Vanessa’s POV “You can’t keep doing this, Vanessa,” I whispered to my reflection, the morning light casting a harsh glow on the mirror.The woman staring back at me looked composed, but beneath the surface, a strategic planner.“Following him around like some lovesick teenager? Pathetic.”Yet, here I was, plotting my next move to cross paths with Ethan.I had memorized his routines: gym sessions at dawn, evening walks in the park, and visits to the orphanage on Thursdays.Today was Thursday. I glanced at the clock.If I left now, I could arrive at the orphanage just as he did.“This is your chance,” I told myself. “Don’t mess it up.”The drive to the orphanage was a blur, my mind rehearsing possible conversations, apologies, and explanations.As I parked, I spotted Ethan’s car.Perfect timing.I stood outside the orphanage, my heart racing with anticipation. I had been tracking Ethan’s movements for weeks, and I knew he would be here today. I took a deep breath, smoothing out my dres

Ethan’s POV “Why didn’t you tell me earlier the roof leaks this badly?” Mrs. Ibe flinched, her clipboard wobbling slightly in her grip. “We managed to patch it up last month, but the rains...” “Patching isn’t managing,” I cut in, motioning to the damp stain curling across the ceiling. “That’s not a patch. That’s a prayer.” “Mr. Sinclair,” she began, already in apology mode, “you’ve done so much already...” “And I’m not done,” I said flatly, turning away from the stained ceiling and looking through the window into the playground. “So stop acting like I’m here for charity points. I’m not.” She sighed, gently. “I didn’t mean it that way.” “Good.” I turned back, softened my tone. “Because if this place caves in, no one’s writing any scholarships. No futures get built in a moldy building.” Outside, the laughter of children pierced through the cracked window pane. “They deserve better.” She looked at me, eyebrows pinched, eyes tired. “We all do.” I nodded, pressing two fingers to

Ethan’s POV “You ever get tired of sulking into your drink like some washed-up noir detective?” Martin jabbed, smirking as he nursed his beer.I scoffed. “You ever get tired of projecting your midlife crisis onto my choice of bar ambiance?”“Tense much?” he shot back. “Or is it because someone’s still haunted by the ghost of relationships past?”“You’re one more jab away from wearing your drink, Martin.”He laughed, leaned back in his chair. “Touché.”That’s when my phone buzzed on the table, slicing clean through our back-and-forth like a blade. I checked the screen—Jordan.I picked up. “Yeah?”“Ethan!” Jordan’s voice was electric, buzzing with an urgency that put my nerves on alert. “You’re not gonna believe what I found. It’s about Olivia.”Her name hit like a punch to the ribs. My spine stiffened. The glass I held suddenly felt like it weighed ten pounds.“Hold on,” I said, rising from my seat. “Give me a sec.”I tossed a few bills onto the table. “Tell your dad the beer was grea

Vanessa’s POV “You had one job. One simple job!” I hissed under my breath, each word slicing through clenched teeth as I glared at the bartender. He moved with maddening nonchalance, whisking away Ethan’s untouched drink like it was just another unfinished cocktail, not the centerpiece of a plan I had crafted with surgical precision. I watched the amber liquid disappear down the sink and felt something sharp twist behind my ribs.The bar’s dim lighting tried to cast everything in soft shadows, but nothing could dull the rage boiling inside me. My manicured nails dug into the cold, fragile stem of my wine glass, trembling with the effort it took to stay seated.That drink should have done it. A gentle push, not poison. Just enough to soften Ethan’s walls, to make him slow down, forget the things that made him hate me. But no—he hadn’t even touched it. Not a sip. He just sat there, spoke with those two idiots like nothing was different, and left.Left—without hesitation, without a back

Ethan’s POV“So let me get this straight, you flew to Paris without a plan, just vibes? Ethan, my guy, you’re officially a sick loverboy.”Jordan’s voice crackled through my phone’s speaker, thick with laughter and laced with mockery.“Shut up,” I muttered, tugging the collar of my coat tighter against the Parisian drizzle. The cold air bit at my face as I paced the narrow balcony of my hotel room. “I didn’t fly halfway across the world because I’m in love.”“Oh really? Then what do you call it when a man shows up in the most romantic city on Earth for the woman he ghosted months ago? Because ‘business meeting’ sounds like the worst lie you’ve ever told.”I groaned and leaned against the wrought iron railing, watching cars weave along the wet streets below. “God, you’re insufferable.”“And you’re predictable. Admit it, Ethan. You missed her. You’re just pissed she’s probably not still crying into her wine over you.”I didn’t answer. Not because he was wrong, but because I didn’t want