Until We Meet Again (Revised)

PROLOGUE

"Come on, Klein! Hurry up!" Criza, my co-worker, shouted at me from across the room, her tone sharp and impatient.

"Just a moment, let me finish this," I replied, my focus still glued to the intricate details of the wedding dress design I was sketching on the drafting paper in front of me. Every stroke of my pencil felt like a deliberate dance, each line contributing to the masterpiece I envisioned.

"Who’s that for?" she asked, leaning closer to peek at my work. Her curiosity was as relentless as ever.

"Wow, this looks bold! Did they pay you a lot for this? And who’s the lucky bride?" she pried further. I rolled my eyes subtly, not wanting to lose my concentration.

"Ms. Lara," I answered curtly without looking up.

"Ms. Lara? You mean the girlfriend of that pilot?" Criza’s voice turned enthusiastic, as if she’d just uncovered some juicy gossip. "Wait, don’t they already have a kid? Why are they only getting married now?"

"Why don’t you ask them yourself?" I replied dryly, unwilling to entertain her endless string of questions.

"Ugh, you’re so bitter sometimes! Speaking of weddings, what about you? When’s your turn to walk down the aisle?" she teased, her words causing my hand to freeze mid-sketch.

I looked up at her, locking eyes briefly before answering, "Two years ago… it was supposed to happen."

Her eyes widened, and she quickly pulled up a chair beside me, intrigued. "What? With who? Is he handsome? Why didn’t it happen? What went wrong?"

Her rapid-fire questions made me sigh, shaking my head in disbelief at her nosiness. "It’s a long story, Criza. I don’t want to talk about it," I said firmly, my voice quieter now.

She pouted in protest, but I ignored her, putting the finishing touches on the gown I was designing. It was a classic white wedding gown—sleeveless with a flowing skirt that trailed elegantly. I paired it with gloves and adorned the upper bodice with subtle yet striking embellishments.

"Alright, I’m heading out," I announced, packing up my designs and grabbing my bag.

"Good luck!" Criza called out, grinning at me as I stepped out of the workshop.

I drove through the city with practiced ease, my heart starting to pound harder the closer I got to the café where I was scheduled to meet the groom-to-be. Ms. Lara had informed me earlier that she wouldn’t make it to the meeting due to her busy schedule, so her fiancé, the pilot, would be attending in her place.

When I arrived, I parked my car and took a moment to steady myself. It’s just another client meeting. Be professional, Klein.

I walked inside and scanned the café. It wasn’t hard to spot him; he sat near the window, his back straight, his posture commanding yet relaxed. My steps faltered for just a second when our eyes met—those same eyes I once knew so well.

"Am I late?" I asked, my voice steady, masking the turmoil inside me. I didn’t wait for his answer, pulling out the chair across from him and placing my portfolio on the table.

"No," he replied tersely. His voice was deeper than I remembered, yet it still carried that familiar tone.

"Good," I said briskly, flipping through the pages to find the design. "Here’s the dress I’ve created for Ms. Lara," I added, sliding the sketch across the table. I felt the slight tremor in my hands as I moved, but I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Kent leaned forward, his gaze studying the design carefully. I couldn’t help but steal a glance at him. He looked almost the same—strong jawline, sharp features, but there was something in his expression, a weight that hadn’t been there before.

"I’ll call your girlfriend later for her feedback," I said quickly, my voice more clipped now. I stood up, ready to leave. "That’s all. I need to go."

Before I could take a step, he reached out and grabbed my wrist gently. "Wait," he said, his voice softer now, almost a whisper.

I froze. His touch sent a jolt through me, dragging memories I had buried deep into the forefront of my mind. "What is it, Kent?" I asked, my tone more composed than I felt.

"I’m sorry," he murmured, his gaze fixed downward, avoiding mine.

I clenched my jaw, willing my emotions to stay in check. I couldn’t let him see how much this affected me. "Congratulations, Kent," I said, forcing a smile. Slowly, I pulled my hand away from his grasp and walked out of the café.

Once inside my car, I gripped the steering wheel tightly, my breaths coming in short, uneven bursts. My heart pounded relentlessly against my chest as the weight of the encounter hit me full force. I leaned my head back, shutting my eyes as flashes of the past overwhelmed me.

His laughter as we spent lazy afternoons under the sun. The way he used to call me his sunshine. The nights we’d dream about our future together, mapping out a life filled with promises we thought we’d keep.

And then, the heartbreak—the crushing realization that love wasn’t enough to save us.

I buried my face in my hands, trying to push back the tears. "I thought I was over this," I whispered to myself, my voice trembling. But the truth was undeniable—seeing him again had ripped open wounds I thought had healed.

The last time I saw him, we had said our goodbyes in a flurry of anger and pain. Now, here he was, about to marry someone else, fulfilling the promises he couldn’t keep with me.

I exhaled shakily, wiping my eyes. "Get it together, Klein," I muttered. I started the car, determined to put as much distance between myself and that café as possible. But no matter how far I drove, I couldn’t escape the lingering ache in my chest.

For years, Kent had been my everything—my lifeline. Now, he was nothing more than a bittersweet memory. Yet, despite the pain, a part of me still held on, wishing things could’ve turned out differently.