Chapter 75: Seventy Five

The office buzzed with quiet energy that morning, keyboards clacking, the interns running around, printers humming in the background. I sat at my desk, coffee in hand, trying to will my inbox into shrinking. Our nonprofit’s outreach program was expanding into two more underserved neighborhoods, and while I was proud of the work, it also meant more grant reports, more presentations, more everything.

But I liked it. I liked the noise, the purpose, the feeling that I was doing something that mattered. That I had carved out a life for myself; however messy the past might have been.

“Willow,” my manager called from across the room. “I need you in the conference room in ten. Can you bring the latest feedback forms?”

“Got it!” I called back, standing up and stretching. I grabbed the papers from the printer and dropped them on the long meeting table before stepping back to my desk. I had a few minutes to spare.

Just a few.

My cursor hovered over the open browser tab I hadn’t quite closed. LinkedIn.

And there he was.

Declan Ashwell.

It was stupid how many times I found myself on this page. This was the only social media he had, the only way for me to keep track of his existence. And it felt like I had memorised this webpage, the way his name looked, the quiet confidence in his professional headshot. He looked the same and different. Older, now. A bit more serious. His profile banner now featured a university crest I didn’t recognize.

Consultant. Lecturer. Public Policy Fellow.

A strange weight settled in my chest as I scrolled through the updates.

“Still stalking that handsome professor?” a voice teased lightly behind me.

I jumped.

It was Ashlynn, one of my closest colleagues. I quickly slammed my laptop shut, heat rushing up my neck.

“I was not…”

She smirked. “Girl, you looked intense. Who is he?”

“No one,” I muttered, heart pounding. “Just… someone I used to know.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but let it go.

“Hey, you deserve a little drama,” she said, nudging my shoulder. “It’s always work, Noah, and wedding planning with Jacob. You never have fun anymore.”

“I have fun,” I said defensively.

“You’ve worn the same cardigan three days this week.”

“It’s comfortable.”

She gave me a look. “You’re thirty and already living like a tired mom of three.”

I laughed. “I am a tired mom of one. And I’m twenty nine.”

She grinned and walked away, leaving me with my thoughts.

And my laptop, still closed.

_____

Later that day, I found myself standing by the community center’s rooftop garden during my lunch break. It was breezy, the sky a soft gray. It was going to rain, yes.

I watched a pair of teenagers tend to the planter boxes below. I had organized this youth mentorship initiative two years ago, and it was one of the projects I was proudest of. It reminded me of why I did this. Of the girl I used to be; the one who wanted to make a difference, even if she had no idea how.

But that girl also used to believe in love.

In magic.

In the impossible.

“Hey.”

I turned, startled.

Jacob stood there, holding a paper bag and two coffees.

“Thought I’d bring lunch,” he said.

I offered him a soft smile, accepting the coffee. “Thanks.”

We sat on the bench together, eating in silence for a moment. Jacob had been part of my life for nearly five years. More, if we counted Uni. He knew Noah’s favorite bedtime story, the exact ratio of cream to sugar I liked in my coffee. He was dependable, steady, safe.

“I got the promotion,” he said suddenly.

My head snapped toward him. “Wait, what?”

He grinned. “Just found out this morning. Project Lead. I start next week.”

“Oh my God, Jacob!” I leaned in and hugged him. “That’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” he said, but his voice was subdued.

“You okay?”

He hesitated. “Yeah. Just… I don’t know. I thought I’d feel more excited. But it didn’t feel like it used to. You know?”

I did know. Too well.

We looked at each other for a moment.

He broke the silence. “We need to finalize the wedding venue soon.”

I nodded slowly. “Right.”

“We’ve put it off long enough.”

“I know.”

More silence.

Then, Jacob reached over, slipping his hand into mine. “We’re doing okay, right?”

I smiled. “Yeah. We are.”

Dinner that evening was as stiff as I’d feared.

Jacob’s parents’ dining room looked like it hadn’t seen a good day in months. Whenever we came to his house, something about the place always felt off. Noah squirmed beside me, stabbing at his peas while I tried to keep him from tipping over his juice glass.

“So, Willow,” His mom began, slicing delicately into her steak, “how’s work at… what is it again? The community place?”

“Harbor Outreach,” I said with a polite smile. “We just launched a mentorship program in two more neighborhoods, so it’s been exciting.”

Jacob, seated to my right, gave me a sidelong glance. “She’s being modest. She practically runs the department.”

I shot him a quick, grateful smile, but he was already turning back to his father, diving into a conversation about his new promotion. I took a sip of water, listening as Noah kicked his feet under the table.

When I reached for a bread roll, Jacob’s hand covered mine for a second, his grip light but firm. “Not yet, babe,” he murmured, nodding toward his mother still serving herself.

I withdrew my hand, cheeks warming, and tried not to overthink it. He didn’t mean anything by it.

After dessert, when Noah ran off to the living room with his grandparents, Jacob walked me to the coat rack.

“You were quiet tonight,” he said softly.

I adjusted my scarf. “Just tired.”

“Hmm.” He looked at me for a long moment, then kissed my forehead. “You know my parents are still trying to warm up to you. Maybe next time, be a little more engaged?”

I bit the inside of my cheek, nodded, and muttered, “Sure.”

He smiled, satisfied, and laced his fingers through mine as we headed out.