Too Late, My Love, You Lost Me

Ella Rosales's POV:

It was my seventh day in LA.

I was sitting at the kitchen island in Carly's house, sketching designs for a potential client. Before dedicating myself to chasing after Holden, I used to work as a designer.

Then, my old phone buzzed.

It was a text from Olivia, a mutual friend of mine and Holden's back in New York.

"Hey, Ella! How are you doing? When are you coming back to New York? We miss you!"

I paused, then replied: "Hey Liv! I'm doing well. Not sure when I'm coming back, no plans for now."

Olivia immediately fired back another text: "Ugh, come on! Next week is my birthday! You have to come to my party! It won't be the same without you."

I hesitated. Going back to New York, going back to that circle, meant seeing Holden, or at least dealing with his ghost. I wasn't ready for that. "I'm sorry, Liv, I can't make it. But I promise to send you a surprise."

"Oh well, don't worry about it, I totally understand," she replied, a hint of resignation in her tone. "Take care of yourself, okay? We're all thinking about you."

A moment later, another call notification popped up. It was Olivia calling. I picked it up.

"Ella! Thank God you answered," she said, her voice sounding a bit too overly enthusiastic. "Listen, Holden wants to talk to you."

I heard muffled voices on her end, and then Holden's voice came through, a forced nonchalance in his tone. "Ella? You're alive. Your friends have been worried sick."

"Holden," I said flatly, "what do you want?"

"I just wanted to see if you'd come back for Liv's party," he said. "Everyone is asking about you, and it's getting a little awkward." He paused, then added, "I know things ended a bit messy between us, but we were together for seven years. We can handle this like adults."

I could hear murmuring in the background. "She's not backing down, is she?" I recognized the voice as one of Holden's sycophants.

Holden ignored him. "Come on, Ella. Don't be so immature. Your little vacation is over. Time to come back to reality."

Before I could respond, a woman's voice came over the line. "Holden, just talk to her. She'll listen to you. She always listens." It was Olivia, clearly trying to play peacemaker. "She's just heartbroken. You know how sensitive she is."

They were still treating me like the weak, submissive Ella.

"Liv," I said, my voice firm, "I'm not coming back. And please, stop passing my personal information on to Holden."

Stunned silence fell on Olivia's end. "Ella? What are you talking about?"

"Goodbye, Liv. Happy birthday." I hung up the phone.

Holden Burks's POV:

The call disconnected.

Olivia's voice, though somewhat muffled, drifted across the room. "She's not coming back, Holden. She said not to give you her info anymore."

I stared at the screen of Olivia's phone in her hand, my knuckles turning white. Ella's name softly glowed on the screen. My jaw clenched tight.

"Holden, don't be mad," Olivia said timidly, "She's really hurt. She even took the ring off. Honestly, you and that new girl at the Met... that was a bit much."

"Shut up, Liv!" I roared, standing up from the sofa and crushing my cigarette into the ashtray. "What the hell do you know?"

I was burning with rage. Who was she to judge me? Who was Ella to ignore me?

"Hey, calm down, man," Mark, Olivia's husband, said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "She's just in a bad mood. She always gets over it quickly."

"Nobody mention her fucking name again!" I bellowed. "None of you are allowed to contact her anymore! You hear me?"

My friends exchanged awkward glances but nodded anyway. "Holden, you don't look so good," Olivia said softly. "Your stomach is acting up again, isn't it? Only Ella knows how to calm you down."

Her words hit me right where it hurt.

When Ella was around, she monitored my drinking, preventing my stomach ulcers from flaring up.

My expression darkened. They were right. Ever since she left, I hadn't been able to sleep or eat properly. The apartment was empty and freezing cold.

I missed her calm, capable nature. I missed her unwavering support. I missed her.

But I refused to admit it.

I stormed out, slamming the door behind me. The cold night wind did nothing to cool my fury.

Ella. She actually had the nerve to cut me off. I never thought she would do something like this. Her silence, her refusal to respond, stuck in my throat like a fishbone. It was intentional, calculated. She had changed. I didn't like it.

My thumb hovered over her contact in my phone, and I hit "Block."

"Then don't come back. You'll regret it, Ella. I swear."