Elena stood in front of the mirror, fingers trembling just a bit as she tugged the zipper up the back of her emerald silk dress. Damn, it still fits like a glove curve in all the places that used to drive men crazy, back when she cared about that sort of thing. But tonight? Tonight, it felt like armor she didn't want to wear. She twisted sideways, sucking in her breath, and caught her own eye in the mirror. Who was this woman staring back at me? Beautiful, sure flawless skin, waves of chestnut hair cascading down her shoulders but empty. Like a porcelain doll on a shelf, pretty and forgotten.
She let out a sharp sigh and turned away, her heels clicking against the marble floor of their Upper East Side bedroom. The city lights twinkled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, mocking her with their endless energy. New York never slept, but Elena is everything still making sense again? It's like she'd been dozing through her life for years.
"Mom! Dad is pacing like a tiger in a cage!" Sophia's voice burst from the hallway, laced with that giggly excitement only a ten-year-old could muster.
Elena couldn't help but smile. She grabbed her earrings, a simple diamond Marcus had given her on their fifth year anniversary, back then, when he still pretended to notice her. Sophia was already in the living room, twirling in her navy blue dress, her dark curls bouncing like they had a life of their own. God, she looked just like Marcus in the hair department, but those eyes? Is pure Elena's wide, curious, and full of unspoken questions.
"You look stunning, kiddo," Elena said, pulling her into a quick hug. Sophia smelled like strawberry shampoo and innocence.
"Thanks! Can I wear lipstick? Just a little?"
"Not tonight, mermaid queen. Save it for when you're ruling the ocean."
Sophia giggled, but Elena's mind wandered. Mermaid queen, Sophia's latest obsession, thanks to that aquarium trip last month. The kid devoured facts like candy: did you know humpback whales sing songs that can last twenty minutes? Elena loved that about her. It was like Sophia was building a fortress out of knowledge, one trivia brick at a time. But why did a child need a fortress? Elena pushed the thought down, deep where the other regrets lived.
Marcus strode in then, phone glued to his ear as always. "Yeah, confirm the reservation for eight. We'll be there." He hung up without a word to whoever was on the line and finally looked at them. "Ready? Traffic's gonna be a nightmare if we don't move."
His eyes flicked over Elena quick, appraising, like he was checking off a box. No spark. No "You look incredible." Just the same old efficiency. Marcus Thompson: forty-two, mid-level finance guy, master of the detached nod. He'd been her rock once or at least, that's what her parents had called it when they shoved them together twenty years ago. "Stability, Elena. He's got prospects. Your father's business needs this alliance." Arranged? Not in the old-world sense, but close enough. A merger disguised as a marriage.
She nodded back, grabbing her clutch. "Let's go."
The elevator ride down was a study in silence, broken only by Sophia's humming, some pop tune Elena couldn't place. The brass doors reflected them like a warped family portrait: Marcus scrolling emails, Sophia fidgeting with her hem, Elena staring at nothing. Perfect on paper. Hollow inside.
Outside, the autumn chill nipped at her bare arms as the doorman whistled for their SUV. Marcus helped Sophia in first, then Elena, his touch on her elbow light as a stranger's. No warmth. No lingering fingers tracing her skin like... like before.
As the car pulled into the stream of honking taxis on Park Avenue, Elena's gaze drifted to the window. The city is blurred by neon signs, crowds spilling from theaters, lovers stealing kisses under streetlights. Her mind slipped back, unbidden, to a dusty road in rural Pennsylvania. Twenty years ago. Her and Alexander, seventeen and stupid in love.
He'd pinned her against the old oak tree after school, his hands strong even then cupping her face. "El, you're it for me. Screw college, screw everything. We'll run away." His voice had been rough, eyes blazing like summer storms. She'd laughed, but her heart had pounded. Kisses that tasted like forever, stolen in barns and backseats, whispers of promises under starlit skies.
Until it all shattered.
His father, that iron-fisted bastard Victor Voss, found out. He called Alexander's love "trash" and threatened him. Alexander was shipped off to boarding school, then MIT. Elena was left heartbroken. Her parents pushed her into Marcus hand. "it's practical".
"I love you," Alexander had whispered that last night, his truck idling in the dark. "I'll come back. Wait for me."
She hadn't. Couldn't. Life didn't pause for childhood sweethearts.
A red light jerked her back. Sophia was pointing excitedly. "Mom, look! The Plaza's got Christmas lights already! Can we go ice skating there this year?"
Elena forced a smile. "Absolutely. We'll make it a thing."
Marcus grunted from the front seat. "Oak Room for her birthday, maybe. Impress the clients."
There it was, the transaction. Everything boiled down to networks, deals, appearances. Elena's fingers tightened on her clutch. When was the last time Marcus had looked at her like she was more than a accessory? Touched her like he meant it? Their bed was a cold country these days, him rolling over with excuses about work stress. She gave everything, love, support, the perfect hostess act and got scraps in return. For Sophia, sure. But for her?
The SUV eased up to Le Bernardin, valet waiting like a shadow. Marcus paid, tipped generously, always the image and they stepped into the glow of the restaurant. Crystal chandeliers, the hum of French accents, the scent of seared scallops wafting from the kitchen. Elena slipped into her role: smiles for the clients, light laughter at their jokes, her hand occasionally brushing Marcus's arm like it belonged there.
But as they settled at the table, clinking glasses of chilled Sauvignon Blanc, that old whisper crept in. Louder this time. What if? What if she didn't settle? What if Alexander now some tech billionaire, from what she'd glimpsed in magazines, had kept that promise? What if she could feel wanted again, desired, alive?
She sipped her wine, the crisp bite grounding her. Ridiculous. She was thirty-eight, a mother, a wife. Fantasies were for teenagers.
Yet as the evening wore on, the clients droning about market trends, Elena's eyes kept drifting to the window. Out there, in the pulse of the city, anything felt possible. And deep down, in the part of her she'd locked away, a spark flickered to life.
By the time dessert arrived—crème brûlée, cracked just so, Elena realized something terrifying: she wasn't sure she could snuff it out anymore.
The night air hit them like a slap as they left the restaurant. Sophia yawned, leaning into Elena's side. Marcus hailed a cab for the clients, then turned to her. "Good job tonight. They ate it up."
She met his gaze, searching for more. Found nothing.
As they climbed back into the SUV, Elena's phone buzzed in her clutch. She ignored it at first, probably Lila, her best friend, with some gossip. But curiosity won. She glanced down.
A message from an unknown number: *Saw you at the gala invite list. It's been too long, El. -A*
Her heart stopped. Alexander?
No. Couldn't be.