The ride back to her apartment was quiet.
Selene sat in the backseat of the car, one hand resting on her lap while the other absentmindedly touched the ring that now hung from the delicate chain around her neck. The cool metal pressed lightly against her skin through the fabric of her blouse, like a silent reminder of a past she wasn’t sure she wanted to remember anymore.
Her phone vibrated. A message.
Sebastian: I’m sorry. For everything.
She stared at the screen, unmoving. After a few seconds, she locked it without replying.
The lights of East City flickered past the window, neon signs casting brief glows across her face. Her mind replayed the evening like a scratched reel: the quiet familiarity of their banter, the way he had looked at her, that flicker of regret in his eyes, and then—Monica Hudson. The interruption. The deflection. The same old Sebastian.
You didn’t even say goodbye… and now you want to pretend everything can go back to how it was?
Her heart warred with her head. And somewhere in between, buried under years of ambition, pain, and reinvention, was the girl who used to believe in him.
But Selene Mondiego had spent too much time rebuilding herself to let an apology over dinner unravel her now.
The car pulled up to her apartment complex. She gave a small nod to the driver and stepped out. The lobby greeted her with cool air and muted lighting. She passed the security guard with a polite smile and took the elevator to the 17th floor.
As the doors slid open, she took a slow breath and stepped inside her home—a clean, minimalist apartment that mirrored her life: structured, quiet, and carefully curated.
She placed her purse on the kitchen counter and walked straight to the bedroom. The gold chain came off her neck, and with it, the weight of that memory. She gently laid the necklace back in the drawer and closed it.
No more distractions.
She changed into her pajamas—loose cotton pants and a soft tank top—and walked to the living room, where her laptop waited. The architectural renderings for the Hillwood site project stared back at her. Clean lines, bold angles, seamless integration of glass and natural elements. It was a bold design, one that could become a landmark if executed well.
But her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
She wasn’t in the right headspace—not after tonight. Not after seeing him.
A soft chime broke the silence.
Another message.
Kian: Any updates on the Hillwood Partnership? I’ll be presenting it to the board in the next joint board meeting. Need to know if we’re still moving forward with Skylar Corporation.
Selene didn’t reply immediately. Instead, she walked to the window, arms crossed over her chest, staring out at the glittering skyline of East City.
Skylar Corporation—now that was a real opportunity. Founded by Clark Skylar, a 30-year-old bachelor and business prodigy, the company had grown from a modest car manufacturing firm into a powerhouse in transportation and logistics. Their influence was especially strong in Hillwood City, where the company had recently secured the rights to develop new eco-industrial zones.
The Skylar and Mondiego families first met at a business conference in Central City the previous year. The connection was strong—both visionary and practical. With Mondiego Group seeking to expand their logistics division, and Skylar Corporation pushing to diversify its infrastructure partners, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
Selene had met Clark once—briefly. He was sharp, charming, and fiercely intelligent. Nothing like Sebastian.
And most importantly, this partnership had nothing to do with past heartbreaks.
After a few minutes, she finally typed back:
Selene: The meeting with the structural engineers went smoothly. I’ll have the revised drafts on your desk by Monday. As for Skylar, I believe we should proceed. Clark Skylar’s proposal aligns with our Hillwood expansion plans—especially with the new logistics hub they’re funding.
Kian replied almost immediately:
Kian: Perfect. I’ll schedule a follow-up with their team. Clark also invited us to the Hillwood Summit next month. Let me know if you want to attend.
She smiled faintly. Kian was always composed, efficient, and just enough of a control freak to keep everything running like a well-oiled machine. He never asked questions about her personal life unless it concerned business—and Selene was grateful for that.
She returned to the living room and shut her laptop. Tonight was not the night for blueprints.
Instead, she poured herself a glass of red wine and curled up on the couch. The soft hum of city life below her window offered a strange kind of comfort. She sipped slowly, her thoughts drifting.
She remembered the first time she met Sebastian.
Her first class where he sit on the chair she was supposed to occupy
The legendary back kick, the challenge Sebastian pulled to make her quit joining the club
Then came the endless nights at the library, the group projects, the gentle teasing, the shared dreams of building something great together. It had all felt so real… until he vanished.
No goodbye. No explanation. Just a vacuum where their future had once lived.
And now, he was back. Sitting across from her as if nothing had happened.
Her phone buzzed again.
Sebastian: I meant to say goodbye that day. I just… didn’t know how.
Selene didn’t reply.
Instead, she reached for the remote and turned on the television, letting the soft murmur of late-night news fill the space. Her chest still felt tight, her heart still conflicted.
But she knew one thing for sure.
Whatever Sebastian Ford wanted from her now—whether it was forgiveness, a second chance, or simply peace of mind—he was going to have to earn it.
Because Selene Mondiego was no longer the girl who waited for goodbyes.
She was the woman shaping skylines and commanding partnerships with men like Clark Skylar.
And she wasn’t going to let anyone pull her back into the past.
Not again.
Not ever.