Chapter 4
Lily
One week. I'd successfully avoided him for an entire week.
I should have felt relieved, even triumphant, but as I sat at my desk Friday afternoon, finishing the last of my monthly reports, all I felt was exhaustion.
Constant vigilance was draining. Every detail of my days, from the timing of my walks through the building to the planning of bathroom breaks, to the packed lunches I ate at my desk, was arranged to avoid running into him, which was making me feel too paranoid, and I was mentally over it.
Yes, it had worked. Seven days without a single Kyle sighting. But how long could I continue with this without burning myself out?
"Are you ever going to tell us how long this stealth operation will continue?" Claudette perched on the edge of my desk, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in a way that told me she wasn't leaving without answers.
I saved the document I was working on before looking up at her. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Please," Marlin chimed in, rolling her chair over to join us.
"You've been sneaking around like some kind of corporate ninja all week.
You take the stairs when you've complained about them your entire life.
You're eating sad little desk salads instead of joining us in the cafeteria.
You practically dive into the supply closet whenever someone new walks into the accounting department. "
I couldn't deny it. My behavior had been erratic, to say the least.
But I wasn't ready to face my past. I wasn't ready during these ten years of therapy and moments of emotional instability, and I won't be ready now, just because someone wants to force me to face it.
"I just want to stay focused this week," I said lamely, trying to sound bored of this conversation. "End of the month stuff, you know."
My friends looked at each other with tired expressions, as if they had already expected that I was going to avoid answering them truthfully, and I almost felt guilty for acting so erratically without giving them any explanation.
"The end of the month was last Wednesday," Claudette pointed out, "which you handled flawlessly, as always. This is about him."
I didn't answer, which was answer enough.
"Lily," Marlin's voice softened, leaning in closer. "You can't avoid him forever. This building only has so many floors, and you both work here. At some point, you're going to turn a corner, and he'll be there, and all this running will have been for nothing."
She placed her hand over mine, her expression turning thoughtful. "You know what my grandmother used to say? 'The things we run from are the things that find us in the dark.' The longer you avoid this confrontation, the more power you give it over you."
"She's right," Claudette added. "I've seen you build this perfect, controlled life, Lily.
Everything in its place, every emotion safely contained.
But that's not really living, it's just existing.
Sometimes the things that hurt us most are also the things that can finally set us free, only if we're brave enough to face them. "
"I know that," I snapped, immediately regretting my tone. They were just concerned. "Sorry. I just... I needed some time to prepare myself."
"For what?" Claudette asked gently. "What happened between you two that was so terrible you can't even be in the same room with him now? We've been patient with you because we know you don't like to share many details about your personal life, but I think it's time for an intervention."
The question hung in the air, heavy with all the things I'd never told them. All the things I couldn't bring myself to say out loud, even now.
I knew the easiest thing to do was to tell them exactly what happened, to see their expressions change from understanding to frustration, maybe horror.
But part of me didn't want to be seen with pity.
That's why I'd distanced myself from everyone from my past, so I could be reborn and be someone else, to be surrounded by people who wouldn't see me as that girl who lost everything in a span of five years.
There are certain moments in life that stay with you forever.
They don’t just become memories; they change you.
They alter the way you think, the way you feel, the way you move through the world.
What happened with Kyle was one of those moments for me.
It left an imprint so deep that I could no longer see life the same way I had before.
"It's complicated," I finally said.
"Then, uncomplicate it," Marlin suggested. "He's just a guy you knew in high school. Ancient history, as you said, right?"
Ancient history that still felt painfully current whenever I thought about it. Especially since the consequences still linger to this day.
"It's been easy to avoid him so far; I don’t have any issues continuing to do it," I said, deflecting. "He's new. He's been focused on training and meeting his team. Getting settled."
"And next week?" Claudette pressed. "When he starts exploring the building more? When his role requires him to interact with other departments, maybe even accounting?"
The anxiety that had been simmering in my chest all week threatened to boil over.
Claudette was right, of course. The first week had been a grace period of sorts.
New employees were typically sequestered with their immediate teams, learning systems, and protocols.
But soon, Kyle would be fully integrated into the company. Our paths would inevitably cross.
"I'll figure it out," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
"Or," Marlin suggested, "you could just talk to him. Get it over with. What's the worst that could happen?"
I could think of a dozen worst-case scenarios without even trying. Him bringing up the past I'd worked hard to forget. Him revealing to me something about that day that even now I wouldn't be able to bear. Him looking at me with the same hurt eyes I'd seen last time I'd watched him walk away.
But the true worst case? That seeing him would force me to confront the part of myself I'd buried along with our history, the part that still wondered what if. The part that still, after all this time, ached for answers.
"I'm not ready," I admitted. "Maybe I will never be."
Marlin sighed. "You know ‘ready' is just another word for 'comfortable,' and growth never happens in comfort zones. Running from difficult conversations just costs more than just having them and being done with it. Avoidance feels safe, Lily, but it’s just an illusion.
The energy it takes to keep running, it hollows you out over time. "
"That's not the Lily Danault I know," Claudette said firmly. "You face problems head-on. You make plans. You execute them flawlessly. You don't hide."
But that was exactly what I'd been doing for the past decade—hiding from the memory of what happened, from the guilt that sometimes still kept me awake at night, from the what-ifs that haunted me.
Maybe the part of me that tried to be strong and pretend I was in control was just a wall that kept me from revealing my greatest fears. I'd spent years building these defenses meticulously, brick by brick, until I could no longer see over them, but neither could anyone else see in.
It's strange how the body remembers trauma long after the mind tries to forget.
The tightness in my chest whenever I hear his name.
The sudden dryness in my throat. The way my hands tremble slightly, betraying my carefully cultivated composure.
We think we've moved on until something triggers us, and suddenly we're back there again, feeling everything just as intensely as before.
The body keeps the score when the mind desperately wants to wipe the slate clean.
"Maybe I should just act like I don't remember him," I suggested, grasping at straws now. "Pretend we've never met."
Marlin actually laughed at that. "After the way you reacted when you saw his picture? After a week of dodging him like he carries the plague? I don't think you could pull that off if your life depended on it."
She was right. I was many things, but a good actress wasn't one of them. My face always betrayed me.
"Then I'll be polite but distant," I decided. "Professional. I will make it clear I'm not interested in reviving the past. Then I'll continue with my life as if his presence means nothing to me."
Even as I said the words, I knew they were hollow. Kyle Bennett's presence could never mean anything to me, no matter how much I wished it could.
Claudette squeezed my shoulder sympathetically. "Whatever you decide, we've got your back. But sooner or later, you're going to have to face him. And when you do—"
"I know," I interrupted. "I'll handle it like the mature, professional adult I am."
But would I? The truth was, I was anything but mature and professional when it came to Kyle. I felt like that eighteen-year-old girl again, vulnerable and scared, making decisions that would haunt me for years to come.
After my friends left, I stared at my computer screen unseeing, my mind replaying fragments of conversations from long ago, promises made and broken, tears shed, and accusations hurled.
Maybe Claudette was right. Maybe I was being immature. Ten years was a long time to hold onto the past. We were different people now. Whatever had happened between us belonged to another lifetime.
I opened the company directory on my screen and found his profile.
Kyle Bennett, Systems Engineer. His official company headshot stared back at me, professional and polished, but with the same warm eyes I remembered. The eyes that had once looked at me like I was everything.
What would be the worst that could happen if I just walked up to him and said hello?
We could talk like rational adults. Clear the air. Maybe even find a way to coexist in this building without all the drama and sneaking around.
Or he could hate me. Maybe I would look at him in the face and realize that I still haven't gotten over what happened, and maybe I would tell him to his face that he didn't protect me enough, or he protected me so much that he made a mistake.
My hands started to sweat at that thought.
No. Avoidance was the safer option.
In the meantime, I would continue as I had been, careful, vigilant, and completely in control of my surroundings, just as I liked it.
I closed his profile and returned to my report.
Monday would come soon enough, and with it, another week of navigating the minefield that my workplace had become.
But I'd survived worse. I'd survived the actual fallout, the aftermath of everything that happened that year.
I could certainly survive seeing him again.
I just had to stay focused. Stay in control. Stay away from anything, or anyone, that threatened the carefully constructed peace I'd built for myself.
But as I packed up my things at the end of the day, a nagging voice in the back of my mind whispered a traitorous thought: What if seeing him again is exactly what you need?
I silenced the voice, just as I had silenced all thoughts of my school days for the past decade. Some doors were better left closed. Some wounds were better left unexamined.
Some memories were better left in the past.
On Saturday morning, I told the girls I would take the day for myself and went to the cemetery with two bouquets of flowers.
The first was for my mother. I sat cross-legged on the grass beside her grave, carefully arranging the white lilies she'd always loved. The headstone was simple but elegant, just like she had been. Elizabeth Danault, Beloved Wife and Mother.
"Hey, Mom," I said softly, running my fingers over the engraved letters of her name. "Sorry, it's been a couple of weeks. Work's been... complicated."
The cemetery was quiet and peaceful in the morning light. A light breeze rustled the oak tree's leaves, which provided shade for my mother's final resting place. I'd chosen this spot specifically for that tree, knowing how she'd loved to read beneath the one in our backyard.
"Dad's good. Still swimming every day, still spoiling Bailey a lot." I smiled, imagining my mother's fond eye-roll at my father's devotion to his dog. "I'm good, too. Mostly."
I talked to her about work, about the budget reports I'd completed ahead of schedule, about the praise I'd received from my boss. I told her about the new book I was reading, the one I thought she would have enjoyed.
What I didn't tell her, not right away, was about Kyle. About how seeing his face again, even just in a photo, had turned my carefully structured life upside down. About how I'd spent the past week hiding from a ghost I thought I'd outrun long ago.
But the thing about talking to my mother, even like this, was that I couldn't lie to her. I never could.
"He's back, Mom," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. "He's working at my company now."
The breeze intensified a little, making me stop to think about my next words.
"I don't know what to do," I admitted. "Part of me wants to pretend he doesn't exist. Part of me wants to run away again. And part of me..."
I couldn't finish the thought. I couldn't admit, even to my mother's memory, that a small, traitorous part of me had felt something like hope when I'd seen his face again on the screen.
Hope for what? I didn't know. Didn't want to know.
Hope to stop having regrets?
"I wish you were here to tell me what to do," I said. "You always knew the right thing to say."
I sat with her a while longer, letting the silence speak for both of us. Then I gathered myself, promised to visit again soon, and picked up the second bouquet, soft blue forget-me-nots this time.
I walked to another section of the cemetery, my steps slowing as I approached a familiar tombstone, one created 10 years ago and should never have existed. I placed the flowers carefully at the base of the stone, my fingers lingering on the cool marble.
I stood up and said out loud, "Would you forgive him if you were me? Because of him, you don't get the justice you truly deserve, and you probably never will. How would you feel in my situation?"