Elara
Even after returning to the office, my thoughts refused to stay where they belonged.
The airport lobby, the business meeting, the representatives discussing contracts—all of it gradually blurred together until only one memory remained clear.
Damian Blackwood.
Of all the places we could have crossed paths again, why it had to be there?
Why it had to be while I’m trying to impress the GGG representative who happened to be his friend, or acquaintance?
Whatever his connection to Kenna, I still couldn’t believe the coincidence.
“This is really getting weird,” I muttered absentmindedly.
I stared blankly at the spreadsheet on my computer screen, realizing I had been reading the same paragraph for almost five minutes without understanding a single word.
I wasn’t thinking about the project at all.
I was thinking about how Damian and I seemed incapable of staying out of each other’s lives.
Every time I convinced myself we were finally done, something happened that pulled us back into each other’s orbit.
It was becoming dangerous.
If anyone discovered that the two of us already knew each other—especially after everything that had happened—the situation would become impossible to explain.
The safest thing to do was end the connection now.
My fingers hovered over my phone before I finally opened our conversation.
After taking a steadying breath, I typed a message, telling him to meet me at a cafe so can return his jacket.
I read the message twice before pressing send.
Less than a minute later, Damian replied asking for the location.
For some reason, I felt strangely relieved.
I would return his jacket and thank him properly.
Then the awkward connection between us could finally end.
That was for the best.
Wasn’t it?
By the time I arrived home that evening, dark clouds had already gathered overhead.
“I should hurry,” I muttered as I unlocked the apartment door.
“Gosh, rain don’t pour yet.”
The jacket was still hanging near the open window where I had left it to finish drying that morning.
The moment I stepped inside, the rain had poured.
Before I could react, a strong gust of wind swept through the apartment and the curtains flew wildly.
My heart dropped.
“No… Damian’s jacket!”
I rushed toward the window.
The jacket clung heavily to the drying rack, completely soaked by the rain pouring in through the open window.
“Oh no!” I said and grabbed it immediately.
Water dripped from every sleeve and seam.
I closed my eyes in horror.
“I cannot believe I forgot to close the window.”
The weather had been perfectly sunny when I left for work.
Now Damian’s freshly washed jacket looked as though I had thrown it into a swimming pool.
I buried my face in my hands.
“This is exactly the kind of luck I have.”
There was no choice.
I couldn’t return it smelling like rainwater.
I quickly started the washing machine again before carefully adding detergent.
I stared at it.
“Please…
hurry.”
As the machine began spinning, I rushed around my apartment preparing everything else.
I changed clothes, made myself a quick cup of coffee, and packed my bag.
Every few minutes I glanced toward the laundry area, waiting impatiently.
Nearly an hour passed before the washing machine finally finished its cycle.
I quickly transferred Damian’s jacket onto the drying rack and switched on every fan in the apartment, hoping the constant breeze would dry it before the night was over.
“Come on,” I muttered under my breath as I adjusted the sleeves.
“Please dry faster.”
Only after everything was finally under control did I remember my phone.
I picked it up from the kitchen counter, expecting nothing more than a few work notifications.
Instead, my heart nearly stopped.
Three missed calls.
All from Damian.
A chill ran through me as I glanced at the time.
Seven forty-three.
The café.
I had completely forgotten about our meeting.
“Oh, gosh…” I whispered, pressing a hand against my forehead.
I had been so focused on fixing the jacket that I never even thought to tell him not to wait for me.
Guilt settled heavily in my chest, and I hurriedly searched for his number to call him back.
Before I could press it, my phone started ringing.
Damian was already calling.
I answered immediately.
“H-Hello?”
”So,” he said in a calm voice that somehow sounded even more dangerous than if he had been shouting, “I’ve reached one of two possible conclusions.”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m sorry—”
”Either standing me up has become your newest hobby,” he continued, pausing just long enough to let my anxiety build, “or you’ve been kidnapped.”
”I’m so sorry!” I blurted out.
“I accidentally left my bedroom window open before I went to work this morning.
It started raining while I was gone, and your jacket got completely soaked.
I had to wash it again, then I completely lost track of time.
I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.”
Silence answered me for a few seconds.
Then he sighed.
“You somehow managed to turn returning a jacket into a full-scale disaster.”
”I know,” I admitted miserably.
“I’m really sorry.”
”I’ve been waiting for almost an hour,” he said, his voice was seductively hoarse from the other line.
“You owe me for wasting my evening.”
”I already apologized.”
”I won’t accept that,” he said, after a moment he added, “I’m downstairs.”
I frowned.
“D-Downstairs?”
”Yeah, outside your apartment.”
I hurried to the window and pulled the curtain aside.
Sure enough, a black sedan was parked below my building.
Damian was leaning casually against the driver’s door with one hand tucked into his pocket while the other held his phone.
Even from several floors up, I recognized him immediately.
“Oh, my God,” I blurted in disbelief.
“What—why are you there?”
”I skipped dinner because I was waiting for you,” he said in a low voice.
“You owe me dinner.”
I bit my lower lip.
“I’m sorry.
I-I didn’t really mean to make you wait—”
”Apologized in front of me,” he cut off, then his voice softened just enough to make the teasing sound effortless.
“So come downstairs, Elara.”