Chapter Ten

Anton wasn’t the type of man to sit idly by and hope for the best. If he wanted something, he pursued it with relentless determination, and Odette was no exception. Giving her time and space didn’t mean he wouldn’t find ways to remind her of his presence—and his sincerity.

The first gesture came on a Monday morning. Odette arrived at her cubicle to find a small, beautifully wrapped package on her desk. She glanced around, suspicious, before picking it up. Inside was a hardcover notebook with an elegant leather cover and a note tucked inside the front page.

For when words fail, but your sketches speak louder than anything. – A.

Her fingers brushed over the smooth leather, her throat tightening. She placed the notebook in her drawer, telling herself not to overthink it.

But the gestures kept coming.

The next day, a delivery man arrived at Claude’s office with lunch for the entire Rosier project team. It was nothing extravagant—just sandwiches and fresh pastries from a local café—but Odette knew exactly who had sent it. While her colleagues fawned over the unexpected treat, she kept quiet, determined not to react.

That evening, she found herself staying late to work on a design proposal. The office was quiet, the hum of her computer the only sound as she adjusted the dimensions of a mockup. Her focus was so intense that she didn’t notice Anton until he gently placed a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea beside her.

“Figured you could use a pick-me-up,” he said, leaning casually against her desk.

She jumped slightly at his presence but quickly composed herself. “You really need to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Showing up out of nowhere,” she replied, picking up the tea.

He smirked. “You didn’t seem to mind when we were kids.”

Her hand paused halfway to her mouth, and she set the cup down carefully. “That was a long time ago, Anton.”

“I know,” he said, his expression softening. “But some things don’t change. Like how I know you work too hard and forget to take care of yourself.”

Her heart betrayed her, skipping a beat at his words. She hated how easily he could read her, even after all this time. “You don’t know me anymore,” she said quietly, turning back to her screen.

“But I want to,” he said, his voice steady. “I want to know everything about who you are now, Odette. I want to know your favorite café, your favorite movie, the song you hum when you think no one’s listening.”

She turned to him, startled by the raw vulnerability in his tone. For a moment, she couldn’t speak, her emotions warring within her. Finally, she sighed. “Anton, you can’t just waltz back into my life and expect me to open up like nothing happened.”

“I know I can’t,” he admitted. “But I can try to earn your trust, one day at a time.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if I have to.”

Before she could respond, he straightened and began walking toward the door. “Drink your tea,” he called over his shoulder, leaving her alone with her thoughts—and the quiet warmth of his gesture.

Over the next few weeks, Anton’s persistence continued in small, meaningful ways. He didn’t overwhelm her with grand declarations or expensive gifts. Instead, he showed up in ways that felt deeply personal—ways that reminded her of the boy she had once loved.

When a rainstorm hit unexpectedly one afternoon, she found a neatly folded umbrella waiting at her desk with a note: Didn’t want you getting soaked. – A.

When she mentioned offhandedly during a meeting that she was struggling to find inspiration for a new design concept, an anonymous delivery of books on architectural styles and color theory appeared on her doorstep the next day. The note inside simply read: “For your genius. – A.”

As much as she hated to admit it, his gestures were wearing her down. He wasn’t flashy or overbearing—just quietly consistent. It was as if he knew exactly how to remind her of the connection they’d once shared without overwhelming her.

But Odette wasn’t ready to trust him yet. She told herself that these gestures didn’t change what had happened. She had learned the hard way not to rely on anyone, and she wasn’t about to let her guard down so easily.

That resolve was tested one evening when she returned home from work. Amerie was in the kitchen, sipping a glass of wine and scrolling through her phone.

“Hey,” Amerie said, barely glancing up. “Something arrived for you. It’s on the counter.”

Odette frowned and walked over to the package. It was a small, square box wrapped in plain brown paper. Carefully, she peeled it open to reveal a framed sketch of the two of them as teenagers.

It was a perfect replica of a drawing she had done years ago, back when they would spend hours sitting under the oak tree in her backyard, talking about their dreams. She remembered showing Anton the original, proud of how she had captured his silver-grey eyes and mischievous grin.

Now, staring at the recreated image, she felt a lump form in her throat. Beneath the frame was a note:

“I never forgot who we were, Odette. And I never stopped believing in who we could be. – Anton.”

She set the frame down carefully, her hands trembling. Amerie, sensing her friend’s distress, finally looked up.

“Let me guess,” Amerie said, her tone light but probing. “From the one and only Mr. Dimitri?”

Odette nodded mutely.

Amerie sighed and poured another glass of wine. “Okay, spill. What’s going on in that overactive brain of yours?”

“I don’t know,” Odette admitted, sinking onto the couch. “He keeps doing these… thoughtful things. And it’s making me question everything.”

“Like what?” Amerie asked, handing her the glass of wine.

“Like whether he really has changed. Whether he deserves another chance.”

Amerie studied her friend for a moment before speaking. “Look, I don’t blame you for being cautious. The guy put you through hell, and it’s okay if you’re not ready to forgive him. But, Dotty, he’s showing up for you in ways that most men wouldn’t. He’s not just throwing money around—he’s paying attention. That says something.”

Odette sipped her wine, letting Amerie’s words sink in.

“And besides,” Amerie added with a smirk, “if you don’t give him a chance, I might. That man is fine.”

Odette couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in her chest easing slightly. “You’re impossible.”

“I try,” Amerie said with a wink.

The next day, Odette found herself in the office breakroom, lost in thought as she stared at her half-empty coffee cup. She didn’t hear Anton approach until he was standing beside her.

“Morning,” he said, his voice gentle.

“Morning,” she replied without looking at him.

They stood in silence for a moment, the hum of the coffee machine filling the room. Finally, Anton spoke.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone careful. “I know I’ve made a mess of things, and I know I have no right to ask for your time. But would you have dinner with me? Just dinner. No expectations, no pressure.”

Odette turned to him, her eyes narrowing. “Why?”

“Because I want to talk,” he said. “I want to tell you everything. About why I left, about what I’ve been through. You deserve the truth, Odette. And I owe it to you.”

She searched his face, looking for any sign of deception. But all she saw was sincerity.

After a long pause, she sighed. “One dinner,” she said. “That’s all.”

A small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips. “One dinner,” he echoed.

As he walked away, Odette felt the weight of the decision settle over her. She wasn’t sure what she was walking into, but one thing was certain: this dinner was going to change everything.