Chapter 37: Humiliation
Ella barely slept a wink.
The hours crawled by in agonizing silence, her mind replaying every second of last night’s encounter with Nicholas like a broken record. Every glance, every smirk, every teasing word still clung to her skin, making it impossible to forget.
By the time the sun finally rose, she felt like a mess—tired, flustered, and far too aware of the man sitting across from her at the coffee shop.
Nicholas looked as composed as ever. Not a single trace of the night before lingered on him. He was dressed in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark hair slightly tousled—like he hadn’t even bothered to run a comb through it.
The glasses were gone.
Like they’d never existed.
Ella kept her eyes fixed on her lukewarm latte, stirring it aimlessly. She could feel his gaze flick toward her every now and then—calculated, patient.
Waiting.
He knew exactly why she was avoiding him.
But he didn’t say a word.
He barely spoke at all—just sipped his coffee, scrolling through his phone between bites of a croissant, his sharp features drawn into their usual mask of cool detachment.