Chapter 6

Serena’s POV

I knew my time was running out.

After returning from the cemetery, I didn't go back to my rental. Instead, I took a bus out to an old suburban church.

Snow flurries drifted down from the grey sky, sharp icy flakes stinging my cheeks.

The sanctuary was empty, save for an elderly priest kneeling in silent prayer.

I knelt outside the church doors on the cold stone.

I knelt there until noon.

My knees went numb first, then ached with a deep, throbbing pain, until eventually, I lost all sensation in my legs.

The snow thickened, dusting my shoulders and hair, but I remained motionless, head bowed.

The priest finally came out, urging me gently, "Child, the Lord forgives all burdens. Please, stand up."

I shook my head.

The repentance in my heart was crystal clear: I didn't dare ask for Luke's forgiveness, but whatever months I had left, I would give to Aaron, praying that he would find lasting happiness.

It was the final thing I could do for the two of them.

Before I left, the priest gifted me two simple wooden cross pendants.

I fastened one around my neck, holding it close until it warmed against my skin.

During the lunch break when the office was deserted, I quietly slipped into Aaron's corner office and set the other cross right in the center of his mahogany desk.

Then, I backed out and clicked the door shut.

That afternoon, Aaron arrived and noticed the pendant immediately.

I was standing by his side as his assistant.

He picked it up, inspected it briefly, and didn't even bother asking who left it.

Just then, Samantha walked in carrying his coffee.

"What's this?" Samantha leaned in, curious.

"Serena left it," Aaron said, tossing the cross casually into Samantha’s open hand. "Take it if you want. It'd look cute hanging on your purse."

"Really? For me?" Samantha beamed, clutching it happily.

"Yeah. Take it."

A few days later, I brought him another cross.

When he returned, he picked it up, frowned in annoyance, and tossed it straight into the wastebasket by the corner of his desk.

The token I had knelt all morning in the freezing snow to pray for—one was handed off like a cheap trinket, the other thrown out with the trash.

The last fragile hope I wanted to leave behind was utterly crushed.

My fingers brushed against the bare skin of my throat.

From this day forward, I would never leave anything for him again.

I walked out of the corporate tower into the swirling snow, the cold flakes melting against my feverish skin.

That evening, Aaron took me to another high-stakes dinner.

The room was packed with corporate partners who knew I was Aaron's obedient, do-everything assistant. One by one, they came over to raise a glass to me.

"Ms. Lewis, surely you won't turn down a drink from me?"

Aaron sat at the head of the table, lazily swirling his glass. He didn't intervene. In fact, he casually added, "She handles her liquor well. Don't hold back on her account."

After the fourth glass burned its way down, I reached for the glass of warm water in front of me. Just as it touched my lips, a hand reached over and slid it away.

"Why drink water?" the executive laughed, sliding a freshly filled tumbler of liquor into my hand. "Mr. Hayes already gave the green light."

I downed glass after glass. The fire in my stomach flared violently, breaking me out in a cold, drenching sweat.

By the seventh drink, my vision began to blur. I excused myself to touch up my makeup and slipped out of the room.

"Hey, where's Ms. Lewis going?" someone called out.

"Let her catch her breath," Aaron said languidly.

The table erupted into chuckles.

I ducked into a deserted storage closet at the end of the hall, locked the door, and fumbled in my purse for my prescription, dry-swallowing two pain pills.

In the dark, the burn of the alcohol clashed with the medicine, twisting my gut into knots until I couldn't even stand upright.

Once the violent nausea subsided slightly, I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand, forced a practiced smile back onto my face, and pushed open the door.

The hallway glass mirrored a face so ghastly pale it looked like a corpse. I glanced at it once, then looked away.

The second I sat down, another full glass was pushed into my hands.

By the time the dinner ended, I could barely stand.

The cold night air hit me, amplifying the dizziness until my footing slipped, and I stumbled blindly toward the street.

A car sped toward me, its blinding high beams piercing my eyes, the horn blaring deafeningly.

"Serena!"

A hand caught the back of my coat collar, yanking me violently backward onto the curb.

The car whipped past, missing my face by inches. The driver leaned out the window, hurled a curse, and sped off.

It was Aaron.

He pulled me against his chest, holding me so tightly our noses nearly brushed.

His grip on my arms tightened, and his breathing hitched for a split second.

I stared up at him through a drunken haze.

Many years ago, before everything fell apart, he had pulled me back from the wind just like this.

"What are you doing?!" Samantha’s sharp voice suddenly cracked through the air.

She had arrived to pick him up, catching the exact scene under the streetlights, her face pale with fury.

Aaron immediately released his grip, taking a distinct step back.

"She had too much to drink," he told Samantha smoothly. "I caught her before she walked into traffic."

"Looked like a lot more than just catching her," Samantha sneered, stepping forward to wrap her arm tightly around his, her nails practically digging into his sleeve. "Aaron, let's go. We don't need to waste our time on someone like her."

"If she dies on the pavement outside my event," Aaron muttered, "whose name do you think ends up in the morning papers?"

"Then tell me to my face," Samantha demanded, glaring at him. "Say you don't even know her."

Aaron stayed silent.

Standing in the cold wind, I heard every word. I didn't move.

Samantha dragged him toward his car. Just before getting in, he glanced back at me.

Whatever was in that look, I couldn't decipher it—and I didn't want to anymore.

I stood by the curb alone as the icy breeze cleared the fog from my head.

I looked down at my hands. They were still trembling.

The pressure where his hands had gripped my arms still lingered on my skin.

For a fleeting second, I had foolishly wondered if any piece of the past could ever return.

He hadn't denied knowing me, but he hadn't claimed me, either.

I clenched my fists, letting the biting cold chase away the last trace of his warmth.

A few days later, my phone vibrated.

A college friend had started a group chat, organizing a year-end reunion since we hadn't seen each other in years.

I clicked open the member list. Aaron’s name and mine were listed right beside each other, separated only by a couple of mutual classmates.

I stared at it for a moment, turned the phone face down on the table, and tucked the blister pack of medication deeper into my bag.