Page 62 of The Girl I Once Loved

Noah nods, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. "Despite everything that happened...I hope you've found happiness."

His words hang in the air between us, and I struggle to find an adequate response. Noah has always been a complex enigma, a puzzle I can never quite solve. His genuine concern for my well-being, after all these years, leaves me feeling both vulnerable and cautious.

I clear my throat, finding my voice at last. "I’m not sure I actually know what happiness is anymore,” I admit, and I wince because why on earth am I telling him that?

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, it’s as if time has stopped. I can see the traces of the boy I once loved in the depths of his gaze, and it hurts, because I loved that boy so fucking much.

"What about that boyfriend?" he asks casually, as if inquiring about the weather. “He’s not making you happy?” His eyes gleam at the question, and I blush for no reason at all other than he’s looking at me.

“We’re on a break,” I tell him carefully.

There’s no reaction and I scoff. "But you knew that already, didn't you?"

Noah's lips curl into a wry smile, and he takes a slow sip from the beer in his hand. "Yeah, I did."

I sigh, my shoulders sagging with the weight of Gael. "It's...complicated. We both needed some space." It’s not quite the truth, but I can’t give himthat.

Noah raises an eyebrow, his gaze searching mine. "Space from what?"

I hesitate, my emotions swirling like a storm within me. How could I explain to him that I can’t commit. That I’m breaking Gael’s heart because I’m still obsessed with a memory…hismemory. That he gave me scars I can’t get rid of?

"Space from...everything," I finally reply, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He nods, a silent acknowledgment of the complexities of life. Noah doesn’t press for further details, and I’m grateful for that, even though that gratefulness is tinged with an air of melancholy. Noah takes another sip from his beer, his gaze returning to the sunset. The silence stretches between us, but it’s…comfortable for once.

We stand side by side, lost in our own thoughts, the past and present colliding in a way that neither of us can fully comprehend.

Noah's gaze remains fixed on the horizon, his profile illuminated by the softening light. The sea breeze ruffles his hair, and tendrils of it fall across his forehead, giving him a rugged, enigmatic look. His bare chest, bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun, revealed a well-defined physique, and my traitorous heart skips a beat as I notice the new tattoos etched into his skin.

I swallow hard, my eyes tracing the lines of his face, the curve of his jaw…his lips. He’s so fucking beautiful. And beneath the physical allure, there’s something deeper, something that has always drawn me to him—the familiar warmth in his gaze, the way he makes me feel seen and understood, as if no time had passed at all.

As the yacht continues its journey across the tranquil waters, I can’t escape the feeling that our reunion, however uncertain, is a turning point in our intertwined stories. The sun dips below the sea, casting the world into shades of orange and pink. In that fleeting moment, as the sun kisses the sea and the stars begin to emerge in the darkening sky, I allow myself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, there’s a chance for us to find closure, to heal old wounds, and to navigate the turbulent waters of our shared history.

Maybe it’s possible for us to finally find…peace.

* * *

The phone rings, startling me from my thoughts. I glance at the caller ID, and my heart skips a beat. It's my editor, Eliza. I quickly pick up, my voice a mix of anticipation and anxiety. I’d sent her the first couple of chapters of my book, getting more nervous every day when she hadn’t said anything.

"Skylar, darling," Eliza’s voice comes through the line, brimming with enthusiasm. "I've just finished reading the chapters you sent, and I have to say, they're absolutely brilliant. I'm gushing over here."

I can't help but smile at her words, a faint glimmer of hope flickering within me. "Thank you, Eliza. I'm glad you liked them."

"Liked them? Skylar, these are some of the best pieces of writing I've seen in years," she gushes. "When do you think you'll have the whole manuscript ready? Our readers are going to adore this."

I hesitate, my fingers nervously tapping on the edge of the desk. "I'm not entirely sure if I want to publish this book yet," I tell her, my voice trembling slightly

There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and I can almost feel Eliza’s surprise and confusion. "Skylar, darling, you must be joking," she finally says, her tone a mix of disbelief and concern. "You've poured your heart and soul into this. It's a masterpiece."

I sigh, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me. "I know, Eliza. But it's...personal. More personal than anything I've ever written before."

Eliza’s voice softens, understanding seeping into her tone. "Skylar, I've seen you grow as a writer over the years. You've always had the talent, but now you have something more—depth, emotion, vulnerability. It's what sets this manuscript apart. You have to share it with the world."

I run a hand through my hair, torn between my desire to keep this story hidden and my editor's unwavering belief in its potential. "I need some time to think, Eliza. It's not an easy decision for me."

Eliza sighs, and I can sense her disappointment. "I understand, Skylar. Take your time. But remember, sometimes the stories that scare us the most are the ones that need to be told."

As I hang up the phone, the weight of my decision hangs heavy over me. Eliza is right, as she often is, but the thought of exposing my innermost thoughts and feelings to the world fills me with a deep sense of vulnerability. It's a battle between my desire for anonymity and the potential for connection that comes with sharing my truth. And for now, I'm left with the agonizing uncertainty of which path to choose.

---