froze. The glass of whiskey sat untouched. The city glittered below.
Seven years of silence, broken by a single word.
He opened his mouth to speak.
But nothing came out.
---
He stared at the phone, wondering what to say.
Then the voice came again. "Hello? Who is this?"
In the background, a small voice—a child's—asked, "Mom, what is that?"
"I don't know," the woman replied. "Sounds like a weird person. Maybe wrong number."
Click.
She had hung up.
Jonas lowered the phone and stared at the dark screen.
He ran his hand across his head, then through his hair.
"Get yourself together, Jonas," he muttered to the empty room. "Remember, it is you that let her go."
He set the phone down, picked up his whiskey, and downed the rest in one swallow.
The glass hit the table harder than he intended.
Seven years. And he still couldn't speak when he heard her voice.
He stood up, walked to the window, and pressed his forehead against the cool glass.
Tomorrow, he would see her in person.
Tomorrow, he would not freeze.
Here's the continuation.
---
Elara ended the call and stared at her phone for a moment.
Weird number.
She shook her head, then brought Lucy back to the table.
"Who was that, Mommy?" Lucy asked, twirling her pasta.
"No one, baby. Probably a wrong number."
Lucy shrugged and went back to telling her mother about the campfire songs and the s'mores and the friend she had made. Elara listened, nodding and laughing in all the right places, but somewhere in the back of her mind, the phone call lingered.
No. It was nothing.
---
Finally, bedtime came.
Elara took Lucy upstairs, brushed her teeth with her, and tucked her into bed. The fluffy bunny doll was tucked under Lucy's arm, its floppy ears peeking out from the blanket.
"Story, Mommy?" Lucy asked, eyes already drooping.
"Just one," Elara said, picking up a picture book from the shelf.
She read softly, slowly, watching Lucy's eyelids flutter and close. By the time the story ended, Lucy was asleep—breathing soft, lips slightly parted, one hand still clutching the bunny.
Elara kissed her forehead, turned on the nightlight, and slipped out of the room.
---
In her own bedroom, she changed into her nightclothes and climbed into bed. But sleep didn't come.
She picked up her phone and started scrolling through her messages.
Work emails. A reminder about tomorrow's team meeting. A text from Thomas confirming the Shaw file was handled.
Then a new message. From her boss, Phoebe Ma.
We sent the email to the engineering firm. They have agreed to meet us. Tomorrow at 11:00 am. Come prepared.
Elara sat up straight in bed.
Seriously?
She read the message again. Then a third time.
They had agreed. After months of silence, after countless ignored emails and rejected requests—they had agreed.
Her heart pounded.
Tomorrow at 11:00 am.
She set the phone down and stared at the ceiling before turning to the side and turned off the light of her table lamp and laid in the dark, her mind already racing through presentations, portfolios, talking points.
Sleep would not come easily tonight.
---
The morning light slipped through the curtains earlier than Elara would have liked.
She had barely slept. Her mind had raced through presentations, portfolios, potential questions the engineering firm might ask. By the time exhaustion finally took her, it felt like only minutes before her alarm pulled her back.
But today was not a day for tiredness.
She pushed herself out of bed, walked to the bathroom, and turned the shower as hot as she could stand it. The steam woke her up. The cold rinse at the end sealed the deal.
Back in her bedroom, she opened her closet and studied her options.
Professional. Confident. Memorable.
She chose a tailored cream blazer, a silk blouse the color of deep teal, and a pencil skirt that hit just above the knee. Simple jewelry. Hair in a low, sleek ponytail. Makeup—natural but polished.
In the mirror, she looked like someone who belonged in the room.
She hoped that would be enough.
---
Downstairs, Lucy was already awake, sitting at the kitchen table with her bowl of cereal and the bunny doll beside her.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Elara said, kissing the top of her head.
"You look pretty, Mommy."
"Thank you, baby. Today is a big day."
"Bigger than the amusement park?"
Elara laughed. "Different kind of big. I have a very important meeting this morning."
Lucy nodded seriously, as if she understood completely. "You'll be great, Mommy."
Elara's heart swelled. She poured herself a quick coffee, packed Lucy's lunch, and called the babysitter who would take Lucy to school.
By 8:30, she was in her car, driving toward Phoenix Architects.
---
The office was buzzing when she arrived.
Thomas met her at the elevator. "Good morning, ma'am. Ms. Phoebe wants to see you before the meeting. She's in her office."
"Now?"
"Now."
Elara took a breath and walked to the CEO's office.
Phoebe Ma stood by the window, a tablet in her hand. She turned when Elara entered.
"You saw my message?"
"Yes. They agreed to meet."
"At 11:00. In their conference room at the Grand Pacific Hotel." Phoebe handed her the tablet. "This is everything we know about the firm and the CEO. Which is not much. But I want you to be ready."
Elara scrolled through the file. Project photos. Press clippings. A list of rumored partners. No photo of the CEO. No name beyond the company letterhead.
"The CEO is private," Phoebe continued. "He doesn't do interviews. He doesn't attend industry events. But he's coming to our city, and he's agreed to meet us. That is an opportunity, Elara. Do not waste it."
"I won't."
Phoebe studied her for a long moment. "I've also heard that three other firms requested meetings. We may not be the only ones in that room."
Elara's jaw tightened. "Then I'll make sure we're the ones he remembers."
Phoebe almost smiled. "That's what I wanted to hear. Go. Prepare. The car leaves at 10:30."
---
Back at her desk, Elara pulled up her presentation one last time. She reviewed the slides. The designs. The financial projections. The timeline.
Her hands trembled slightly—not from fear, but from the weight of the moment.
This was the meeting that could change everything for Phoenix Architects. For her career. For her future.
She closed her eyes and took three slow breaths.
You've got this.
At 10:25, she gathered her materials, straightened her blazer, and headed for the elevator.
Thomas fell into step beside her. "Car's waiting, ma'am."
"Let's go."
They stepped into the lobby, walked through the revolving doors, and climbed into the black sedan waiting at the curb.
The drive to the Grand Pacific Hotel took fifteen minutes.
Elara spent every second of it staring out the window, running through her talking points, and wondering who she was about to meet .