I tried to steady myself as I waited for Nathan.
Part of me—ugh, dumb as it sounds—was scared that when he showed up, all those old habits would kick in.
That I'd fall apart and run straight into his arms.
But he never came.
Instead, he called.
I answered.
The background was a mess—loud music, people yelling, laughter.
"What redemption? What a joke! She drove me crazy for years!" His voice came. "If my mom hadn't forced me, I wouldn't have touched her!
"You know why we married so fast? Because she wouldn't even let me touch her!
"I was just curious—she gets aphasia when she's emotional, right? So what about in bed? Can she even make a sound? Hahaha."
Boom—
The thunder hit like it was aimed at me.
Like something inside me just ripped apart.
I wanted to vanish.
To curl up somewhere no one could see me.
But where?
It was all rain.
All thunder.
All his voice, laughing.
Then William called.
"Joelle?"
His voice was so calm, it cut through everything—the thunder, the rain, even the echo of Nathan's voice.
"Are you crying?"
I wanted to say no.
Really tried.
But nothing came out.
And like my silence gave him the answer, the tears just broke loose.
"Stay where you are," he said, steady as ever. "I'm coming to get you."
***
Nathan was single again.
A bunch of spoiled rich kids threw a "singles party" at the club, drowning in shots and laughs.
Bodies were sprawled out like crash test dummies.
Nobody knew the time until someone half-conscious grabbed their phone.
"Holy crap! Big news!"
A few heads popped up.
"That mega-loaded CEO of Windsor Corp? He's in Seavora. Took a private jet back overnight!"
One guy waved him off. "Nah. Wasn't he, like, MIA in another country for a decade?"
"It's real. He's literally blowing up right now!"
Phones flew from hand to hand.
The party went from dead to buzzing.
"Yo, it's him! And he's holding some girl! Rumor says he flew back just to take her outta here!"
"No PR, no nothing? That urgent?"
"Lemme see!"
"Wait... that girl looks crazy familiar..."
Someone jabbed Nathan. "Dude. Tell me that's not Joelle in his arms."
Nathan had been awake. Just didn't give a damn about anything Windsor-related.
"No way that's Joelle." He yanked the phone, clearly over it. "She's too chicken to leave Seavora, let alone the country..."
One lazy glance at the pic—then he froze.
Rain poured at the airport.
Under a black umbrella stood a tall guy with a cold, sharp jawline, totally blocking the downpour from the girl in his arms.
Nathan didn't need a second look.
He knew that silhouette.
That hair.
That was Joelle.
Impossible.
He slammed the phone down, heart kicking up.
How the hell would she even know someone like William Windsor?
She'd literally asked him to meet her tonight. After a month of no contact, she had to be dying to see him.
Nathan lit a cigarette, then grabbed his phone.
Scrolled to her name.
His thumb hovered.
3 a.m.
Forget it—she's probably out cold.
Then again, Joelle never missed his calls. Ever.
He lit the screen again.
Called.
"The number you have dialed is no longer in service."
