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.

I came out of my car and Ethan was already heading towards me, a worried expression on his face.

His towering, powerful figure moved with an effortless elegance, and despite the stress engraved in his face, there was something soothing about his presence.

He was certainly handsome, but not in the same way as Liam.

Where Liam had a crisp, even scary appeal, Ethan possessed a softness that made him friendlier, more sympathetic.

"Hey," he murmured, his voice low and calming. "I’ve been trying to contact you. It wasn’t connecting. I arrived here a few minutes ago."

I dug inside my backpack, taking out my phone. "It’s been on the whole time," I began, only to see the dark screen. After the call with Angela, the battery must have died. I sighed, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Guess it died."

"It happens," he answered with a tiny grin, but the fear didn’t leave his eyes.

"Come in," I urged, wanting some companionship more than I cared to admit. He nodded, following me inside.

My apartment was basic but attractive, a reflection of my style.

The neutral tones and modest furnishings made the place seem serene, almost like a refuge.

I could feel Ethan’s stare on me as I led him into the living room, where the mellow light of the evening sun streamed through the drapes.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere.

"I’m fine," he said, but I could see the hesitancy in his eyes.

I grinned, trying to seem lighthearted. "Are you feeling like a visitor? This is your third time here, you know."

That appeared to lessen the strain a bit.

He laughed, the sound pleasant and familiar, and for a minute, it seemed like the weight on my chest had eased just a bit.

But then he rose up and moved towards me in the kitchen, his look turning serious again.

For a few minutes, he quietly stared at me, and I could feel the intensity in his eyes.

With him, it was always this way. Something about the way he stared at me made me feel vulnerable, as if he could see beyond the defenses I had put up.

"Are you okay?" he said in a soft but urgent tone.

"Yes," I answered quickly, but my voice betrayed me, trembling as I struggled to keep back the emotions that were about to boil over again.

I sighed hard, turning to move to the living room, but before I could take a step, he reached out and gently pulled me back.

That little touch was all it needed for the dam to shatter.

The tears I had been battling so hard to hold at away came gushing out, and I couldn’t stop them.

My shoulders trembled with the power of my cries, and I felt Ethan’s arms wrap around me, bringing me close.

"Oh no," he mumbled, his voice full of worry as he escorted me to the sofa.

He sat with me, not letting go, and I was glad for the comfort, for the warmth of his arms.

"What’s wrong?" he questioned again, and this time, I couldn’t keep back.

I told him everything.

About the marriage, the divorce, the humiliation of discovering Liam with another woman on our anniversary. The way it had all gone apart, leaving me devastated and bewildered.

Ethan remained quiet while I talked, but I could see the emotions flashing in his eyes.. astonishment, disbelief, and something more that I couldn’t quite describe. Was it jealousy? Hurt? Or was I simply imagining it, seeing what I wanted to see in the depths of his gaze?

When I finished, there was a lengthy hush.

Ethan didn’t talk, but his hand never left me, his hold warm and solid.

It was if he understood that words wouldn’t be enough to take away the agony, that all I needed right now was someone to be there, to listen, to care.

Finally, I glanced up at him, and our eyes connected.

There was a compassion in his face that made my heart hurt, but I immediately glanced away, unable to maintain his sight for long.

It was too much, too soon. I couldn’t allow myself be dragged into those feelings again, couldn’t let myself dream for something that may never happen.

“Ethan, I’m sorry,” I mumbled, drawing my hand away and wiping the tears from my face. “I didn’t mean to burden you with all of this.”

He shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize, Sophie. I’m pleased you told me. You’ve been dragging this around for too long.”

His remarks were so kind, so sympathetic, that they made me want to weep all over again. But I kept it together, attempting to recover some sort of control.

I took a long breath, seeking to settle my emotions. “It’s just been hard, you know? Liam was the first person I truly allowed in, and he... he broke me.”

Ethan nodded, his face still warm, still compassionate. “I get it, Soph. But you’re stronger than you realize. You’ve gone through hell, yet you’re still standing.”

I smiled faintly at his words, but the anguish in my chest didn’t ease. “Thanks, Ethan. It means a lot, but I’m not sure I’m ready for... anything right now.”

“I understand,” he responded simply, not pressuring me for more. And I appreciated it, more than he could know.

A quiet stillness crept between us, and my mind strayed to how we had met.

It had been two months ago, in a restaurant. A chance meeting, really.

We had exchanged numbers, met up for a couple occasions, and things had simply... clicked.

There was something about him, something that made it easy to open up to him, to be myself with him. He was different from Liam in so many ways.. softer, kinder, more patient.

I had permitted him to come over to my place last month, then a week ago, and now tonight.

Each time, we had spoken, exchanged tales, and laughed a bit.

It was easy with him, and that terrified me.

I had a warm place for him, that much was evident, but I wasn’t ready.

I couldn’t let my guard down again, couldn’t risk my heart, not after all I had gone through.

What if I wasn’t enough? What if I could never be complete again? I didn’t say any of this out loud, however.

Instead, I nodded and leaned into him, giving myself this one moment of comfort, knowing that I would have to face the reality of my predicament sooner or later.

For now, however, I was pleased to let Ethan hold me, to allow myself feel anything other than anguish, even if it was just for a short time.

Maybe I wasn't as alone as I believed.

I entered my friend’s crowded restaurant, the smells of spices and freshly prepared food filling the air.

Maya, her long dark hair tied up in a bun, spotted me from across the room and waved, a smile on her face.

She was busy with her staff, the laughter and talk of customers filling the area around them.

As I took a seat, Maya waved to me, mouthing "I'll be right there" as she ran back to her cooking station.

As I waited for Maya, I let myself to soak in the spirit of the place.

The hum of discussion, the clinking of glasses, the quiet music in the background.. It was a wonderful break from the seclusion of my flat.

When Maya eventually joined me, she put a hand on my shoulder and then hastily sat down.

“Hey Soph, what were you saying over the phone? You actually meant it??.. you met… He is back in New York??”

I nodded, my guts twisting into knots. "Yeah, he's back. I bumped into him at the Art Exhibition last night."

Maya's eyes widened in surprise. "Liam? The Liam? I can’t believe it! If he was at the Art exhibition, that indicates he must have purposefully come for you, since there's no way he'd visit the Greenwoods’ Art Gallery display and wouldn't expect to see you.. so after everything that happened, he simply comes up like that?"

"Exactly," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. "And the worst thing is, he appeared different. Like he wanted to communicate, like he wasn’t the same guy who delivered me those divorce papers."

Maya’s countenance softened, her palm extending out to cover mine.

"Soph, you’ve gone through hell because of him. You can’t allow him interfere with your brain again."

I sighed, staring down at our hands, feeling the warmth of her support. "I know, but it’s not that simple. Seeing him brought everything back. All the hurt, the humiliation, everything."

Maya clasped my hand softly. "You’re stronger than you think, Soph. You don’t owe him anything, not even your attention. He made his decision."

"But what if he’s changed? What if…"

Maya cut me off, her tone strong.

"No. Don’t even go there. People like him don’t simply change overnight. You need to concentrate on yourself, on going ahead, not on what-ifs."

I nodded, knowing she was correct, but a part of me still hurt with the unresolved sentiments that seeing Liam had brought up.

Maya reclined back in her chair, observing me for a time before speaking again.

"Listen, why don’t we take your mind off things? Come assist me in the kitchen. We’re overwhelmed today, and I could use an additional set of hands."

I smiled at her offer, happy for the diversion. "Sure, why not? It’s better than sitting here and overthinking everything."

Maya giggled and pulled me up from the chair. "That’s the spirit! Let’s go to work."

As we proceeded to the kitchen, I felt a bit lighter.

Maybe Maya was correct. Maybe what I needed was to focus on the present, on the people who were truly there for me.

Liam was part of my past, and that’s where he deserved to remain.

As Maya and I worked side-by-side in the busy kitchen, our actions settling into a familiar pattern, the quiet hung heavily between us.

Finally, when she took a pot of noodles off the counter, Maya broke the stillness.

"So," she continued, her voice low, "how are things with Ethan? Last time we talked, you were contemplating giving him a chance."

I stopped, the heat from the fire burning my cheeks as I weighed my response.

"He was at my place last night," I continued, my voice low.

At Maya's joyful shriek, my cheeks flamed with shame, and I attempted to ignore the inquisitive eyes of the other cooks.

"Eiiiiiiiiii! Things are beginning up then?" she remarked, her smile growing. "He’s going to your house now? Wow!"

I chuckled, attempting to shrug off her mocking. "It was simply a brief visit. I don’t believe it signifies anything.”

After screaming and joking at my confession, Maya went serious.

"Sophie, I think this guy genuinely likes you," she said, her voice low and sincere. "You know I don’t simply say that about everyone. But Ethan, he seems different. He appears to truly care about you.”

I paused, uncertain of how to answer. I wanted to believe Maya, to trust in Ethan's sincerity, but the scars Liam had left were still fresh, constantly bleeding.

Finally, I spoke. "Maya, I...I finally spoke out to Ethan about Liam.”

Maya nodded, understanding, and then her eyes brightened up. "Oh, you did? That must have been terrible for you."

I sighed, nodding. "It was, but it also felt like a weight off my chest. Ethan was really sweet about it. He genuinely listened."

Maya's grin grew. "That’s wonderful! Ethan seems like such a lovely person. And he's very persistent, which is a wonderful thing."

I smiled back, but a sense of uncertainty swept over me. "I just...I don’t want to be injured again.”

Maya's face relaxed. She was about to speak when the sound of my phone buzzing in my purse broke through the hum of the kitchen.

She raised an eyebrow, a grin flickering at the corners of her lips. "Ooh, Ethan already checking in on you?" she joked, before adding, "Go ahead, check it."

I took out my phone, my pulse beating as I unlocked the screen.

It was an unknown number.

I was cautious about selecting it in the kitchen.

"I'll be right back," I murmured to Maya, the grin on my face seeming forced. "It's the gallery, I have to take this call."

She nodded, giving me a comforting grin as I swiftly made my way out of the kitchen and into the relative stillness of the restaurant's main dining room.

With my pulse still hammering, I answered the phone, speaking gently.

"Hello?”

I held my breath, hoping for a reaction.

"Sophie, it's your dad. Is this a good time to talk?"

My shoulders dropped with relief, my fingers pushing against my chest as if to slow my beating heart.

"Oh, hey dad. Yes, indeed, I'm at Maya's restaurant but I have a minute."

There was a pause, then his voice was softer as he spoke once again.

"Sweetheart, I have to say something.”

“Of course, what’s up?” I questioned, knowing the weight underlying his words.