Rewind - Stereophonics
When he endedthe call with the States about the new corporation they were investigating, the only thing waiting for him was a pounding headache.
It was one of those headaches that settled behind his eyes and whisperedjust give up. The kind that made him want to chuck his phone out the window, tell the world to fuck off, grab his keys, and drive straight to Wales. No signal. No people. Just waves, trees, silence. A break. A breath. Then maybe, just maybe, he’d come back and remember why he started Lamina in the first place.
“We’ve got a meeting with Sofia in five. Don’t forget,” Asma announced, peeking into his office. Her smile was wide, bright, too alive for how dead he felt inside.
Asma loved Lamina, probably more than he ever had. It had beenherbaby. He and Leif had thought it was a good idea, sure. They even felt alive, in the past, at the idea of buildingsomething so life changing, but Asma had lived for it from day one. Now, five years in, Callum was starting to understand what people meant when they said they were in burnout. Perhaps he was being dramatic, but lately it felt like his whole life was one endless to-do list, and none of it actually made him happy.
Callum nodded, cracked his neck, and dragged himself to the conference room after asking his assistant for a coffee. It was 6:30 PM, and he wasn’t sure when the meeting would end. He loved Sofia, but he hated the life he had ended up living. Her three-day destination wedding had been a dream, one that now haunted his mind every time he thought that life could be that good every day, not just three out of 365.
He frowned the second he walked in.
The massive screen on the wall wasn’t showing financial reports. It was a surf competition.Live.
Sofia, with her bright smile and the glow on her skin that reminded him she was living outside that office while he was imprisoned in it every day, was already seated behind her laptop, looking vaguely guilty.
“Sorry. But Ilias is competing today. And Alejandra too.”
Callum didn’t reply. He just sat down in silence. The last thing his brain needed right now—especially with a migraine brewing—was Alejandra fucking López Romero in full HD, being perfect, powerful, and completely unreachable.
She was on-screen now, stretching on the sun-warmed sand, headphones in, eyes closed, completely absorbed in her own rhythm. Every movement was controlled, a seamless flow of strength and grace. The long-sleeved rash guard clung to her like a second skin, revealing the subtle lines of her muscles as she leaned into a stretch, the braid of her hair pulled tight against her head revealing her gorgeous features, not a strand out of place. Her jaw was set, her expression serene but impossibly determined, a quiet intensity radiating from her every pore.
Even the way she breathed seemed choreographed, a slow in-and-out that made him painfully aware of the difference between her life and his own. The ocean glittered behind her, waves rolling gently, but she was the center of it all.
She looked incredible. Dangerous, really. Like she had everything he didn’t, and the cruel part was, she made it look effortless.
And he hated himself for it.
Four months had passed, and his mind still hadn’t moved on. He’d agreed to no contact. He had even been happy about it. Like a fucking idiot.
Callum had tried with his entire being to avoid her. But it was impossible.
Now here she was, in his meeting room, larger than life.
“Is this the first day or the finals?” Leif asked, breaking the silence.
“First day,” Sofia replied. “Elimination round.”
Callum’s eyes stayed glued to the screen, even as he tried not to. She was sitting on a bench now, still meditating, completely in the zone. That look on her face, he remembered it. Right before she came. Right before she’d whispered his name like it was sacred.
And here he was, watching her like a stalker, praying nobody noticed the way his stomach twisted.
He’d checked her Instagram way too many times. Skipped her stories so she wouldn’t see his name pop up. Watched her interviews like he was doing recon for a mission.
Why had he agreed to cut it off completely?
Oh right. Because they were both workaholics living in two entirely different worlds. She surfed in tropical oceans. He worked in air-conditioned hellscapes with fluorescent lights and fraud reports. She chased waves. He chased criminals in spreadsheets and probably, a burnout.
Maybe she’d been right. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked.
But fuck, she felt like something. Something real. Something thatcouldhave worked if they only would have given it a chance.
“Should we start?” Asma asked, entering the room and closing the door behind her.
Sofia nodded, but even she was half-glued to the screen, where Alejandra was now standing up, ready. Her competition shirt clung to her body, the number 23 printed on her back, the Spanish flag patch sewn onto her arm. She looked razor sharp. Lethal. And yet… calm.
Callum clenched his jaw.
