Chocolate

Susan

The next morning, as sunlight streamed through my bedroom window, I found myself still thinking about the boat ride.

I sipped on my coffee and stared out at the city skyline, replaying the previous day like a movie reel in my head. Elliot’s laughter, the way he effortlessly steered the conversation to include everyone, his ridiculous attempt at paddling—these small moments had a way of weaving themselves into my thoughts.

I hated it.

But if I was being honest with myself, there was one moment that stood out more than the rest—the way his eyes locked on mine as we stood at the bow of the boat, the city lights shimmering around us. It was fleeting, but something about it felt… different.

I shook my head, trying to push the thought aside.

“Snap out of it, Susan,” I muttered under my breath.

I wasn’t going to let him win. Not again.

But it wasn’t just about winning, was it? He wasn’t playing games—not this time, at least. Elliot’s efforts felt real. Intentional. And that terrified me.

I leaned back against the kitchen counter, my coffee forgotten in my hand.

The truth was, I wanted to hate him. It would’ve been so much easier if he’d stayed the arrogant boy who walked away without a second glance. But this Elliot… this version of him was harder to ignore. He was patient, thoughtful, and—dare I say it—charming in a way that didn’t feel forced.

Still, there was a wall between us, one I wasn’t ready to lower.

Maybe I’d been staring at it too long, but I could almost hear his voice in my head. “Why do you always run, Susan?” he’d asked me once, years ago, during one of our rare arguments in college.

I wasn’t running now, though. Not exactly. I was standing still, stuck between the past and the present, unsure of which way to turn.

My phone buzzed on the counter, interrupting my spiral. It was a message from Meera.

Meera: “Morning, sunshine. So, any plans to murder Elliot yet, or is he growing on you like a particularly annoying weed?”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. Meera always knew how to lighten the mood.

Me: “No murder. Yet. But he’s definitely annoying. Call you later.”

I set the phone down and glanced back out at the skyline.

Maybe this wasn’t about walls or running. Maybe it was about figuring out what I really wanted—and whether Elliot Prescott had a place in that picture.

But I couldn’t afford to lose myself in him again. Not unless I was sure he wouldn’t break my heart a second time.

With a deep breath, I drained the rest of my coffee and squared my shoulders. Today was a new day, and I had work to focus on. Elliot Prescott could try all he wanted, but I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

Even if a part of me wished he’d keep trying.

***

The office felt unusually quiet for a Monday morning. My team was hard at work, typing furiously, phones ringing softly in the background. It was a stark contrast to the storm raging in my head.

The weekend had left me feeling raw. The boat ride, Elliot’s unwavering attention, the way he made me laugh despite my best efforts to remain indifferent—it was all too much.

And now, I sat in my office, staring blankly at my computer screen, the cursor blinking impatiently as if mocking my inability to focus.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. For the past ten years, I’d perfected the art of keeping my emotions locked away. It was safer that way. But now, Elliot was prying open the lid I’d sealed so tightly, and I hated how easily he was getting under my skin.

The knock at my door startled me. “Come in,” I called, straightening up.

It was Lisa, my assistant, holding a small package. “This just came for you,” she said, placing it on my desk before leaving with a polite smile.

I eyed the package suspiciously, my name scrawled on the label in neat handwriting. Tearing it open, I found a small box of chocolates and a note.

“For the toughest boss in the building. Thought you might need a sweet start to the week. —E.”

I felt a surge of irritation—and something else I couldn’t quite name. He was relentless. Thoughtful in a way that made it impossible to brush him off.

But I couldn’t let myself fall for it. Not again.

I grabbed my phone, my fingers hovering over Meera’s name in my contacts. She always knew how to talk me off the ledge.

“Tell me you’re free for lunch,” I said as soon as she picked up.

“Depends. Is this a rant-about-Elliot lunch or a pretend-he-doesn’t-exist lunch?”

“Both.”

Meera laughed. “Perfect. Meet me at our usual spot in an hour.”

***

By the time I reached the café, Meera was already seated, her iced coffee in hand.

“You look like you haven’t slept,” she said, studying me as I slid into the chair across from her.

“Thanks for the compliment,” I muttered, flagging down the waiter.

“Okay, start talking. What’s he done now?”

I hesitated, stirring my coffee absently as I debated where to start.

“He sent chocolates this morning,” I finally said.

“Oh no, the horror,” Meera teased.

I shot her a glare. “It’s not just the chocolates. It’s everything. The coffee, the boat ride, the way he’s always… there. He’s making it impossible to ignore him.”

Meera leaned forward, her expression softening. “And that’s a bad thing because…?”

“Because I can’t go through that again,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t see me after he left, Meera. I was a mess. I lost my job, my confidence—I lost myself.”

Meera reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “I get it. But you’re not that girl anymore, Susan. You’ve rebuilt your life, your career. You’re stronger now.”

“Strong enough to survive another heartbreak?” I asked bitterly.

Meera didn’t answer right away. She sipped her coffee, studying me with that knowing look she always had. “The real question is, are you strong enough to let yourself be happy?”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable.

I hated how much they made sense.

***

Back at the office, I found myself staring at the chocolates again. I could hear Meera’s voice in my head: “Are you strong enough to let yourself be happy?”

I didn’t have an answer. But for the first time, I let the possibility linger.