Chapter 3:
Lucas hadn't planned on going to the gala. The invitation arrived in a sleek black envelope, embossed with gold lettering, tucked inside a folder from one of the firm's wealthiest clients. A charity event for the arts—a cause he could pretend to care about. He was supposed to be there to network, to schmooze, to remind the city he still belonged to the upper echelon.
But mostly, he wanted to see Elena's work hanging on the walls, and maybe, if he was honest, to see her.
The ballroom was a cavern of light and sound, chandeliers dripping crystal tears from the ceiling, the hum of conversation like a tide rising and falling. Men in tuxedos, women in gowns that shimmered like liquid silver.
Lucas felt like a ghost drifting through a world he'd once inhabited but no longer recognized.
He moved through the crowd with practiced ease, nodding and smiling, shaking hands, but his eyes were searching for one face—hers.
Elena was nowhere in sight, but her art was everywhere. Bold splashes of color, jagged lines, raw emotion captured on canvas and sculpture.
He paused in front of a piece that made his chest tighten—a chaotic swirl of black and red, a visual scream.
Then he saw him.
Daniel.
He was standing near the bar, laughing with a group of people. The same easy smile, the same bright eyes that had haunted Lucas's dreams for years.
Daniel looked happy—married, even, by the gold band on his finger. The man Lucas had loved and lost, the one who had slipped through his fingers like smoke.
Lucas froze.
The world tilted, the noise fading into a dull roar.
He hadn't seen Daniel since the breakup, hadn't wanted to. The memories were too sharp, too raw. But here he was, real and alive, and Lucas felt suddenly small and fragile.
Daniel turned, and their eyes met.
For a moment, neither moved.
Then Daniel excused himself from the group and walked over.
"Lucas," he said, voice warm but cautious
"Daniel," Lucas replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
They shook hands, but it felt like a formality, a fragile bridge between two worlds.
"How have you been?" Daniel asked.
Lucas shrugged. "Surviving."
Daniel smiled, but there was a sadness behind it. "I'm married now. To Mark."
Lucas nodded, the words tasting bitter. "That's good."
"Yeah. It is."
They talked about the usual things—work, the city, mutual acquaintances—but beneath the surface, everything was charged. Lucas felt the weight of what was unsaid: the love they'd shared, the promises broken, the future that never was.
When Daniel mentioned Mark again, Lucas felt a pang of something he hadn't expected—jealousy, regret, a hollow ache that settled deep in his gut.
After a while, Daniel glanced at his watch. "I should get back."
"Yeah," Lucas said, voice tight. "Me too."
They parted with a brief hug, but as Daniel disappeared into the crowd, Lucas felt something crack open inside him.
Later that night, Lucas sat alone in his penthouse, the city sprawled beneath him like a glittering wound. He poured a glass of whiskey, the amber liquid catching the light.
He stared at the glass, then down at his arm—the tattoo Elena had just finished a few days ago.
The phoenix, rising from ashes.
He traced the lines with his finger, feeling the slight raised texture of the ink. It was a reminder of survival, of change. But it also felt like a challenge.
He thought about Daniel, about the life he'd lost and the man he'd become. The man who hid behind suits and sharp words, who chased strangers in the dark to forget the emptiness.
He took a long drink, the burn filling the hollow space inside.
Lucas was good at compartmentalizing. It was a skill every lawyer needed—keep your emotions in a box, don't let them bleed into the work. But some things refused to stay buried.
Daniel was one of them.Old jokes, shared memories. But beneath it all, regret thrummed like a second heartbeat.
That night, he drank until the world blurred.
He called Elena, but she didn't answer.
He ended up with someone else, a stranger whose name he never learned. The sex was rough, desperate—a punishment, not a pleasure.
In the morning, he stared at his reflection, hating what he saw
To be continued...