“My home secretary ,” he’d said.
I’d watched her slip away from the celebration after a while, watched her head toward the terrace like she needed air.
And I’d followed her.
Not in a creepy way,I’d told myself.Just curious.
Just wanting to understand why she’d captivated me so completely in the span of five minutes.
The terrace had been cool when I’d stepped out, and she’d been standing at the railing, staring at the city like she was trying to memorize it.
“Sorry,” I’d said. “Didn’t realize anyone was out here.”
She’d turned and looked at me, and something had clicked into place that I hadn’t even known was missing.
And I’d told her things I’d never told anyone.
When she’d kissed me, when we’d stumbled back into my room and fallen into bed together, it had been the best night of my life. Not just the physical part, though that had been incredible. But the connection, the honesty, the feeling of being completely seen by someone who had no agenda, no reason to pretend.
I’d meant what I’d said the next morning. That I didn’t want it to end.
But when I woke up, she was gone. No note, no number, just the memory of her name and the feeling that I’d let something important slip through my fingers.
I’d tried to find her. Called Hector casually a few weeks later and asked how his former employee was doing, if she’d settled into school okay. He’d said she was great, thriving, and hadn’toffered any more information. I couldn’t exactly explain why I was asking without making things weird.
So I’d let it go. Told myself it had been one perfect night and that was enough, that some things were better left as memories.
But I’d thought about her constantly. Wondered if she was okay, if law school was everything she’d hoped, if she’d found whatever she was looking for.
And now she was standing in front of me in a NYU Law hallway, looking at me like she couldn’t quite believe I was real.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, then immediately looked embarrassed, color rising in her cheeks. “I mean, obviously people have reasons to be at law school. I just didn’t expect to see you.”
God, even flustered she was beautiful.
“I’ve been auditing classes,” I said quickly, trying to sound normal even though my heart was doing something stupid in my chest. “It helps with my work.”
“Oh.” She seemed to accept this, nodding slowly. “That makes sense.”
I couldn’t stop staring at her. Three years and she was even more beautiful than I remembered, but different too. More confident maybe, or just more settled into herself. Less weighed down. She looked good, healthy, like she’d found whatever she’d been searching for that night.
“You’re here,” I said, stating the obvious. “You went back to school.”
“Final semester,” she confirmed, and pride colored her voice. “Working at the legal aid clinic mostly. Tenant rights cases.”
Something warm moved through my chest—pride, admiration, and something deeper that felt too big for a hallway conversation.
“That’s incredible,” I said, meaning it completely. “I knew you’d do it.”
Her mouth curved slightly, amused. “You didn’t really know anything about me.”
“I knew enough.”
The words came out confidently and I watched her react to them, her eyes search mine like she was trying to figure out if I was serious, if I remembered everything as clearly as she did.
I was completely serious. I remembered everything.
The way she’d laughed when I’d stepped on her foot while dancing. The way she’d looked at the city like it was both terrifying and full of possibility. The way she’d fallen apart in my arms and put herself back together in the morning. The way she’d left without saying goodbye.
