Jiya
Vancouver’s lights shimmered against the dark water while soft rain misted the streets, blurring everything into ribbons of gold and silver as Harper drove me back to the hotel.
He kept the radio low, occasionally glancing in my direction, but I barely noticed.
My mind remained fixed on Caleb—on the tension in his eyes during dinner, on the way he had left so suddenly, and on everything I still hadn’t managed to say.
I had wanted to talk to him, but our evening was cut short because of his upset stomach.
Sitting in the car beside Harper, I messaged Caleb several times. I told him I needed to talk. That it was important. That I would wait for his call or message the entire night if that was what it took.
One tick.
I refreshed the screen.
Still one tick.
The messages were not delivered to him on WhatsApp.
My scalp prickled.
I switched to regular text messages, hoping those would go through instead.
They didn’t.
I tried calling him.
His phone was off.
Dejected, I leaned my head against the window.
The world outside moved forward as if nothing had changed, while inside me, everything felt suspended—waiting, aching, uncertain.
I had wanted to tell him everything—the secret that had been buried for almost four years, throbbing inside me like an open wound every time I thought about him.
But I didn’t get the chance.
His wedding was on Sunday.
I still had Saturday.
One day.
One final window before everything closed forever.
We reached the hotel, and Harper walked back with me to my room.
The hallway was quiet, the soft carpet muffling our footsteps, the faint ding of the elevator fading behind us.
“It turned out to be a lovely evening,” he said, gently taking the cup of green tea from my hands after we had stepped inside the hotel room.
“It was.” I managed a small smile. “I just wish I had a chance to talk to him.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Harper said, taking a sip. “But I’m glad you had a good time even though it was cut short.”
I nodded, though the truth was more complicated than that.
The evening had been pleasant on the surface, but underneath it all, tension had followed me like a shadow. Emotionally drained, I let out a yawn before I could stop myself and then giggled softly, embarrassed.
“Gosh! Sorry about that.”
“Someone’s tired,” Harper said, glancing at his watch. “And it’s only—whoa—it’s past eleven. When did we become so old? Remember the days when we stayed up till two?” He laughed. “We still had energy the next day.”
“God! I remember,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not the same with two kids anymore.”
We both laughed, the sound carrying the comfort of old memories.
“I’ll get going,” he said after a pause. “And I’ll pick you up on Sunday at quarter past three. Is that fine?”
I nodded and walked with him to the door.
“Good night,” he said, leaning in and softly brushing his lips over mine.
The unexpected brush of his lips pulled me back to earlier that night when I had placed my hand in his, letting him guide me to the dance floor.
Seeing Caleb with Tatiana had made my stomach twist. It didn’t matter who stood beside him—Tatiana or any other woman—the ache would have been the same. I was still in love with him, even if his feelings for me had turned into anger and hatred.
The song playing in the background—I Hate U, I Love U—had felt painfully fitting, as if the lyrics had been written for us.
I swayed with Harper, but my attention kept drifting to Caleb.
Even from across the floor, I could feel his gaze on us.
At one point, my head had rested lightly against Harper's shoulder while we danced. He covered my hand with his and guided me gently across the floor. I had laughed at something he whispered, the sound soft and automatic, though my heart wasn't fully in it.
The memory dissolved as quickly as it had surfaced, leaving me standing in the quiet hotel room, Harper still in front of me.
“Sorry... too soon?” Harper asked, tilting his head slightly.
My mind had gone blank, unable to process what had just happened.
I had thought we were pretending earlier in front of Caleb and Tatiana when he held my hand and kissed my cheek. That had been part of the act—something harmless, something strategic.
But this kiss was different.
This was real.
Why did he do this now? Especially after what I had just told him—after admitting that my heart still belonged somewhere else. Could Elle have been right?
I nodded slowly.
“I’m sorry, Harper.”
I lowered my gaze for a second, gathering my thoughts, then looked back at him.
“I still haven’t figured out things with Caleb. I’m sorry if I misled you tonight.”
The words tasted heavy, but they were the truth.
Although I hadn’t yet told Caleb everything, I wasn’t over him. Not even close. I didn’t know if I ever would be.
My heart pulled me in one direction. My mind dragged me into another. And somewhere in between, I felt trapped.
“I understand,” Harper said quietly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. Please don’t let this ruin anything.”
“It won’t.” I gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll see you on Sunday?”
If Sunday still happened at all...
He nodded, hugged me, and left.
The door clicked shut behind him.
I stood there staring at the closed door, my heart beating unevenly in my chest.
Then I locked it, turned and walked slowly toward the bedroom.
I reached for my phone and checked the screen.
Still just one tick.
The messages had not been delivered.
How was I going to do this?
The clock was ticking.
I would go to his penthouse tomorrow and stand all day outside his door if I had to.
I would knock.
I would shout.
I would tell him the truth—even if my voice broke while saying it.
Tomorrow was my last chance!
Tomorrow is D-day!