Strangers in the same Room

Chapter 8: Strangers in the Same Room

LILA  

My palms were clammy, the leather handle of my handbag slick beneath my grip. I adjusted my scarf, willing my heartbeat to slow down. I couldn’t afford to let anyone recognize me—not now, not here.  

The bustling crowd of the fashion showcase swirled around me. Designers paraded their collections, models strutted down the runway, and cameras flashed in every direction. It was a scene straight out of a dream, but I wasn’t here to dream. I was here to mark my presence—a quiet reminder to everyone who doubted me, and most of all, to myself.  

I slipped into the nearest seat, my back stiff and my senses heightened. My eyes scanned the room, but I avoided making eye contact. I could hear whispers floating around me, compliments about the designs and speculations about who might win this year's competition.  

That’s when I saw him.  

Lucien Hunter.  

Even after all these years, the sight of him could still steal the air from my lungs. He wasn’t supposed to be here—not now, not when I had meticulously planned my every move to avoid him.  

He looked every bit the man I remembered, yet more imposing, more commanding. His piercing blue eyes swept across the room as if he were searching for something—or someone. My chest tightened as his gaze skimmed over me, mercifully passing without recognition.  

I lowered my head, pretending to rummage through my bag, but my mind raced. What was he doing here? Did he know? Had someone tipped him off?  

I straightened up, forcing myself to focus. He wasn’t why I came back. He couldn’t be.  

But as the minutes dragged on, I couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull, the way my eyes kept drifting back to him. His presence was a reminder of everything I had run from—and everything I had lost.  

“Excuse me, miss?”  

I jerked at the voice beside me, startled out of my thoughts. A tall man with dark hair and an easy smile stood there, holding out a program.  

“You dropped this.”  

I blinked, realizing it was mine. “Thank you,” I murmured, taking it from him.  

“You seem nervous,” he said, leaning slightly toward me. “First showcase?”  

I hesitated before nodding. “Something like that.”  

“Well, good luck,” he said, his smile widening. “I’m Dante, by the way.”  

I didn’t respond, my attention shifting back to Lucien. He was speaking to someone now—a woman with auburn hair and a strikingly familiar laugh.  

Lily.  

My fingers tightened around the program as the memory of her betrayal clawed its way back to the surface. She was laughing, touching his arm as if the past five years hadn’t happened. As if she hadn’t orchestrated every moment of my heartbreak.  

Dante followed my gaze, his expression turning curious. “Friend of yours?”  

“Not at all,” I replied, my voice colder than I intended.  

The lights dimmed, signaling the start of the showcase. I turned my attention to the stage, willing myself to ignore the burning sensation of Lucien’s presence just a few rows ahead.  

But as the models began their walk, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was only the beginning—that Lucien’s return wasn’t a coincidence, and that my carefully constructed life was about to be upended.  

When the showcase ended, I slipped out quietly, weaving through the crowd like a ghost. My heels clicked against the marble floor as I made my way toward the exit.  

“Lila.”  

I froze.  

The voice was unmistakable, deep and laced with a mixture of anger and disbelief.  

Slowly, I turned around, my breath hitching as our eyes met.  

Lucien stood there, his jaw tight and his hands clenched at his sides. His gaze burned into me, a thousand unspoken questions swirling in the icy depths of his eyes.  

“I found you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  

And just like that, the walls I had spent years building began to crumble.