A LOVE FORGOTTEN

Chapter 52: Ethan's POV

Saturday morning arrived faster than I expected. As soon as my eyes fluttered open, an unfamiliar rush of anticipation filled my chest. The quiet hum of my hotel room felt charged with something new—something I hadn't felt in a long time. Excitement. Nervousness. Expectation.

The city outside was just starting to stir, golden morning light filtering through the blinds, but my thoughts were already on her. Emily.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to shake off the lingering haze of sleep, but my mind was already racing. Our phone call last time replayed in my head on an endless loop—her voice, her agreement to meet me for coffee. It wasn't a date. Not technically. But it felt big. Like a chance. A chance to figure out why she had been living rent-free in my mind since the seminar. A chance to understand why I felt this undeniable pull toward her, like a tether I couldn't see but could feel tightening around my chest every time I thought about her.

I exhaled slowly, sitting up in bed, my hands gripping the sheets.

I had to get ready. I had to not overthink this.

Dragging myself into the bathroom, I turned on the tap and splashed cold water on my face, the sharp chill snapping me into focus. As I straightened and met my own gaze in the mirror, I barely recognized the expression staring back at me. Was that… hope?

God, when was the last time I had felt this?

The last time I had been excited about something other than work?

A soft chuckle escaped my lips, shaking my head at myself. Get a grip, Ethan.

And yet, the feeling didn't fade.

Instead, it grew.

Stepping into the shower, I let the warm water loosen the tension in my muscles, my thoughts drifting back to her. To the way her voice had sounded over the phone—soft but steady. To the way my heart had skipped, just slightly, when she agreed to meet me.

And to the way she had looked at me all those times during the seminar—like she recognized something in me that I didn't even recognize in myself.

What was it about her?

Why did I feel like I knew her… even though I didn't?

Or at least, I shouldn't.

By the time I stepped out of the shower, my nerves had fully settled in. It was ridiculous, really—I had given life-or-death presentations in front of entire surgical teams without breaking a sweat. I had handled emergencies, pressure, and life-altering decisions with ease.

And yet here I was, standing half-dressed in front of the hotel closet, debating what to wear like some clueless teenager.

Keep it simple, Ethan.

I pulled out a pair of dark jeans and a crisp white button-down. Smart, casual, but effortless. Effortless, like this wasn't a big deal. Like my stomach wasn't doing somersaults at the thought of seeing her again.

I buttoned up my shirt, ran a comb through my damp hair, and debated cologne choices like it was some kind of life-or-death decision. Eventually, I settled on something subtle—clean, fresh, nothing too overpowering.

I needed to be calm. Collected.

And yet, as I checked my watch and grabbed my keys, a pulse of adrenaline shot through me.

This wasn't just any meeting.

And deep down, I knew it.

As I locked my hotel room door and stepped into the hallway, a single thought ran through my mind, unshakable in its persistence.

I can't wait to see her again.