Part 41 Asha
"Dennis..." I said softly. "Please don't cry."
But his sobs only grew, and I didn't know what to do.
"We can still meet up," I offered gently. "We'll go out for lunch, do some shopping. Let's set a regular date, just for us. How about that?"
He grabbed another tissue, blowing his nose loudly. Still crying.
"Dennis..."
"Why don't you take me with you, Asha?" he whined, his lips trembling, his voice shaky. "I could be your personal assistant and help you with..." He paused, as if suddenly realizing that all I had at the moment was a dream of starting a plant nursery. "... planning," he finished. "I could help you buy the supplies you need."
"You've built your career in this office, Dennis," I reminded him gently. "Don't waste all those years of hard work. You still have a long way to go."
"Eh," he said, blowing his nose again and looking at me with a mix of disbelief and frustration. "What about you? You've been building your career even longer than I have."
"But where do I go from here, Dennis? My career's already at its peak—there's nowhere to go but down. I don't want to be a Regional or Global CEO. That would force me to move town or, worse, move out of the country, and I can't do that to my kids." I paused, letting out a sigh. "Besides, I'm already bored out of my mind. I want to do something I really love, before I'm too old to make it happen."
"But why so soon, Asha?" he cried, grabbing one of the chocolates I'd brought for him, now scattered across his desk. With a mouthful, he cried again, "Why didn't you tell me before you left for your holiday?"
Yeah. The morning before I left, I emailed my resignation to my boss and the head of HR. I told no one else—just my kids and my brothers—wanting the holiday to be free from the panic of my team and especially from Dennis's worrying.
"For the next month, I'm still going to come to the office to transition things to my replacement. I'll still see you."
Dennis scrunched his face. "George Blythe. I really don't like him."
I laughed. "You did say you liked him, Dennis. You called him the hottest silver fox you've ever met."
"I don't know if he's smart," he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest.
"George is smart. His region's seen the biggest growth since he took over. And he's a good guy, Dennis. You'll love working with him."
He mumbled something incoherent, probably still cursing the situation, and grabbed another chocolate, popping it into his mouth.
"I'm going to see Liam now," I said, standing up from my seat. "I hope he's in the office."
"I haven't seen Liam in weeks. I usually run into him while waiting for the elevator." Dennis said, and then he paused. "Have you talked to him since you've been back?" he asked, still chewing another chocolate. He seemed unable to stop eating them.
"No," I shook my head.
"But you've talked to him on the phone or something, right?" he asked. I shook my head again.
"Not since I left." I sighed. "I know I told him to give me time and space and not contact me. But I miss him, Dennis. I miss him so much."
"So why didn't you call him instead?" Dennis looked confused.
"Because that would be the same as if I were here with him. I wouldn't be able to think clearly and clear my head. I wouldn't know if what I felt for him was real or just a result of needing a rebound."
"And how about now?" Dennis asked carefully.
"Now..." I paused, trying to sort through everything I felt for Liam. "I want him. I want him so much. I just hope I'm not too late."
"Go get him, Asha," Dennis said excitedly, practically jumping from his seat. "Go get that man right now!"
*** *** ***
I stood outside Liam's apartment building, looking up and scanning the windows until I spotted the one I thought was his. Earlier, I had gone to his office, but the friendly new guy at the front desk told me Liam was working from home today. I asked about the pixie-haired girl who used to sit there, and he mentioned that Liam had moved her down to the 29th floor and that she had joined the General Affairs department.
Oh, well. That's good, then. I had been bracing myself for a confrontation with that girl.
Standing there, a wave of emotions rushed over me. I thought about everything that had happened in the past year—how I'd gone from being emotionally dependent and weak to finding a strength I never knew I had. I'd endured a heartbreaking betrayal, let go of a love that had lasted twenty years, and made it through. All of it didn't break me. My life had changed, but I felt ready for whatever was next. My kids were healthy and, I believe, happy. I'd quit my job to pursue my passion, a journey I couldn't wait to begin. I had everything I needed—except one thing.
And I was about to walk through that front door to get it.
I stepped closer to the door and found the panel where I had to enter the code. The passcode was my birthday—1212. I wondered if he had changed it.
After taking a deep breath, I pressed the numbers.
The soft click of the door unlocking was all I needed to hear.
As I entered the lobby, a security guard greeted me and asked who I was there to see, clearly recognizing I wasn't a resident. I told him I was visiting Liam Banks and mentioned that I knew the code to his apartment. He nodded but still pointed to the panel on the wall near the elevator, reminding me that I'd need to request permission from the resident to go up.
That was a very good security measure, I thought to myself.
As I stood in front of the panel, a wave of nervousness froze me in place. What if he wasn't alone? What if he had someone else—a woman—with him? Or worse, what if his feelings had changed and he didn't want to see me anymore? We hadn't spoken in months; neither of us had reached out.
Why hadn't I called or texted before just showing up?
The guard pointed to a button and told me to press it. I took a deep breath, and then I pressed it.
I waited. And waited. It felt like the longest minute until I finally heard his voice. "Asha?"
At the sound of his voice, I felt all the bones in my body melt. For a moment, I stood there with my eyes closed, letting the warmth of his voice wash over me. Oh, how I missed him. I thought about how understanding he had always been, how unwavering his love was for me. He had slowly, stubbornly worked his way into my heart, made a home there, and stayed.
But then it suddenly hit me—how did he know it was me? I looked around, trying to figure it out, until it dawned on me that the panel must have a camera. I'd always lived in a house, never in a building like this, so I hadn't realized how these things worked. He must've seen my expression from the screen.
I swallowed hard and spoke into the speaker. "Hi... Umm... Can I come up?"
Then there was silence. And it was absolutely nerve-wracking.
"Yeah," Liam's quiet voice finally came through the speaker. "Come on up."
"Okay," I replied.
The guard gave me another smile and walked over to press the elevator button for me. As the doors opened, he nodded. "Have a good day."
"You too," I said, smiling back as I stepped inside.
The elevator began its ascent to Liam's floor. My hands were clasped tightly in front of me, squeezing together as anticipation and nervousness surged back in full force. With each passing floor, my breath grew shallower, my heart pounding harder. I couldn't help but wonder if this moment would be everything I hoped for, or if it would go the other way. The doors finally hissed open, and I stepped out, my heart racing, knowing that whatever happened next, there was no turning back.
When I stepped out of the elevator, which opened only to his apartment, he was already standing there, waiting for me. His hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, looking tired, but still so incredibly gorgeous. For a long moment, we just stood there, staring at each other. The world outside seemed to fade, and the only thing I could hear was the faint sound of the elevator doors closing behind me. When he smiled at me, my heart swelled, overwhelmed by how much I'd missed him.
The way Liam looked at me always made me feel like I was his entire world. I remembered this. I remembered how he made me feel. He always looked at me with a depth of affection and love so strong, it almost felt unreal. It was hard to believe anyone could care for me that deeply.
Then he began to speak, his voice soft, only above a whisper. "You're more beautiful than I remember."
My eyes started to burn, and I blinked quickly to keep the tears at bay. I was flooded with too many feelings.
"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. I could hardly keep it together. The urge to release everything that had built up inside me over the past few months pressed against my chest, desperate to break free.
I moved closer, our eyes still fixed on each other. To my surprise, his expression began to change—subtle, yet clear. I halted mid-step, a sudden unease settling in. Something didn't feel right.
He turned and walked toward the open-plan kitchen on the left side of the apartment. "Would you like something to drink? Tea or coffee?"
A wave of panic surged through me, tightening my chest and quickening my heartbeat. He had never been this distant before. Has everything changed since I left? Had he finally decided he'd had enough of me? I knew I'd kept pulling back, pushing him away while still leaving him with hope. I had used him to patch up my own wounds. I'd taken his patience and love for granted, assuming he'd wait indefinitely. I'd ignored the fact that he could be hurt, that he could feel disappointment too—and, God, I hoped he hadn't reached the point where he'd decided he was done.
"Asha?" he called, pulling me out of my thoughts. I realized I'd been standing there, lost in my own head.
"Just water, thank you," I replied, forcing a smile.
He went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water, placing them on the kitchen island. I stood there, unsure of what to do.
"Would you like to sit?" He gestured toward the high stool facing the island. I nodded, my movements stiff and mechanical as I walked over, still trying to process everything. I took a seat, and he sat next to me, close but not too close—just enough to remind me that, despite the distance, he was there.
"Have you been well?" he asked softly, glancing at me from the side.
"I'm good, thank you," I replied, my voice sounding weaker than I intended. "And you?"
"I'm okay," he answered.
It was then that I suddenly noticed how much Liam had changed. He'd lost weight, though his muscles still showed through. The white shirt he wore, one I recognized from before, now hung loosely on his frame instead of fitting him like it used to. He looked pale, his turquoise eyes tired, like he hadn't been sleeping well. I wondered what had happened to him since I left.
I reached out and touched his arm. He visibly shuddered at the contact. "Why do you look pale, Liam?" I asked, deep concern edging my voice. "You're not feeling well?"
He turned his head away, looking at the stove across from the table. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure?" I pressed, not entirely convinced.
"Yeah."
"Liam, but you—"
"I'm fine, Asha." His tone sharpened slightly before he turned to face me. When he spoke again, his voice softened. "Why are you here?"
I was taken aback by his question, momentarily stunned. "I want to see you." My voice was quiet, breaking through after a moment of silence.
"Yeah, but why?" he asked, and it seemed that his question was genuine. He looked at me with furrowed brows, as if he couldn't understand why I was here. "Be honest with me. Please. Give me a reason why."
"Because I miss you," I confessed, wanting so much to have his arms wrapped around me, giving me the warmth he used to offer. "I've missed you so much."
He dropped his head, his shoulders slumping as his eyes closed. He didn't respond.
I swallowed hard, and with a whisper, I asked, "Don't you miss me too?" He used to tell me how much he missed me, almost effortlessly.
Liam lifted his head, his eyes filled with a pain that stopped my heart for a second. "You have got to stop this, Asha," he muttered, his voice strained. His head fell again, his shoulders heavy with defeat. "Stop doing this to me."
"Doing what, Liam?" I asked, bewildered. "I don't understand."
He pushed himself off his seat and took a step away from me, frustration written all over his face. "You know how much I love you. You know how vulnerable I am with you. I'd do anything you asked of me. And I did everything you asked. You asked me to wait, so I waited. I accepted whatever you were willing to give, even the smallest bit. But I never lost hope. I told myself that this was what I had to do for you to even consider giving your heart to me."
"Liam," I started, but the words caught in my throat. I had never seen him so emotional before.
"And then you did. Or at least, I thought you did. I was so happy, Asha. You have no idea how happy I was that you were finally mine. But you were sad, and I understand that. You know I do. It was hard watching you so devastated, so emotionally distant, but I understood. It was difficult for you."
He took a deep breath, visibly trying to gather himself. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as if struggling to contain a torrent of emotions. "Then you said you weren't emotionally ready. You needed time to reset. And I gave that to you, even though all I wanted was to be there for you, to help you through it. You broke up with me. It felt like you lifted me up to soar, and then let me go while I was high up there, just letting me crash to the ground. Even then, Asha, I tried to understand. Because all I ever wanted was for you to be happy. And I fucking swear, I was ready to wait, even with no guarantee that you'd come back to me."
I slid down from my stool and started to walk toward him, but he held up his hand, palm facing me, stopping me in my tracks.
"But you lied to me," he said, his voice breaking. "You lied. You didn't use the time to reset like you said. Apparently, you were ready for someone else, but not for me. Do you even understand how that made me feel?"
"Liam," I said, this time ignoring the distance he tried to keep between us. I walked over and cradled his face in my hands, feeling the tension in his body as my palms pressed against his skin. "There's no one else. I don't understand why you think that."
He pulled his face from my hands and stepped back again. "David Sandberg. It's a small world, Asha. Everybody knows everybody. That guy's a social media junkie, and Keith, who's connected with him on X, found out. There were six posts of you and him, each from a different occasion. In one, he wrote, ' On a date with the loveliest woman on the planet. '"
Oh my God. David Sandberg. He was so insignificant in my life that I hadn't thought about him. The dinner with him—honestly, I didn't even remember what we ate or talked about. It had literally meant nothing to me. But then it struck me. He always asked for selfies of the two of us. When we had dinner, several times when I bumped into him in the village, even when I went skiing with the kids. I hadn't thought much about it at the time, and I didn't have any social media accounts to see what he'd posted.
"I had one dinner with him, Liam, and it was only as a–"
"No, Asha." He shook his head. "Even though I'm jealous of him, that's not what this is about."
"Then I don't understand..." I trailed off, trying to figure out what he was thinking.
"You asked me to cut all contact with you—no communication whatsoever—because you wanted to clear your head. I assumed you didn't want any distractions, that you needed to focus on finding your balance again. But giving him your time, especially going on a date, was the fucking opposite of what you asked of me. And it showed just how little my feelings meant to you."
Oh, God. I hadn't thought of it that way, but he was right. I, of all people, should have known better. I knew how it felt to have my feelings brushed aside, to be ignored by the person I cared about most, to be given hope only for it to be ripped away when I realized it was never real. And now I'd done the same to him.
"Now you're here." The pain in his voice was so deep and so raw, I felt my eyes filled with tears. "I don't know what you want from me anymore, Asha."
I stood there, pale-faced and trembling, and all I could think about was how much it hurt to know I'd caused him pain. The look in his eyes, the hurt I'd put there—it crushed me. He'd been patient and loving, offering so much of himself, and I'd repaid him with disappointment.
"Liam," my voice wavered, but I didn't care anymore. "I'm so sorry. It didn't even occur to me that... God, I'm so sorry."
"You have the power to hurt me, Asha." His voice was so soft, but it felt like a torch burning into my soul. "And I need to stay away from you."
I stared at him with blurry eyes, screaming internally, "No, Liam, no!" There's no fucking way we ended this way. I needed to say something. I needed to tell him that the only thing I thought about when I was away was him; all I wanted, all I needed, was him. But as I looked at his expression, I felt deep down that it might be too late. My heart squeezed in my chest. I felt like I was going to fall apart.
"You were right, Liam," I finally managed to say, my voice shaky and weak. "You're right that I wasn't ready for you." I forced myself to ignore the hurt in his eyes, even as it deepened, because I had to say this. I needed him to hear me. "But it's not because I was ready for someone else or because I wanted someone else. It's because you're the biggest distraction of all, Liam. You're the one I was afraid of the most because you stirred up feelings in me that I couldn't understand. Other men were insignificant to me. They were nothing compared to you."
I saw his gaze soften, and my heart fluttered with hope. "You also have the power to hurt me, Liam, but I'm not afraid anymore. I want you in my life, and nothing that I want more than to be yours forever."
I watched him absorb my words in silence, his expression unreadable as he processed everything I had just said. The seconds stretched on, but still, he didn't react. He didn't say anything. His eyes remained locked on mine, as the silence between us grew unbearable, each passing moment like a wound opening wider. My heart began to shatter as I realized that maybe the words I had spoken weren't enough, that maybe it was too late for us.
"I'm going to leave now," I couldn't stay another minute here with him. The air between us felt too thick, too painful, and every second longer seemed to pull at my soul. I turned slowly, my steps hesitant, but I knew I couldn't stay, not when everything felt so broken.
The elevator door opened as soon as I pressed the button, and I stepped inside. I turned around, and just as the door began to close, I saw something moving in the gap—too fast to catch at first, just a blur of motion. Then, a pair of large hands shot through the space, yanking the door open again.
He stood there, breathless, his eyes wide with emotion, and his voice cracked as he whispered my name.
"Asha."