Lena Carter never believed in fate. Not in the way poets described it, at least. To her, life was a series of choices—some smart, some reckless, and some that left scars.
Five years ago, she had made a choice. She had chosen to leave behind the one person who had once been her entire world. And now, as she stood in the sleek lobby of the Kensington Hotel, staring at the man who had broken her heart, she wondered if fate was just a cruel joke after all
A Ghost from the Past
Ethan Reid hadn't changed much. If anything, time had only refined the edges of the man she used to love. His dark hair was still perfectly tousled, his sharp jawline now accompanied by the faintest hint of stubble. But it was his eyes—the same stormy gray that once looked at her with love—that made her breath hitch.
"Lena?" His voice was smooth, familiar. Too familiar.
She swallowed hard. "Ethan."
He stepped closer, his towering frame exuding the same quiet confidence she had once adored. "I didn't expect to see you here."
"Likewise," she said, forcing her voice to remain even. She tightened her grip on the leather portfolio in her hands. The one holding the sketches for the mural project she had been hired to do.
Ethan tilted his head, realization dawning. "You're the artist?"
A small, humorless laugh escaped her lips. "Yeah. Surprised?"
For a brief moment, something flickered in his gaze—regret, maybe? But then he gave a small smirk, one that sent unwanted shivers down her spine. "Impressed, actually."
Lena felt a familiar pang in her chest. He always had a way of making her feel like she was something extraordinary. But she wouldn't fall for it. Not again.
"Where's the client?" she asked, hoping to move past the awkwardness.
Ethan's smirk faded. "That would be me."
Her stomach dropped
A Job She Can't Walk Away From
Lena's mind raced. She should've asked more questions before taking this job. The Kensington Hotel was one of New York's newest luxury spots, and the anonymous client had offered a generous commission for an exclusive mural in the lobby.
And now, standing in front of Ethan, she realized her mistake.
He watched her carefully, as if waiting for her to bolt. And maybe she should. Maybe she should tell him to find another artist, walk out, and pretend this moment never happened.
But then she thought about her rent. About the gallery space she had been saving for. About the years she had spent proving—to herself and everyone else—that she could make it without him.
So, instead, she forced a polite smile. "Well, then, Mr. Reid," she said, her voice dripping with professionalism, "let's talk business."
Something in Ethan's expression shifted. Maybe he had expected her to crumble, to lash out, to storm off. But she wouldn't give him that satisfaction.
"Of course," he said, matching her formal tone. "Follow me."
Unfinished Business
He led her through the grand corridors of the hotel, pointing out architectural details she barely registered. The entire time, she kept her mask of indifference firmly in place.
Finally, they stopped in front of a massive, empty wall in the lobby.
"This is your canvas," he said.
Lena studied it, her mind already filling with ideas. The space was perfect—open, bright, waiting for something to breathe life into it.
She pulled out her sketches and spread them across a nearby table. "I had envisioned something modern yet timeless," she explained, pointing to the designs. "Abstract elements, but with warmth. Something that—"
"Feels like home," Ethan finished softly.
Her eyes snapped to his, startled.
"That's what you used to say," he continued. "Back in college. You always wanted your art to feel like home."
Lena's chest tightened. He remembered.
Shaking off the emotions creeping in, she nodded. "Yes. That's the goal."
Ethan studied the sketches, his fingers grazing the edges of the paper. "They're incredible," he murmured. "You've only gotten better."
The compliment shouldn't have mattered. But it did.
She cleared her throat. "So, do we have a deal?"
He met her gaze, something unreadable in his expression. "We do."
Old Wounds, New Sparks
The meeting wrapped up quickly, but the weight of the past lingered between them. As Lena gathered her things, Ethan suddenly asked, "Lena… why did you leave that night?"
She froze.
Memories of their last night together flashed in her mind—the heated argument, the hurtful words, the moment she had walked away.
"I think we both know why," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ethan exhaled sharply. "I never stopped looking for you."
Her heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to stay composed. "Well, you found me," she said with a sad smile. "Too bad it's just business now."
She turned to leave, ignoring the ache in her chest.
But as she stepped out into the cool evening air, she couldn't shake the feeling that this job was about to be more than just paint on a wall.
It was unfinished business.
And the past had a way of demanding to be heard.
Let's see