“Sorry I couldn't make it down yesterday, I got so busy at the restaurant, being a Friday, it was dead busy” Maya said as we pulled out of our brief hug and gave a peck on my cheeks.

"Hey, don't worry about it," I said, smiling at Maya. "I'm just glad you made it today. Are you ready to be amazed by all this art?"

Maya rolled her eyes playfully. "Girl, I'm just here for the free wine and cheese, let's be honest."

I laughed. "Well, lucky for us, there's plenty of both. So, tell me, what's new with you? How's the restaurant going?"

Maya shook her head, a wry smile on her lips.

"Ugh, it's been a rollercoaster," Maya groaned as we made our way through the exhibition hall. "But hey, at least I still have a job. Some days I think that's all I can ask for."

I nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, things are definitely tough out there. But hey, at least you get to work with food, right? That's gotta be a perk."

Maya gave me a sideways glance, her eyes sparkling. "Girl, you know how much of a foodie I am.”

"Speaking of food, have you tried that new fusion spot down on Third?" Maya asked, pausing to admire a particularly striking sculpture. "I hear they do a killer miso-glazed salmon."

"Oh, I haven't," I said, admiring the sculpture as well. "But that sounds delicious. Maybe we should make a date for it sometime soon?"

"Definitely," Maya nodded, moving on to the next piece. "But first, I want you to show me some of this art that's got you so excited.”

"Right this way," I said, leading Maya deeper into the exhibition.

The Crescent Gallery’s exhibition had been a success, and my dad insisted I attend this charity event as a representative.

It was a chance to make connections, to network, and to keep the gallery’s name in the spotlight.

I had agreed, thinking it would be a simple enough task. A few hours of polite conversation, and I could slip away unnoticed.

But the moment I had stepped into the crowded hall, I knew it wouldn't be that simple.

The chatter was deafening, and I felt overwhelmed by the sea of people.

I tried to focus on Maya's company, on the art, on anything to distract myself from the weight of expectations on my shoulders.

"Ooh, now this is intriguing," Maya said, stopping in front of a large canvas that seemed to be painted entirely in shades of black. "What's the story here?"

I took a step closer, trying to remember the details from the gallery's catalog.

"This piece is called 'The Void'," I explained. "The artist, Jean-Paul LaCointe, said he was inspired by the darkness he felt after losing someone close to him."

Maya leaned in, studying the texture of the paint.

"That makes sense. You can almost feel the emotion radiating from it. I'd say he did a pretty good job capturing that emptiness.”

As Maya spoke, I lost myself in the painting, swept away by its depth and emotion.

I remembered our trips to art galleries, the way he would study each piece with a critical eye, pointing out details I would have missed.

I had always loved that about Liam, his passion for beauty, his appreciation for the finer things in life.

But now, all those memories felt like mirages, shimmering illusions that had vanished into thin air.

Maya's voice snapped me back to reality, her words startling me out of my reverie.

"Hey, are you still with me?" she asked, a worried look in her eyes. "You seemed a million miles away just now.”

I forced a smile, trying to brush off her concern. "Oh, sorry. I was just thinking about... something else."

She studied me for a moment, her gaze shrewd. “Don't tell me this is about that piece of shit?”

I bristled at her words, even though I knew she meant well.

"Maya, please," I said, my voice sharp. "I don't need you to remind me of what he did. I'm not stupid, okay?"

"I'm not saying you are," she countered, her eyes softening. "But Soph, it's been a year. You can't keep living like this, bottling everything up."

I felt my resolve crumble, tears welling in my eyes. "I know, I know. I'm just…”

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not asking you to forget. But maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to move forward, together?"

I leaned into her embrace, grateful for the warmth.

“How about you give Ethan a chance? You never can tell, even if it's just to get distracted or something? Soph, it's been a whole f-ing year! Are you gon’ keep leaving like this?? Liam doesn't freaking deserve it!”

Maya’s words hit me like a slap to the face, jarring me out of my melancholy.

"What? Are you serious? Ethan?" I scoffed, pulling away from her embrace. "He's the last person I want to see right now, let alone give a chance to."

Maya narrowed her eyes, her expression fierce. "And why is that? Because he's actually interested in you, and not just using you like Liam did?"

"That's not fair!" I protested, my cheeks flushing with anger.

"Maybe not," Maya conceded, her voice gentler now. "But you've got to admit, you've been avoiding him for a reason.

And I think that reason is that you're scared. Scared of getting hurt again, of opening yourself up to someone new."

She paused, waiting for me to respond. But all I could do was stare at the floor, lost in my own thoughts.

"Look, Soph, I'm not trying to push you into anything. But just hear me out, okay? Give Ethan a chance. Even if it's just for one date, one conversation," Maya pressed, her voice insistent but still kind. "You don't have to jump into anything serious.” She paused then continued..

“But who knows? Maybe he's exactly what you need right now. A distraction, like you said. Or maybe, just maybe, he's more than that. Maybe he's someone you can trust, someone who actually cares about you."

Her words rang in my head, a faint echo of hope.

Was she right?

Could Ethan be the one to pull me out of this darkness, to help me find the light again?

"Sorry, Sophie. Duty calls," Maya murmured, grabbing for her phone. "I've got to go. But assure me you'll think about what I said. Ethan may be worth the risk."

I nodded, throwing her a faint grin. "Yeah, absolutely. I'll think about it."

Maya gave me a short embrace, her eyes begging. "Please do. And call me later, okay? No matter what you decide, I want to know about it."

"I will," I vowed.

With Maya gone, I felt the weight of my anguish return, crushing down on me like a thick shroud.

The exhibition space appeared to get darker, the paintings blurring before my eyes.

I staggered aimlessly into the corridor, yearning for a way out, for a moment of calm.

The lights appeared to flicker, the voices echoing like the moans of ghosts.

I was sinking, suffocated under the weight of my memories, of my grief.

In my rush, I bumped with a person, too engrossed in my own thoughts to notice.

"Hey, take it easy," the deep voice urged, immediately unmistakable.

My head sprang up, my eyes catching his.

"I'm so sorry," I muttered, my pulse beating as I raised my head and there, it seemed like the world stopped.

It felt like my eyes were deceived but then I looked again, no.

My breath froze in my throat as our eyes connected.

Liam.

No way.

He stood before me, towering and handsome as ever, his eyes searing into my soul.

I took my time to observe him. He looked different.

The strong angles of his face were softened by something I couldn’t quite pinpoint.

His outfit was finely fitted, as usual, but there was a subtle difference in his attitude.. a looseness in his stance, a kindness in his gaze.

The cold, aloof guy I had formerly known appeared to have been replaced by someone… warmer.

The sight of him standing there, so serene and confident, aroused a combination of feelings I wasn’t prepared for.

I pushed myself to turn aside, thinking the moment would pass, but I could still feel his eyes searing into me.

I diverted my focus back to an attendant walking by, my heart racing in my chest.

I needed a drink, something to steady my nerves. As I grabbed for a glass of champagne, a voice from behind me made my blood run cold.

“Sophia.”

His voice was like a whisper of the past, familiar but distant.

I hadn’t heard him mention my name in over a year, and suddenly, just one phrase had the capacity to ruin all I had fought so hard to repair.

“Liam,” I said, keeping my voice firm, though it was the last thing I felt.

For a minute, none of us spoke.

The silence between us was thick, packed with a thousand unsaid messages.

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything more, terrified that if I did, the dam would collapse, and everything I had been keeping back would come gushing out.

“You look… well,” he eventually said, his voice laced with something that nearly sounded like remorse.

I faked a smile, one that didn’t reach my eyes. “You too.”

Another silence.

The courteous, detached kind that people use when they don’t know what else to say.

I despised it, hated that we had become strangers, tiptoeing around one other as if we hadn’t ever shared everything.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” he lied, shattering the silence that had fallen between us..

He didn't expect to see me in my dad's gallery??

“Neither did I,” I acknowledged, taking a drink of my champagne. “I’m here for work.”

He nodded, his gaze wandering to the glass in my palm before meeting my eyes again. “You’re doing well then? With the gallery?”

“It’s been… good. Busy.” I kept my responses brief, not wanting to offer him more than necessary.

The less I talked, the safer I felt.

Liam appeared to detect my uncertainty, and for a second, I feared he may walk away. But instead, he took a step closer, his voice falling to a tone that made my pulse skip a beat.

“Sophie.. I’ve been thinking… I’d want to talk. Really talk.”

I tensed, the words hanging in the air between us.

It was the last thing I wanted, to speak to him.

Even though running into him now, I couldn't articulate my sentiments.. anger, hatred, relief, delight, I simply couldn't place it.

Still, the part of me that had loved him started to wonder what he had to say.

My voice barely above a whisper, I said, "I don't think that's a good idea."

He looked down, as if giving his next words much thought.

When he spoke again, there was a warmth in his tone that threw me off guard.

“I know I hurt you, Soph. I know I wasn’t the spouse you deserved. But things… they’re different today. I understand if you never want to forgive me. But can we at least attempt to speak things through? Just this once?"

I wanted to believe him, wanted to hope he had changed, just maybe.

But it was impossible to overlook the recollections of our last days together, that coldness in his eyes as he handed me the papers.

"I've moved on, Liam," I said, more for my own benefit than his. "You should too."

He opened his mouth as if insisting, but I cut him short.

"Please, do not do this. Not Here." I said

Though I remained fast, his frantic look almost brought me down.

Not after everything. No. I cannot let him back in.

I turned and left without waiting for his response.. my heels clicked on the marble floor and I could hear it.

I stopped only when I went outside, the clean night air slapped my face like a kick.

My heart was racing, my thoughts racing in a tempest of feeling.

Seeing Liam once again and hearing him speak those things was like dragging out an old wound.. one that never really healed.

Leaning on the railing, I tried to breathe.

Tears welled in my eyes, so the city lights blurred, but I blinked them away.

I wouldn’t allow him see me cry. Not again.

But as much as I wanted to forget, to bury the past where it belonged, I couldn’t escape the sensation that this wasn’t the last time I would see Liam.

And it frightened me more than anything.

Outside, I dashed through the parking lot with my footsteps reverberating off the concrete walls.

Though my vision was cloudy from the tears I was fighting, I pressed on.

Not here, not in front of everyone.

I simply wanted to get to the vehicle, away from prying eyes and the oppressive intensity of the occasion.

Once I approached the vehicle, I struggled with the keys, my hands trembling violently.

As soon as I entered, I shut the door and at finally let go.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and relentless, as the memories I had been striving so hard to hide surged back, hard like a tsunami.

It was as if I had been sent back in time to that evening one year ago.

My heart buoyant with excitement, I had gotten home from work.

Our first anniversary arrived, and while our marriage had started off rocky, I had started to believe that maybe, just perhaps, we were moving forward.

That we were making our way to each other, slowly but certainly.

I had even made a particular effort that evening. I picked up Liam’s favorite takeout, got a bottle of the wine he loved, and even put on the outfit he had previously admired.

I wanted to show him that I was trying, that I was devoted to making our marriage work, even if it had begun as nothing more than a business arrangement.

But as I came through the door, all of that optimism, that fragile feeling that we were constructing something genuine, collapsed.

He was waiting for me in the living room, his demeanor icy and disconnected.

I recall how my heart had skipped a beat, but not out of love.. out of dread.

There was something about the way he stared at me, like if I was nothing more than a stranger.

And then he gave me the envelope.

“Happy anniversary,” he had remarked, his voice devoid of any affection.

The words felt like a smack in the face, but I still didn’t comprehend. Not until I opened the mail and found the divorce papers glaring back at me.

It seemed like my world had stopped.

I couldn't inhale, couldn't process. I was locked in a stare with the documents, a fierce struggle of astonishment and sadness storming within me.

How could he do this?

How could he terminate it all so coldly, so viciously, without any warning?

But the worst was yet to come.

As I stood there, frozen by the shock, I glimpsed something out of the corner of my eye.

Movement in the bedroom.

Before I could even grasp what was occurring, a lady came from the bedroom, her clothing untidy, her demeanor cocky.

She didn’t even attempt to disguise it.. her being there, in my house, on my anniversary!

Liam didn’t utter a thing.

He didn’t attempt to explain, didn’t provide any justifications.

He simply stood there, watching as my heart splintered into a million pieces, his indifference searing worse than any words ever could.

I had always understood that our marriage wasn’t founded on love. I hadn’t wanted to marry him in the first place, but I had no option.

His family had invested considerably in my father’s firm, and our marriage was part of the agreement.

It was a commercial transaction, nothing more. But I had ventured to dream, daring to trust that maybe, with time, things may change.

That we could find love, or at least anything close to it.

But Liam had made it obvious from the outset that he didn’t consider me as his wife.

To him, I was merely a means to an end, a piece in his family’s vast strategy.

And yet, despite everything, I had fell for him.

My naive, innocent heart had hung on the belief that, should I love him enough, should I work hard enough, he could one day love me back.

But all he had traded me for was suffering. Shame and suffering.

Sitting in my car now, my tears began to fade gradually and I wondered how I had permitted things to get to this.

How I had let myself be so vulnerable, so stupid.

Though I knew I couldn't stay here, wallowing in the past, my chest hurt terribly. I had to gather myself together and figure out how forward I could go.

But how could I, when the past kept rear-tracking into my life?

Every time I saw his pictures on the internet, every time I heard his name, the raw, fresh scars emerged.

I cleaned my eyes and inhaled trembingly.

I couldn't let him see me this way or tell him how badly he had damaged me. Not anymore, he did not deserve that degree of influence over me.

I started the car with a faltering hand, the buzz of the engine a pleasant detour from the storm within me.

I had to leave this place and try to leave as much space between Liam and myself.

Because I wasn't sure I would survive the next encounter if I didn't.

Searching for Angela's number among my contacts, my fingers shook.

I tried to sound calm and to keep the tremble off my voice when she answered.

"Angela, I'm sorry to bother you, something very important came up. Could you run the show for the remaining evening? I would really appreciate it."

Angela's voice was full of anxiety. "Of course, Sophie. Is everything okay? Do you need me to come by?”

"No, no, it's fine," I lied. "I simply have to take care of something personal. Thanks for understanding, Angela."

I stopped the phone before she could ask any more questions, my hands still quivering as I grasped the driving wheel.

I wasn't sure I believed my own remarks. Nothing was alright, not anymore.

And yet, I couldn't let anybody realize exactly how damaged I was.

I drove out from the exhibition hall, my heart hammering as I pushed myself to concentrate on the road ahead.

In a few minutes, I arrived at my flat.

The complex was a calm, contemporary edifice, with its glass and steel exterior reflecting the setting sun's rays.

I drove into the parking lot, pleased to be home.

But as I drove into my place, I caught sight of a gorgeous sports vehicle parked close, its owner lounging nonchalantly against the side.

It was Ethan, his towering, muscular body silhouetted against the car's gleaming surface, his phone held to his ear.

My heart skipped a beat, even as I attempted to collect myself, brushing away the traces of my tears.