I can see you

Chapter 12

(ROSY'S POV)

I was sitting in the same restaurant Edward had called just days ago to make a reservation. I hadn't been trying to eavesdrop but I was close enough when he took that call, his voice low and deliberate, asking for a table for two. Naturally, I had made sure to get a reservation of my own. Same date, same time.

Now, there I was-dressed in one of my most elegant blue evening gowns, lips painted the perfect shade of red, hair styled just right. I looked like the kind of woman any man in that room would have wanted at his table. But I only wanted one man to look at me. And he did. Just not in the way I needed.

He sat a few feet away at the next table, immaculately dressed, every line of his suit hugging him like it was made just for him. His eyes-usually sharp and unreadable-were soft that night. Melting. Reflecting the dim candlelight as they locked onto his date. The woman across from him.

Not me.

She laughed at something he said, and his lips curled into that quiet smile he rarely gave to anyone. There was affection in his expression. Desire and lust. All aimed at the woman who didn't even know him the way I did. Who didn't deserve to sit where I should have been.

Heat rose up my neck, a wave of irritation crashing into something darker-something sensual. My pulse quickened. My breath turned shallow as I stared at his face. Beautiful, captivating and addictive. I imagined his gaze fixed on me, his fingers brushing mine across the table, his voice saying my name instead of hers.

But reality was a cruel thing. He was there. With someone else. And my blood boiled. Lately he had been with several girls and it would have been a lie if I said I was okay with it. But none of them had gotten the look she was getting from him.

I forced myself to look away and reached for my phone. I needed to preserve that moment. Study it later. Maybe punish myself with it. I angled my camera, pretending to snap a photo of my untouched plate, and pressed the shutter. But when I checked the image my heart froze.

He was staring directly at the lens. Not at his date or at the food but at me. For a second, I couldn't breathe. Did he recognize me? Was it just coincidence? Or had he always known I was that close?

It was just me grasping at straws but it didn't matter. It couldn't go on. I had spent more than three years of my life watching him. Learning his habits, his secrets, his lies. I remembered the day he told a coworker he was single. He said he had no interest in dating. Not anytime soon. I remembered how light my chest had felt then. How safe I had felt knowing he was still... untouched.

But now? Now I felt betrayed. He had lied. Edward had lied. If he lied about this... what else was he hiding? What else had he lied to me about? To us?

And how could someone who lied that easily ever deserve me? How could he be trusted with my heart if he was so quick to offer his to someone else?

What if that was the start of something real for him? What if that woman became a part of his life?

No. That couldn't happen.

I stood up-composed, quiet-and left before dessert even arrived. I went back to the only place that still made sense. My lab-the one room where every vial, every formula, every outcome bent to my will.

And as I sat among the chemicals and tools, my mind spun with precision and fury.

Edward didn't get to hurt me. Not now. Not ever. And I would make absolutely sure of that. One drop. One dose. One moment, and he'd be mine again.

---

Later that night, I drove through rain-slicked streets, hands tight around the wheel, following the directions he had texted her earlier that morning, punctuated with a smiley face and a "Drive safe." The neighborhood was the kind she wouldn't have pictured him in-quiet, residential, lined with sycamores and white fences. Kids' bikes leaned against porch railings. Lawns were obediently trimmed. The kind of place that felt too ordinary to hold any real secrets.

Killian's house stood at the end of the street, modest but well-kept. A soft blue exterior with white shutters, a neat stone path leading to the front door, a potted fern beside the welcome mat. Almost quaint. Rosy had stared at it from the driveway for a moment, feeling the weight of the stillness around it. She hadn't told him she was that nervous-but somehow, stepping out of her car, she had already felt like he'd prepared for that.

The door had opened just as I reached it. He had greeted me like always, with that soft smile and those eyes that seemed to look past my skin and into the static of my thoughts.

"Right on time," Killian said, his voice low and smooth, like it always was. He was wearing a sweater this time, sleeves rolled up neatly, a dish towel still in his hand. "Come in. I was just making tea."

He handed me a mug of chamomile tea.
"I remembered you said it helps with headaches."

She hadn't said that to him. Not out loud.

"Rough night?" he had asked, offering me a bowl of odd-looking cookies.

I nodded, sitting on the worn couch, the scent of old paper and lavender wrapping around me.

"He was with someone," I said flatly.

"Edward?"

I hated how he said the name. Like it wasn't sacred. Like it didn't deserve reverence.

"Yes. With some woman. Laughing, touching her hand, like I didn't exist. Like everything we shared meant nothing. All those years, all that headache."

Killian had leaned forward, hands clasped. "And what do you want to do about it, Rosy?"

My gaze lifted to meet his. For a moment, I thought he saw the answer before I said it. Maybe I should say it to see his reaction. "I want him back. I want to remind him. I want him to see me again. Really see me."

"Then take him," Killian had said gently. The words should have sounded ridiculous. Or dangerous. But coming from Killian, they felt like scripture. I had expected him to say something sensible, not agree with my twisted ideas.

"You think I should...?" I asked, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"Confront him and remind him. No matter what it takes, you deserve closure. And maybe he does too. I think he remembers you but he isn't brave enough to accept it. It's time to force the conversation," he replied.

A conversation. A confrontation. A reckoning. "But what if he doesn't remember me? What if he's moved on?"

Killian's eyes had softened, but there had been something else behind them. Something hungry. "Then make him remember. You were never the kind of girl anyone forgets."

My fingers had wrapped around the tea mug, tightening. The idea had begun to bloom inside mestrange and thrilling. "If I had him, just for a few hours... maybe he'd understand. Maybe he'd stop lying."

Killian hadn't answered right away. He had walked to the window and drawn the curtain back just slightly. "You remember how you used to hide in the vents at the orphanage? Listening for the truth? You were always good at finding what others tried to bury. This is no different. Find the truth, Rosy. Find what he's hiding."

I had set the cup down. That was another memory I didn't remember but for some reason, it hadn't sounded much like me.

However, he had been right. I had waited too long and this time, I wouldn't wait for Edward to come to me. This time, I'd make sure he never left.