The next morning dawned, and as the first rays of sunlight streamed through the window, I thought about what had happened yesterday in the little café. The memory of our conversation and the smile I couldn't forget made my heart race. I could hardly believe I was on my way to work while my thoughts were still with him.

As I sat at my desk, surrounded by notes and empty coffee cups, I felt like a part of a grand story. Writing was not just a job for me; it was a way of life. With every sentence I put on paper, I drew closer to my dream of being recognized as one of the most renowned authors. I wrote at least ten pages every day, not just to shape the words but to understand and share the world around me. I hoped that readers would feel my passion and find a place for my stories in their hearts.

But despite my passion, there were days when I doubted myself. The blank pages seemed to challenge me, and the words I loved so much felt like they were slipping away. I often wondered if I would ever have the talent to tell the stories that lived in my mind. These uncertainties gnawed at me as I tried to find the perfect balance between creativity and self-criticism. Yet deep inside, I knew that every struggle I faced brought me closer to the writer I aspired to be.

I've been writing since I'm young. I loved diary writing. Most of my writing focused who entered my life ten years ago. Every little detail of him was written in my diary. He doesn't know but he aspired me to achieve things I never thought I could. Alone his presence helped me to overcome things and to learn to understand. I wish he knew how much I loved him and that I still do and always will.

"Finally," I sighed heavily as I finished the last page of the book.

It was exhausting, but I knew it would be worth it. The words I brought to the pages were not just letters; they were a part of me, a part of my journey and the emotions that shaped me. I could hardly wait to fill the next pages and tell the stories that burned within me.

My phone ringing suddenly.

I want over to the desk to grab it. I looked at the caller I'd. My mom.

"Hey Mom, my day was alright. Just finished up a few pages of my writing. You know how it is—some days are easier than others. How about you? What's new on your end?"

I could hear her smile through the phone, always ready to share a little piece of her day with me. It was comforting, this routine of checking in, a reminder that even when life feels overwhelming, I wasn't alone.

"Darling, I'm so glad to hear that you still write! Hopefully, your book comes out as soon as possible!"

My mom was always there for me, supporting me through everything, never doubting me and giving me a thumbs up.

"Mom, that's nice to hear. I've actually been looking for a job alongside my writing," I replied, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Have you thought about anything specific?" Mom asked, her voice warm and encouraging.

"Yes, there's a coffee shop near me that seems really solid," I said, the words tumbling out before I could fully process them. Why the coffee shop? Why did that place pop into my mind so quickly?

My mom continued talking, but I was lost in thought, my mind drifting to him. Was my desire to apply really about the job, or was it about him?

"Darling?" my mother's voice broke through my reverie.

"Sorry, Mom. I'll call you later," I said, feeling a rush of guilt for zoning out.

"Okay, darling," she replied, a hint of concern in her voice.

After hanging up, I stared at the door, uncertainty swirling in my chest. Should I really apply there? What if he found out I was there because of him? The thought made my heart race.

With a sigh, I slipped on my shoes, grabbed my jacket and purse, and stepped outside. "I can't believe I'm doing this," I muttered to myself, the sun peeking through the clouds, casting a warm glow. Maybe this was a sign that everything would turn out okay.

As I entered the coffee shop, a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbled within me. I couldn't believe I was actually taking this step. I needed to focus on my writing, but maybe this job could be a fresh start, a way to weave new experiences into my stories.

The smell of coffee and biscuits immediately hit me, wrapping around me like a warm blanket. I looked around, and a familiar face appeared—the guy whose name I still didn't know. He was busy serving customers, effortlessly balancing orders while still looking good doing so. His smile was contagious, and I found myself lost in thought, captivated by his presence.

I was completely lost in my admiration until it hit me: I was here to look for a job! My heart raced as I remembered my purpose, but a wave of uncertainty washed over me. Where could I find the manager? Maybe one of the employees here knows? My mind raced through the possibilities as I scanned the café.

While I was lost in thought, someone gave me a light tap on my shoulder.

"Hey."

I turned around, startled, and was greeted by the nameless guy.

I smiled widely, feeling a mix of relief and excitement.

"Hiii."

"Liking the coffee here?" he asked, a playful glint in his eyes.

I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through me. "Yes, but I'm actually here to apply."

"Oh, want me to call the manager for you?" he replied, his tone sincere.

"Yes, that would be nice," I smiled, grateful for his kindness.

"Stay here; I'll be right back."

He flashed me a reassuring smile before heading off to find the manager. As I waited, I couldn't help but feel a flutter of hope. Maybe this was the start of something new—not just a job, but perhaps a connection that could lead to more. I took a deep breath, ready to take the next step.

He returned, accompanied by the manager, both of them smiling at me. I managed a smile back, confusion swirling in my mind.

"You're hired," the manager stated, skipping any further questions.

I was stunned. How could this be? He didn't even know my name!

"What's your name?" he asked.
"Ela Prescott," I replied.

"Mrs. Prescott, glad to have you on my team," he said with a grin.

Still in shock, I turned to the man beside him, wondering if he was the reason for this.

The manager walked away, leaving just me and Alex. My heart raced uncontrollably.

"What did you tell the manager?" I asked.
"Well, I told him that a good friend of mine was interested in working here because I knew she'd be great," he answered.

I smiled, disbelief washing over me.

"I can't believe you did that," I said.
"Well, I recognize a good worker when I see one," he replied.

"Do I at least get the name of my hero?"
He smiled back.

"It's Alex. Alex Jones."

My heart raced as the realization hit me. Alex—the same Alex I met a decade ago, the one I've always loved and never forgotten?

The Alex I—

My breath hitched. Ten years... it had always been Alex Jones.

The guy I was meant to spend my life with? Tears threatened to spill as time seemed to stand still.

The Alex who saved me countless times from my darkest moments? The one who always tried to make me laugh when I felt lost? Yet, he seemed to have forgotten me.

One thing about us was our unwavering bond.

We would always gaze at the starry night together, hands intertwined, sharing dreams and secrets under the vast sky. It was our sanctuary, where nothing else mattered but us.

Now, after all these years, it felt like that connection still pulsed beneath the surface. But I couldn't shake the feeling he had moved on, that those starry nights were mere memories to him.

"Do you remember those nights?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. The weight of our shared past hung heavy between us, and I needed to know if he felt it too. Would he recall the laughter, the promises, the dreams we once shared?

No wonder his presence felt so familiar. His essence was there, yet his appearance was ?? the only thing I struggled to recognize. It was like I remembered but also forgot.

"Are you okay, Ela?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, filled with concern.

"Yes," I said, but my heart felt like it had stopped beating. He had called me by my name, yet it didn't feel familiar, not like how he usually said it. The way he spoke sent a shiver down my spine. Was I imagining this? Maybe he wasn't the Alex I once knew, the one who had been a constant in my life.

In all honesty, I wanted to run away, to escape this moment and gather my thoughts. The air around us felt thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. I could feel my pulse racing as memories flooded my mind—moments we had shared, laughter that echoed in my heart, and the lingering sense of what could have been.

I took a step back, trying to create some distance, to regain my composure. The world around us blurred, and all I could think about was the weight of his gaze and the uncertainty that hung in the air. What did this mean? Why did it feel so different now?

"Sorry," I said, trying to hold back my emotions. "Something just came over me. Please excuse me for a moment."

I quickly rushed to the restroom, letting my tears flow freely.

Alex...

It has to be him. I've always said I would love him, and that's why I felt this instant attraction—because he was Alex.

I need to get out of here. I opened the restroom door and hurried past a servant, mumbling that I had to leave.

As I stepped outside, I ran, tears streaming down my face, an endless flow. I didn't know where to go, but I just kept running until I could barely move anymore.

I thought about heading to the terrace, but if I saw Alex there, I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it.

I had to run far.

Far away.