It had been four years since Cassidy vanished from Zeke's life — as if the earth had swallowed her whole.
For the first two years, Zeke had always asked Georgia about her sister's whereabouts. Georgia's answers never changed. "She's doing fine," she would say, or, "She's still healing. You don't need to worry."
Maybe they weren't meant to be, and maybe Cassidy truly wanted a new life — one without Zeke in it. Everyone else seemed to move on with that belief.
Everyone, except Zeke.
But after his accident — two years ago — everything changed.
The near-death experience had forced him to let go. Not of the love, perhaps, but of the expectation. After all, if she wanted to disappear, who was he to chase a ghost?
Now, in his office, the late afternoon sun spilled through the tall windows behind him, casting golden light across the sleek surface of his desk. Zeke signed off another document, his pen scratching softly against paper.
There was a knock at the door.
Andrew, his ever-composed assistant, stepped in. "Sir, Mr. Blackwell would like a moment of your time."
Zeke looked up, brows lifted faintly. "Thomas?"
"Yes, sir. He's waiting outside."
Zeke nodded once. "Let him in."
When the door opened, Thomas Blackwell stepped in with a calm stride, a familiar presence dressed in a tailored charcoal suit and carrying a winter coat over his arm. Time had refined him, but the quiet sharpness in his eyes — and that half-smile — were exactly the same.
Thomas had been Zeke's closest friend since they were eight years old.
They'd first met during Bastiano Salvador's birthday celebration. Thomas's grandfather, the senior legal counsel of the Salvador family at the time, had brought his entire family along. That night, Thomas — ever-curious and cheerful — had taken an immediate liking to the quiet, stoic heir of the family empire.
Zeke, even as a boy, already carried that cold, commanding presence. Surrounded by other children, he stood slightly apart, dignified and unimpressed. But Thomas, oblivious to the stiffness in the room, had stuck to him like glue, much to Zeke's growing irritation — until he learned something that changed everything.
Thomas's mother had died giving birth to him.
From that moment on, Zeke's demeanor softened, just a little. And their friendship began.
In the ten years since law school, Thomas had risen fast — joining a top-tier legal firm in London and eventually becoming one of its youngest partners.
During that decade, their friendship had endured across continents — meeting only when Zeke happened to be in the UK, or when Thomas flew back to the States for holidays.
But three years ago, Thomas and his wife made the decision to settle permanently in the U.S. Their entire extended family lived in America, and the constant travel no longer made sense. With that, Thomas co-founded his own law firm, quickly gaining traction with high-profile clients and elite cases.
"Ezekiel," Thomas greeted. He always said the name with a hint of teasing — an old habit he never bothered to break.
Zeke raised an eyebrow. "You're the only person who still calls me that."
"And I don't plan to stop," Thomas said, dropping into the chair across from Zeke's desk. "If I start calling you Zeke, it'll feel like I should worship you too. No, thanks."
Zeke shook his head slightly, half amused. "What brings a senior partner like you to my office today? Legal trouble? Shareholder war?"
Thomas leaned back in his seat. "Neither. I just dropped by. I had a meeting with a client two blocks from here. Thought I'd check in on my old friend — the one who almost died two years ago but now works like sleep is optional."
Zeke gave a small nod. "I'm fine."
Thomas observed him for a moment, then suddenly asked, "When was the last time you got laid?"
Zeke exhaled through his nose, giving him a flat look. "Mind your own business."
"I'm serious," Thomas said, half-joking but with sharp eyes. "You look like a man who's been severely… unsatisfied for far too long. You need something to take the edge off."
Zeke leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. "Do you really have that much free time that you're now managing my sex life?"
Thomas chuckled. "Maybe not that much free time. But I've still got enough concern to check in on my best friend. I just want you to be happy, Zeke."
Zeke didn't respond right away. He simply stared at the man across from him — the one friend who had stuck with him through every storm. And as always, Thomas knew exactly where to poke to remind Zeke he was still human.
Thomas leaned forward a little. "I'm serious. Haven't you thought about opening your heart again? Meeting someone new. Doesn't have to be love at first sight. Could start with a cup of coffee. And who knows… maybe even marriage again someday."
Zeke gave a short, firm answer.
"I don't want to."
Thomas narrowed his eyes slightly. "Still thinking about Cassidy?"
Zeke didn't reply. His gaze drifted to the side, jaw tightening as if he were suppressing something deeper.
Thomas let out a quiet sigh, leaning back in his chair. "You know, I never actually met her. Cassidy. You never introduced her to me — not even when I flew in from London. And during your wedding, I was stuck with work at the firm."
Still no response from Zeke.
"But she must've been something," Thomas continued. "Because only someone remarkable could turn the great Ezekiel Salvador into a monk."
That got a reaction — Zeke's eyes flicked over sharply.
Thomas grinned, half-mocking. "Yes, I said it. A monk. You—who used to have no problem getting laid when you needed it—suddenly turned celibate the moment you married her. And after the divorce? You didn't even try. Not once."
Zeke exhaled through his nose, unamused. "That's none of your business."
"Oh, it became my business when you started looking like hell," Thomas shot back. "Seriously. You haven't been with anyone in years. And it shows."
Zeke said nothing.
Thomas studied him carefully, his tone shifting from teasing to thoughtful. "I've known you since we were eight. Even when Nicole left the family, you still held it together. But after Cassidy? That was the first time I saw you fall apart. You might look like a Salvador, act like one… but you're still human. You bleed too, Zeke. You feel things."
Zeke said nothing. But his silence wasn't cold. It was heavy. Full of memories, regrets, and feelings he had never voiced — not even to himself.
Thomas sighed, then tilted his head slightly as he studied Zeke. "Maybe Cassidy wasn't the one, Zeke. Maybe she wasn't the best for you… or maybe she was never meant to stay."
Zeke didn't react, but his silence was telling.
Thomas continued, his tone softer now, "Maybe—just maybe—she was the lesson. The one who opened you up. The first time you felt something real, something big. And now you think you'll never feel it again."
Zeke's jaw tightened. He looked down at his hands. "I don't know," he murmured. "I just… I don't think I'm ready. Not yet."
Thomas ran a hand through his hair and let out a slow exhale. "Damn it, Zeke. You're really stuck, huh?"
Zeke didn't answer.
Thomas gave a short, dry chuckle, then leaned forward with a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Alright, then. Here's a crazy idea."
Zeke arched a brow.
"What if you go after her?" Thomas said plainly. "Track her down. Push Georgia until she gives you something. Fly to wherever Cassidy is, knock on her damn door, and don't stop until she falls in love with you again."
Zeke blinked, taken aback. "That's not—"
"Not your style?" Thomas cut in. "Too dramatic for Mr. Ezekiel Salvador?"
Zeke gave him a look, but Thomas pressed on, "You're miserable, man. If you're not ready to move on… then stop pretending you have. Go get her. Fight for her. At least if she slams the door in your face, you'll know you tried."
Zeke was quiet for a moment, then gave Thomas a sidelong glance. "That worked for you, huh? Chasing someone across countries until they said yes?"
Thomas smirked. "Damn right it did."
He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over his chest, his tone turning more personal. "Do you know how long it took me to convince Hannah to even date me? Two years. Two damn years of persistent charm, rejection after rejection, and me showing up wherever she was—like some lovesick idiot."
Zeke raised a brow. "Borderline stalker."
"Romantic," Thomas corrected with a grin. "Persistent. I knew she was the one the second I met her. And I wasn't about to let her slip away just because she had trust issues and a five-year plan that didn't include me."
Zeke gave a faint chuckle despite himself.
Thomas leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter. "Point is… sometimes, the person who's meant for you doesn't make it easy. Sometimes you have to chase them. Fight for them. Prove that you're not just a phase, or a mistake, or some passing part of their life."
Zeke looked at him, thoughtful.
Thomas shrugged. "And even if you're wrong—even if Cassidy isn't the endgame—at least you'll know. You won't spend the rest of your life wondering what could've happened if you'd just… tried."
Silence stretched between them for a moment.
Then Zeke finally said, low and uncertain, "She didn't want to be found."
Thomas's gaze didn't waver. "And you didn't want to be hurt. But here you are—already hurting."
Zeke swallowed hard, his expression unreadable.
But the seed had been planted.
And Thomas knew it.