Chapter 203: Chapter 203

Violet

The moment Mirella’s voice rang out in its desperation to impress, something inside me tightened so sharply it felt physical, like a thread pulled too hard and on the verge of snapping.

I did not look at him.

Instead, I shifted half a step back, then another, until my shoulder almost brushed the velvet-draped partition behind us, my fingers curling against the edge of the display table as if I could anchor myself there and disappear into the arrangement of diamonds and gold.

I could feel him standing just a few feet away from me, the distance too short yet too long between us.

It was absurd how my body recognized him before my mind allowed it to, how every nerve seemed to sharpen without permission, how my breath slowed against my will as if bracing for something inevitable.

“It is so great to see you in person,” Mirella continued smoothly, saying the exact opposite of what I was feeling.

“Did anything catch your eye yet?”

She asked, coaxing him to speak more.

I could almost feel his eyes on me when he said. “Something did”

My jaw tightened, but I kept my gaze fixed stubbornly on the far corner of the table where a sapphire pendant rested under a spotlight, its deep blue surface catching the light in slow, deliberate flashes. I focused on that instead, on the way the facets refracted the glow, on anything that would keep me from looking up.

“Wonderful!” She clasped her hands together, already dreaming about the hefty commission she would earn from the sale.

“Which piece in particular caught your attention if I may ask?” She sounded desperate already.

“The centerpiece,” he said in a calm and measured voice.

My grip on the table tightened. That was the one I had designed.

I had heard that voice in my head too many times over the past weeks, in moments I hadn’t been able to control, in the quiet spaces between thoughts where memory slipped in uninvited. Hearing it now, real and close and entirely unaffected, felt like stepping into something I had tried very hard to outrun.

Mirella brightened instantly. “Yes, we’ve used a hybrid prong and bezel combination for stability while maintaining visibility of the stone.”

A pause followed, brief but deliberate.

“And the metal?” he asked.

“Eighteen karat white gold,” she replied without missing a beat, her fingers brushing lightly over the display as if she had placed each piece there herself. “It allows for durability while enhancing the brilliance of the diamonds.”

“And the stones themselves?”

“Ethically sourced,” she said quickly. “Primarily from Botswana and Canada, with certification for each piece.”

I could hear the faint rustle of paper as her fingers subtly adjusted the notepad, her eyes flicking down for the briefest fraction of a second before lifting again to read through the five pages of information I had given her.

“What is the carat weight?”

“Three point two,” she answered, just as smoothly.

Every answer was correct because they were mine.

A slow, uncomfortable heat began to spread under my skin with every word she spoke, with every nod he gave in response. I kept my head down, forcing myself to remain still, reminding myself that none of this mattered.

I had already decided I would not let him affect me like before.

“Impressive,” he said, and I felt the word more than I heard it.

Mirella almost glowed.

“Thank you,” she replied, her smile widening, her posture relaxing just enough to suggest she believed she had succeeded. “I’ve put a lot of thought into it”

I not We. She was already hogging all the credit for my efforts, my design.

It shouldn’t matter because he was not my target customer, but it did.

My skin bristled with irritation and I forced myself to breathe deep.

640

“And the design language?”

He asked out of nowhere and Mirella paused.

“The… design language?” she repeated, her smile faltering before she quickly recovered. “It’s modern and elegant”

“Modern is a category,” he said mildly. “Not a language.”

The slight crack in Mirella’s composure was a treat to watch just like the way her shoulders stiffened.

“We wanted to appeal to a broader audience,” she continued but her tone was just a fraction more forced now. “With something versatile and easy to wear”

“And the narrative?” he asked, still calm, still unhurried. “What story does it tell?”

Mirella’s eyes glanced at the paper, searching for an answer that wasn’t there.

“It… represents luxury and sophistication” she said, the word sounding weaker than everything that had come before it.

There was silence again, a long awkward one and I could feel Mirella scramble to keep the conversation flowing.

“The curvature of the central motif,” he went on, as if she had answered something entirely different, “what informed that choice?”

Mirella’s fingers stilled completely at that.

“The curvature,” she repeated, buying herself time, her gaze darting down to the paper and back up again. “It’s… aesthetically pleasing.”

My teeth clenched at that answer because it wasn’t even close to it.

She called herself the design head of the company. How daft was she to not tie it to the name of the event?

“The moon” I whispered in a low voice, placing a hand on my mouth to cover it.

She gave me a side eye as if she hadn’t caught my answer then hastily turned her attention back to him.

“And the choice of the number and color of gems used?” he asked, his voice a bit sharper now.

Mirella faltered completely this time.

“I… it’s a stylistic choice,” she said, but there was no conviction left in her tone, no smoothness, no control.

Again she gave the wrong answer and my entire body coiled with the effort of staying silent.

“It represents the lunar phase” I whispered urgently in her ear and she nodded, wanting to repeat the words when he cut her off.

“Perhaps, you could let the person who designed it explain it instead.”

For just a second, it looked like she might attempt another answer and salvage what remained of her composure.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she exhaled sharply and stepped aside just enough to shift the spotlight.

“My junior handled the conceptual part, because I wanted to give her the chance to…” she began but he didn’t let her complete the line.

“And who that junior might be?”

I felt her hand against my arm before I could react as she pushed me forward into the space I had been trying so hard to avoid.

“Her.”

There was no escaping it now. Slowly, reluctantly, I lifted my gaze.

For a fraction of a second, I forgot how to breathe. And the moment our eyes met, everything else fell away because they weren’t the same.