Chapter 6: The Project That Brought Him Back

Three weeks after leaving the institute, I finally felt like I could breathe again.

My new office was nothing like the old one.

Nobody expected me to bring coffee.

Nobody left dirty dishes beside my computer.

Nobody called me whenever they forgot a deadline, misplaced a document, or needed someone to fix a problem they had created.

For the first time, I went home from work and had nothing waiting for me except my own life.

It felt strangely peaceful.

Then my supervisor walked into my office one Monday morning.

Sage, do you have a minute?

I looked up from my laptop.

Of course.

He placed a thick folder on my desk.

The institute partnership has been finalized.

My fingers stopped moving.

Which institute?

He gave me a sympathetic look.

You already know.

I didn't need him to say the name.

My stomach tightened.

The research institute where I'd spent years being invisible.

The research institute I'd left behind.

The research institute where Callan and Elara had once been untouchable.

They're sending a team here next week, my supervisor continued. We need someone who understands their internal systems. You're the obvious choice.

I stared at the folder.

I don't think I'm the right person.

Why not?

Because I used to work there.

Exactly. That's why you're the right person.

I didn't argue.

The meeting was scheduled for Monday afternoon.

I spent the entire weekend convincing myself I wouldn't care.

Callan was no longer my boyfriend.

I had no reason to feel nervous.

I repeated that to myself until I almost believed it.

Monday arrived too quickly.

I walked into the conference room with a tablet tucked against my chest.

Several people were already seated around the long table.

Then the door opened.

Callan walked in.

For one terrible second, everything inside me went completely still.

He looked thinner.

His hair was longer than I remembered, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes.

He wasn't wearing the confident expression I'd seen at the institute.

He looked tired.

Then his eyes found mine.

Sage.

Just my name.

But hearing it from him brought back years of memories I had spent weeks trying to bury.

I forced myself to smile politely.

Dr. Callan.

His expression changed.

Dr. Callan?

I pulled out the chair across from him.

That's your title now, isn't it?

Someone beside him cleared their throat awkwardly.

Callan sat down.

The meeting began.

For the next forty minutes, I didn't look at him once unless the project required it.

I presented schedules, resource allocations, compliance requirements, and communication procedures.

My voice never shook.

My hands never trembled.

When someone asked a question, I answered it.

When someone challenged a timeline, I defended it.

By the end of the presentation, my supervisor smiled.

Excellent work, Sage.

Callan said nothing.

After the meeting, everyone slowly filed out.

I gathered my documents and stood.

Sage.

I kept packing.

Can we talk?

There's nothing to discuss.

There is.

I finally looked at him.

You said that before.

His jaw tightened.

I know I handled everything badly.

Badly?

I gave a quiet laugh.

You abandoned me at my own wedding.

You left me on the side of the road when I had a fever.

You watched me get burned and then blamed me for the fire.

You called me dead weight.

And when everyone thought I was the other woman, you introduced me as your roommate.

His face went pale.

I know.

Then what exactly do you want from me?

I don't know.

That answer almost made me angry.

You always know what you want when it comes to research.

He looked down.

I thought I knew what mattered.

You did.

You just never thought I mattered.

Silence filled the room.

His hands curled into fists.

Sage, I never meant to hurt you.

Intent doesn't erase consequences.

I picked up my tablet.

The meeting is over.

I walked toward the door.

Behind me, his voice stopped me.

What happened to us?

I didn't turn around.

You happened to us.

Then I left.

Outside the conference room, I finally let myself breathe.

My hands were shaking.

Not because I wanted him back.

Because some wounds didn't disappear just because you stopped loving the person who caused them.

That evening, I stayed late to finish the partnership documents.

When I opened the shared project files, I noticed something strange.

There was a discrepancy in one of the research budgets.

A large one.

I checked it twice.

Then a third time.

Someone had transferred funds from a joint research account months before the fire.

The transaction had been approved under Callan's credentials.

But the destination account wasn't registered to the institute.

I stared at the screen.

This wasn't a mistake.

Someone had deliberately moved the money.

And suddenly, the fire at the institute didn't look like an isolated accident anymore.