Once Upon a Heartbreak

1 - Clara

Sitting at this café on Rue de Rivoli, I can't help but people-watch, my mood as gloomy as the gray clouds hanging overhead. Paris—the city of love. Yeah, right. More like the city of false hopes and shattered dreams. I know, I sound bitter, but can you blame me? Love feels like something that happens to everyone else—like those couples over there in the corner, all lovey-dovey, sharing secret smiles like they're the only ones in the world.

I take a sip of my coffee, the bitterness on my tongue a perfect match for the vibe I'm radiating. There was a time when I bought into it, when I was one of those doe-eyed fools, convinced that love was real and forever. But that was before I got my wake-up call. People say they love you, swear they'll be there forever, and then—bam!—they turn around and rip your heart out, leaving you wondering how you could've been so blind.

I shake my head, trying to shove the memory back where it belongs. It's been years since I caught him with her—since I found out the hard way that love is just a scam. But the sting? It's still there, sharp as ever. I like to think I'm smarter now. I've convinced myself that all men are the same, that none of them can be trusted. It's easier that way, keeping them all at arm's length, never letting anyone get close enough to hurt me again.

And yet... I sigh, staring into my coffee like it's got the answers. Deep down, buried under layers of sarcasm and self-defense, there's still a part of me that craves what those couples have—a connection, someone to share my life with. But I'm too stubborn to admit it out loud. It's safer in my bubble, where no one can get in and no one can let me down.

The wind picks up, rustling the leaves on the trees, and I pull my scarf tighter around my neck, feeling that familiar weight of loneliness settling in. Maybe this is just how it's meant to be for me—always on the outside, watching, never daring to believe in something more.

But as I sit here, watching life pass me by, I can't help but wonder... what if? What if there's still a chance out there for me, something real?

***

The following week I'm sitting in my boss's office, a sleek, minimalist space that reflects her no-nonsense approach to business. The cold leather of the chair makes me shift uncomfortably, but it's not just the furniture that has me on edge. It's what she just said.

"I need you to handle this personally, Clara. You're the only one I trust to get it done right."

She's smiling at me, her words meant to be a compliment, but all I can feel is the rising tide of panic. My fingers tighten around the edge of my portfolio, gripping it as if it's a lifeline.

"Why me?" I ask, my voice coming out more strained than I intended. "I mean, surely someone else—"

"There's no one else with your expertise," she cuts me off, her tone leaving no room for argument. "And besides, this project requires a personal touch. The client specifically requested someone who understands the local culture, someone who knows the area."

I feel a sinking sensation in my stomach as the pieces start to fall into place. "The area" she's referring to is my hometown, Ackerheim, near Vienna. I haven't been back there in years—not since I left everything behind and threw myself into my work here in Paris.

"We're launching a new line of products in Austria," she continues, her voice taking on that enthusiastic pitch she uses when discussing a big project. "It's a significant market for us, but it's also very traditional. The client wants to ensure that the campaign resonates deeply with the local audience. They're counting on us to bring a fresh perspective while respecting the cultural nuances."

I nod mechanically, my mind racing. I know she's right—I'm the best person for the job, at least on paper. My understanding of European markets, especially Austria, has been a key part of my success. But going back to Ackerheim? That's a different story altogether.

"I know it's been a while since you've visited home," she says, her tone softening as if she can sense my hesitation. "But this is a fantastic opportunity for you, Clara. The chance to reconnect with your roots while demonstrating your value to the company."

Reconnect. The word hangs in the air like a bitter joke. Reconnect with what? The memories I've spent years trying to bury? The people who sided with him, who tried to convince me I was overreacting? Going back to Ackerheim would mean reopening wounds I'm not sure have ever truly healed.

"Is there any way I can handle this remotely?" I suggest, forcing a smile that I know doesn't reach my eyes. "I can do video calls, coordinate the campaign from here..."

She shakes her head, a sympathetic smile on her face that only makes me feel worse. "It has to be in person, Clara. The client insists. They want to meet face-to-face, and frankly, it's the kind of project that requires your charm and expertise on the ground. You're the best person for this."

My heart pounds as I struggle to think of another way out. But deep down, I know there isn't one. This is my job, and I've never backed down from a challenge before. Still, the thought of returning to Ackerheim, of possibly running into the past I've tried so hard to escape, makes me want to turn around and walk out of her office.

But I don't. Instead, I nod again, feeling the weight of inevitability settling over me. "When do I leave?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

"In three days," she replies, already moving on to the next task in her day. "I'll have my assistant book your travel arrangements. You'll be great, Clara. I have full confidence in you."

I try to muster a smile as I stand up, clutching the file she handed me as if it's the only solid thing in my world right now. As I walk out of her office, the reality of what's ahead of me starts to sink in.

Ackerheim. The town I grew up in, the town I left behind with so many unresolved emotions. The thought of facing my parents, the friends I abandoned, and—worst of all—him, sends a cold shiver down my spine.

But I'm a professional. I've built my career on understanding people, on navigating complex emotions and turning them into successful campaigns. I can do this. I have to do this.

By the time I reach my desk, I'm trying to think of it as just another assignment, another opportunity to prove myself. But deep down, I know this is different. Ackerheim isn't just a location on a map. It's a part of me, a part I've been running from for too long.

And now, like it or not, I'm going back.