Lily went through the motions the next morning—coffee, a quick shower, dressing in the same muted tones she always wore. Jack kissed her before heading to work, and she smiled like nothing was wrong. Like her world wasn't quietly unraveling beneath her feet.
She should have gone straight to the office. She had deadlines, emails to answer, and a dozen other things that required her attention. Instead, she found herself standing outside a photography studio on the other side of town, staring at the name printed on the glass window.
Mark Donovan Photography.
She didn't even remember making the decision to come here. Her feet had carried her without her permission, as if some unseen force had nudged her forward. She could still walk away. She could pretend yesterday was nothing more than a brief, nostalgic moment.
But she didn't.
With a deep breath, she pushed open the door.
The studio was a mixture of chaos and beauty—canvases leaning against the walls, shelves stacked with film rolls and old cameras, the scent of coffee and chemicals mingling in the air. It felt like stepping into a different world, one that was raw and unpolished. So different from the life she had built with Jack.
And then there he was.
Mark stood near a long wooden table, sifting through black-and-white prints. The morning light cast a soft glow on him, highlighting the sharp angles of his face. He hadn't changed much. He still had that same restless energy, that same effortless charm.
His eyes lifted at the sound of the door closing, and when he saw her, a slow, knowing smile spread across his face.
"Lily."
Her breath caught in her throat. She had prepared for this, had rehearsed what she would say. But now that she was standing in front of him, everything fell apart.
"I shouldn't be here," she said quickly.
Mark tilted his head, studying her. "Then why are you?"
Good question.
She hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of her purse. "I just… I don't know. I guess I wanted to see what you've been up to."
Mark smirked. "Lily Turner, making impulsive decisions? Now that's new."
She exhaled sharply, feeling the weight of his words. She was always the one who planned everything. The one who thought things through. But yesterday had shaken something loose inside her, and now she was here, standing in front of the one person who had always made her question herself.
"I saw your name on the window," she said, avoiding his gaze. "I thought you hated the idea of settling in one place."
Mark leaned against the table, folding his arms. "Maybe I changed."
"Maybe."
A beat of silence passed. The tension between them was thick, crackling like static in the air.
Mark broke the silence first. "So, are you happy?"
Lily opened her mouth to answer, but the words refused to come.
It should have been simple. Yes, I'm happy.
She had a stable relationship. A good job. A life she had chosen.
But standing here, in this space that felt so achingly alive, she couldn't say it.
Mark watched her carefully, as if he already knew the answer she was struggling to admit.
"You know," he said, voice softer now, "I never expected you to come back into my life. Not like this."
Lily swallowed hard. "Neither did I."
He took a step closer, just enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne—warm, familiar, dizzying.
"You can tell me to back off," he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "You can walk out that door and pretend this never happened. But if you're here, it means something, Lily. And I think you know it."
Her heart pounded so loudly she swore he could hear it.
This was dangerous. Whatever was happening between them, it was leading her down a road she might not be able to turn back from.
But as Mark held her gaze, waiting—just waiting—she realized something terrifying.
She didn't want to turn back.