It was our routine. Every Sunday, I'd meet him at his house, and we'd take Bailey for a long walk, catching up on each other's week. It was the most stable part of my adult life, this connection to my father. Even though Mom had passed away five years ago, Dad had maintained our Sunday tradition religiously.
"Just thinking about work," I replied, watching Baileybound ahead to sniff at a tree. "We have a big project coming up that I need to prepare for."
It wasn't entirely a lie. There was a project. It just wasn't the reason for my distraction.
Dad studied me with those keen eyes that always seemed to see right through me. He looked good for fifty-two, still fit from his daily swimming routine, his salt-and-pepper hair neatly trimmed. The only thing I got from my mother was her abundant blond hair, so I am a copy of my father. When people met us together, they always commented on how much I resembled him, especially around the eyes.
"Work, huh?" He didn't sound convinced. "Must be a big project."
I looped my arm through his as we walked. "You know how I get. I like to be prepared. I’m probably the most organized person you know."
"Of course you are," he chuckled. "You've been making lists and plans since you could hold a crayon. Remember how you used to write out your entire day in that little notebook? Even scheduled your snack times."
I smiled despite myself. "I liked knowing what to expect."
"Still do, apparently." He patted my hand. "But life doesn't always cooperate with our plans, Lily. Sometimes, the unexpected turns out to be exactly what we need."
If only he knew how unexpectedly my week was about to get. But I couldn't tell him about it. I'd never told him the whole truth about what happened back then, and I wasn't about to start now.
"Maybe," I conceded. "But I still prefer my way."
Dad just smiled and whistled for Bailey, who came bounding back with a stick in his mouth. Simple. Predictable. I envied the dog's uncomplicated existence sometimes.
Sunday night found me standing in front of my closet,deliberating over what to wear tomorrow like it was the most important decision of my life.
Everything was a mess, and I hadn't even seen him yet.
How would I act if I ran into him at the office? What would I say? Would he recognize me immediately, or had I changed too much over the years?
I'd changed a lot. The shy, vulnerable girl I'd been at eighteen was gone, and in her place stood a confident, accomplished woman who didn't need anyone's approval. Especially not his.
I finally selected a sleek black pantsuit with a crisp white blouse, my power outfit. The one I wore when I needed to command a room. It was perhaps overkill for a typical Monday, but nothing about tomorrow would be normal.
My plan was simple: avoid all common areas during peak hours, take the stairs instead of the elevator whenever possible, eat lunch at my desk, and leave precisely at five. If, by some chance, we did cross paths, I would be polite but distant. Professional. Like he was any other colleague that I didn't know well.
I laid my clothes out neatly, set my alarm, and got into bed at exactly 10:00 PM, just like every Sunday night. But sleep wouldn't come. My mind kept replaying fragments of memories: the big closet in the hospital, the park behind the church, and a boy with kind eyes who distracted me from the hard reality I had back then—at least until everything went downhill.
And now here we were, about to work in the same building like strangers with a shared history neither of us acknowledged.
When sleep finally came, it was fitful and filled with dreams of running down endless hallways, always one step behind or ahead of someone I couldn't quite see.
Morning would come too soon, and with it, the reality I couldn't escape.
No matter how perfect my plan is, tomorrow, I will be breathing the same air as Kyle for the first time in a decade. And deep down, beneath all my careful preparations and practiced indifference, I was terrified.
CHAPTER 3
Kyle
Kyle: Today, I’m finally going to see you again.
Kyle: I've been dreaming about this moment for years.
Kyle: There are a lot of things I want to tell you,
I just hope you give me the chance to listen.
Everyone handles regrets differently.Some people torment themselves for the rest of their lives, turning a single mistake into their whole personality. Others bury it so deep they convince themselves it never happened, walking through life pretending it was just an unlucky chapter they had no control over.
