Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two
SEVENTEEN MONTHS AGO

“Cecilia,” he said.

The name left his mouth with a weight I could feel before I could place it. My spine lifted. My fingers tightened around the stem of my wine glass. He rose from his chair with the smooth control of someone who knew how to manage both space and attention, though his expression revealed very little.

Her eyes stayed locked on him from the moment she approached. I remained seated, glass poised in my hand, observing everything in careful silence.

Niklath stood fully now and shifted slightly aside, the gesture subtle but deliberate. His hand found my shoulder, a quiet claim rooted in instinct. His touch never pressed, but it anchored. “Miara, this is Cecilia.”

Then he turned to the woman beside him. “Cecilia, my wife.”

Her gaze moved to me then. Only for a breath. Enough to scan, to calculate, to assess. It did not linger. It did not dip in politeness. Then her focus returned to him, sharp and tethered.

“You got married,” she said at last. The words were quiet, shaped without surprise or warmth, delivered with the restraint of someone who already knew but chose to test the air anyway.

She turned her head more fully this time, her eyes meeting mine. The smile she wore stayed frozen in place, the corners too exact to be effortless. She extended her hand.

I took it.

My grip was steady. Firm. Just long enough.

“Congratulations to you both,” she said. Her voice was clear, polished, and absent of anything you could mistake for sincerity. “That is… unexpected.”

“Thank you,” I said.

Another figure joined her then. A woman with warmth to her features, her beauty built in easy symmetry. Her skin carried a golden glow, her eyes wide-set and observant. She wore tailored silk trousers and a sleeveless blouse the color of cream. The fabric moved with her like it belonged only to her, and the scent of amber drifted as she approached.

“Alpha Niklath,” she greeted, voice lifted by affection. “Long time no see.”

He leaned forward, offered both cheeks in greeting, each motion perfectly polite. “It has been a while.”

“I heard you returned to Zurich,” she said. Her voice lowered, her gaze searching.

“I did,” he said. “I am here now with my wife, reviewing operations at the Tokyo office.”

She turned to face me then, and her eyes flickered with something brighter. “I do not believe we have met. I am Aiko.”

“Miara,” I replied.

Aiko laughed softly. “You are married to this one? Then you must be very strong.”

Niklath shifted behind me. His hand moved from my shoulder to the base of my spine, a barely-there caress that still held the weight of command. The quiet edge of his Alpha presence lingered around him, invisible to most, unmistakable to those who understood.

“She is,” he said.

Cecilia had remained still. Her gaze never wavered. She stood beside Aiko, but her awareness rested entirely on Niklas. There was something lodged in the space between them. Not affection. Not regret. Just silence. And in that silence was something alive. I felt it, though no one spoke of it.

Aiko glanced sideways, read the air, and smiled lightly. “We will not interrupt. We are only stopping by for drinks before another engagement.”

Niklath nodded once, the angle of his head precise. “Enjoy your evening.”

“Likewise,” Aiko replied, already turning.

Cecilia lingered. She looked once more at Niklas, and when she spoke, it was soft, controlled.

“I am glad you found what you were looking for.”

Then she walked away.

Niklath returned to his seat. The stillness that followed pulled at something inside me. I watched him. He sipped his drink, as if nothing had shifted. As if no part of him had just been touched by a piece of his past.

I waited patiently before asking.

“Who is she?” I asked.

He looked at me. He breathed in and then set his glass down. “Someone I knew a long time ago.”

“That is not an answer.”

His gaze dropped for a moment before meeting mine again. “We used to be together.”

I said nothing… just waiting for him to continue.

“She is a mix of Chinese, Japanese, and French. Intelligent. Quick. She wanted a future that moved. A future that did not anchor. She was offered an opportunity in China. She took it. She asked me to wait.”

“And?”

“I did not.”

The space between us held the memory of something he would not name. His voice did not carry longing, but his posture had changed. There was a pause in his chest, the kind that belonged to a man who did not regret, but remembered.

“She is beautiful,” I said.

“So are you,” he answered, his voice even.

“Do you still think of her?”

His response came without hesitation. “Only when she walks up to my table.”

There was no tremble in his tone. No apology. But there was still something left beneath his skin, something that stirred when her name rose to the surface.

I returned to my wine.

The restaurant remained elegant around us. The lights continued to glow above us, soft and golden. Yet a new silence had taken root, one shaped by history I could now see, dressed in silk and speaking three languages.

Later that night, I stood in front of the penthouse window, the Tokyo skyline stretching beneath us in silent, blinking rhythm. The lights below blinked like watchful eyes. The air felt warm behind the glass, but I could still feel her in the room. Niklath joined me. He brought a glass of whisky and placed it in my hand. He said nothing. He just stood behind me, his body pressed to mine. His arm circled my waist. The other stayed loose at his side. I leaned back into him. I let the feel of him calm me. Outside, the city pulsed without pause. Behind me, the man I married remained quiet. His silence did not ask for forgiveness, and I did not ask for answers. Still, in the quiet, her name stayed with me.

Cecilia.

And I wondered if she was part of the past, or if she would return again, not just with memory, but with intent.