Collin
The boardroom was a battlefield, each executive a seasoned soldier, their words weapons of calculated precision. I sat at the head of the table, a silent observer, my gaze scanning the room. Cereus, poised and composed, was about to present the financial reports. As she stepped up to the podium, I sent her a silent nod, a silent wish of good luck. Her eyes met mine for a fleeting moment, a spark igniting in the depths of her gaze.
The rest of the meeting was a blur of numbers, projections, and heated debates. The factory issue inevitably surfaced, a storm cloud looming over the proceedings. After hours of back-and-forth, the decision was made to form an investigation committee. A temporary truce had been established, but the underlying tension remained palpable.
As I stepped out of the building, the city lights seemed to blur into a single, blinding expanse. The day had been a marathon, a relentless test of endurance. I hailed a cab, and the ride home was a silent journey through the neon-lit labyrinth of the city.
The following evening, as I made my way to my home, from the office, my phone buzzed. A text from Cereus.
"Can we talk? - Cereus" The words were simple, yet they carried the weight of an unspoken promise. Relief washed over me, a tidal wave of emotions crashing against the shore of my guarded heart. Finally, she was ready to confront the past, to delve into the depths of our unspoken words.
But then, the memory of Matthew surfaced, his possessive gaze, his sweet interactions with Cereus. The relief I'd felt moments ago was replaced by a bitter taste, a sour undercurrent to my anticipation.
I replied, "About time. Where and when? – Collin"
The words felt cold and calculated, a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within me. As I stepped out of the car and into the familiar lobby, I realized I was ill-prepared for what was to come. The meeting with Cereus was a battle I hadn't trained for, a fight where the only weapon I possessed was the raw truth, a weapon I was unsure how to wield.
A buzz from Collin's phone pulled him from his mind rumblings. It was Cereus.
"Want to grab breakfast this Saturday? The new cafe near the office."
A smile crept onto his face. It had been a while since they'd hung out just the two of them. He texted back quickly.
"Sure, sounds good. I'm free."
The rest of the workday passed in a blur of anticipation.
That night, as sleep claimed him, the familiar dread crept in. It was the nightmare. The same one that had haunted him for years.
He was back in Taro Cafe, the place where it all began. It was six years ago, and he was standing there, heart pounding, as he saw Cereus for the first time in half a year. She was even more beautiful than he remembered. His mind raced with everything he wanted to say, to explain, to apologize for. He wanted to hold her, to protect her. Love, a word he had shied away from, blossomed in his heart.
But as he moved towards their table, his world shattered. He heard Molly's bitter words about him, accusing him of vanishing without a trace. And then Cereus' voice, cold and final. She didn't want him. She didn't care. It was over.
The pain was excruciating. He wanted to wake up, to erase the memory. But it was too late. The nightmare had reached its climax. With a jolt, he was back in his bedroom, heart racing, sweat beading on his forehead.
The familiar despair washed over him. Another night ruined by the ghost of the past.
The cold sweat clung to his skin as he sat up in bed, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm. The nightmare, a relentless specter, had once again invaded his sleep, leaving him adrift in a sea of despair. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to dispel the lingering images.
The memory of Cereus' rejection, as vivid as ever, was a constant companion. He'd tried everything to move on - new hobbies, different social circles, even therapy. But nothing seemed to dull the ache in his chest. It was as if a part of him had died that day in the cafe.
The upcoming breakfast with Cereus felt like a surreal juxtaposition to the turmoil within him. On one hand, he was excited to spend time with her, to reconnect after so many years. But on the other, dread gnawed at him. What if the old wounds were reopened? What if the past came crashing down on them both?
He glanced at the clock. It was still early. Sleep was out of the question. He swung his legs over the bed and padded to the kitchen. A cup of strong coffee might help to clear his head. As he waited for the water to boil, he stared out the window, lost in thought.
The morning light was a stark contrast to the darkness that consumed him. He needed to find a way to face Cereus without letting the past dictate their future. But how?