Chapter 16: unexpected encounter
Everything seemed fine.
Daisy was living what felt like a normal life, steady and calm, the kind of life she hadn't realized she craved until she had it. Work kept her busy, but she enjoyed it, and in between the daily responsibilities there were small moments of fun, little flashes of laughter and lightness that made her days brighter. And then, of course, there was Matthew Joseph.
What they had was… complicated. Or maybe it was simple, but in a way that felt complicated. Their relationship had shifted quietly, almost naturally, from friendship into something else—something warmer, something more—but not quite intimacy. They weren't lovers, not in that sense, but they were comfortable together in a way that mattered. Matthew, more than anyone, seemed to understand the fragile line she walked. He was happy—truly happy—that Daisy wasn't pushing him away. He knew how strange it all must feel, how weird it must look from the outside, and yet she allowed him to stay close. That meant more to him than words could express.
Life had been good.
There was Isabella, too—always Isabella. Daisy shared good times with her, sisterly moments that anchored her, steadied her. And Isabella… well, Isabella kept going on her dates, one after another, as though it were simply part of her nature. Daisy wished she would stop, wished she could slow down, but that wasn't something Daisy could control. Could she help it? No. Some things simply were what they were.
Finally, a day came when Daisy was free—her day off at last. She decided to treat herself, to steal a small piece of joy for her own. The little café down the street welcomed her with the warm aroma of roasted coffee beans, the soft hum of conversation, the occasional clink of cups. She breathed it in, savoring the rare peace of being out without rush, without responsibility.
At the counter, she smiled faintly and placed her order. A large cup of mocha. Something sweet, something indulgent. She wanted it, and today she allowed herself the luxury.
But then—
"Are you sure you can finish that?"
The voice came from her side, low, unexpected, slicing into her moment of calm.
Her brows knit together, her heart giving a startled jolt. She hadn't expected anyone to address her, let alone to question her order of all things. Confusion rolled through her, chased immediately by irritation. Who in the world would ask something like that? And why to her?
She didn't turn. She didn't want to. She told herself it wasn't worth it, that curiosity was pointless, that the safest thing was to let the stranger's words drift into the air and disappear. She kept her gaze ahead, determined to ignore the voice, to keep her bubble intact.
But still…
There was something in the air. A weight. A presence. Something familiar that tugged at her in a way she couldn't shake. The longer she stood there, the harder it became to resist.
Curiosity, slow and insistent, crept over her walls. And then, finally, she turned her head.
Her breath caught.
It was him.
William Black.
The very man she had promised herself she didn't want to see again. The man she had spent days, months, convincing herself to stay away from. And yet—there he was, standing beside her as if summoned by the universe itself.
Her chest tightened, her mind a storm of contradictions. She didn't want to see him. Or did she? She couldn't tell. All she knew was that his presence here, in this café, in this exact moment, was the last thing she expected.
Unexpected, and impossible to ignore.
The situation didn't feel awkward—at least not outwardly—because Daisy refused to let it. She hated awkwardness, hated the tension it carried, and she had mastered the art of masking it. So, even though her insides twisted, she straightened her back, kept her expression calm, and tried her best to look cool, collected, untouchable.
She opened her mouth and spoke lightly, her tone carrying just enough playfulness to sound natural.
"I'm not sure if I can finish it," she said, glancing at the cup. "But it's worth trying, isn't it?"
Her lips curved into a smile as she looked at William, and he smiled back. But she caught it instantly—the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Something was dim there, restrained, hidden behind the easy expression he tried to put on.
The barista handed her the order, the warmth of the cup seeping gently into her palms. She thanked them, slipped a tip onto the counter, and for a brief second thought she could just walk away, let this be nothing more than a passing encounter. She was ready to turn, to step out the door and leave this behind—
But then William spoke.
"Hey, can we talk?"
Her steps froze. The words hung heavy between them. Talk? What could he possibly want to talk about? A dozen thoughts collided in her head, each one sharper than the last. She didn't want this. She didn't want a scene in the middle of a café.
So, with a small exhale, she let her shoulders relax and nodded. Without a word, she followed him to a table tucked near the side.
"It's been a while," William said, his voice quiet, careful.
"Yes," Daisy answered smoothly, lifting her cup to her lips. "It has been indeed… a very long while."
She sipped her mocha slowly, deliberately, her expression calm, her body language detached. She seemed unbothered, nonchalant, almost careless—as though this entire meeting was nothing more than an inconvenience. But inside, her heart betrayed her. It pounded in her chest, heavy and fast. Thump. Thump. Thump. She wondered if he could hear it, if her mask would slip.
"Yes," she repeated softly, her tone even. "It has been."
William, on the other hand, wasn't holding himself nearly as well. He had never known what to do with silence, had never learned how to navigate moments like this. Awkwardness clung to him, and now it was eating him alive.
"So," Daisy said suddenly, breaking the tension. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. "What did you want us to talk about?" Her voice carried a thin thread of impatience, as if she was already losing interest.
"Um…" William hesitated, his throat tightening. "I wanted to, um, talk about us. You know, it's been a long time and… since you're here, maybe we could talk. I don't know. About the past."
Daisy tilted her head, and for the first time, her mask cracked—but not in the way he hoped. She smiled, slow and deliberate, and her gaze locked with his.
"Dear William," she said evenly, almost sweetly, "I do not think there is anything we have to talk about. Yeah? Is there?"
The words cut. William felt the sting of them instantly, sharp and unrelenting. His chest tightened, a dull ache blooming there. This was going to be hard. Harder than he thought.
"I know what happened before," he said quickly, desperation lacing his voice. "I know it was all my fault. But please… give me a chance to—"
He couldn't finish. Daisy was already rising to her feet.
"I'm not giving you a chance," she said firmly, her voice slicing clean through his words. "And I am not listening to what you have to say. What happened, happened. It's all in the past now. You have to forget it. Forget me. And move on."
She let the words hang there a moment, heavy and undeniable. Then, with the same ease she had carried from the start, she smiled. She even winked—lighthearted, dismissive—before she turned and walked out.
William sat there, frozen. Dumbfounded. Speechless. Dumbstruck. And, above all else, hurt. The ache inside him deepened, settling like a weight in his chest.
It was all his fault.
If only he hadn't done what he did.