31. Jiya
JIYA
At the stroke of midnight on Caleb’s birthday, I whispered a prayer for him, just like I always had.
Some habits never leave you, no matter how much time passes or how far life carries you.
I had always prayed for his happiness and his health, wherever he was and with whomever he chose to share his life. The words came easily, from a place that had never stopped caring for him despite everything that had happened between us.
I had recorded the message closer to the children’s bedtime and tried my best to stay awake until midnight, wanting to send it exactly on time. But exhaustion had crept in, and I had fallen asleep before the clock struck twelve.
When I stirred in the middle of the night and glanced at the time, it was already two in the morning. My heart had jumped in mild panic, and without thinking twice, I sent the message then.
He had acknowledged the video message and told me he would see me at work during the week.
I had hoped for more from his reply, which made me pause and question myself.
We were not going out.
We were not in love.
We merely worked together.
So why the heck had I expected anything more?
The last time Caleb had been at my house, the day Emma had had her accident, I remembered how I had not wanted him to leave at all.
There had been so many things I wanted to say to him, so many questions I wanted to ask, and so many emotions I had struggled to keep hidden behind a calm smile.
Part of me had wondered if he could somehow read my eyes, read my thoughts, and understand what I was too afraid to say aloud… that I wanted him to stay just a little longer.
I had wanted to kiss him, hold him, and lose myself in the comfort of his arms again.
But I knew I couldn’t do any of that.
He belonged to someone else, and I was not the kind of person who would steal a man from someone who loved him. I was not built to be a home wrecker or a fiancé stealer, and it was definitely not how I wanted my children to see me.
So I buried those feelings where they could not hurt anyone, especially him. I kept them locked deep inside myself, where they belonged.
Over the past couple of months, working with Caleb and having him come over to the house had started to feel almost like stepping back into a chapter of my life.
It reminded me of the early days when we had worked together at the hotel, when everything between us had been new and hopeful.
History was repeating itself.
Only this time, the ending was already written.
He was engaged and going to be married in a month.
That reality sat in my stomach like a stone I could not swallow or spit out.
I could not define what our relationship was anymore. Was he a friend, an acquaintance, or just a business colleague? I wasn’t sure.
The following week, a site inspection had been scheduled with Liam, Caleb, and me. I gathered my folder and notes, forcing myself to focus on work instead of the restless thoughts swirling inside my mind.
Caleb entered my office.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied, standing up and walking toward the door.
We stepped into the elevator together and rode downstairs in silence.
When the doors opened, we walked through the lobby and headed toward the waiting car outside. The driver stood beside it, ready for us.
“What about Liam? Is he joining us?” Caleb asked, opening the door for me.
“Yes,” I said, sliding into the back seat. “But he said he’d meet us there directly.”
“All right.” Caleb closed the door.
The driver pulled away from the building and headed toward the site.
I sat beside Caleb, aware of the small distance between us, painfully conscious of his presence.
There was a certain unspoken tension in the air, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the birthday message I had sent him.
Maybe I should not have sent it. Maybe it had blurred boundaries that should have remained clear.
The car came to a stop at a red light.
Trying to lighten the mood, I turned slightly toward him. “So, how was your birthday celebration?” I asked.
He kept his gaze fixed on the window before answering.
“It was good,” he said quietly.
The light changed.
The driver eased his foot onto the accelerator, and the car began moving through the intersection.
Then Caleb turned toward me.
“You know the—”
His words cut off abruptly.
I saw his eyes widen.
His chest rose sharply as he sucked in a sudden breath, all the colour draining from his face as he stared past me through the opposite window.
The deafening blast of a horn shattered the silence.
And then I felt it.