The One I Forgot To Forget

CHAPTER ONE

·AMELIA POV·

The knock came just as I was trying to pretend the world didn’t exist, three sharp bangs, not a regular knock — it was firm and impatient.

I stayed curled up on my mattress as I was half wrapped in a blanket with my hair looking like a disaster and my laptop screen still glowing with a rejection email I didn’t have the nerve to close yet — maybe if I stayed still long enough, whoever it was would go away.

But no!

Another knock came again, it was louder this time as it jolted me.

“Miss Gray...” The landlord’s voice cut through the door, sharp and annoyed. “I know you’re in there but pretending not to, come out now, we need to talk about the rent.”

I flinched as I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks even before I got up, my chest tightened with the familiar ache of dread. I was owing the landlord two months behind, and I have zero ways to fix it — I'm such a mess!

When I opened the door, Mr. Kellerman stood with his arms crossed, the deep lines on his forehead spelling out his growing frustration. I swallowed hard on the sight of him, unsure of what to say.

“This is the last time I’m knocking, coming here for my rent.” He said, not even waiting for a hello, well I don't plan to. “You said you’d have the rent last week, but you don’t and I’m tired of waiting.”

“I know...” I whispered, ashamed of myself as I wished the ground would swallow me that moment. “I’m really sorry. I just—”

“Seven more days, I'm giving you a week extra...” He interrupted abruptly in a cold tone. “— and that’s it, no more extensions. After that, I’ll be changing the locks.”

He turned and walked away before I could even promise him anything. I sighed deeply as I watch him leave completely before I closed the door slowly behind, sinking to the floor.

I'm at a phase where I'm experiencing the worst three R's —rent, rejection and rock bottom. It felt like my whole life was on pause — stuck between who I was trying to become, and everything I couldn’t escape.

I stayed there on the floor for a while, staring at the almo worn out carpet, my knees pulled to my chest. The silence was suffocating — not because it was peaceful, but because it reminded me of how empty everything had become.

Three months ago, I had a job, it may not have been my dream job, but it paid the bills and gave me a reason to wake up early. Then came the email — “downsizing,” “restructuring,” “cost control.” Too much fancy words for you’re expendable.

The company was bleeding out, and I was one of the first to be tossed overboard.

I told myself I’d find something else quickly, before I even realize I had just lost a job. I had experience, a clean record, and a glowing recommendations — everything looks really good, right?

But the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months — no job offer, no sign of an interview — nothing. I'm just left with my laptop screen blazing almost everyday with tons of rejection mail.

And then, as if the universe wasn’t done kicking me, he left.

Ethan.

Three years together, and all it took was one really bad month for him to decide I was no longer “worth the investment.”

His words.

I remember sitting across from him at the small café we used to love, his fingers casually wrapped around a cup of coffee while he broke my heart in clean, simple sentences.

“I need someone ambitious, Amelia, someone with vision.” He started slowly in an awfully calm tone, hell, I don't know what he was thinking. “You… you’re just stuck.”

That same week, he posted his engagement photo with some trust fund Barbie with a thousand watt smile and designer heels.

I didn’t cry that day, I've seen a whole lot of hell than cry over a shitty *ss guy and his little baby doll. Instead, I went home, drank tea and stared at the ceiling.

I haven’t cried since, this was not because I’m strong, but because I’m tired — too tired for everything.

And now… the rent, one week — that’s all I have left before I’m standing on the sidewalk with my suitcase and nowhere to go.

||LATE INTO THE NIGHT||

--

I must’ve dozed off sitting on the edge of my bed, because the loud knock on my door nearly gave me a heart attack — again!

I ignored it at first, assuming it was Mr. Kellerman again who was ready with more threats and landlord sermons. But the knocking persisted — this time, it was followed by a familiar, slightly dramatic voice.

“Open up, Amelia! Or I’m breaking this door down with my high heels!” The voice half yelled.

I sighed loudly yet lazily. Only one person was bold (and crazy) enough to say something like that.

“Zara...” I muttered, dragging myself to the door.

As soon as I cracked it open, she barged in like a hurricane without a word. Her eyes scanned the mess in my apartment — unwashed dishes, clothes on the floor, curtains half-drawn like I was trying to keep the sun from judging me.

Her gaze finally landed on me, slouched in oversized pajamas and a bonnet, looking like a ghost that had given up on haunting.

“Jesus, girl… You look like the poster child for heartbreak and depression.” She said, not unkindly but brutally honest as always.

I didn’t respond as I just walked past her and shuffled back to my bed, curling into my favorite pillow and tuning her out. She disappeared into my room and the next thing I heard was my wardrobe creaking open.

“Zara, stop...” I groaned, clearly, I don't have time for her drama that moment but as always, she cared less.

“Shut up.” She yelled back almost immediately, snapping.

I tried to drag myself out of bed but she was already back, holding a black satin mini dress that was more skin than fabric which made my eyes widened.

“No...” I said flatly, shaking my head in disapproval.

“Oh yes...!” She smirked, dangling it in front of me. “This is the right dress for the job, uh.”

I launched myself off the bed with surprising energy and snatched it from her grip like it was sacred. “This is one of my best dresses!” I snapped angrily. “What are you doing?!”

“Exactly the reaction I needed.” She said as she smiled mischievously and tapped my forehead. “— you’re still in there, drama queen.”

I frowned, confused. “What are you talking about?” I asked with my right brow raised.

“That dress...” She said, turning toward my mirror and checking her lipstick. “— is what you’re wearing tonight.”

I blinked in absolute confusion, I don't remember us planning an event or something. “Tonight? What’s happening tonight?” I blurted out, my eyes fixed on her like she was some kind of prey.

Zara turned to me with that devilish grin that always meant trouble. “You, my dear, are going out with me.” She uttered casually, her face still stretched with grin. “Just one night with no depression or Ethan but heels, drinks, music — and maybe a few bad decisions.”

I stared at her like she’d grown two heads. “You’re insane.” I muttered in a sharp tone.

“And you...” She was still grinned, but not mischievous. “— are coming with me.”

CHAPTER TWO

·XANDER’S POV·

“You're joking, right?” I stared blankly at Aiden, who stood at the edge of my desk like he hadn’t just suggested the most ridiculous thing I'd heard all week.

Aiden look unbothered. “I’m dead serious.” He insisted with a deadpan face.

“A nightclub, you say, eh?” I scoffed, pushing my chair back slightly. “That’s where your brilliant brain thinks we should meet a client? Are you even making good use of that brain at all, man?”

“Not just any client...” Aiden corrected, holding up a sleek tablet and turning it toward me. “Mikhail Petrov, a Russian billionaire, his software company just went public in Europe and he’s scouting partners for U.S. expansion.”

“I read the brief.” I stated flatly, uninterested in his sob story.

“Then you know this guy is worth billions, Xands. He wants a taste of the U.S. tech market, and we’re at the top of his list.” He added, his expression changing quickly into a dreamy smile.

Thi