The office lights dimmed as the building emptied. Mel checked the time for the third time in five minutes, standing outside with her bag slung over her shoulder. Jace had promised he'd pick her up. Promised. But nearly forty minutes had passed, and her phone had remained silent.
She sighed and tapped a message to him:
> Hey, everything okay? Still waiting.
No reply.
The buses had stopped running for the night. Rain threatened in the air, and the streets were beginning to quiet. Left with little choice, she began the long walk home, her heels clicking against the sidewalk with every frustrated step.
Her thoughts swirled with questions. Why offer to pick me up if you're not going to show up? The ache in her feet was nothing compared to the sting in her chest. She wasn't just upset—she was hurt.
Halfway down the street, neon lights from a club splashed across the pavement. Music pulsed through the ground. She glanced toward it, intending to ignore the crowd gathering outside—until she saw him.
Jace.
Laughing. Jacket thrown over one shoulder. Surrounded by a few guys, a drink in one hand, his eyes lit with wild, carefree energy. It hit her like a slap.
She stopped walking. Her heart sank like a stone. She couldn't believe it—not only had he forgotten, but he was here of all places.
Her feet moved before her thoughts caught up. "Jace!" she called sharply.
He turned, the smile fading from his lips the moment he saw her.
"Mel?" He blinked, stepping forward. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" she repeated, her voice tight. "I could ask you the same thing. You were supposed to pick me up."
His face paled slightly. "Shit—I completely forgot—"
"You forgot?" she cut in, her voice low and cutting. "I waited outside for almost an hour. You said you'd be there. I trusted you."
"Mel, I'm sorry. I got caught up—Alex dragged me out for one drink, and I—"
"Don't," she said, shaking her head. "Don't make excuses. I get it. This," she motioned to the club behind him, "this is who you are. You party, you disappear, you forget. But I'm not going to be someone who gets left behind every time you feel like blowing off steam."
His jaw tensed. "It's not like that."
"It is exactly like that," she snapped. "This is the second time I've had to walk home alone in the dark, hoping nothing happens to me, while you're out living your best reckless life."
Jace looked at her, eyes shadowed with guilt and something unspoken. "You don't understand what it's like having the pressure I do—"
"Oh, so being the CEO's son gives you a free pass to be careless?" she said bitterly. "You pretend like you're not rich, you act like none of this matters, but it does, Jace. You matter. I matter. And I need someone who knows how to show up."
He stepped closer, voice low but urgent. "I care about you, Mel. I messed up—I know I did. But this wasn't intentional. I wasn't trying to hurt you."
"But you did," she said softly. Her throat tightened. "And I don't want to keep falling for someone who doesn't know how to be present."
A long pause passed between them. His shoulders dropped as if her words carried physical weight.
"I don't want to lose you over one mistake," he said finally.
"It's not just one mistake, Jace. It's a pattern. And I don't want to be another thing you forget."
Mel turned before the tears could escape. She didn't want him to see her cry—not tonight.
Jace watched her walk away, the club lights flickering behind him, and for the first time in a long time… he felt completely alone.
---
Jace stood in front of her door for a full minute before he knocked. The street was quiet, the only sounds coming from the distant hum of cars and the occasional bark of a dog. His hands were jammed in the pockets of his jacket, his heart pounding harder than it had in any bar fight or backroom deal.
You can walk away, a voice in his head whispered. You've done it before.
But this time felt different. This time, walking away would mean leaving something that mattered.
The door opened slowly.
Mel stood there in sweatpants and a worn T-shirt, her hair pulled into a bun, her eyes tired and wary. The moment she saw him, her expression hardened.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice flat.
"I came to apologize." He hesitated. "I messed up. I know I did."
Mel crossed her arms. "Yeah. You did."
"I didn't mean to forget. I got caught up with Alex, and the club, and…" He trailed off, running a hand over his face. "But that's not the point. The point is—I hurt you. And I hate that I did."
She didn't move. Her eyes didn't soften. "Jace, I've heard apologies before. Words are easy."
"I know," he said quietly. "But I meant it when I said I cared about you."
Mel stepped back, letting the door hang open just enough for him to see she wasn't shutting him out completely. But she didn't invite him in, either.
"I care about you too, Jace," she said, voice trembling. "But I can't keep doing this. I can't be the girl who waits while you're out partying. I can't fall for someone who disappears into smoke and neon lights."
He looked at her, the weight of everything pressing on his chest. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying…" She swallowed. "If you want this—me—you need to choose. You need to change. The clubs, the drinking, the reckless nights… they can't come before me. Not anymore."
Silence stretched between them.
Jace didn't speak.
He didn't argue.
He didn't promise.
He just stood there, staring at her, as if caught in a moment he hadn't prepared for.
And then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
Mel watched him go, heart aching, breath shallow.
Jace's mind spun as he walked down the dimly lit street. Her words echoed in his ears like a mantra: If you want me, change.
He'd never had anyone ask that of him. Not really.
And now he had to decide—was she worth it?
Was they worth it?
He wasn't sure of the answer yet.
But for the first time, he was asking the question.
---