Moving On

Amelia's POV A month. Thirty agonizing days had passed since that shattering moment at the airport, since Brandon’s arrival ripped through my world like a hurricane. Since then, my phone had vibrated relentlessly with calls and messages from him, and even Aunt Susan, but I'd ignored them all, a desperate attempt to erase any trace of him, any echo of the feelings that still clung to my heart like a stubborn shadow. I simply couldn’t face anything that reminded me of him, or the foolish hope I’d harbored for so long. For an entire week after the airport, I’d been a prisoner in my own room, the curtains drawn against the harsh daylight. I cried until my eyes were raw, until there were no more tears left to shed, my heart a fractured mess within my chest. The thought of venturing outside, of facing the world, felt unbearable. There seemed no reason to live, no purpose beyond this suffocating pain. Pathetic, I’d thought, staring blankly at the ceiling. This is how pathetic I've become. That pathetic haze only lifted when my mom, with her fierce, unwavering love, finally jolted me out of my self-imposed exile. "Lia, honey?" Her voice, usually so gentle, was edged with a rare sharpness as it carried through my closed bedroom door. "What are you doing to yourself? Everything we've ever taught you—we believed we raised a smart, strong, and confident young lady. But seeing you like this, I have to wonder if we were terribly wrong. I never thought your world would stop, not over a boy. I am so disappointed in you." Her words, delivered with a quiet finality, hung in the air before I heard her footsteps retreat down the hall. It was the first time I'd ever heard her express disappointment in me. All my life, I'd been praised, loved, adored—the golden child. My mom's words were a brutal awakening. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps I wasn’t as strong, as smart, as I’d always believed. Maybe, deep down, I was still that naive little girl, forever waiting for the love of the boy I adored. I dragged myself to the mirror, and the reflection that greeted me was a stranger: red, swollen eyes, matted hair, a face devoid of life. My mom was right. This wasn't me. I was a strong young woman. I wouldn't surrender everything for a man who couldn't see my worth, a man who saw me as merely a "little sister." Since then, I’d thrown myself headfirst into the maelstrom of my family’s business. Gray Holdings had become my sanctuary, my escape. I worked from dawn until dusk, pushing myself to exhaustion until the only thing left to do was collapse into sleep. Currently, I held the position of Head of the Financial Department, a demanding role I'd embraced. My eldest brother, Sam, steered the ship as CEO, while our parents, my father having retired, enjoyed a well-deserved life of leisure. I had two older brothers: Sam, and Sean, who was serving in the military and rarely home. But when he did visit, he'd stay for at least six months, bringing a much-needed warmth to our bustling household. I was a recent addition to the company's executive team, having only graduated college six months prior. Yet, the corporate landscape of Gray Holdings wasn't entirely new to me. I'd interned here throughout my university years, and both my father and Sam had been grooming me for a role in the business since I was fifteen. Now twenty-two, I was juggling my demanding work schedule with a master’s degree, a constant reminder of the ambitious woman I was determined to be. My phone buzzed, pulling me from a complex spreadsheet. The caller ID flashed "Sam." "Brother," I answered, my voice professional, yet still carrying the familiar ease between us. "Come to my office immediately," he commanded, no room for argument. "Okay," I replied, ending the call. I gathered my thoughts, straightened my blazer, and headed for the CEO's private elevator. My office was on the 25th floor, his on the 30th, so the ride was mercifully brief. I nodded to Joseph, Sam's capable secretary, as I approached his desk. "Sam's asking for me," I stated. "Yes, Ms. Gray. He's waiting inside." I knocked, and Sam's voice, firm and clear, called out, "Come in." Pushing the door open, I stepped inside, immediately sensing that Sam wasn't alone. His back was to me, obscuring the identity of his visitor. "Sam, why did you need me?" I asked, my gaze fixed on my brother. "Have a seat, Lia. We have a visitor." And that’s when my eyes landed on him. Brandon Thompson. Standing there in all his infuriating glory. A sharp intake of breath snagged in my throat. God, how much I had missed him. He stood tall, impeccably dressed, his beautiful eyes, the color of melted chocolate, fixed on me, a smile that could still disarm me playing on his lips. I stared back, my face a carefully constructed mask of professional indifference, though a storm raged within my chest. No. He wouldn't get a reaction from me. Not this time. "Mr. Thompson," I greeted him, my voice cool and even, a masterpiece of composure. "It's a pleasure to see you." I took the chair opposite his, deliberately turning my focus to Sam, a shield against the intense heat of Brandon’s gaze. I could feel his eyes on me, a tangible weight, but I fought every instinct to look back. "As you know, Brandon will be taking over their family business," Sam began, his voice calm, oblivious to the silent battle unfolding. "To formally welcome him back, Uncle John is hosting a reception next Friday. You'll be accompanying me." "Mom and Dad are usually responsible for these sorts of gatherings," I said, forcing a question to buy time. "What happened?" "They're on vacation. Have you forgotten?" Sam asked, a slight eyebrow raise. "It slipped my mind," I lied smoothly. "I'll go with you then. Is there anything else? If not, I should really get going." I spoke quickly, barely pausing for breath. I needed to escape. Another second in this room, under Brandon’s scrutinizing gaze, and I felt I would combust. This hot seat was burning me alive. I had to leave. "Yes, that will be all. You're free to go." Sam's eyes, however, were keen, piercing, as if trying to decipher the facade I so carefully maintained. I simply nodded to both my brother and Brandon, then turned and exited the room, my movements stiff and deliberate. The moment the door clicked shut behind me, the carefully constructed strength I’d displayed vanished, leaving me weak and trembling. I’d deluded myself into believing I could face Brandon with unwavering composure, but I was wrong. He still affected me, still held the power to unravel me, just as he always had. I rushed to the elevator, my fingers hovering over the lift's button when his voice, husky and familiar, stopped me cold. "Lia." My hand froze, inches from the button. I took a deep, fortifying breath, then slowly turned, plastering a professional smile on my face. "Mr. Thompson, what can I do for you?" Note to self: pat myself on the back later for this performance. "May I invite you for lunch?" he offered, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. "It's almost lunchtime, and I was wondering if you might join me?" "I have to turn down your kind offer, Mr. Thompson," I replied, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. "I have an urgent matter to attend to. If you'll excuse me." I gave him a curt nod, spun around, and pressed the elevator button with decisive force. The doors slid open, and I stepped inside. As I turned to face the front, my eyes met Brandon’s through the closing gap. He was watching me, a look of unmistakable disappointment clouding his handsome features. Disappointment? Why would he be disappointed? I was nothing more than a "sister" to him, and he had a fiancée. His time should be spent with her, not wasting it on me.