The morning light was soft, but Aria felt none of its warmth.
Steam curled from her untouched cup of coffee, and the ticking clock on the wall echoed through her studio like a countdown she didn't understand. Every brushstroke she tried to paint turned into a blur. Her mind wasn't in the room. It was still in that car, trapped between silence and the echo of a man's voice she had tried to forget.
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to focus on the sketch in front of her. Lines, fabric, motion. Anything but him.
But her hands trembled.
When the door opened, she expected her assistant. Instead, a courier stood there holding a sleek black envelope. No sender's name, no label, just her name written in bold silver ink.
"For Ms. Aria Lyn," he said.
Her chest tightened. She signed for it, then waited until the door closed before tearing it open. Inside was a single photo. A candid shot taken from across the street, showing her with the twins at the park last weekend.
Her pulse stopped.
No message. Just the picture.
She turned it over, hoping for some explanation, but found only three words written in elegant handwriting she recognized instantly.
We need to talk.
Her fingers went cold. The words burned like fire under her skin. Damian.
She pressed the photo against her chest, trying to steady her breathing. He couldn't know. He couldn't have found out. Not yet.
"Mom?" a sleepy voice called from behind the half-open door.
Aria quickly shoved the envelope into the drawer. "Hey, sweethearts," she whispered, turning to see two little faces peeking out, one with her eyes, the other with his smile.
"Breakfast?" they asked in unison.
She smiled, though her heart was collapsing inside her. "Of course. Go wash your hands, I'll be right there."
As they ran off laughing, she leaned against the wall, gripping her trembling hand. The past wasn't just haunting her anymore. It was knocking.
---
Across the city, Damian Cross sat behind his mahogany desk, the skyline glinting behind him like shards of steel. His assistant stood nearby, nervous.
"So, what did you find?" Damian's voice was calm, almost too calm.
"Aria Lyn. Thirty-one. Fashion designer. Currently runs her own boutique under the brand name Lyn Atelier. She's… successful," the assistant said, scrolling through the file on his tablet. "Moved back to the city three years ago after living abroad. Keeps a low profile. No public relationships. But there's something else."
Damian raised a brow. "Go on."
"She's often seen with two children. Twins. Boy and girl. Around four, maybe five years old. There's no record of a husband or partner."
For the first time, Damian looked away from the city and turned to face the man. His expression didn't change, but his grip on the pen in his hand tightened until it cracked.
"Find out who their father is," he said quietly.
"Yes, sir."
When the door closed, Damian leaned back in his chair, staring at nothing. Twins. The word repeated itself in his head like an echo in a cave. It didn't make sense. Yet, somewhere deep down, something inside him knew.
He stood abruptly and walked to the window. The city stretched before him, full of glass and secrets, and for the first time in years, he felt unsteady.
---
That night, Aria sat by her window after putting the twins to sleep. The city lights shimmered against the glass, casting her reflection over the skyline.
She opened her phone. No messages. No calls. Just the lingering image of the photo burned into her thoughts.
Maybe he was bluffing. Maybe he didn't know anything. But Damian Cross was not a man who played without purpose.
Her phone buzzed suddenly, making her jump. The screen flashed with an unknown number.
Unknown Caller: "Still pretending you can outrun me, Aria?"
Her breath caught. "Damian."
"We need to meet."
"I told you, there's nothing left to say."
"You're lying."
"Goodbye." She hung up quickly and turned off her phone, but the silence that followed was heavier than before. She could feel his presence even through the distance, that cold, consuming force that used to pull her in and break her apart.
She closed her eyes. Five years had changed everything, but the moment his voice touched her again, she felt like the girl who once loved him too much.
---
In another part of the city, Damian was still holding his phone, listening to the empty tone after she ended the call.
His reflection in the window looked unfamiliar, like a ghost from a life he'd buried too deep.
He whispered to no one, "Then I'll find you myself."
He walked to a locked drawer, opened it, and pulled out a small velvet box. Inside was a silver locket, old, tarnished, but still carrying the faint scent of lavender. Aria's scent. The only thing she'd left behind the night she disappeared.
He turned it over and read the engraving inside. Forever isn't for us.
His jaw clenched.
If fate had given him one more chance, he wouldn't waste it.
---
Hours later, when the city finally slept, Aria dreamed again. The same nightmare.
Rain, headlights, Damian's hand reaching for her, and her own voice screaming don't follow me.
She woke in a gasp, drenched in sweat. The apartment was quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock.
But then she noticed it, a faint sound, like the creak of a floorboard outside her room.
She froze. Slowly, she turned her head toward the door. A shadow moved past the gap under it.
Her heart leapt. She reached for the drawer where she kept her phone, but it wasn't there. It was still off, still lying on the counter in the kitchen.
Her breath hitched. The twins were in the next room.
She stood, every step slow and silent, and grabbed the nearest object, a glass vase. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she stepped into the hallway.
Nothing. Just the dim light from the living room window.
She exhaled shakily. "It's just your imagination," she whispered to herself.
But as she turned back toward her bedroom, she noticed the front door.
It wasn't fully closed.
And taped to it, barely visible, was another black envelope.
---
Aria's hand trembled as she reached for the envelope taped to the door. The hallway was silent, her breath the only sound in the dark. The paper felt cold, as if it had been waiting for her.
She tore it open carefully. Inside was a single card with two words written in that same elegant, deliberate handwriting.
Look outside.
Her stomach dropped.
She turned slowly toward the window near the stairwell. For a moment, she saw nothing but the dull reflection of city lights. Then, faintly, through the misted glass, she spotted a black car parked across the street. Its engine idled, lights off, but she could feel someone inside watching.
Her pulse quickened.
No, she thought. Not tonight. Not here.
She closed the door and locked it, bolting every latch twice before sinking against it. Her whole body trembled.
"Please," she whispered, "just stay away."
The twins were safe in their room. She checked on them, tucking them closer together under the blanket, their soft breathing the only thing keeping her from falling apart. She kissed their foreheads gently before slipping into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Her reflection in the glass looked pale, haunted, a woman cornered by a past that refused to die.
When she finally turned off the lights, she didn't sleep again.
---
Across the city, Damian leaned back in the backseat of his car. The rain began to fall, soft at first, then heavier. His driver glanced at him through the mirror.
"Sir, should I continue waiting?"
"No," Damian said quietly. "Take me back."
The car pulled away, tires whispering against the wet asphalt. Damian looked down at his hands, hands that had built empires, destroyed reputations, reshaped markets, and yet trembled now because of a single woman.
He had sworn never to let anyone undo him again.
But Aria Lyn wasn't just anyone.
As the city lights passed, fragments of memory played in his mind, her laughter, her defiance, the night she walked away.
He had tried to bury her under work, under women, under noise. But even after five years, one look at her and everything he thought he'd forgotten came roaring back.
He took out his phone and opened a file that had just been sent by his investigator. Inside was a list of addresses, a handful of photographs, and one birth record, two names blurred out.
Twins, born five years ago.
Mother: Aria Lyn. Father:
The space after "father" was blank. Officially erased.
Damian stared at the screen for a long moment. Then, quietly, he whispered, "What are you hiding from me, Aria?"
---
Morning came gray and heavy. Aria forced herself through routine, dressing the twins, making breakfast, walking them downstairs to meet Mrs. Clara. She smiled when she waved goodbye, but her hands wouldn't stop shaking until the elevator doors closed.
Back upstairs, the apartment felt too quiet. She sat at her worktable, sketchbook open, but all she could draw were lines that meant nothing. Her phone buzzed, making her jump again. Unknown number.
She almost ignored it, but curiosity, or fear, made her swipe open the message.
Unknown: You can't keep secrets forever.
Her throat tightened. Her fingers hovered over the screen, but before she could respond, another message arrived.
Unknown: He deserves to know.
Aria's mind went blank. This wasn't Damian. The tone was different, colder, more detached. Someone else was watching. Someone who knew more than either of them.
She deleted the messages quickly, heart pounding. She couldn't risk the twins' safety.
She needed to disappear again.
Her thoughts spiraled, but the knock on the door stopped everything.
A firm, deliberate knock. Three times.
She froze. "Who is it?"
"It's me," came the low voice she knew too well.
Damian.
Her heart crashed inside her chest. She gripped the edge of the table, trying to think, but before she could answer, he spoke again.
"Aria, open the door. We need to talk."
She hesitated. "There's nothing left to say."
"Then let me see you once more," he said quietly. "If it's really over, tell me that to my face."
Silence stretched between them. The kind that hurt.
Finally, she unlocked the door and opened it halfway.
Damian stood there, his expression unreadable, rain still clinging to his coat. For a moment, neither of them moved.
"You shouldn't have come," she whispered.
He studied her face, his voice soft but steady. "You've changed."
"So have you."
He looked past her into the apartment, eyes lingering on the sketches scattered across her desk. "You built a life without me."
"And you destroyed it before I could even begin," she snapped. Her voice cracked under the weight of memories she had fought to forget.
He flinched slightly, then looked away. "I deserve that."
"No, Damian. You deserve worse."
He met her gaze again. "Then why do you look at me like that?"
Aria froze. He had always been good at finding her weakness, at peeling away her defenses.
She stepped back. "Leave."
"I will," he said, voice low, "after you tell me who they are."
Her heart stopped. "Who"
"The twins," he said quietly. "They look like me, Aria. Tell me I'm wrong."
The air between them turned to glass. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Aria's lips parted, but no sound came out.
She wanted to lie, but the truth burned too close to the surface.
"They're mine, aren't they?" Damian asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
Aria's vision blurred. She swallowed hard, forcing out the only words she could manage. "You lost the right to ask that a long time ago."
He took a step closer. "Then prove me wrong."
"I don't owe you anything."
The silence stretched again, sharp and painful. Finally, Damian exhaled and stepped back. "Then I'll find the truth myself."
Before she could reply, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing in the doorway with her chest aching and tears she refused to let fall.
When the elevator doors closed, she collapsed against the wall. The world she had built was crumbling.
---
That night, Damian stood alone in his office again, staring at the city lights. The words she'd said wouldn't leave his mind.
"You lost the right to ask."
He poured himself a drink but didn't touch it. His phone buzzed on the desk. A new message. Unknown number.
Unknown: You're closer than you think.
Damian frowned. "Who is this?"
No answer. Only another text.
Unknown: She's not the only one with secrets.
He stared at the message for a long time before turning toward the window.
Outside, lightning flashed across the horizon.
The storm had truly begun.
---