Chapter Forty Five

“Everything will get done very soon.” Chris nodded as Maya informed him. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes scanning the hallway where staff bustled up and down, decorating and arranging for the exclusive exhibition.

Very soon, they’d all be preparing for the international exhibition in London. A small smile tugged at his lips, and pride swelled in his chest. His dream—finally coming true. He inhaled deeply, imagining what his father would think if he were here to see it.

Would he be proud of me?

His phone rang, interrupting the moment. Without even glancing at the screen, he pulled it from his chest pocket and answered, already turning and stepping out of the room.

Inside a quiet study, he pressed the phone to his ear and nodded. “Thanks, Mr. Ronen,” he said, easing onto the edge of the table. “I’ll be expecting it.” With that, he ended the call and lowered the phone.

But just as he was about to slide it back into his pocket, he froze. Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed in the room. He turned—and his breath caught.

Isa stood in the doorway.

His hand paused mid-air, the phone hovering inches from his chest. His heart thundered in his ears as his eyes locked on hers.

She wore a denim jumpsuit layered over a white round-neck shirt, her feet in clean white sneakers. Her brown hair was tied into a ponytail. Her face looked pale, and her eyes—swollen and crimson—spoke of sleepless nights.

Chris’s breath faltered as she stepped into the room. He lowered his hand to his lap. His free hand clutched the edge of the table for balance. Every instinct in him screamed to retreat as Isa slowly closed the distance between them, her gaze never breaking from his face.

Why did she come back? Leaving was better—for both of us. Don’t…

He tensed when she stopped just a step away. They’d never been this close before, and now that they were, sweat formed on his brow, and the table under his palms grew slick.

Get it together. Don’t fall apart now…

“Why did you do it?”

Her voice sliced through the silence—hoarse and worn, like it had been dragged through hours of tears.

Chris’s thoughts scattered. His gaze slowly lifted to hers. Pain lanced through his chest. His fingers dug into the wood.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry. To explain everything. But... Why? Would it change anything? Would it break the curse?

His throat tightened. He looked away and sniffled. Tears stung his vision. He swallowed hard, loosened his grip on the table, and turned his back to her. His eyes fixed on the bookshelf ahead—its rows of books blurring at the edges.

I can’t let her see me this weak.

He wiped the corner of his eye with a measured hand.

“Why?” he muttered with a bitter smirk. “You don’t know why?”

Behind him, her footsteps shifted. He could feel her eyes on his back—sharp, burning. His skin prickled.

He pictured her face again—those trembling lips, tear-filled eyes—and squeezed his own shut, trying to block it out.

Why should I care? She doesn’t need me.

His mind flashed to the image of her and Alex—smiling, holding hands. She had melted into Alex’s arms, and when he kissed her, she hadn’t pulled away.

Chris’s jaw locked. His fists clenched, nails biting into skin.

She needs Alex, not me.

No matter how many times he tried to deny it, Alex had been there for her. Comforted her. Made her smile like Chris no longer could.

Maybe she’s only here to confirm what she suspects about me.

He turned back toward her. “Don’t you understand, Miss Smith?”

Isa’s brows furrowed, her eyes scanning his. One hand gripped the strap of her crossbody bag like it was the only thing keeping her steady.

“I need to understand, Steven,” she whispered. “Why?”

Chris’s fists trembled, but he forced a smirk and tilted his chin.

“Steven?” he repeated with mock surprise, cocking his head. He brushed imaginary lint from his chest. “I’m your boss, Isabella,” he said coolly. “You’re my staff. My PA.”

He stepped closer. The air seemed to thicken between them. Their eyes locked, charged with tension.

“We’re not in the same class any more. Can’t you see?” His smile turned smug, like armour he refused to remove.

Isa’s hands clenched into fists. “Is… is that your reason?” Her voice trembled, barely holding together.

Chris watched the way her head shook, ever so slightly. But he held his ground.

“Yes.” His voice was flat. Final.

A sharp crack cut the air. Isa’s hand landed across his cheek with startling force.

Chris’s head jerked to the side. He staggered slightly. His hand flew up to his cheek, burning from the sting. He blinked at her, stunned.

Her eyes flared with fire. Her hand trembled at her side, knuckles white. Her cheeks flushed, her chest heaving. Tears shimmered in her crimson eyes—but still, they didn’t fall.

“I… I thought you were different from everyone I’ve ever met.”

Chris swallowed hard. His stomach flipped.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me. I thought—” Her breath hitched. She turned away, wiping the tears that escaped. “Why am I even saying this?” she muttered.

Then her gaze snapped back to him, burning. “He was right about you.”

Chris blinked, startled.

“You deceived me. Lied to me. You’ve never been good—not from the start.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a silver bracelet. Holding it up, she stepped closer.

“Have you seen this before?”

Chris frowned, his brows drawing in. The bracelet glinted under the light.

What does that have to do with anything?

Isa let out a bitter laugh. Her face twisted.

“Confused?” she said with a wince. “You told me you saved me that night at the pool, right?”

Chris flinched.

“You tricked me.” Her voice cracked again. “I should’ve known from the start.”

Chris turned away, running both hands down his face, desperate to pull himself together.

“You saved me, right?”

Her voice echoed from his memory—back in the hospital. Her soft smile had disarmed him. He had thought it might be his chance to finally connect with her—as a friend.

A breath left him, trembling. His body felt cold, hollow. He opened his mouth—then closed it. Frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair.

“Take care,” Isa muttered, turning away.

Chris turned quickly, hearing her footsteps retreat behind him. He stretched out his hand, mouth parting—but she was already gone.

He dropped his arm. Closed his lips. Clenched his teeth. Then—he kicked the shelf, hard, and gripped his hair with both hands.

Not again…

A choked cry burst from his throat.

He hadn’t meant to deceive her. He wanted her. His intentions had been real…

You saved me, right?

Her voice echoed again in his mind. That night in the hospital—he had stayed. Sat beside her. Watched her. Comforted her. As a friend. As something more.

That… had been real.

And before another thought could stop him, Chris bolted from the room—racing after her.

I truly appreciate you taking the time to read this story. I’d love to hear your thoughts—even a simple reaction would mean a lot. Thanks again!”