Elizabeth managed a brief smile and muttered something about her dad being a coy man.
“I messaged you on TrueNorth,” he continued. “Every day after I left your place. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, so I kept messaging. But then I realised my messages weren’t being read. I asked Jane about you, and she told me you were taking a break.”
"I deleted the app," she admitted. "That night when I posted the article, I was so furious that I deleted it after I sent… after I sent the message to you. I was hurt. I didn’t want anything to do with you. Or TrueNorth."
Darcy nodded. "That is understandable."
Another stretch of silence passed between them, and Elizabeth searched for something—anything—to cut through the awkwardness building inside her.
"You brought Georgiana along."
"I figured you wouldn’t slam the door on both my face and hers."
Elizabeth laughed softly.
"I'm so sorry for all I caused you," she said, a little breathless now. "I don’t even know why you’re here, but I’ll keep saying sorry for as long as it takes for you to forgive me."
“Come on, Elizabeth.”
“I swear, when I saw you, I wondered if you were here to serve me a lawsuit or just tell me how much damage I’d done to your name.”
"Neither," he said. "I just needed to see you. One last time, if that’s what you want. But if there’s even the smallest chance…”
Elizabeth turned to him, the weight of the last month catching up with her. Tears welled in her eyes as the cold sting of shame washed over her.
"I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I could have been so stupid to believe Wickham. I made a fool of myself. I insulted your name. When I saw what I’d done, I had to run. I couldn’t stay in New York—not after that. Not when everything felt like it was on fire."
Darcy stepped closer. "The fire didn’t scare me. Losing you did."
Her breath caught.
"I’ve tried to get you out of my head for weeks, Elizabeth. I failed. Miserably."
His eyes met hers.
"I kept seeing you everywhere. In dreams. In strangers’ faces. I talked about you so much that even Georgiana noticed. She was the one who insisted we come find you. And she was right."
He paused, his hand lifting gently to wipe a tear from her cheek.
"The first time we met in person, you didn’t even wait for the date to begin before running off. But I’ve been thinking—that technically means we only went on two dates, not three. So I was wondering..." His voice softened, a little shy now. "If you don’t think I’m a horrible person anymore, would you consider going on a proper first date with me? No secrets. No contracts. No grudges or past. Just us."
Elizabeth stared at him.
Not the founder. Not the billionaire. Not the scandal she had nearly caused. Not the man at the gala who once claimed she wasn’t handsome enough to tempt him.
Just him.
Mr. F.
The stranger whose chat had once made her laugh every day.
The man she had fallen for without meaning to.
Fitzwilliam Darcy.
She felt it again now—that same pull, the quiet certainty beneath all the noise.
And this time, she didn’t run from it.
