Severa's POV
The drive to the project site wasn't long, but it felt like an eternity. The steady hum of the car engine, the occasional chatter from my colleagues, and the rhythmic tapping of Celine's nails against her phone screen all blended into white noise. I stared out the window, watching as the city skyline faded behind us, replaced by wide roads, scattered commercial buildings, and the occasional glimpse of the sea in the distance.
The resort mall was one of the company's biggest projects—an ambitious combination of luxury retail and leisure, designed to cater to both the general public and high-profile clients. Unlike our usual city-based developments, this one was built near the coastline, surrounded by nature yet still close enough to be accessible.
"We're almost there," Celine announced from the front seat.
I adjusted my posture, stretching my legs slightly. A glance at the side mirror revealed a familiar car trailing behind ours. Eugene was in the passenger seat, deep in discussion with one of his engineers. His expression was unreadable, his posture relaxed yet calculated.
I quickly looked away.
Since our brief conversation after the last meeting, I had done everything possible to keep things professional. We weren't here to talk about the past. We were here to do our jobs. That's what I kept telling myself.
Soon, our convoy of vehicles pulled up to the hotel where we would be staying for the duration of our visit. It was a beachfront boutique hotel, one of the better options in the area, catering to corporate guests and tourists looking for an upscale getaway. The moment I stepped out of the car, the salty breeze hit me, cool against my skin.
"We'll check in first, then head to the site," Celine instructed as she handed out the room assignments. "We'll be here for at least four days, so settle in."
Four days.
Four whole days of unavoidable encounters with Eugene.
"Severa, you're in room 507," she continued. "Eugene, you're in 508."
I stiffened.
"What?" My head snapped toward her.
"It's the only available arrangement," she said absentmindedly, still focused on the room list. "Don't worry, you each have your own rooms. Just next to each other."
Of course. Just my luck.
I sighed and grabbed my keycard, making my way to the elevator. If Diane were here, she'd probably tease me about the situation—though, thankfully, she wasn't. She was still handling another project, oblivious to the tangled mess of emotions I was currently dealing with.
Inside my room, I exhaled deeply, setting my bag down on the sleek hotel desk. The space was modern and clean, with floor-to-ceiling windows opening up to a stunning ocean view. Under different circumstances, I might have actually enjoyed this trip.
The bed looked inviting, but I knew better than to lie down. If I did, I'd end up overthinking everything.
I was about to freshen up when I heard a soft knock.
Not at the door. At the wall.
I froze.
It was faint, barely noticeable, but I knew exactly who it was.
Ignoring it, I grabbed my phone and checked the time. We had an hour before heading to the site. Enough time to collect myself.
Another knock.
I shut my eyes briefly, inhaled, then marched toward the door. When I swung it open, Eugene was already leaning against the frame, arms crossed, looking far too amused for my liking.
"What?" I asked, unimpressed.
"Just checking if you're still alive," he said, lips tilting in a half-smirk.
I rolled my eyes. "I don't have time for whatever this is."
"You never do," he replied, voice unreadable.
I narrowed my eyes. "Are you done?"
"For now," he said, stepping back. "See you at the site."
Without another word, I shut the door, pressing my back against it.
This was going to be a long four days.
The drive to the site was short but filled with anticipation. We took separate cars again, something I was grateful for.
The moment we arrived, I took in the view—wide open space, cleared land, and the ocean a short distance away. The place was beautiful even in its raw state, and I could already imagine how it would look once the project was complete.
"Alright, let's go over the plan," I said, straightening my posture as we gathered around the makeshift office set up at the site. "We've already finalized the structural designs, so this visit is mainly to confirm logistics, inspect the groundwork, and ensure everything aligns before we start construction."
Eugene stood across from me, his presence unavoidable. He listened, his expression neutral, before nodding in agreement. "I'll have my team run the final assessment on the soil stability today. I assume you already received the revised report from my side?"
I nodded. "Yes. It looks good, but I want to double-check a few things."
"Of course."
Professional. This was strictly professional.
As the day went on, we walked the site, discussing logistics, material deliveries, and possible contingencies. My focus was sharp—work was my safe space, my escape. As long as I kept my mind on the project, I wouldn't have time to think about the past.
But avoiding Eugene completely was impossible.
At one point, we ended up reviewing the blueprint together. Standing close, hands brushing as we pointed at different sections, I could feel the weight of unspoken words between us.
"This section," he murmured, tapping the paper. "It might need reinforcement. The last assessment showed some potential concerns."
"I saw that," I replied, shifting slightly. "We'll need to discuss it with the engineers."
A beat of silence.
Then, quietly, he said, "You've changed."
I tensed.
I forced myself to keep my attention on the blueprint. "It's been ten years, Eugene. Of course, I've changed."
He didn't respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. "Yeah. I guess we both have."
I didn't look at him. I couldn't.
Instead, I cleared my throat and turned to one of the engineers. "Let's make a note of this. I want an update by tomorrow morning."
And just like that, the conversation ended.
But the tension?
That remained.