What the Heart Remembers
Muri couldn't sleep.
She lay in her hotel suite, staring at the ceiling, Sky's soft breathing steady beside her. He'd fallen asleep almost instantly, arm draped over her waist like a claim. But she felt distant—like a stranger in her own skin.
Lex's face from the meeting kept replaying in her mind.
That flicker of jealousy.
The pain behind the mask.
She didn't know why it mattered.
She shouldn't care.
But she did.
The memory she didn't have—whatever happened between them—was a ghost tugging at the edges of her soul.
---
The next evening, Muri returned to the office late to pick up some plans she'd forgotten.
The building was quiet, lights dimmed to a hush. She stepped into the executive wing—and froze.
Lex's office door was open, light spilling into the hall.
Inside, Lex sat behind his desk, blazer discarded, sleeves rolled, shirt collar loosened. A crystal tumbler of scotch untouched beside him. His head was bowed, fingers pressed to his eyes like the weight of the world had finally gotten too heavy.
He didn't notice her at first.
Not until she knocked gently on the glass.
He looked up—and for once, the CEO was gone. No shield. No edge. Just a man. Tired. Hurt. Human.
"Muri," he said, voice rough. "Didn't think anyone else was here."
She stepped inside slowly. "Didn't mean to interrupt."
"You didn't," he murmured. Then paused. "Unless you're here to remind me how happy you and Sky are."
She winced. "That's not fair."
"No," he said. "It's not."
Silence stretched between them—tense, electric.
Muri looked down at the untouched scotch. "Is this how you forget me?"
He met her gaze. And something cracked.
"No," Lex whispered. "This is how I remember you."
Her breath caught.
For the first time, she didn't know what to say.
And for the first time, she didn't want to leave.