Chapter 57.

Chapter 57.
Lexi's POV.

The plane soared up into the sky, and so did my mind, drifting into a tumult of thoughts. The recent incidents weighed heavily on me, especially yesterday's incident.

“This moment…it marks the beginning of our love story. I love you—truly, deeply, with all my being, Lexi.” His words echoed in my mind like an unending refrain, pulling me into an emotional tug-of-war. 

Why was I feeling this way? A part of me craved his closeness, while another part demanded an eternity of distance.

The beep of my phone jolted me back to reality. I pulled it from my pocket, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw a text from Leo: "Are you alright?"

I stared at the screen, wrestling with a torrent of emotions. After a few moments, I finally shoved the phone back into my pocket, choosing to ignore his concern.

In my line of work, the rules were clear: any personal involvement with Leo was strictly forbidden. I resolved to end whatever this was between us before it spiraled out of control. I couldn’t afford any distractions—especially not him.

Just as I settled back into my thoughts, my phone rang again. I hesitated briefly; the caller ID showed Leo’s name once more. With a heavy heart and mound of reluctance, I swiped to answer.

"What?" I asked, my voice low and uninviting, betraying my internal conflict.

“Are you alright?” His voice wafted through the line, filled with genuine concern, cutting deeper into my resolve.

"Get straight to the point," I snapped, resisting the urge to soften my tone. "Why did you call?"

There was a pause, an uncomfortable silence stretched between us before he spoke again. "I'm sorry...for the pain I'm putting you through," he murmured, the weight of his words evident.

"Let’s do as you wish... let's end it," he finally said, and it felt as if a sharp knife had plunged straight into my heart. I swallowed hard, wishing for the ability to control my emotions.

"But always remember one thing: I'll never stop loving you. You'll always be engraved in my heart until the day I breathe my last," he added, his voice heavy with unshed emotion. 

The line fell silent, and instead of relief, a murky heaviness settled over me. 

My phone rang again, and I found myself half-expecting it to be Leo. Instead, it was Ava.

"Hey, Ava," I answered, trying to sound a little more upbeat than I felt.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.

"I'm fine," I replied, forcing a smile I knew she couldn’t see.

"But you don’t sound fine," she pressed, the worry in her tone deepening.

"Really, I am. I just… had a long day," I managed to say, attempting to inject a hint of cheerfulness into my voice.

"If you say so," she replied, but I could hear the skepticism.

"You were supposed to be back yesterday! I waited up all night for you," she added, and a wave of guilt washed over me. I should’ve called her, at least let her know I wouldn’t make it.

"I'm really sorry. Something… unexpected came up," I apologized.

"Even so, a single call or a text could have done the job," she retorted softly. I could sense her disappointment. "I was worried about you."

"I know, I know…" I sighed, my heart sinking. "I should have let you know. It’s just… everything is so complicated right now."

Ava paused, and I could almost hear her steadying her breathing. "Just remember, you can talk to me about anything. I’m here for you, always," she said earnestly.

I wished I could share the burdens weighing me down, but trust was a fragile thing. "Thanks, Ava. I really do appreciate it," I replied, my gratitude genuine. No matter how hard I tried to keep her at a distance, she always pulled closer.

"So, when will you actually come back?" she asked, her voice brightening, filled with hope.

"You’ll see me at home tonight," I promised.

"That’s what you said yesterday," she teased, and I chuckled lightly.

"I really mean it this time. I promise there won’t be any surprises," I reassured her, feeling a flicker of warmth at the thought of our reunion.

"Okay then, I’ll hold you to that," she replied, her excitement tangible over the line.

"And a little hint, there's a mountain of reports on your desk," she added and my heart sank.

God help me!

"Okay, bye," she chuckled and ended the call.

My mind began to drift again, but just as I was about to lose myself to my thoughts, I pulled my phone and opened a movie app, seeking a distraction. 

The flight wore on, the rolling credits of the movie, a comforting backdrop to my swirling thoughts. I took a deep breath, attempting to shake off the weight of my emotions. After what felt like an eternity, the pilot announced our descent into Virginia. I braced myself, the familiar tug of the city pulling at me, a bittersweet connection built from years of living here.

As the plane touched down, I could feel the anticipation in my stomach shift to anxiety. I gathered my things and joined the stream of passengers exiting the plane, the bustling airport a stark reminder of the life waiting for me outside. Clutching my bag tightly, I navigated through the terminal, each step bringing me closer to my apartment and, more pressingly, to the mountain of reports Ava had playfully mentioned.

Once I cleared security, I stepped outside into the crisp air of Virginia. The sky was a brilliant blue, a stark contrast to the weight on my heart. I dialed a ride service on my phone, tapping my foot impatiently as I waited. I didn’t want to think about what had happened with Leo, or how I’d completely lost control of the narrative that used to be my life. 

The car arrived, and I slipped into the back seat, keeping my eyes glued to my phone, hoping to drown out the turmoil in my mind. The driver greeted me with a nod, and as we pulled away from the airport, I allowed my gaze to drift out the window. Familiar storefronts and landmarks blurred past, each one pulling at old memories, both joyful and painful.

Soon the car pulled into the driveway of my apartment complex, and I took a moment to collect myself before stepping out. I sighed heavily as I glanced at the building. On the one hand, it represented comfort and routine. On the other, it echoed my mixed feelings—my heartache, my fears, and now, my responsibilities weighing me down.

I paid the driver, pulling my suitcase behind me as I made my way through the entrance. With a whisk through the elevator, I finally found myself on the floor at my apartment. But strangely there was someone at my door. 

I approached slowly and cautiously as I watched the person ring my doorbell countless times. Finally giving up on ringing the bell, he turned to leave and we both froze in place at the sight of each other. But I was more frozen than he was.