Ryan's POV
I hadn't been home in days.
Instead, I buried myself in board meetings, hospital rounds, and paperwork I would normally delegate. Anything that kept me from going back to the penthouse where her scent still lingered in the air and her laughter echoed in the corners of rooms now too silent.
She was gone.
And I let her go.
By choice.
Because that was the deal. No attachments. No complications. No... love.
But then why did everything I touched suddenly feel wrong?
Why did I still find myself looking for her mug in the kitchen cabinet or checking my phone for a message I knew wouldn't come?
I was in the private lounge of Saint Holdings when Ezra dropped onto the chair across from me, his usual smirk absent.
"You look like hell," he said bluntly, tossing a file onto the table. "Rough surgery?"
I didn't answer.
He leaned back, arms crossed. "So. She really left?"
I stiffened. "It was the arrangement."
Ezra scoffed. "You mean the brilliant idea where you pretend not to care about a woman who literally made you human for five minutes?"
My jaw clenched. "Drop it, Ezra."
"No," he said firmly. "You think keeping distance will protect you from feeling, from needing anyone. But let me ask you something—has anything felt right since she left?"
Silence. Heavy and undeniable.
"She's good for you, Ryan," he continued. "And for Eric. The kid lights up around her. We all noticed. So stop pretending you're okay. You're not."
I looked away. My throat tightened.
"She was never supposed to matter," I muttered. "And now... I don't know how to fix it without hurting her again."
Ezra stood, clapping my shoulder. "Then maybe stop thinking about yourself, and think about what she needs. And if you're lucky... maybe she still needs you too."
He left me alone with that thought.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling, wondering when exactly Mia Walls stopped being a part of the plan and started becoming the only thing I could think about.