Chapter 15: The Other Man

After getting in, I gave him the address.

He punched it into the GPS, brow furrowing in confusion. I caught him glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

He frowned slightly. “Why not stay at Willow Ridge?”

The question was loaded. Willow Ridge was more than just a house—it was a symbol of everything we’d tried and failed to build together.

“I don’t like it.”

My voice was soft but firm. I looked out the window, unwilling to explain further.

The Willow Ridge house was given to me in the divorce.

On paper, it was mine—a fresh start. In reality, it was haunted by too many memories to ever feel like home.

But he didn’t know—I’d already sold it.

I’d used the money to start over, buying freedom one check at a time.

Derek’s eyes darkened a bit, but he didn’t ask further.

He was always good at picking his battles. The silence between us felt more comfortable than it used to.

When we arrived, I got out, and Derek got out too.

He popped the trunk, grabbing my suitcase before I could protest. Old habits die hard, I guess.

He carried my suitcase, not intending to hand it over. “Let’s go.”

His tone left no room for argument, just like old times.

“I can go up myself.”

I reached for the handle, but he just grinned, shaking his head. Stubborn as ever.

I tried to take the suitcase but couldn’t budge it.

He chuckled softly, clearly amused by my stubbornness.

He looked around at the surroundings. “Are you having financial troubles?”

His eyes swept the cracked pavement and faded paint of the building, concern flickering across his face. It was a fair question—this place was a far cry from Willow Ridge.

This place was at least two levels below Willow Ridge.

It was true. But what I lacked in luxury, I made up for in peace.

“No.”

My answer was simple, but resolute. I wouldn’t let him pity me.

He dragged the suitcase straight inside. “Which building? Which floor?”

He was always the take-charge type, never satisfied with half-answers. I rolled my eyes but led the way.

Derek is very stubborn—once he sets his mind, no one can change it.

It was one of his most infuriating qualities, but also, deep down, one of the reasons I’d loved him once.

I didn’t insist and silently led the way.

We rode the elevator in silence, the air thick with unspoken words.

We entered the elevator and went upstairs.

The doors closed with a soft whoosh, trapping us together for the briefest of moments. He stared straight ahead, and I counted the floors.

At my door, I took the suitcase. “Thank you, it’s not convenient today, so I won’t invite you in.”

I kept my voice polite but distant, determined to keep boundaries clear.

“Wait.”

He reached out, his hand hovering in the air, unsure whether to touch or let go.

I turned back.

There was something raw in his eyes—a question he didn’t know how to ask.

“Have you been well these years?”

His words caught me off guard. For a moment, I saw the boy I’d once loved, vulnerable and real.

Looking at his sincere eyes, I felt a bit dazed.

Memories flooded back—prom night, slow dances in the gym, his hand in mine beneath the stars. I blinked them away, unwilling to go back.

As I recall, he’d never spoken to me in that tone before.

There was a softness there I barely recognized. Maybe time had changed us both.

Just as I was about to answer, the door suddenly opened from inside.

The moment shattered as the door swung wide, revealing the last person Derek expected to see.