Life's Too Short For Regrets

Present Day: Elliot

I leaned against the balcony railing of my penthouse, the city lights sprawling below me. The hum of traffic blended with the occasional distant siren, creating a faint buzz that mirrored the chaos in my mind.

Susan.

Seeing her again had thrown me off balance in a way I hadn’t expected. I thought I’d buried those memories—tucked them neatly into a box, sealed, and stored away in some unreachable corner of my mind. But the moment I saw her, it was like that box burst open, and I was drowning in everything I thought I’d left behind.

Her laugh, her stubbornness, the way she used to light up when she talked about something she loved.

And her guardedness now. That caught me off guard the most.

The Susan I’d known wore her heart on her sleeve, unafraid to feel, unafraid to be vulnerable. This Susan…she had walls. Walls I didn’t know if I could—or should—break down.

I took a sip of the whiskey in my hand, letting the warmth spread through me. It didn’t help. The memory of her at the bar, laughing with her friend, kept replaying in my head.

What was she laughing about? What had made her smile like that?

And why the hell did I care?

I set the glass down with a little more force than necessary and ran a hand through my hair. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to matter anymore.

But she did.

****

Flashback: Ten Years Ago

“I’m serious, Elliot. I’m going to ace this exam,” Susan declared, sitting cross-legged on the library floor with a textbook spread open in front of her.

I smirked, leaning against the bookshelf. “Sure you are. Because cramming the night before has always worked out for you.”

She shot me a glare, her lips twitching like she was trying not to smile. “It’s called efficient studying.”

“Is that what you call it?” I teased, crouching down to her level. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks a lot like procrastination.”

She huffed, shoving my shoulder lightly. “Not everyone has a photographic memory, Mr. Perfect.”

I laughed, sitting down beside her. “Fine. Let me help. What’s the topic?”

She hesitated, biting her lip. “Macroeconomics.”

“Easy,” I said, grabbing a spare sheet of paper. “Let’s start with fiscal policy.”

An hour later, her frustration was palpable.

“Why do they make this so complicated?” she groaned, leaning her head against my shoulder.

“It’s not complicated. You’re overthinking it,” I said, tapping the paper with my pen. “Here. Let’s go over it again.”

She sighed but didn’t move away, her head still resting against me. “You’re too good at this. It’s unfair.”

“Maybe,” I said, grinning. “But at least I’m useful.”

She laughed softly, and for a moment, we just sat there, the library quiet around us.

“Thank you,” she murmured after a while.

“For what?”

“For always being there. Even when I’m a mess.”

I turned to look at her, and the sincerity in her eyes made my chest tighten. “You’re not a mess, Susan. You’re incredible.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away, but I caught the small smile on her lips.

That moment—so simple, so ordinary—was one of the many reasons I’d fallen for her.

****

Present Day: Elliot

The shrill ring of my phone jolted me out of my thoughts. I reached for it, not bothering to check the caller ID.

“Prescott,” I answered.

“It’s Adrian,” my brother’s voice came through, slightly annoyed. “You didn’t answer my earlier message.”

“Been busy,” I said curtly.

“With what? Brooding?” he quipped.

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “What do you want, Adrian?”

“Just checking in. Mom’s still pestering me about the gala next week. You’re going, right?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not really. But you could at least pretend to be enthusiastic,” he said, his tone light but laced with a hint of sarcasm.

“I’ll be there,” I said, already dreading the event.

“Good. And try not to scare everyone off with your charming personality.”

“Goodnight, Adrian,” I said, hanging up before he could retort.

I set the phone down and leaned back in my chair, my thoughts drifting back to Susan.

The gala. If she was still on the project, she’d probably be there too.

And somehow, the idea of seeing her again didn’t feel like something I could avoid.

It felt inevitable.

****

Present Day: Susan

The next morning, I was in the middle of sipping my coffee when Meera barged in, a whirlwind of energy and chaos as usual.

“You’re not going to believe this,” she said, dropping her bag onto the chair and flopping onto the couch.

“Good morning to you too,” I said dryly.

“Forget morning. Guess who texted me last night?” she said, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Please don’t say Elliot,” I groaned, setting my mug down.

She rolled her eyes. “No, not Elliot. One of the guys from the bar. The cute one with the dimples. He’s taking me out tonight.”

“Good for you,” I said, forcing a smile.

“Don’t act like you’re not interested,” she teased. “What about you? Any late-night texts from a certain brooding billionaire?”

“Absolutely not,” I said firmly.

“Too bad. You could use a little excitement in your life,” she said, winking.

“I have enough excitement, thank you very much,” I said, gesturing to the notepad still sitting on the counter.

Meera’s gaze followed mine, and she smirked. “Still haven’t gotten rid of that, huh?”

“Not yet,” I muttered.

“Well, don’t hold onto it for too long,” she said, grabbing her bag. “And don’t forget—life’s too short for regrets.”

As she left, her words lingered in the air.

Life’s too short for regrets.

I stared at the notepad, my resolve wavering. Maybe it was time to stop running from the past.

But letting go was never that simple.