Finale

5 years later

The airport buzzed with the usual holiday chaos. People rushed through the terminals, suitcases clattered on the shiny floors, and I could smell the scent of coffee mixed with the cold winter air.

I shifted my carry-on bag over my shoulder and pressed my phone to my ear.

"I'll be there," I said, rubbing my temple. "You don't have to remind me, Dad."

A sigh crackled through the line. "I just wanted to make sure. Is your flight still on time?"

"For now." I glanced at the departure board, though I already knew the answer. "I should land in time for dinner. No promises about keeping my mouth shut, though."

Another sigh. "Carl."

I smirked. "Relax. I won't cause a scene. Probably."

He didn't sound amused. I couldn't blame him. These Christmas dinners had been awkward from the start especially with his wife, who barely tolerated my presence. But family was family, even when some members made it painfully obvious that I didn't belong.

"Just get here safely," he said. "I'll see you soon."

The call ended, and I tucked my phone away just as an announcement rang through the terminal.

"Attention, passengers. Due to the ongoing snowstorm, all outbound flights are temporarily suspended. Please check with your airline for further updates."

I let out a slow breath, already feeling the start of a headache.

Great.

By the time I reached the exit, my driver was already waiting. He shook his head apologetically. "Sir, I'm afraid the roads are too dangerous right now. We won't be able to make it out of the city."

I sighed, adjusting my coat. "So what now?"

"There's a hotel nearby," he suggested. "Most passengers are heading there until the storm clears."

I wasn't thrilled about it, but there wasn't much of a choice.

"Fine," I muttered. "Let's go."

******

The hotel lobby was packed with stranded travelers, some complaining about delays while others seemed to embrace the unexpected change of plans. I approached the front desk, waiting as the doorman handed out room keys.

That's when I saw him.

Richard.

For a moment, I thought I was imagining things.

He looked... different. Older. More refined. There was a stubble along his jawline, something I'd never seen on him before. It suited him. Made him look ruggedly handsome.

I shook the thoughts away. But what were the chances I'd run into him here?

I hadn't seen him in five years.

Five years since that day.

Richard stood by the counter, speaking with the concierge. He hadn't noticed me yet. Part of me wanted to walk away. Avoid this entirely. Before I could decide, he turned and our eyes met.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, a familiar smirk tugged at his lips as he walked toward me. "Didn't expect to see you here," he said.

I forced a small shrug. "The snowstorm doesn't exactly care about our schedules."

Richard chuckled, a deep sound that I hadn't heard in years.

We both stood there staring at each other, awkward, suspended in the past, neither of us knowing what to do next.

The doorman returned, breaking the tension with a polite cough as he handed us our keys. I grabbed my luggage, eager to leave.

"Well, it was nice seeing you, Richard," I said, forcing a smile. I turned to go, but he reached out and grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

"Have dinner with me," he suggested.

I blinked. "What?"

Richard slid his hands into his coat pockets. "It's been five years, Carl. We're both stranded. We might as well catch up."

I was conflicted. This felt like a bad idea. Richard and I had too much history. But there was something in his gaze—something that made it hard to say no. Maybe this was our chance for closure. Too many things had been left unsaid the last time we crossed paths.

"Alright. Dinner it is," I finally agreed.

He smiled, letting go of my wrist. "What's your room number? I'll pick you up at eight."

I glanced at my key, told him the number, then turned to leave but I couldn't resist looking back one last time. He was still standing there, watching me. The doorman led me to the elevator, and I stepped inside. As the doors closed slowly, my view of Richard disappeared.

As the doors shut, I exhaled, my mind spinning. Dinner with Richard? It felt like walking back into a past I'd worked hard to forget. But part of me wanted to see where this would go, even if it was a mistake.

*****

The snowstorm outside showed no signs of stopping, the soft glow of the streetlights barely visible through the thick flurries. I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, still processing the fact that I had seen Richard again.

Five years.

Five years of distance and convincing myself that I had done the right thing.

So why did it feel like my heart was beating out of my chest when I saw him?

A knock on my door snapped me out of my thoughts.

I hesitated for a moment, then stood and crossed the room. When I opened the door, there he was.

He had changed into something more casual—a fitted maroon sweater over a white Oxford shirt, the sleeves pushed up slightly, revealing the strong forearms I remembered all too well. His dark jeans hugged his frame in a way that made me curse the universe for making him look even better than before.

His eyes traveled over me, and something flickered in his gaze. "You look nice," he said.

I smiled, leaning against the doorframe,  "You're not so bad yourself."

He chuckled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Ready to go?"

I nodded, though my stomach was uneasy. "Yeah."

I grabbed my coat and stepped outside. Richard placed his hand on my back, and the contact sent a spark through me. When he saw me flinch, he quickly pulled his hand away.

"Sorry," he apologized. "Force of habit."

A small thing, really. But the heat that spread from that tiny contact was ridiculous.

We walked in silence toward the elevator. I tried to walk ahead, hoping to escape the awkwardness, but it lingered between us, thick and uncomfortable.

When we reached the hotel restaurant, the host led us to a table by the window. I sat down quickly, avoiding eye contact. The room was dimly lit, with only the soft glow of candles adding illumination, their light reflecting off against the snow-covered windows

Richard sat across from me, his posture stiff but still carrying his usual confidence. I glanced at him as he focused on the menu, his expression serious. I set mine down, studying him further.

"The stubble suits you," I said, finally breaking the silence. It was an attempt to spark some conversation, but my voice sounded awkward, even to me.

Richard raised a brow. "Yeah?"

I nodded. "Makes you look ruggedly handsome."

He shrugged slightly. "That's a nice way of saying I look older."

I tilted my head. "We both do."

Richard studied me for a moment, his face hard to read. "Yeah. We do."

The waiter arrived, taking our orders before leaving us alone again.

Richard leaned back in his seat. "So... how's everything?"

I fidgeted under the table, my foot tapping restlessly out of his view. "Busy. Exhausting. I've finally traveled around the world, mostly for work... Spent three years studying abroad to become more competent for my father's company."

"I always knew you'd do something big."

I scoffed. "I wouldn't call it big. Just... a lot of responsibility."

"Tell your father I'm sorry, by the way, for acting like an asshole the last time we met. I was wrong about him.

"It's fine. He just picked a terrible time to reveal life-changing news to me."

Richard shook his head, his fingers lightly tapping against his glass. "No. I acted like an idiot." He gave a self-deprecating laugh. "When I found out that he was your father, I was mortified. Embarrassed as hell." He met my eyes, his expression sincere. "And you were right, Carl. I needed to grow up."

Just then, the arrived, carefully setting our plates down. The rich aroma of freshly cooked pasta filled the air. It was a welcome distraction from the awkward conversation.

I picked up my fork, twirling it between my fingers. "Congratulations, by the way."

"For what?"

"Your partnership with Hawthorne Industries. I read about it in the paper."

Richard's forehead creased, as if he hadn't expected me to bring it up.

"The diagnostic machines," I continued. "It's a big deal. A huge step forward in healthcare.."

"Oh." He paused, as if he'd expected something else.

Silence stretched between us before I asked, "My bad. Did you think I was talking about Andrea? How is she, by the way?"

He frowned slightly.  "She's doing well. We're still friends."

I hummed. "Friends. Have you ever considered giving her a chance? She's in love with you, you know—if you haven't realized it yet."

Richard didn't respond, his eyes focused on my face as if expecting a sarcastic comment or some sign of disapproval.

Clearing my throat, I shifted the conversation. "I tried putting myself out there more, you know."

His brow lifted slightly. "Oh?"

I nodded. "I even reconnected with Damian at one point. Gave him a chance." I let out a breath, shaking my head. "But it never worked out."

Richard didn't look amused.

I leaned forward, resting my arms on the table. "And you? How's everything with you? I feel bad for talking only about myself."

He bit his lip. For the first time that night, he looked uncomfortable.

"I've tried," he finally said. "Engaging in relationships. But... it never worked out either."

The air grew heavier. Neither of us looked at each other. Instead, our gazes drifted to the window, where snow fell softly outside.

Then Richard spoke.

"You know, it was also Christmas when we first got together."

I glanced at him, surprised. His lips twitched into a small, wistful smile.

I let out a nervous laugh, shaking my head. "Yeah... it was."

Richard swirled his drink absently, watching me. "Do you remember that night?"

I didn't need to ask which one he meant.

"Of course," I said, meeting his gaze.

"It started with the moment you kissed me."

Heat crept up my neck, embarrassment settling in.

Richard smirked, tilting his head. "You were shameless." he teased.

I couldn't exactly argue with that.

I crossed my arms. "Well, I seem to remember you kissing me back."

Silence settled between us again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it felt... right—like we were always meant to be here, looking back on the past we never really left behind.

Richard rested his elbows on the table, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "I thought about you a lot, you know," he admitted. "More than I should have."

"Richard..."

"I'm not saying this to make things difficult," he interrupted, shaking his head. "I just—being here, seeing you again... it feels like nothing's changed." A faint, bittersweet smile crossed his face. "And yet, everything has."

I looked at him carefully, my chest tightening. I wasn't sure how to respond to that.

Before I could, the waiter returned, placing the bill between us. Richard didn't even look at it before pulling out his card.

"I can pay for myself, you know," I said. "You're not the only one with money now."

Richard waved a dismissive hand. "Just let me do this. For old times' sake."

Once the bill was settled, we left the restaurant and walked through the hotel hallways. It was quiet, except for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the occasional sound of doors opening or closing. When we got to my room, Richard stopped, hesitating for a moment like he wasn't sure what to do next.

I should have just thanked him for dinner, said goodnight, and walked inside.

But I didn't.

Instead, I glanced at him and, against every bit of self-restraint I thought I had, I asked, "Do you... want to come in?"

His eyes lit up for a second, hopeful yet almost disbelieving, as if he had been waiting for this moment longer than he was willing to admit.

"Yes."

The moment the door clicked shut behind us, Richard was on me. His hands framed my face, his lips capturing mine in a desperate, hungry kiss as if he couldn't hold back another second. It was urgent and electric, filled with everything we had left unspoken.

I gasped, but he didn't give me a chance to breathe or think. His mouth moved against mine with a fierceness that left me dizzy, as if he'd been starving for me all this time. Five years apart, and yet he kissed me like nothing else had ever come close to satisfying him.

My fingers clenched around his coat, yanking him closer, pressing against him as if I could erase the years apart in this single moment. I wanted to lose myself in him, to forget everything but the feel of his body against mine.

A low, desperate groan escaped him, his heartbeat racing as wildly as mine. His hands slid down my sides, gripping my waist against him like he needed to prove to himself that I was real.

"God, I missed you," he muttered, his breath hot against my throat as his lips trailed down my neck.

I exhaled sharply, threading my fingers through his hair. "Then don't stop."

"You have no idea," he growled, his voice rough as he kissed along my jaw, nipping at my skin. "No fucking idea what these years have been like for me."

I didn't respond. I couldn't. My brain had gone hazy, clouded by the feel of his familiar hands, the way he knew exactly where to touch me.

He pushed my coat off my shoulders, his hands skimming down my arms, my chest, as if he was relearning every inch of me. I tugged at his sweater, impatient, and he let out a rough chuckle before pulling it over his head.

He guided me to the bed, never breaking the kiss, never letting go. It felt like if we parted, the past would catch up—the lost years, the pain, the longing. My back hit the mattress, his weight pressing between my thighs. I arched into him, gasping as his lips found my throat.

He gripped my wrists, pinning them above my head, his breath hot against my skin. "You still feel the same," he murmured, kissing down my chest, his fingers pressing into my skin like he was trying to brand himself into me. "Still drive me insane."

I turned my head away, my jaw tight. "You should hate me."

He huffed a quiet laugh, biting down on my collarbone. "Oh, I do," he said, his lips moving lower, tracing paths he still knew by heart. "You broke my fucking heart."

I sucked in a breath, my fingers twitching against his hold. "Then why are you here?"

His lips dragged back up my throat, back to my ear, his voice like gravel. "I think you already know the answer."

Every touch felt like an argument, every kiss like a demand. His hands, his mouth, his body—they all seemed to plead with me in ways words never could.

Stay.

Don't go.

Not again.

By the time we collapsed against each other, breathless and spent, Richard was still holding onto me as if he thought I might vanish if he let go. His arms stayed wrapped around me, his chest rising and falling against mine. Even as sleep began to pull us under, he didn't loosen his grip.

I felt his lips press against my temple, softer now, the edge of desperation fading into something more tender. "I'm not letting you go again," he whispered into my hair.

By the time morning came, I woke up to an empty bed.

I stared at the spot where Richard had been, my stomach twisting. Had he left?

But then I saw him.

He was standing by the window, his bare shoulders bathed in the soft morning light, his gaze distant, almost lost in thought.

I got out of bed, grabbing a discarded shirt and slipping it on before approaching him. "Richard?"

He didn't turn immediately. When he did, his eyes were  clouded with gloom. For a moment, he just looked at me, his lips parted like he wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.

Then, finally, he whispered, "I tried."

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I tried to do what you asked," he said, his voice rough.

"I tried to move on." His jaw clenched, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "I tried to explore, to forget you, to—" He let out a frustrated breath, his hands curling into fists. "But it was always you."

I stared at him. "Richard..."

"I spent five years convincing myself I could let you go." His voice cracked. "And do you know what I realized?"

I stayed silent.

He looked at me—really looked at me.

"That I never did."

I struggled to take in a breath, my chest tightening.

Richard let out a broken laugh, shaking his head. "Every time I met someone, every time I thought, 'Maybe this is it. Maybe this is the person who will finally make me forget'—" He swallowed. "It was still you. It has always been you."

Everything else faded into the background as I focused on him.

"The past five years have been the longest, most painful years of my life," he whispered. "I kept waiting for it to get better. Kept waiting for the ache to fade." His eyes turned glassy, his breath shuddering. "But it never did."

I didn't realize I was crying until he reached up, brushing his thumb gently under my eye.

"I love you," he whispered. "I've never stopped loving you."

A shaky exhale left me, his words sinking in. Then, before I could even process what was happening, he pulled something from his pocket.

A small velvet box.

I froze.

My heart pounded in my ears as he sank to one knee.

"Carl, I've spent five years trying to live without you, and I can't do it anymore," Richard said, filled with longing and regret. "Last night just proved what I already knew—I don't want to be apart from you. Not ever again."

My vision blurred.

Richard opened the box, revealing a simple but elegant ring.

"I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he said, his voice raw and pleading. "Will you marry me?"

I couldn't breathe.

For so long, I had convinced myself that Richard would be better off without me. That we had been wrong for each other.

But in that moment, looking at him—his eyes filled with hope and desperation—I realized something.

I had missed and loved him just as much.

I had spent five years convincing myself I had moved on when I never really had.

And now, he was here. Asking me to stay.

A trembling laugh escaped me as I wiped at my tears and nodded.

"Yes."

Richard exhaled sharply, relief washing over his face as he slipped the ring onto my finger. The second it was on, he stood, pulling me into a deep, breathless kiss.

I melted into him, my heart feeling full for the first time in years.

He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against mine. "Come home with me."

I smiled, nodding. "On one condition."

He raised a brow.

I smirked. "You're coming to Christmas dinner with me."

Richard blinked, then laughed, shaking his head. "Oh God. Are you serious?"

I grinned. "Of course. I want my fiancé to meet my dad."

He groaned dramatically, but there was nothing but love in his eyes.

I laughed, pulling him in for another kiss.

I wasn't sure what the future held.

But one thing was certain—I felt like this was exactly where I was meant to be.

💞