Chapter 3: The Closet of Memories

When she woke, they were already parked in the dim lot below Evan’s apartment. He sat quietly beside her, waiting. He reached over to gently shake her shoulder, the city’s neon glow casting soft shadows across his face.

The apartment was all clean lines and cool colors—black, white, and gray—minimalist and efficient, just like Evan.

Lauren wandered through, fingers trailing along a marble countertop, pausing at the perfectly organized bookshelf and spotless kitchen. It was so very Evan—controlled, orderly, but somehow inviting.

She stepped out onto the balcony, taking in the city view, then turned back with a grin. "Honestly, I figured you’d be living in a penthouse or something—like one of those over-the-top CEOs on TV. Maybe a velvet robe and a glass of whiskey?"

She laughed, picturing him as a dramatic TV boss. "Guess I’ve watched too much Succession."

"Don’t believe everything you see on TV." Evan tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch lingering. "Go freshen up."

He smiled, warm and gentle, just a little longer than necessary.

Lauren nodded, then hesitated, glancing at her rumpled clothes with a sheepish grin.

"I, uh, don’t have a change of clothes. Been running around all day, and I’m pretty sure I smell like a gym bag."

She wrinkled her nose. "Can’t exactly borrow your suit, can I?"

Evan looked down, moonlight glinting in his eyes. He took her hand, leading her toward the dressing room.

He squeezed her fingers, the warmth of his hand steadying her as they walked down the hall.

"Want to pick something from your own stuff?"

His words were casual, but there was a hint of anticipation in his voice.

He nodded toward the closet, a secretive smile tugging at his lips.

Lauren opened the door, curiosity shifting to shock as she stared inside.

They weren’t Evan’s clothes.

She reached out, fingertips brushing familiar fabric—her old college hoodie, a favorite sweater with a tiny snag, and new outfits in her size, all perfectly arranged.

The sight made her heart twist. She ran her hand over the clothes, a lump rising in her throat.

Evan wrapped his arms around her from behind, his heartbeat syncing with hers. His hand hovered at her waist, his voice low. "These are the ones you bought before. I remember you loved every single piece."

Lauren turned, studying his profile—the straight nose, the long lashes, the cool focus that masked something softer underneath.

She stepped back, pressing against his chest, her heart racing as she felt his warmth.

Even if his face was cool, his passion burned as hot as ever.

She smiled, pressing her cheek to his chest, soothed by the steady thump of his heart.

She caught his hand, threading her fingers through his.

"And these?" she asked, nodding at the row of new outfits.

There was a pause. Evan hugged her tighter, his voice solemn.

He took a deep breath. "Because I knew you’d come back. I was waiting for you."

He squeezed her gently. "I wanted you to feel at home, whenever you came back."

He’d kept everything ready, always hoping she’d walk through the door again.

A rush of emotion welled up in Lauren’s chest, bittersweet and overwhelming. By the time it reached her eyes, it turned to mist; after circling her lips, it finally became a simple, "Mm, I’m back."

Her voice was barely audible, thick with tears she refused to let fall.

Lauren leaned into his warmth, falling silent beside him.

After a while, she suddenly chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tension.

"What’s so funny?" Evan asked, his voice gentle.

He cocked his head, a smile tugging at his mouth.

"Honestly, you shouldn’t have told me there were clothes." She slipped from his arms, facing him with a sly grin. "If you hadn’t, I could’ve borrowed your shirt—maybe rocked the boyfriend look."

She waggled her eyebrows. "Pretty sure your shirts would look better on me, anyway."

Evan blinked, then broke into a laugh. "Yeah, you might be right."

For a second, he looked like the boy she remembered—open, hopeful, kind.

Lauren blushed, ducked her head, and grabbed a few clothes.

"I’m gonna go get cleaned up."

She hurried toward the bathroom, clutching her outfit.

Evan watched her until the door closed, then leaned against the frame, listening to the water run, missing her already—even just a room away.

Without her in sight, his heart was restless.

He wandered the hallway, every room feeling emptier.

He glanced at the closet, at the careful rows of her things, letting himself hope for the future.

Everything in the room carried Lauren’s scent, as if she’d never left.

He breathed in, letting the familiar fragrance calm him.

As night deepened, the apartment fell quiet.

The city’s noise faded, replaced by the soft hum of the AC and the distant roll of thunder.

Earlier, Lauren had coaxed Evan to lie beside her, tucked him in, then lay flat at his side, holding his wrist in her small hand. "Sleep," she’d whispered.

She squeezed his wrist, her thumb tracing lazy circles, her voice soft as a lullaby.

She should have been asleep by now.

But the room was filled with a gentle tension—neither wanting to let go, both afraid to break the spell.

Evan lay facing her, eyes wide open, his heart wrapped in a feeling called contentment—unable to sleep.

He watched her in the dim light, memorizing every curve of her face, every rise and fall of her breath.

How could he sleep?

He smiled to himself, knowing he’d never felt so alive.

He was afraid that if he closed his eyes, like in all those dreams, she’d be gone when he woke.

He reached out, just to reassure himself, his fingers brushing the back of her hand.

She breathed evenly, her chest rising and falling.

He counted her breaths, anchoring himself in the present.

In the dark, Lauren’s features blurred, but he could still see the outline of her smile.

Evan leaned in, stopping just short of her lips, her breath brushing his nose.

He hesitated, pulse racing.

He realized he’d gotten used to sneaking close to Lauren when she wasn’t looking—a guilty pleasure from years of missing her.

He held his breath, not wanting to break the peace.

A hand pressed to the back of his neck, pulling him down, and their lips met—soft, warm, and real.

She smiled against his lips, her laughter a gentle exhale.

Her lips tasted faintly of toothpaste, the corners curving in a smile.

She traced his jaw with her thumb, feather-light.

"What are you waiting for? If you want a kiss, just go for it." Her voice was teasing, full of laughter.

She winked, her eyes sparkling in the dark.

After a few deep kisses, Lauren let go, rolling onto her back with a contented sigh.

"Can’t sleep either," she admitted, stretching with a yawn.

"I thought..."

Evan propped himself on an elbow, curiosity in his eyes.

"You thought I was asleep? I’m a pro at faking it." Lauren grinned, nudging him. "You always were easy to fool."

Evan rested his head on her shoulder, arm around her waist, the other hand still in hers. "Why can’t you sleep?"

He traced circles on her hip, voice barely above a whisper.

"Same reason as you."

She squeezed his hand, fingers lacing through his.

Lauren patted his hand at her waist, covering it with her own.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead, gentle and reassuring.

"This time it’s real. Let’s sleep."

She smiled, eyes fluttering shut. "We’ll talk more in the morning."

There’d be plenty to say tomorrow. For now, just sleep.

She drifted off, comforted by his warmth.