The air smelled like rain and regret.
Nia Sullivan clutched her coat tighter as she stepped out of the cab, the familiar streets of Willow Creek stretching before her. Seven years. That's how long she had stayed away. Long enough to convince herself that she'd moved on.
She was wrong.
Because standing in the middle of the crowd, looking like every memory she tried to bury, was
Aiden Clarke.
And he wasn't alone.
Aiden's arm rested protectively around a woman's waist—her delicate fingers glinting with a diamond ring. Their eyes met. A heartbeat of silence.
Then, his voice, low and unreadable.
"Welcome back, Nia."
The words settled between them, heavy with unspoken history. Nia swallowed against the lump in her throat, forcing her lips into something that resembled a smile.
"Thanks," she managed, though her voice felt like it belonged to someone else.
Aiden didn't move, didn't blink. The woman beside him—his fiancée, if the ring meant what she feared—tilted her head, curiosity flickering in her sharp green eyes.
"You must be Nia," she said, her voice smooth, confident. The kind of confidence that came from knowing you belonged in Aiden's life.
Nia nodded. "And you are?"
"Elena." The woman extended a hand, and Nia hesitated before shaking it. "Aiden's fiancée."
The words hit harder than they should have. Of course, he had moved on. What had she expected? That he'd be frozen in time, waiting for her to come back?
Aiden's gaze never left her, but he said nothing. Nia dropped Elena's hand and forced herself to take a step back.
"I should go. My mom—"
"She's at the house," Aiden cut in. "I saw her yesterday."
Of course, he had. Willow Creek was small, the kind of town where everyone knew each other's business before it even happened.
She nodded, gripping the strap of her bag.
"Right. Well, it was nice meeting you, Elena."
With that, she turned away, walking briskly toward her childhood home, but she could still feel Aiden's eyes on her back. Seven years hadn't changed him. But had they changed her?
The walk to her mother's house felt longer than she remembered. Maybe it was the weight of the past pressing against her chest, or maybe it was the way Aiden's voice still echoed in her mind.
She had pictured this moment a thousand times;returning home, facing her past—but never like this. Never with him standing beside another woman, looking at her like she was a ghost he hadn't expected to see.
By the time she reached the porch, the sky had darkened, heavy with the promise of rain. She hesitated for just a moment before knocking.
Footsteps. Then the door creaked open.
"Nia?"
Her mother stood there, thinner than she remembered, her once-bright eyes dimmed by exhaustion. Nia's throat tightened as she stepped inside, wrapping her arms around her.
"I'm here, Mom."
Her mother held on a little longer than necessary before pulling away. "I didn't think you'd come."
"I couldn't stay away forever."
Her mother gave her a knowing look, one that said she understood exactly why Nia had stayed gone for so long.
"Come in. You must be tired."
Nia stepped inside, inhaling the familiar scent of home—lavender and old books. The walls were lined with the same faded photographs, but everything felt… smaller. Or maybe she had just grown.
Her mother settled into the worn-out armchair by the window. "You saw him, didn't you?"
Nia didn't bother pretending she didn't know who she meant. "Yeah."
Her mother sighed, rubbing her temples. "He never really left, you know. Not truly."
Nia swallowed. "He's engaged."
A moment of silence followed, then, her mother's voice, soft but steady. "And yet, he was looking at you like he wasn't."
Nia exhaled shakily, sinking onto the couch. She had come back for her mother. That was the only reason.But now that she was here, the past was knocking—and this time, it wouldn't be ignored.
"You should go to the gala," he mum said.
The words stopped Nia mid-step. She turned to look at her mother, who was then resting on the couch, a worn quilt draped over her frail frame. The soft hum of the TV filled the room, but Nia had long since stopped paying attention to the news anchor's voice.
She blinked. "What?"
Her mother smiled—the kind of knowing smile only a mother could give. "The charity gala. It's tonight."
Nia frowned, her chest tightening. She had managed to avoid talking about it all day, hoping it would pass without mention. But, of course, she should have known better.
"I don't think that's a good idea," she said carefully.
Her mother hummed as she sipped her tea. "You used to love those events."
"That was a long time ago."
"A long time ago, you also used to love Aiden Clarke."
The name landed like a stone in Nia's stomach. She let out a slow breath, refusing to meet her mother's gaze. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."
Her mother sighed, setting her cup down on the coffee table. "He's going to be there."
"I figured."
"He's done well for himself. He's engaged now."
A sharp sting pricked Nia's chest, but she ignored it. She already knew. The entire town had probably known before she even set foot back in Willow Creek.
She turned toward the kitchen, needing something,anything,to distract herself. "I'm not going."
Her mother's voice softened. "Nia."
She exhaled through her nose, forcing herself to stay calm as she reached for a glass of water. "It's not a big deal. I don't belong at those events anymore."
Her mother studied her, quiet for a long moment. Then, with the kind of gentleness that made Nia feel like a child again, she said, "You've been running for a long time, sweetheart. Maybe it's time to stop."
Nia's grip on the glass tightened.
She had always hated how easily her mother saw through her.
Taking a slow sip, she shook her head. "It's just a party. There's nothing for me there."
Her mother didn't argue. Instead, she leaned back into the couch, her expression unreadable.
"Alright."
Nia should have felt relieved.
But something about the way her mother said it—like she knew Nia would change her mind—made her uneasy.
And later that night, as she stood in front of the mirror in a dress she had sworn she wouldn't wear, she realized that her mother had been right.
She wasn't ready to stop running,but she was tired of pretending she wasn't looking back.