Bouncing Back

That night, I sat on my bed with Mark's laptop in front of me. The lit screen displayed my portfolio – a collection of sketched dresses, shoes, bags, men's wear, all gathering dust in my portfolio like dreams I was too scared to chase.

I'd thought I lost them, considering what Ryan had done to cut me down.

Did he forget about this? Or he didn't think I'd need this one day? Or maybe he underestimated me too much, believing I wouldn't last up till now without him.

A soft chuckle escaped my lips. “Arrogant bastard,” I mumbled.

Scrolling through, I couldn't help but marvel at my own creations. They were spectacular. Then, I was the best in my department. My lecturers had only praises for me. I'd grabbed awards upon awards for innovation, for craftsmanship, for vision.

A few brands had reached out to be their designer, but Ryan made me turn them down. Then, they begged for a few pieces of my designs, which I sold to them under his strict conditions – no credits, no recognition, just a fat paycheck that Ryan controlled.

My pieces made it to the runway and freaking won awards! Awards I couldn’t even claim. I watched from the TV as other people paraded my work, smiled for the cameras, gave speeches they hadn’t earned. Meanwhile, I clapped for them like a fool, my heart splitting in two.

Ryan would just squeeze my hand and whisper, "Patience, Adele. Our time will come."

But it never did.

At the time, I told myself it didn't matter. I convinced myself that the world knowing my name wasn't as important as building a future with him.

God, how wrong and stupid was I.

I took a deep breath, going through the collections. There were tens of thousands of designs. It was my hobby. And now, it would be this resort’s savior… hopefully.

My hands moved before my mind could catch up, clicking through folders, selecting the best sketches, the most polished designs. Each one was a reminder: I was never the failure he painted me to be.

I was still the woman who could light up a runway.

Grabbing a notebook from the nightstand, I flipped it open and started jotting down phone numbers of those same companies I sold my designs to.

After that, new ideas came into mind and I began sketching once more.

By the time the clock struck two in the morning, my bed was littered with papers, rough sketches, notes scribbled in every margin. I leaned back against the headboard, exhaustion tugging at my limbs, but there was a fire in my chest that no amount of fatigue could smother.

Knock!

It was soft, almost hesitant knock… like whoever stood on the other side wasn’t sure they should be here.

I frowned, who would be here by this time? Maybe the girls couldn't fall asleep, just like me.

I swung my legs down from the bed and wrapped my cardigan tighter around myself, before padding barefooted across the floor.

When I opened the door, I was dazed at who I saw.

Detroit.

My breath hitched. It had been a month since that night. A month of trying to forget him. A month of aching silence and unanswered questions. And now… here he was. Tall, composed, and cloaked in power like it was stitched into his skin.

But he wasn’t the man I remembered.

Gone was the intoxicated haze, the crumbling edges. Tonight, he was all sharp lines and cold steel. His jaw was clenched, his eyes unreadable.

Still, I stepped aside. “Come in.”

He entered like he belonged, but didn’t sit. He just stood there, as though the space couldn’t contain him. I reached for the kettle on the small stove, my fingers trembling more than I cared to admit.

“Tea?” I asked, trying to steady my voice.

He stayed silent, eyes gazing at my scattered bed before his voice sounded.

“Sure.”

I busied myself with cups and steam, needing something… anything to keep my hands from reaching for the man who had vanished without a word. My mind spun with questions, but I didn’t ask. Not yet.

He sat on the couch, while I took the bed, trying to shift my designs aside. A few dropped and flew to his legs. He lowered his gaze to them, then slowly picked them up.

“That's –” I began but he'd already began studying it.

“Your own work?” he asked, his voice low, almost reverent.

I nodded, swallowing the lump forming in my throat. “Yeah. Some old, some new.”

He kept staring at the sketches in his hand. One was a sleek, daring dress that hugged the curves and commanded the room.

“They’re incredible,” he said after a long moment, his thumb brushing over the edge of the sheet. “You’re incredible.”

Heat crept up my neck. I busied myself pouring the tea, pretending the compliment didn’t make my heart stutter.

When I handed him his cup, our fingers brushed. I stiffened as I felt a jolt. A familiar and dangerous jolt shot up my arm. I quickly pulled back, and sat at the edge of the bed.

My room was small and ordinary. And his presence only made it smaller.

He didn't rake his eyes off me all the while. I bit the inside of my mouth, willing myself not to meet his eyes, but my busy refused to obey me.

My head raised, and our eyes met. Electricity charged through my veins when I locked gaze with his silver eyes. They were too wild, too knowing, like I couldn't hide my thoughts from them.

Finally, he spoke. “I owe you an explanation.”

I stiffened. Part of me wanted to tell him it didn’t matter, that I didn’t care. But we both knew it would be a lie.

“I’m listening,” I said, my voice quiet.

He set the tea down, untouched, and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, hands clasped.

“There are things about me, about my life, that I can’t just erase. No matter how much I want to.” His gaze flicked to mine. “Duty called and I had to leave. You weren't awake at the time. And I couldn't wake you up.”

I bit my lip, hard. Emotions swirled violently inside me. I was anger, hurt, but then… I lied.

“Well, I understand. I was just a nightstand and don't have the right to expect anything more.” I forced a laugh. But even I heard how hollow it sounded.

He stared at me for a little longer, then reached into his jacket and pulled something out a clean browm envelope and held it out to me.

“What's this?” I asked while taking it from him.

He didn't answer immediately. My brows furrowed slightly as I opened the file and brought out the document.

My eyes almost popped out of their sockets when I saw the heading…

MARRIAGE CONTRACT!