Characters overview:
Lisa: Female protagonist
Jacob: Lisa's ex fiancé
Meena : Lisa's best friend
(Jacob's POV)
Those flowers were driving me insane.
I stared at them sitting so casually on my desk — bright, innocent, and cruel. My fingers curled into fists before I snatched my phone and started dialing, rage pulsing through every vein. Each ring felt like a ticking bomb in my chest. And when the line finally picked up...
"Hello?" Her voice — that sweet, syrupy tone that always rubbed my nerves raw — slid through the speaker like poison wrapped in velvet.
Nothing in this world made my blood boil more than her voice.
"When the hell will you leave me alone?" I growled, barely containing the scream rising in my throat.
"But I'm your wife-to-be," she replied in that annoyingly polite, cunning voice. "How could I leave you? I promised I'd be with you in sickness and in health, remember?"
That was it.
"I'm warning you one last time," I snapped, my voice sharp enough to cut steel. "You're just a girl my mother chose for me. Nothing more. I will never marry you. You are not Lisa — and you never will be. Pull a stunt like this again, and you better be ready for what follows."
Before she could respond, I ended the call and hurled the phone against the wall. It shattered, just like whatever calm I had left inside me.
My chest heaved as I stared at the broken pieces. Lisa's name repeated in my mind like a prayer, a curse, a regret.
I should've fought harder. I should've never listened to my mother. Now she's gone — and I don't even know where to start looking.
(Lisa's POV)
I knocked on the door, and within seconds, Meena flung it open with her usual dramatic gasp of excitement.
"LISA!" she squealed, pulling me into a hug like she was squeezing the exhaustion right out of me. "God, you look like hell. Come in!"
I laughed weakly and stepped inside, the warmth of her home immediately settling my nerves. She handed me a steaming cup of coffee as I dropped my bag and sighed into the couch.
"You won't believe the flight I had," I groaned. "There was this absolutely crazy guy sitting next to me. I swear he was either trying to flirt or drive me insane."
Meena raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a story."
"Oh, it is. But let me just breathe for a second."
We chatted for a while — about her job, my move, everything I'd left behind — until she finally pointed toward the staircase.
"I got your room ready. It's the first room on the right upstairs. Go freshen up, you look like you haven't slept in days."
I thanked her and grabbed my suitcase, dragging myself up the stairs. But somewhere between exhaustion and distraction, I must've taken a wrong turn.
I opened the first door on the left instead.
The room was beautiful — wide windows overlooking the pulsing lights of New York City. It looked like something out of a magazine. I walked toward the window, the skyline glowing like a promise. My heart ached for my father. He would've been proud of me — of this step, of this fight to start over.
I peeled off my sweater, collapsing onto the soft bed in my red tank top, eyes fluttering shut as the heaviness of the last few weeks settled over me.
I was just starting to drift when I felt it — warm breath near my ear, a low voice like a breeze.
"What exactly are you doing in my bed?"
I shot up, heart slamming against my ribs, about to scream when a hand clamped gently over my mouth.
It was him.
The man from the plane. Green eyes, infuriating smirk, the guy who made my flight a fever dream — standing just inches from my face again, shirtless and clearly as stunned as I was.
My heart was practically in my throat. "Ethen?" I gasped when he finally let go. "What are you doing here?!"
He gave me that same cocky grin. "Isn't that what I should be asking you?"
"I'm staying at my best friend's place," I snapped, pulling the blanket around me. "This is my room. What are you doing here?"
He leaned casually against the dresser, completely unfazed. "Ah. So you're the Lisa. The one Meena hasn't shut up about all week. Well, welcome. But hate to break it to you — this is my room. You're in the wrong one."
"No. She said it's the first room on the right," I protested.
He smirked wider. "Lisa… this is the first room on the left."
I stared at him, horrified.
Oh god. I was in the wrong room.
Before I could say anything, Ethen stepped closer, picking up my sweater that had fallen to the floor. He held it out with that same lazy smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement. "You always make yourself this comfortable in strangers' beds, or am I just lucky?"
I snatched the sweater from his hand, cheeks burning. "It was a mistake."
"Was it?" he teased, cocking his head slightly.
I turned away, half annoyed, half mortified. "Don't flatter yourself. Trust me, if I knew this room belonged to you, I wouldn't have stepped a foot inside."
"Ouch." He chuckled, and I could feel him watching me, like he was trying to figure me out — not with lust, but with that playful curiosity that made it worse. It made me feel… seen.
I tried to walk past him, but as I did, my foot caught on the edge of my own suitcase. In a split second, I lost balance — the room tilted, my heart leapt up to my throat — and before I could hit the floor, strong arms wrapped around me, catching me mid-fall.
Time slowed.
My hands clutched his bare chest instinctively, my body pressed lightly against his. I could feel his heartbeat — calm, steady, too confident — and when I looked up, our faces were far too close.
His green eyes locked onto mine. No smirk this time. Just something quiet. Almost... surprised.
"Careful," he murmured, voice softer than before. "You keep falling like this, I might start to think you're doing it on purpose."
My breath caught. For a second, neither of us moved. The air between us thickened, charged, like something was about to happen.
But then I pulled away — fast.
"I'm fine," I muttered, brushing my hair out of my face and not daring to look him in the eyes.
He stepped back, giving me space, but his voice still carried that teasing warmth. "You sure? I'm happy to catch you again. Just say the word."
I shot him a glare, trying to hide the heat rising in my face. "Not happening."
He grinned and leaned casually against the doorframe. "Your actual room's next door. First on the right — assuming you can make it there without any more dramatic stunts."
I rolled my eyes, grabbing my bag and storming past him. As I reached the doorway, he added, "And Lisa?"
I paused.
"You wear red well."
I slammed the door shut behind me without a word — but not before he caught the small smile I tried to hide.