Once the tsunami passed, everything seemed to spiral back into place but that wasn’t the truth. Each time, lives were lost. People died. Animals perished. Habitats were destroyed. Entire existences were turned upside down.

Nature appears peaceful only from a distance so long as no one interferes with its course.

As long as we maintain the balance between nature and technology, we have a chance to save the world.

I scoffed. The man standing there, preaching like he could turn the world around, was one of the very reasons it was falling apart. He owned a major share in this pollution.

I sat at the farthest corner of the auditorium, watching that jerk deliver a passionate, self-righteous speech on environmental issues while his entire business thrived on killing animals and smuggling their skins.

Soon, his long-winded, hypocritical speech came to an end, and the hall erupted in applause.

Finally.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. A simple notification lit up the screen: Done.
I stood and left my seat.

Marco pulled up in my car just as I reached the front porch.

I slid quickly into the backseat.
“Is it done?” I asked, my voice low, focused.

“Yes, Signora,” he replied. “We made sure everything went smoothly.”
He emphasized the last words, and I nodded.

(Signora = miss)

My eyes drifted to the window. Outside, darkness blanketed the world, the night swallowing everything in its path everything except the moon. That one stubborn moon refused to retreat. Even when dusty clouds tried to dim its glow, it always found a way to return.

When we reached my penthouse, I was surprised to find Jarek standing there.

I had been ignoring him ever since my memories returned.

I love him I really do but I don’t think we could ever go back to what we once were.

“Ava,” he said with a half-hearted smile. A smile lined with uncertainty and the quiet realization of the growing distance between us.

“Why are you here?” I blurted out, then instantly regretted it when I saw the light in his eyes dim even further. But he masked it well and met my gaze again.

“Just wanted to talk about a deal,” he shrugged.

I nodded, and we stepped inside.

I headed straight to the kitchen. There was a haze in his voice, and his mood was clearly off. He looked exhausted those dark shadows under his green eyes practically shouted it. If we were going to talk, a good cup of cappuccino was a must. I decided to ask Marco to bring something to eat too.

Through the kitchen window, I watched him. He kept fidgeting with his fingers, occasionally rubbing the back of his neck.

I sighed. We had grown so distant since the day I woke up in that hospital in India, my memories flooding back like a dam breaking loose.

All those pieces of my past crashing into me at once frustration, anger, relief. I was teetering on the edge of a breakdown, trying to make sense of it all.

The distance between Jarek and me widened the moment I reclaimed my position at York Corporation.

He’s still lost in confusion, but for me, the shadows have lifted. I can finally see things for what they are see people for who they truly are.

They never wanted me only the control.
Control they didn’t even fully understand.
Control only I possess.

I’ve barely started, and already, some relationships are beginning to crack. I don’t know what’s coming next. But whatever it is, it won’t stop me.

I carried the freshly brewed cappuccinos into the living room, where Jarek sat, now absorbed in his phone.

“Jarek,” I called softly.

He looked at me, surprised first at my face, then at the cups in my hand but didn’t say a word. He took the one I handed him and sipped.

I could see the change almost immediately. His posture softened, and a hint of calm began to settle over his face.

I took the seat across from him.

Just as I sat down, the doorbell rang. Jarek started to get up, but I raised a hand to stop him.
“I’ll get it.”

Marco stood at the door with a paper bag in hand. I took it from him with a quiet “Thank you,” and he gave me a nod before disappearing down the hallway.

The box was warm to the touch, and the heavenly smell of pizza hit me as soon as I closed the door.

“What’s in it?” Jarek asked, clearly amused. The scent had reached him too I could see the faint sparkle returning to his eyes.

“Guess,” I said, grinning as I placed the box on the glass coffee table.

He set his cappuccino aside and eagerly opened the paper bag.

The rich aroma of melted cheese, tomato, and herbs filled the room.

“Damn! Pizza al trancio Milanese!” he exclaimed, wide-eyed and grinning.

“And from Caserta Positano Milano,” I added, smiling knowingly.
It was his favorite place. When we were kids, he’d race to that shop every chance he got.

“Okay, no more wasting time,” he declared. “To delay would be to insult this masterpiece.”

With that, he dug into the pizza like he hadn’t eaten in days.

I laughed quietly. For a moment, he looked like the Jarek I used to know.

“So,” I began, tilting my head slightly, “now that you're clearly okay… what did you want to talk about?”

He opened his mouth to respond—but it was too full of pizza to speak.

“Eat first. Talk later,” I said, chuckling and shaking my head.

He nodded, chewing happily.

By the time he finished, the pizza was completely gone. Not even a crust left. When he looked down at the empty box and realized it, he gave me a sheepish grin.

“It’s okay,” I said, laughing. “I’ll eat something else.”

I shook my head, still smiling.

He went to the kitchen and returned a few moments later, collapsing onto the sofa like it was a bed.

“All I want to do now is sleep,” he muttered, eyes half-closed.

I looked at him, brows slightly raised. “What’s wrong with you? You look like a homeless person.”
My voice came out sharper than I intended, my words a little too crisp.

He sighed. “Nothing. I’m just a little tired, that’s all. You know how the workload’s been lately. And with that shipment issue, things got even worse.”
He shook his head, fingers laced tightly together in his lap.

“What shipment issue?” I asked, curiosity laced with concern.

He glanced up at me from his lap, looking like he’d been caught off guard.

“Nothing. It’s already resolved,” he mumbled, voice low. The next few words he muttered were too quiet to catch.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. “So... are you done?”

“Yes, I am,” he said with a quick nod.

“What’s the issue, then?”

“It’s not exactly an issue,” he replied. “But you’ll need to go to India. To meet a client we’re launching a new project with them.”

My interest sharpened. “What kind of project? And who’s this client?”

“It’s a tech-integration deal. They’re a clean energy firm based in Udaipur,” he explained, his voice leveling out. “They’ve developed a prototype we might be able to merge with our logistics operations.”

My brows lifted slightly at the mention of the city. Udaipur. The name stirred something distant unsettlingly familiar.

“And who’s the client?” I asked, tone carefully neutral.

“Adwait Randhawa,” he replied. “He’s the CEO of Randhawa Industries. The offer came directly from his side. It’s a good deal, Ava.” He seemed almost too casual, as if trying to underplay something.

The name struck a nerve. It echoed somewhere in the back of my mind like a half-forgotten song.
I paused, letting the silence stretch.

“And the issue?”

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. “The issue is...I can’t go. I need you to take over this project.”

My eyes narrowed slightly. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I have other matters here that require my attention,” he said vaguely. “And you’re better suited for this anyway. You’re sharp, intuitive. You know how to read people.”

I leaned back, watching him. His words were smooth, too smooth. But his body language? That told a different story.

“You know I’ve been to Udaipur before,” I said softly, more to myself than to him. “But I can’t remember much of it.”

He looked up, the corner of his jaw tightening.

“Then maybe this trip will help you remember,” he said.

“I need to go. I have a meeting tomorrow. And you should start preparing—you’re leaving the day after,” he said, his tone more like an order than a request.

I stared at him, momentarily speechless.
This was the same boy who used to follow me around like a lost puppy… now giving me orders?

“And why exactly should I comply with you?” I snapped, glaring at him, clearly offended.

He shrugged, unfazed. “I’m doing this for you. And please,” he added, almost as an afterthought, “I’m requesting you.”

He didn’t mean a single word. It was all written across his face.

I scoffed, dismissing him with a wave of my hand. “Get out.”

He left without another word.

I let out a long sigh as the door shut behind him.

............

“Signora,” Marco greeted as I entered the office. “Santo Jr. is tied up in the basement. What’s the next move?”

His voice was calm, professional, as if he were talking about a package delivery instead of a hostage.

I didn’t pause, didn’t even blink.

The basement was dimly lit, the faint hum of electricity buzzing overhead. Santo Jr. sat tied to a metal chair, a purpling bruise blooming along his jaw, a split on his lower lip. Despite it, there was still defiance in his eyes.

Ava stood across from him, leaning against the edge of the table, arms crossed, her expression calm but cold.

“You don’t look nearly as smug without your entourage,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Santo gave her a lopsided, bloody smirk. “And you don’t look nearly as forgiving as your reputation suggests.”

“Reputation is just a game of masks,” she replied dryly. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, straightening slightly though the chains at his wrists clinked in protest.

“You know exactly what I want,” Ava said, stepping forward, her voice sharper now. “Who sent you to dig about Aria York’s history?”

The basement was dimly lit, the faint hum of electricity buzzing overhead. Santo Jr. sat tied to a metal chair, a purpling bruise blooming along his jaw, a split on his lower lip. Despite it, there was still defiance in his eyes.

Ava stood across from him, leaning against the edge of the table, arms crossed, her expression calm but cold.

“You don’t look nearly as smug without your entourage,” she said, her voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Santo gave her a lopsided, bloody smirk. “And you don’t look nearly as forgiving as your reputation suggests.”

“Reputation is just a game of masks,” she replied dryly. “You should know that better than anyone.”

“What do you want from me?” he asked, straightening slightly though the chains at his wrists clinked in protest.

“You know exactly what I want,” Ava said, stepping forward, her voice sharpening. “Who sent you digging into Aria York’s history?”

He smirked again. “Who is this person you keep asking about?”

Ava’s eyes narrowed. “Stop playing games with me, Santo. Or your father will be the one paying for your little mess.”

“Go ahead,” he shot back, chin lifting in false bravado. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

She gave a slow, cold smile. “Hmm. Then I suppose I should do it. And remember—I don’t make empty threats.”

His expression faltered—just slightly.

He swallowed.

“Fine,” he muttered. “It was someone from India. He promised he could help me take control of York Corporation.”

Ava’s eyes sharpened, her entire body stilling.

“Who was it?”

There was a flicker of hesitation. His lips trembled with unspoken fear or perhaps loyalty.

“It was…” Santo’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Vidharth Bansal.”

Author's Scribbling Point

Do you get deja vu??