She remembered that night all too clearly. The way it had started, the way it had unraveled. The way she had thought she'd never see him again, only to hear him screaming her name, pushing his way through to her, through the inferno. 

She remembered the guilt, the pain, the loss. How it had clung to her, never to truly let go.

She remembered the ash, later, how it had fallen like snowflakes.

It seemed to dance in front of her vision now, as he walked towards her, like he had been ripped right out of her dreams. Words came drifting by, but they sounded so far away, like they were bubbling out of someplace underwater. They didn't matter, anyway. Not when he was there, in front of her, with his dark curls that still fell around his face in that messy way that she so loved, and his eyes that held just as many shades of blue as she remembered, as if someone had lovingly painted them in.

She wanted to run, cover the distance between them. She wanted to reach out, and touch. If this was yet another dream, then she was fine not waking up.

But then, one voice broke through the echoing silence in her head.

"...our new Architect, Malachi Iravani."

Malachi.

Malachi, Malachi, Malachi.

No, this wasn't a dream. She was here, at the gala. She could feel the cold of the glass seeping the heat from her fingertips, could hear the soft words being exchanged throughout the hall turn into a confluent buzz. Her feet were still aching from her heels, her head still hurting from all the smiling she had been doing all night. This was not a dream.

And Malachi was here.

He was here, not a foot away from her, and all she'd need to do was take half a step forward to touch him, to feel him.

And then, Sebastian's words sank in.

Architect?

Sebastian was saying something, exchanging formalities, talking about the hotel, but she could barely hear it. Not when Malachi was right there in front of her, clad in a simple grey shirt that clung to him like a lover, smelling of the same dark, smoky cologne he used to wear. Not when everything she had buried deep down for years was threatening to come crashing out. Not when, no matter how intently she stared at him, he was not looking at her.

Why was he not looking at her?

The giddying delirium started to give way to a throat-closing anxiety, as seconds ticked away, and Malachi didn't even turn towards her, smiling politely instead at Sebastian, like she didn't even exist.

"...and, of course," she heard Sebastian say through the whirlwind raging inside her mind, "this is my wife."

Rose sucked in a breath, all thoughts dying as Malachi turned, his eyes finally coming to a rest on hers. And, just for that one moment, just for that feeling of a thousand fires that his gaze could set within her, she'd do it all again. Every horrible decision, every ruined life. 

But then he extended his right hand, and all the rest of it came crashing back. 

She stared at the burn scars, still so distinctly visible, after all the surgeries, all the years. She had done this to him. She hadn't just ruined her own life, or the lives of all those who had been entangled in her cruel, selfish web. She had ruined his.

A thorned vine seemed to wrap around her heart as she took his hand, shaking it like they were strangers, like that very hand hadn't memorized every inch of her body like it belonged to him.

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Price."

What?

Rose blinked, the world chilling around her. 

Mrs. Price?

He looked away almost immediately, sinking back into pleasant conversation with Sebastian, while Rose stood there, icicles ripping at her from the inside.

"We should be heading to dinner, now," she heard Sebastian say. "Would you care to join us at our table? I'm sure you and Rose will have a lot to discuss."

"Of course," Malachi said, in that smooth, velvet voice of his, throwing a passing look towards Rose. "I'd be happy to."

Rose wanted to scream. Cry, maybe. Shake Sebastian, hit Malachi. Do something to stop this suffocating formality. It felt like she had entered a parallel dimension, and she could not escape.

Malachi was right there, and yet, he hadn't felt farther away.

-🥀-

Rose wasn't sure how she got to the dinner table. Everything was in a daze, like she was walking down the winding halls of one of her nightmares. But there were no phantom flames, no sudden end in sight. She was here, sitting on one of the many small, round tables, with Sebastian beside her, and Malachi—her Malachi—casually sitting opposite to her.

And he still wouldn't look at her.

The sounds of murmuring chatter shifted to silent whispers over the gentle clinking of cutlery, but Rose couldn't bring herself to eat. Not when she was supposed to talk to Malachi, about the hotel, of all things.

"So, The Rosebud Hotel," Sebastian started, breaking the silence that had fallen on their table. "Rose has so many ideas about what it should look like, I'm sure you'll have quite the time with it."

Malachi speared a piece of broccoli with his fork and leisurely brought it to his mouth, taking his time chewing it before replying.

"I'd expect no less. I've heard about Mrs. Price's..." he paused, before slowly meeting her eyes, a glint in them, "decorated academic career."

Rose was pinned to her seat. Invisible fingers seemed to have wrapped around her throat, tightening their grip every second. She couldn't talk, she couldn't breathe. But, from the corner of her eye, she could see Sebastian looking at her, waiting for her to say something.

"I didn't know you were an architect," she finally sputtered out, her face immediately tinging red. Sebastian stiffened beside her, while Malachi just smiled lazily.

"That's to be expected. I'm sure someone of your stature has more to busy herself with." His eyes were like daggers, piercing through her skin, her flesh, her bones. She could feel the chill of his gaze deep inside, freezing her.

"No, Mr. Iravani, of course we've heard of—" Sebastian started, rushing to do damage control, but Malachi didn't seem to hear him.

"I did, of course, design the new branches of The Luxeon, and spearheaded the rebuilding of Oralia, but I understand if my prominence isn't quite up to your standards, Mrs. Price."

A high pitched, sharp ringing started in Rose's head. Sebastian was saying something, trying to fix the situation, talking about his architectural firm, about its rising stature, and how the Beaumont-Price group would be honoured to work with them. But Rose didn't care. Not when the man sitting across the table from her was a stranger, wearing the face of the boy she loved.

"You were an artist." The words were tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. 

Sebastian stopped talking. But more importantly, to Rose at least, Malachi's face showed a glimmer of... something. Surprise, maybe. But something, to shift that mask of sheer indifference he had been wearing all evening.

"You both...know each other?" Sebastian's voice sounded confused. Cautious.

Rose immediately looked up at him, facing him for the first time since dinner started. And she had no words. What could she possibly say? Where could she start?

"Oh, no," Malachi's easy response came, saving her. "I went to the same university as Mrs. Price for a semester, on a student exchange program. She must have seen one of my art pieces. I was very into painting, for a while. But, unfortunately, Mrs. Price," he looked at her, his eyes barely landing on her before flicking right back to Sebastian. Like she was nothing more than a fly on the wall. Insignificant. Forgotten. "Some things are just not meant to be."

Rose was going to throw up. 

Four years. She had spent four years, thinking of nothing but him. She had ruined everything, put her entire life on pause.

For this?

He did not care.

Maybe he never cared.

The room was running out of air. Each exhale seemed to come out shorter than the other. The ground beneath her feet was wobbling, like all of a sudden the very fabric of the universe had changed. She could hear each voice in the hall, too loud, too sharp. The room was spinning, spinning, and she had nothing to hold on to, no one.

It meant nothing. 

It meant nothing, it meant nothing, it all meant nothing.

She couldn't get the voices to stop; the screeching inside her head that mingled with every other voice, getting louder and louder every second.

"I'm feeling a bit sick," she choked out, her fingers gripping the fine silk of the tablecloth to stop the room from spinning. "Please, excuse me."

Sebastian shot to his feet as Rose stood up, eyes filled with concern. But Malachi just sat there, leisurely pushing a piece of mushroom around his plate. 

"I'm fine," Rose muttered, stepping away from Sebastian. "I'll just... I'll visit the ladies room."

With that, she hurried off as fast as her high heeled feet would take her. Away from Sebastian, ever so sweet, ever so caring. And away from Malachi, her Malachi, who did not look up even once.

—🥀—

A/N: HE'S HERE HE'S FINALLY HERE. Please let me know your thoughts, I've never been more curious.

Everything is about to get so so so chaotic >:)