Page 229 of Money Reigns

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Back in my kitchen, I set the tray in the sink and stare at the single untouched cup. The one I held the whole time. The one I never drank.

I pour it down the sink, watch the chocolate swirl away, and whisper to myself:let it go.

***

“This is the worst,” I grumble.

Ella chuckles. “Hush, we love romcoms”

Ella thought it would be brilliant to go to the movies, watch something on the big screen, get dressed and go out.

I love Romcoms, but not now, not tonight.

It’s sweet. It’s funny.

It’s unbearable.

Every glance on screen feels like a knife, like the weight of his stare across a crowded room. Every brush of hands reminds me of his palm covering mine. Every kiss, too soft, too staged, pulls me back to the hotel balcony where he kissed me until my knees gave out.

I can’t breathe.

Worse—I swear I can smell him. His cologne, threaded with something warmer, something I could never name but always knew. His scent clings to the back of my throat like memory.

I shift in my seat.

Then again.

And again.

My chest is tight, my skin buzzing.

I have to get out of here.

“Bathroom,” I whisper, and Ella waves absently, already laughing at the screen.

I slip into the lobby, heart pounding.

It’s quiet out here. The hum of a vending machine. The faint chatter of the concession counter. And then, I see him.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair, immaculate. Jeans. A plain black sweater. Standing with his back to me, weight balanced in that familiar way.

It has to be him.

My pulse stutters, then races. This could be it.

I can tell him I don’t want this distance.

I don’t want to be free.

I wanthim.

Maybe I can ask him to join us, to sit in the dark beside me, watch the movie and laugh at the predictability. I can already picture his hand brushing mine when we reach for the popcorn at the same time.

I step closer, almost close enough to reach out, to touch his arm—

He turns.

NotWar.

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