Days passed, then weeks, the space between them swelling with what was left unsaid. She told herself she was fine.
She convinced herself she didn’t care.
But healing isn’t always the absence of feeling; sometimes it’s the moment she sees him again and realises she never really stopped.
She got in early that morning, earlier than usual. Something in her wanted to shift the energy. She traded her usual composure for something more effortless, daring.
A fitted white top that hugged just enough, tucked neatly into a burgundy cord mini skirt. Black tights and loafers that clicked softly with each step. Her hair framed her face simply, straight, natural, intentional. No dramatics. Just quiet confidence.
She wanted to appear as though she wasn’t trying, yet still make it impossible not to notice.
The air felt different that morning, almost charged. She could sense him around before she even saw him. She stepped outside, and then suddenly, there he was. She caught sight of him from a distance. She looked a little longer than she should have, then turned away quickly, pretending not to notice.
She had originally planned to walk into the conference with someone else, laugh, maybe, let him see her happy and unbothered, a small play to make him jealous. But that morning, something shifted. She didn’t want to perform anymore. She wanted to just be.
So she did.
She found her space, sat quietly, scrolled through her phone, half-listening to music, half-listening to her thoughts, pretending to be unaffected.
But then she felt it, that unmistakable pull.
A presence.
His gaze.
She didn’t turn. She didn’t have to. She knew.
That kind of energy doesn’t need confirmation.
Still, curiosity got the better of her. She tilted her phone, pretending to check something, and used the reflection to glance behind her. There he was, that familiar rhythm of his leg moving restlessly, his fingers rubbing against his thigh, the small gestures that always gave him away.
Her heart knew before her head could catch up.
And then, just like that, he was gone. Disappeared without a trace.
She lingered, slow and unhurried, hoping maybe she’d see him again.
And then she did.
He was walking by, something in his hands, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. That look, which is impossible to define, was guarded, but not enough. It softened, then quickly rebuilt its walls.
It said I miss you.
It said you still get to me, even now.
She tried to stay composed, but the moment was electric. Someone came over to talk to her a man, and she welcomed it because this was her play. The man was standing a little too close; closer than he'd ever dared to stand. And from the corner of her eye, she saw him notice. His jaw tightened, his composure cracked, and his restraint betrayed him. He turned away, trying to act unbothered, but everything gave him away.
And as he walked past, that look returned sharper this time, almost pleading. She couldn’t name it. Maybe hurt. Maybe longing. Maybe both.
It was a look that said everything words never could.
And then, as he moved further away, he looked back again.
Just a quick, final glance, the kind that says one last look before I go.
He didn’t think she’d catch it.
But she did.
Their eyes met. Just for a second.
And that was it.
That was the moment she surrendered.
The walls she had built, all the indifference she had rehearsed, dissolved quietly in that gaze.
She missed him deeply, achingly, completely.
Thursday came, and she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
Friday came, and she couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t focus.
She just wanted something, a message, a sign, anything.
But deep down, she knew it wouldn’t come, not because he didn’t care but because he didn’t want to walk the fine line.
Still, that look stayed with her.
Haunted her.
It was her surrender.
Finally,
A message.
Stay tuned for the final part
Read the Intro by clicking the link: The coffee we never had
Then comes the wait
Then comes Ghosted over Goffee
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