Three months passed.
The city moved on, as it always did. New scandals replaced old ones. New headlines took over the screens. But for Ethan Blackwood, time didn't erase anything. It only made the absence more noticeable.
Blackwood Press was thriving, yet his office felt hollow.
Every morning, he found himself glancing toward the desk Lena once occupied, even though it had been reassigned weeks ago. No one laughed the way she had. No one worked with the same quiet determination.
She was everywhere.
And nowhere.
Lena's life had changed in quieter ways.
She rented a small room near the beach, where mornings began with sunlight instead of sirens. She worked part-time at a bookstore café, surrounded by stories and the soft hum of conversation.
Most importantly, she wrote.
Every day.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard as words poured out — honest, unpolished, and real. She wrote about love that hurt, about choices that mattered, about women who found themselves after being lost in someone else's shadow.
One afternoon, a stranger left a note on her table.
Your writing made me cry. Thank you.
Lena held onto that note like proof.
Ethan tried to respect the distance she had asked for.
He didn't call.
He didn't text.
But he followed her success from afar.
When a literary blog praised a short story published under a pen name, he recognized her voice immediately. He smiled for the first time in weeks.
She was becoming who she was meant to be.
Fate intervened on a quiet Thursday evening.
Lena attended a small literary event at a local bookstore, nervous but proud. Her short story was being read aloud for the first time.
As applause filled the room, she lifted her gaze — and froze.
Ethan stood near the back.
Not in a suit.
Not as the CEO.
Just a man holding a folded program, eyes full of regret and hope.
After the crowd thinned, he approached her slowly.
"Congratulations," he said. "You were incredible."
She swallowed. "You shouldn't be here."
"I know," he replied. "I'll leave if you want."
She hesitated. "Stay. For a minute."
They walked outside, the ocean breeze cool against their skin.
"I read your work," he said. "You found your voice."
She smiled faintly. "I had to lose myself first."
Silence settled — softer than before.
"I don't want to go back," Lena said quietly. "To who I was."
"I wouldn't want you to," Ethan replied. "I don't want to go back either."
She studied him. "Then what do you want?"
He met her gaze. "A future built on truth. Even if it doesn't include me."
Her heart trembled.
They didn't touch.
They didn't promise.
But as they stood side by side, something new grew between them — not urgency, not fear.
Peace.
Time had changed them.
And maybe, it had given them a second chance.