Arlene

“Hi, Liam,” I said, turning to meet him standing just a few feet away from me, his tall frame perfectly outlined against the evening light spilling into the entrance of the restaurant.

I gripped my purse tightly in one hand, the file I’d brought along balanced in the other, my fingers instinctively clenching as if holding onto them could anchor me amidst the storm brewing within.

He wore that jacket, his signature long, padded coat that seemed to belong to another world entirely, like the ones you’d see in glossy Korean dramas or Asian fashion magazines.

It was sleek, brown, and tailored, the kind of thing that screamed effortless...