Maya's body was beginning to betray her again.
Not suddenly.
Not violently.
But persistently.
It showed in the smallest ways—ways easy to dismiss if one did not look closely. A slight pause before answering questions. A hand pressing subtly against her chest when she thought no one was looking. The way her breathing sometimes lagged behind her movements, like her body was always a step too slow to catch up with itself.
At work, she tried to hide it.
She always tried.
Because this—this internship—was more than just a temporary position. It was proof. Proof that she was still capable. Still functioning. Still moving forward despite everything that had tried to break her.
But her body did not care about proof.
It cared about limits.
And she was reaching hers.
—
"Maya."
Her name was spoken gently, but there was something underneath it. Something careful.
She looked up from her desk, blinking slowly as her vision adjusted.
"Yes?"
Her supervisor stood a few feet away, posture composed, expression neutral—but not unkind.
"Can you step into my office for a moment?"
Maya nodded.
"Of course."
She stood up, steadying herself subtly against the desk before following.
Each step felt heavier than it should.
—
The office was quiet.
Too quiet.
"Maya," her supervisor began, folding her hands neatly on the desk, "we've noticed a few inconsistencies in your performance recently."
Maya said nothing.
"We understand that things happen," she continued. "Health issues, personal matters… we're not insensitive to that."
A pause.
"But this internship requires consistency. Reliability."
The words landed softly.
But they carried weight.
"We're not making any decisions yet," she added. "But we need to see improvement."
Improvement.
Maya swallowed.
"I understand."
And she did.
More than they realized.
—
When she left the office, something inside her felt… fragile.
Not broken.
Not yet.
But fragile.
Like one more push could undo everything she was holding together.
—
Her graduation was on Saturday.
It should have felt important.
Exciting.
A milestone worth celebrating.
But instead—
It felt like something she needed to get through.
Another obligation.
Another moment where she had to stand upright, smile, and prove she was okay.
—
"You're not okay."
Adela said it one evening without hesitation.
Maya glanced at her briefly.
"I'm fine."
Adela didn't react immediately.
She just looked at her.
Really looked at her.
"You don't have to lie to me."
Maya exhaled slowly.
"I'm not lying."
But even she didn't believe that.
—
Tatiana called later that night.
"You're leaving Thursday," she said, her voice calm but firm.
Maya smiled faintly.
"Yes, ma'am."
"No delays. No excuses."
"Understood."
There was a pause.
Then, softer—
"I've made arrangements."
Maya knew what that meant.
Tatiana never did anything halfway.
—
Thursday arrived quietly.
No dramatic farewells.
No lingering goodbyes.
Just movement.
Maya stood beside Adela at the airport, her suitcase at her side, her expression calm.
Too calm.
"Ready?" Adela asked.
Maya nodded.
"Yes."
And this time—
There was no hesitation.
—
The flight passed in silence.
Maya spent most of it staring out the window, watching the clouds stretch endlessly beneath them.
For a while—
There was nothing.
No thoughts.
No memories.
Just… stillness.
And strangely—
It felt like freedom.
—
New York greeted them with noise.
Movement.
Life.
The airport buzzed with energy, voices overlapping, footsteps echoing, announcements cutting through the air.
Maya walked beside Adela, her pace steady but slow.
She didn't notice him.
Not at all.
—
He had been watching since she stepped out of the terminal.
Careful.
Patient.
His eyes never left her.
—
"She's here."
His voice was low as he spoke into his phone.
"I'm sure."
A pause.
"Yes… I'm following."
—
Maya stepped outside, the cool New York air brushing against her skin.
She inhaled slowly.
And for the first time in a long while—
She felt… light.
Not healed.
Not whole.
But light.
—
The car ride was quiet.
Comfortable.
Maya leaned her head against the window, watching the city pass by in blurred motion.
Lights.
Buildings.
People.
Everything moving forward.
And for once—
She didn't feel left behind.
—
The car pulled into a gated building in one of the most luxurious parts of the city.
Tall.
Elegant.
Imposing.
Maya stepped out slowly, her gaze lifting as she took it in.
"This is…?"
"Tatiana's," Adela replied simply.
Of course it was.
—
The penthouse was breathtaking.
Floor-to-ceiling glass windows stretched across the entire space, revealing a view of New York that felt almost unreal.
The city glittered below.
Alive.
Endless.
Full of possibility.
It reminded her of something.
A feeling.
A dream.
Like the city itself was whispering—
You can start again.
Maya stepped closer to the glass, her reflection faint against the skyline.
For a moment—
She felt free.
Truly free.
Like nothing was holding her.
No past.
No pain.
No expectations.
Just—
Existence.
—
Outside the building, the man stopped.
He didn't go further.
Didn't need to.
He already had what he came for.
He pulled out his phone.
"Sir."
A pause.
"Yes. She entered the building."
Another pause.
"Penthouse level."
Silence.
Then—
"Yes, sir."
—
Rege stood still as the call ended.
For a moment—
He didn't move.
Didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
And then—
He smiled.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
—
Months.
He had spent months searching.
Relentlessly.
Obsessively.
He had hired private investigators.
Top-tier.
Low-level.
Every kind.
And still—
Nothing.
No trace.
No history.
No presence.
It was as if she had never existed.
Like she had appeared only for him—
And then disappeared.
—
No social media.
No digital footprint.
No connections that led anywhere.
Just—
Maya.
A name.
A memory.
A feeling.
—
But he never believed it was just that.
Never accepted it.
Because what he felt that day—
That moment—
Had been real.
Too real to be a coincidence.
Too strong to be forgotten.
—
So he waited.
Patiently.
Strategically.
At the only place he was certain she would return to.
The airport.
—
And now—
She had.
—
Rege exhaled slowly, his fingers brushing lightly against his jaw as he processed it.
"She came back."
Not a question.
A statement.
Fate.
—
And then—
Something else clicked.
The building.
His building.
—
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Soft.
Almost disbelieving.
"She was here…"
All along.
—
He picked up his phone again.
"James."
"Yes, sir."
"I want a full list of every penthouse owner in the building. Names. Transfers. Everything."
There was a pause.
"…Sir?"
"And the CCTV footage. All of it."
James hesitated.
Not because he couldn't.
But because this—
This was new.
Rege never involved himself in matters like this.
Ever.
"It's none of your business," Rege said calmly.
"Yes, sir."
The line went dead.
—
The files arrived quickly.
Of course they did.
Rege did not tolerate delays.
—
He scanned through them with precision.
Names.
Documents.
Transfers.
Nothing held his attention.
Until—
It did.
—
Maya Windget.
—
His gaze stilled.
Completely.
—
The name sat there.
Clear.
Undeniable.
—
Transferred from:
Tatiana Santamaria Lannister.
—
Recognition flickered instantly.
Of course.
He knew that name.
Everyone did.
A woman who never lost.
A woman whose firm handled even his personal legal affairs.
—
His lips curved slightly.
"So that's where you were hiding."
—
Everything aligned.
Too perfectly.
Too intentionally.
—
He leaned back slowly, his eyes dark with thought.
Maya.
In his building.
Under his reach.
Within his world.
—
For months, she had been untouchable.
Unreachable.
A ghost.
—
And now—
She was real again.
—
He closed his eyes briefly.
And there it was.
That memory.
Her smile.
Soft.
Unaware.
Unprotected.
—
Her voice.
Gentle.
Clear.
—
Her touch.
Light.
But unforgettable.
—
And her scent—
He had thought about it more times than he would ever admit.
Subtle.
Soft.
Almost unnoticeable.
Vanilla.
But not artificial.
Not applied.
Natural.
—
And her eyes.
—
His jaw tightened slightly.
That was what stayed with him the most.
—
Bright.
So bright.
—
And yet—
Not untouched.
Not whole.
—
There had been something there.
Something dimmed.
Something broken beneath the light.
—
And he needed to know.
—
What had been strong enough—
To dim something like that?
—
And how—
Had it not destroyed her completely?
—
His eyes opened slowly.
Focused.
Sharp.
Certain.
—
This was not coincidence.
—
This was opportunity.
—
"Fate," he murmured quietly.
—
And he had never been one to ignore it.
—
A slow smirk formed on his lips.
Calculated.
Intentional.
—
This time—
She would not disappear.
—
This time—
He would not let her go.
—
Back in the penthouse, Maya stood by the window, her reflection faint against the endless city.
Her breathing was steady.
Her expression calm.
—
She didn't know.
—
Didn't feel it.
Didn't sense it.
—
But something had shifted.
—
Something had begun.
—
And somewhere within the same building—
A man who had spent months searching for her—
Was already planning—
How they would meet again.