Page 93 of All That She Needs

The guard gave me another smile and walked over to press the elevator button for me. As the doors opened, he nodded. "Have a good day."

"You too," I said, smiling back as I stepped inside.

The elevator began its ascent to Liam's floor. My hands were clasped tightly in front of me, squeezing together as anticipation and nervousness surged back in full force. With each passing floor, my breath grew shallower, my heartpounding harder. I couldn't help but wonder if this moment would be everything I hoped for, or if it would go the other way. The doors finally hissed open, and I stepped out, my heart racing, knowing that whatever happened next, there was no turning back.

When I stepped out of the elevator, which opened only to his apartment, he was already standing there, waiting for me. His hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his sweatpants, looking tired, but still so incredibly gorgeous. For a long moment, we just stood there, staring at each other. The world outside seemed to fade, and the only thing I could hear was the faint sound of the elevator doors closing behind me. When he smiled at me, my heart swelled, overwhelmed by how much I'd missed him.

The way Liam looked at me always made me feel like I was his entire world. I remembered this. I remembered how he made me feel. He always looked at me with a depth of affection and love so strong, it almost felt unreal. It was hard to believe anyone could care for me that deeply.

Then he began to speak, his voice soft, only above a whisper. "You're more beautiful than I remember."

My eyes started to burn, and I blinked quickly to keep the tears at bay. I was flooded with too many feelings.

"Thank you," I whispered, my voice barely audible. I could hardly keep it together. The urge to release everything that had built up inside me over the past few months pressed against my chest, desperate to break free.

I moved closer, our eyes still fixed on each other. To my surprise, his expression began to change—subtle, yet clear. I halted mid-step, a sudden unease settling in. Something didn't feel right.

He turned and walked toward the open-plan kitchen on the left side of the apartment. "Would you like something to drink? Tea or coffee?"

A wave of panic surged through me, tightening my chest and quickening my heartbeat. He had never been this distant before. Has everything changed since I left? Had he finally decided he'd had enough of me? I knew I'd kept pulling back, pushing him away while still leaving him with hope. I had used him to patch up my own wounds. I'd taken his patience and love for granted, assuming he'd wait indefinitely. I'd ignored the fact that he could be hurt, that he could feel disappointment too—and, God, I hoped he hadn't reached the point where he'd decided he was done.

"Asha?" he called, pulling me out of my thoughts. I realized I'd been standing there, lost in my own head.

"Just water, thank you," I replied, forcing a smile.

He went to the fridge and pulled out two bottles of water, placing them on the kitchen island. I stood there, unsure of what to do.

"Would you like to sit?" He gestured toward the high stool facing the island. I nodded, my movements stiff and mechanical as I walked over, still trying to process everything. I took a seat, and he sat next to me, close but not too close—just enough to remind me that, despite the distance, he was there.

"Have you been well?" he asked softly, glancing at me from the side.

"I'm good, thank you," I replied, my voice sounding weaker than I intended. "And you?"

"I'm okay," he answered.

It was then that I suddenly noticed how much Liam had changed. He'd lost weight, though his muscles still showedthrough. The white shirt he wore, one I recognized from before, now hung loosely on his frame instead of fitting him like it used to. He looked pale, his turquoise eyes tired, like he hadn't been sleeping well. I wondered what had happened to him since I left.

I reached out and touched his arm. He visibly shuddered at the contact. "Why do you look pale, Liam?" I asked, deep concern edging my voice. "You're not feeling well?"

He turned his head away, looking at the stove across from the table. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" I pressed, not entirely convinced.

"Yeah."

"Liam, but you—"

"I'm fine, Asha." His tone sharpened slightly before he turned to face me. When he spoke again, his voice softened. "Why are you here?"

I was taken aback by his question, momentarily stunned. "I want to see you." My voice was quiet, breaking through after a moment of silence.

"Yeah, but why?" he asked, and it seemed that his question was genuine. He looked at me with furrowed brows, as if he couldn't understand why I was here. "Be honest with me. Please. Give me a reason why."

"Because I miss you," I confessed, wanting so much to have his arms wrapped around me, giving me the warmth he used to offer. "I've missed you so much."

He dropped his head, his shoulders slumping as his eyes closed. He didn't respond.

I swallowed hard, and with a whisper, I asked, "Don't you miss me too?" He used to tell me how much he missed me, almost effortlessly.

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