2 months later
Two months had passed since Jack's arrival in Berk.
It felt like a lifetime in the way he had shifted the landscape of her days, yet, in many ways, it felt like mere moments. He'd show up at gatherings and parties, silent and detached, as a figure who moved through the space with practiced ease, his attention caught elsewhere, never once landing on her. His indifference to her was palpable, like an invisible wall that neither dared to acknowledge. Jack had become a ghost in her life, and she hated him for it.
Elsa had tried to hold onto the pieces of herself that Jack had once awakened: the laughter, the warmth, the intimacy. But now, every time he walked into a room, it was as though he was erasing her, slowly, bit by bit. She could see how he avoided her gaze and kept his distance as if she carried some sickness he refused to catch.
And yet, when Astrid asked if she was okay, Elsa would put on her usual mask: an easy and convincing smile. "I've moved on," she would say, as if the words were enough to make them true. But even she didn't believe them anymore. To quiet the sting of rejection and convince herself that she had indeed let go, she told people she had been on a few dates. Yet, in truth, she hadn't.
And deep down, she knew she probably never would.
Days passed like this...silent, empty moments strung together by a faint hope that something would break the stillness one day.
But nothing came. Nothing changed.
The morning sunlight streamed through the tall office windows, casting long, slanted shadows across the conference room. Elsa sat at the head of the sleek, polished wooden table, her hands folded neatly over a thick stack of documents. She was poised, professional and the image of control. She'd always been able to mask what was inside, at least in front of others. She had learned to keep the turmoil behind the walls of her calm exterior.
Across from her, Dylan leaned back in his chair, the casual confidence in how he rested his elbow against the armrest almost…distracting. He listened intently, nodding at the appropriate moments, but Elsa couldn't help but notice how his eyes lingered on her and how they never strayed too far from her face. There was something in those eyes, something that pulled at her chest. It was a warmth, an admiration that felt foreign yet familiar. His gaze was blue, and it made her heart stutter for a moment. But not in the way Jack's eyes had once done, not with that same desperate yearning. His were a storm blue that you could sink into. Not the steady and soft that Jack's had been.
As Elsa reviewed the contract terms, her words sounded distant, like they came from someone else, someone who wasn't sitting at that table with Dylan. Her voice felt stiff in her own ears, and the rhythm of her speech was steady but hollow. She felt like she was playing a role, pretending to be someone else for a moment.
Finally, the meeting came to an end. "That concludes our discussion," she said, portraying professionalism. "It was a pleasure working with you, Mr. Carter. I look forward to hearing from you soon."
She extended her hand across the table, fingers steady despite the restless energy simmering beneath her calm exterior. Dylan took it firmly, but his hand lingered for just a moment too long. Elsa felt a slight pressure, a warmth that wasn't entirely professional, and her pulse quickened. She quickly retracted her hand, hoping it hadn't shown.
Once she stepped out of the conference room, she exhaled, pressing the folder against her chest as if the weight of the paper could somehow ground her. Her pulse had quickened, her mind still reeling from the exchange. Nothing filled the space inside her, no matter how much time passed and how many distractions she threw in her path. Jack had awakened something in her, something profound, something that refused to die.
She was hungry for it. Hungry for a kiss, for a hug, for the simplest touch. But not from just anyone. Only from Jack.
"You're married?" The voice cut through her thoughts like a blade.
Elsa blinked, turning to see Dylan standing a few feet away, arms casually crossed over his chest. There was no judgment in his voice, only curiosity, and it caught her off guard.
"Excuse me?" she asked, brow furrowing in confusion.
He gestured toward her left hand, which she had subconsciously clutched. "Your ring," he said.
Her gaze dropped to her fourth finger, and her breath hitched when she saw the familiar band. She hadn't even realized she was wearing it there. The lifeless ache in her chest pressed against her ribs was a physical manifestation of everything she had been trying to hide from. For a brief moment, she wondered if Dylan had noticed. If he had seen the way she had worn it for so long, the way it had become a symbol of everything she had lost.
Her hand trembled slightly as she slid the ring off, moving it to her right hand. The action was smooth but carried a hesitation she couldn't quite shake. "Oh, this?" she murmured, forcing a small dry laugh to escape her lips. "Just a habit. I'm not married."
Dylan tilted his head, a slow, knowing smile curling at the corners of his lips. "So, that means I have a chance?"
Her mind stalled momentarily, and then she blinked, registering the words. They were teasing and lighthearted, but the look in his eyes told her he meant them. His gaze was steady and unwavering as if he was waiting for her response.
She shifted the ring on her finger, feeling the cold metal press against her skin, grounding her. The weight of it reminded her of the life she had tried to leave behind. "Sorry," she said, her voice softening, becoming distant. "I don't date."
Dylan didn't seem deterred. If anything, his smirk deepened, the playfulness in his expression lingering. "At work? Or at all?" he asked, his voice taking on a teasing edge.
Elsa's fingers stilled against the band, its coolness a reminder of the cold space inside her. "Do I have to answer that?"
A low chuckle rumbled from Dylan's chest, and he rubbed the back of his neck. "This is kind of funny," he admitted, his smile widening. "Never imagined confessing to someone in an office."
Elsa let out a quiet breath, a small, unintentional laugh escaping her lips. "It's fine," she muttered, primarily to herself.
Dylan's expression softened, and for a moment, he stepped just a bit closer, his presence tangible in the small space between them. "You know," he began, his voice quieter now, more serious. "I admire you. We've been working together for three months now, and every day has been a blessing." His eyes never left hers. "You're strong, kind, and…well, beautiful. I know this might be a lot, but I'm only asking for a chance. No pressure, of course. If you're not interested, I'll understand."
Her heart gave a faded, tired thud. He was kind and considerate, everything a woman would want, but he wasn't Jack.
"Sure." The word escaped her lips before she could think.
Dylan blinked twice, caught off guard by her agreement. "Sure?"
A small, forced smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Seven o'clock after work. I know a place. I'll send you the location."
For a moment, Dylan stood there, a blank expression overtaking his features as he processed her words. Then, as if the realization hit him, his face broke into a wide grin, his whole demeanour lighting up. "No! I mean, yes! Absolutely. Seven it is!" He turned abruptly, heading down the hall, but just before disappearing around the corner, he threw a fist in the air, a quiet victory gesture that Elsa couldn't help but see.
She caught it, but for some reason, it only deepened the ache in her chest.
A sudden nudge from the side made her jump, and she turned to find Astrid standing there, her grin mischievous, eyes twinkling with unspoken questions.
"Goodness!" Elsa gasped, her hand flying to her chest.
"Look at you go," Astrid teased, looping an arm around Elsa's shoulder as if they were old friends. "And here, madam, your breakfast."
Elsa exhaled, taking the small lunch bag and balancing it on top of the files she carried. "I was in such a rush, I forgot to eat. And I am assuming you heard it all?"
Astrid hummed in acknowledgment, squeezing her shoulder affectionately. "If this makes you happy, then I'm happy." But then, her expression shifted, becoming more serious. She studied Elsa carefully, her eyes searching for something beneath the surface. "Do you even want this?"
Elsa hesitated, the question sinking deep into her bones. She took a slow, steady breath before answering. "I didn't really have a choice," she said, her voice quieter now, tinged with something almost regretful. She shifted the lunch bag, looking down at it for a moment. "I'll go. I'll turn him down politely."
Astrid let go of Elsa's arm, her hand lingering on her cheek just long enough to make Elsa feel vulnerable. "Elsa…it's been almost nine months. Almost a year." Her voice softened, a quiet urgency threading through the words. "Let him go."
The words landed like a blow, sharp and unexpected, and Elsa felt her chest tighten. She didn't reply immediately, instead turning and walking toward her office without looking back.
As she stepped inside, she slammed the files onto her desk with a sharp thud that echoed through the quiet room. The frustration that had been bubbling beneath the surface erupted, and before she could stop herself, a strangled, broken yell tore from her throat.
"You know I have!"
The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with the weight of everything she had yet to say. Behind her, Astrid's voice was quiet but firm, her words the final echo in the empty room.
"You still have him as your wallpaper, Elsa."
Elsa stood there, frozen, as Astrid's words lingered in the air. You still have him as your wallpaper, Elsa. The truth of it slammed into her chest with the force of a tidal wave. "Please, Astrid."
Astrid's footsteps faded as she left, the door clicking shut behind her. The office was now eerily quiet, the weight of the silence pressing in. Elsa felt her throat tighten as she glanced at her phone, the image of Jack and her still staring back at her, a constant reminder of everything she had lost.
Tears welled up, unbidden, and before she knew it, they were falling, each one a release she had held back for far too long. She didn't try to stop them, not now. Her hands shook as she wiped her face, the ache in her chest overwhelming.
There was a weak knock at the door. Astrid's gentle yet firm voice broke through the haze of emotion. "Elsa…I just want what's best for you. Please let me help."
Elsa wiped her tears, her voice barely a whisper. "Please leave, Astrid. I need to be alone."
Astrid hesitated, then spoke with a quiet, caring sincerity. "I just want you to let him go. It's hurting you. It's been too long."
Elsa's heart ached, but she didn't respond. She couldn't. The room seemed to close in around her as Astrid quietly left. Alone, Elsa sank into her chair, the tears coming again as the weight of everything pressed down on her.
The evening air was crisp, the kind of chill that lingered just enough to make you pull your coat tighter yet not enough to feel uncomfortable. Elsa wrapped her scarf around her neck, the familiar softness of the wool comforting her as she stepped through the door of the bar she had been going to for years.
Her gaze swept across the room, taking in the low tables, the dark wood, and the worn-out stools. She spotted him immediately, there he was, Dylan, already sitting at a table near the window. His broad frame was hunched forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, a drink cradled in one hand. When their eyes met, his lips stretched into a slow, easy smile, and he stood up with fluid grace, pulling out the chair opposite him.
"Didn't peg you for a place-like-this kind of woman," he said, his voice warm, teasing, as if he had just made a private joke.
Elsa gave him a small, knowing smile as she settled into the seat, her fingers automatically brushing the top of her coat as she unwound it. "I like places where no one asks too many questions." The words came out with an ease she hadn't intended, and for a moment, it surprised her. She hadn't realized how much she needed to hear that, even if she wasn't entirely sure why.
Dylan's grin widened, amused. "A little ominous, don't you think?" he teased, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest, studying her intently.
"Perhaps." Elsa's lips curved upward, but her eyes were already darting to the menu before her. She didn't need to look; she knew it by heart. She'd ordered the same thing every time. This place didn't need choices.
The waitress appeared, cutting through the moment and taking their orders efficiently. Once she left, the silence between them stretched out, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was the quiet that invited conversation and made space for words to flow naturally. And Dylan, for all his charm, was effortless at filling that silence. His stories rolled out smoothly, one after another and his voice, rich with laughter, slipped into the space between them. Each story was followed by a genuine chuckle and a teasing remark, and Elsa found herself laughing before she could stop it. It was easy to be drawn into his charm, his charisma.
And yet, despite the effortless connection they were building, there was something about him, something in how he leaned toward her or how his fingers lightly tapped on the table when he spoke, that made Elsa's chest tighten. It was so familiar as if Jack had once sat across from her, telling stories and making her feel like the most important person in the room.
The sharp contrast between the two, the way Dylan's presence felt different yet eerily similar, settled in her gut, making her feel almost uneasy, as if she was walking in someone else's shoes. He wasn't Jack, she reminded herself. His laughter wasn't the same; it didn't stir the same warmth in her veins. Though blue and full of admiration, his eyes didn't make her heart race like Jack's. And his smile, though warm, wasn't the one she had once woken up to.
"You're quiet all of a sudden," Dylan said, his voice pulling her back to the present, his gaze softening as he watched her. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
Elsa blinked, realizing she had been lost in her thoughts, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her glass. She gave a small, almost apologetic smile. "Just thinking," she said, her voice unsteady but quickly masked it with a lightness she didn't feel.
"About what?" Dylan pressed a playful glint in his eyes.
She paused, the words hanging on her tongue. But the truth was, there wasn't much to say. She wasn't thinking about anything in particular. It was more like she was feeling everything at once, the emotions tangled in her chest, making it impossible to sort through. "Nothing important," she said, waving her hand as if dismissing it all.
Dylan let it go, but not before he gave her an inquisitive look. Then, with an easy motion, he raised his glass. "Well, whatever it is, let's toast to a good night. To new beginnings," he said, his voice soft, but there was an edge like he was asking her to decide without saying it outright.
Elsa picked up her glass and clinked it lightly against his, the sound small but resonant in the quiet space between them. "To a good night," she repeated.
It wasn't a bad night. It was nice, even. And yet, as the evening wore on, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing. The laughter was light, but there was no weight or depth. She couldn't shake the emptiness that followed her, no matter how charming or easy Dylan was.
When the check arrived, Dylan grabbed it before she had a chance to reach for her wallet. "My treat," he said, his voice casual, though there was a glimmer of something like expectation.
Elsa didn't argue. It was the simplest way to avoid confrontation. She wasn't in the mood to argue about who paid or how it should be divided.
They stepped outside into the cool night air, the city's noise fading into the background. Elsa fumbled with her phone in her pocket, its familiar weight reminding her of everything she had been trying to forget. The cold air nipped at her cheeks, but she barely felt it.
She just wanted to escape, if only for a moment.
As she pulled her phone out, the screen lit up, and Dylan glanced at it as he walked beside her. His steps faltered, just for a second, but it was enough to catch Elsa's attention. He didn't say anything, but she could feel the shift in the air, the sudden tightness in his posture.
She looked down at her screen, and there it was.
The photo.
Jack's arm wrapped around her waist, his lips pressed gently to her temple. The photo had been there for months, a reminder she hadn't yet found the courage to erase.
Dylan's voice broke the silence, but it was quieter now, almost hesitant. "I just remembered. I've got an early meeting tomorrow. I should probably head out."
The excuse was smooth and well-rehearsed. It stung, though, more than she expected. She didn't protest because it ended as she wanted it.
"It was a good night," Dylan said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Take care, Elsa."
Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the dark. Elsa stood frozen for a moment, the weight of his absence pressing on her chest. She didn't feel angry. Or sad. Just empty.
Her eyes dropped back to her phone, and the screen still showed Jack. His face, his warmth, his touch. A ghost of a life she once lived, now slipping further away with each passing day.
And she knew, deep down, that the ache would never go away.