OUR ALMOST

SERENA.

Sometimes, I really wish life was fun, but it's full of

pain and mystery. Looking back at my old self, I know the new me would be proud—we've come so far. My flower shop, Rena Bloom, is thriving, and for once, I have no one to worry about. No one to think about.

I was so lost in thought, I hadn't even noticed Clara—my personal assistant—calling my name repeatedly.

"Yes, Clara? How may I help you?" I asked, snapping back to the present.

Clara has been with me through thick and thin. She's not just a PA; she's a friend who's stood by me through the darkest times.

"Ma'am," she said, holding a bundle of documents, "these are for your solo project—the private one."

"Just drop them on my desk," I replied. "And have you set the table for my next meeting? It's in five minutes."

She hesitated. Her usual composure replaced by visible nervousness.

"Ma'am... the project is from Elliot's Enterprise. Mr. Elliot will be attending—for the first time in years."

My heart sank.

Elliot?

"Elliot Carson, Ma'am. Should we still prepare the meeting room, or would you prefer to handle it online?" she asked gently, fully aware of our history.

I swallowed. "No, Clara. I've got this. Just... give me a minute."

I stood, composed myself, and instructed her to keep everything on track.

Elliot.

The name echoed in my chest like a bell I wasn't ready to hear again.

I needed to call Margaret—my best friend—but she wasn't picking up. Pacing up and down, my nerves unraveled. After six years, I was about to face him again. Six long, freaking years.

I straightened my dress, brushed my hair, and whispered to my reflection, "Perfect."

I phoned Clara while heading to the meeting room. "Have they arrived?" I asked, just as I noticed a group of men entering. Among them—Mr. Carson. Elliot's father.

Before I could retreat, his eyes met mine.

"Serena? Oh, my darling!" he beamed, wrapping me in a warm hug. "How have you been?"

"I've been very well, Sir," I smiled politely, even as my heart pounded.

No matter what happens today, I will not fall apart.

As we walked toward the meeting room, he said, "I didn't know this was your workplace until Elliot came back from his business trip last year. He told me we needed to partner with Rena Bloom. I was thrilled when he said you were the founder. I insisted on helping."

"Thank you, Sir. That means a lot," I said, scanning the room. No sign of him yet. Clara approached and discreetly signaled that he hadn't arrived.

Relief. But also... confusion.

Why would he tell his father about my business? About me?

Could he still... care?

Six years ago, his last words to me were "Almost close to you." He was always obsessed with the word almost.

"Serena, my darling," Mr. Carson said, checking his phone, "Elliot just texted. He won't be attending. Traffic. He's gone back to the office. You'll meet him there after we finalize things here."

"Wait. I'm going to his office?" I asked, unsure whether to feel relieved or anxious.

"I don't know the full story between you two," Mr. Carson said with a soft smile, "but I know you were once friends. Let the past go. Focus on your future—and maybe reconnect. Who knows?"

Back then, I thought bitterly. What about now?

Does he have someone else?

And why did he tell his father we were just friends? Was he afraid of my parents? Of what people might think?

I had so many questions, none of which had ever been answered.

"So what do you say, Serena? Are you ready to move forward with this partnership? Or will you let your emotions get in the way?"

"No, Sir. I'll give it my best. Nothing will affect this project," I replied, catching Clara's "pull-yourself-together" glance.

"Good. Oh—and meet Elliot's brother, Reggie. He's getting married next week. I want your flowers to decorate the entire wedding."

Elliot's brother?

I didn't even know he had one.

"Hi, Reggie," I greeted, extending a hand and offering a warm smile. "Congratulations."

"Hello, Serena. Thank you," he replied.

So different from Elliot. Reserved. Respectful. Gentle.

I hoped my thoughts weren't screaming too loudly.

"We'll get back to you, my dear. See you soon."

"Thank you, Sir," Clara and I said in unison.

⸻

Back in My Office

"Clara, when's my meeting with Elliot Carson?"

"Tomorrow, Ma'am. 3:00 PM," she replied, smiling.

"Clara, please..." I groaned half-jokingly, half-defeated, waving her out.

Moments later, my phone rang. It was my mother.

"Hello, Mum?"

"You stupid, insolent girl! How dare you lock my bank account? Just because you earn more than your elder sister now, you think you can do whatever you want? You ungrateful little—"

I hung up. I'd had enough.

I called Clara through the office intercom. "Please don't unlock it," I instructed.

It's time she knew.

I've tried. I've sacrificed. I've supported both her and Sarah for years.

But she always chose Sarah. Always.

Now, she wants to squander my money too?

Not anymore.

The office lights had dimmed, and the quiet hum of late-evening silence took over. After the last round of files, polite nods, and parting words, I said goodbye to Clara and the few colleagues left. I was exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that curled up behind your eyes and refused to leave. All I wanted was the silence of home.

But home wasn't silent.

As I turned onto my street, I could hear the raised voices even before I reached my driveway. There was a small crowd forming, heads craning toward my apartment. And then I saw them—my mother and my sister Sarah—standing outside like a storm waiting to break.

I parked the car, heart already sinking, and stepped out.

"Mum? Sarah?" I called, approaching them cautiously. "What's going on? Why is there a scene outside? You could've just come in and waited."

Sarah's eyes snapped toward me, ablaze. "You ungrateful bitch," she hissed, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. "Why did you lock Mum's account? Just because you earn more than me now doesn't mean you're better. I am better than you. I always have been. Don't forget—I'm your elder sister."

I took a breath, trying to steady myself. "Sarah, please. I don't want to fight. I didn't lock the account out of spite. Mum's been spending too much, and recklessly. I'm working hard for that money, and I couldn't just stand by—"

The words didn't have time to finish forming before the sting of skin on skin exploded across my face.

My mother had slapped me.

Hard.

"You think because I spend your worthless money, you can shame me?" she yelled. Her voice cracked in fury. "You've been a curse from the very day you were born! You ruined your father's company. You brought his death upon this family. I should've left you in that hospital and only raised Sarah."

The air thickened. My vision blurred.

"I caused Dad's company to fail?" I whispered, half to her, half to myself. "Me?"

I blinked back tears, but they came anyway.

"I didn't cause his death," I said, my voice shaking. "And I'm sorry he's gone. But I've done nothing but try to be a good daughter to you both."

"A good daughter?" Mum scoffed bitterly. "I never want to see you again. You're nothing to me. Come, Sarah."

She turned sharply, brushing against my shoulder like I was dust.

Sarah lingered just a moment longer, eyes narrowed with venom. "Enjoy life while you can," she spat, then followed after Mum.

I stood there, numb, under the quiet gaze of strangers, tears still tracking silently down my face.

For a long time, I didn't move.

Then, something caught my eye. Across the street, a BMW was parked with its headlights on. I stepped closer, instinct rising, but before I could wave or call out, the car pulled away. The windows were pitch black. I couldn't see the driver. I couldn't even see a silhouette.

Odd.

But I had no more room in me for mystery. Not tonight.

I walked slowly back to my car, drove into the compound, and shut the gate behind me. The heaviness of the evening settled on my shoulders like soaked wool. But somehow, I let it go. Or tried to.

God... I leave it all to you, I whispered in my heart. Take control.

The next morning, I woke up with a weight in my chest I couldn't name. Maybe it was fatigue. Maybe the aftershock of yesterday. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the name echoing at the back of my mind:

Elliot.

I wasn't ready to see him.

Still groggy, I shuffled toward the bathroom. My phone buzzed. I picked it up—it was Clara, my personal assistant.

"Good morning, Ma'am," she said, her voice unusually chipper. "I have news."

I rubbed my eyes and squinted at the mirror, noting the bags forming under them. "Let's hear it," I murmured.

"Mr. Elliot Carson has moved your meeting to 10:00 AM. It was scheduled for 3:00, but he insisted on an earlier time. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen. You have one hour to get ready."

"What?" I said, my voice rising with disbelief. "He changed the time? Without even speaking to me?"

I sighed, forcing composure. "Thank you, Clara. I'll reach out after the meeting."

The call ended.

Who does he think he is? I thought as I scrambled to get ready. I gave him 3:00 PM. The nerve to reschedule like I'm at his beck and call.

But my fingers betrayed me, trembling just slightly as I brushed my hair.

Six years.

It had been six years since I last saw Elliot Carson.

And still, the idea of facing him unsettled me in ways I refused to admit.

– Carson Enterprise

The building hadn't changed. Sleek glass, cold metal, and the same echoing silence in the lobby. It was as if time had frozen, trapping a younger version of myself inside its walls.

I approached the receptionist.

"Good morning," she said with a polite smile. "Do you have an appointment with Mr. Carson?"

I frowned. He hadn't informed them?

"I'm here to see Elliot Carson. We have a meeting regarding a business proposal."

She picked up the phone, whispered into it, nodded once, and pointed me down the hall. "Third door on the right. He's expecting you."

I walked carefully, each step heavy with memory. I reached the office door and knocked—once. Twice. Then a third time.

No answer.

I hesitated, then turned the knob and stepped inside.

Empty.

I blinked.

Was he toying with me? I wondered.

Then—behind me—a voice I knew far too well.

"No, I'm not, Serena."

My heart stilled.

I turned, startled, and collided straight into him.

Into Elliot.