Everything Is A Mess
Remi’s POV
The restaurant Asher chose was a quiet, upscale Italian place tucked into a less chaotic part of the city. Dim lighting, soft music, and the scent of garlic and fresh basil filled the air. It wasn’t the kind of place where deals were made or celebrations were held. It was where people went when they needed to talk.
I arrived first, settling into a booth by the window. The night before had drained me, and even though I had gotten a few hours of sleep, I still felt heavy.
Asher walked in a few minutes later, his usual confident stride dimmed by something quieter. Something I couldn’t quite place.
“Hey,” he said, sliding into the seat across from me.
I managed a small smile. “Hey.”
He studied me for a moment, then sighed. “You look exhausted.”
I huffed a laugh. “Thanks. Always great to hear.”
“I mean it,” he said, leaning forward. “Are you okay?”
I wanted to lie. I wanted to say of course, throw out a casual I’m fine, and move on. But I was too tired to pretend.
I shrugged. “Not really.”
He nodded slowly, like he expected that. “I heard about your award. Congrats.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, running my finger along the edge of the menu.
There was a pause before he spoke again, his voice softer. “I also heard about Claire.”
My throat tightened. I looked up at him, expecting sympathy, but what I got instead was guilt.
“Asher…”
“I should’ve been there,” he said, shaking his head. “I should’ve been better. A better friend. Instead, I let my own anger get in the way.”
I sighed. “Asher, I get why you were upset. You were right, in a way.”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” he muttered. “I was harsh. And you didn’t need that. You needed support.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
The waiter came by, interrupting the heaviness in the air. We both ordered—pasta for me, steak for him—and waited until he was gone before speaking again.
Asher leaned back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Things have been awful lately. Business is… rough.”
I raised an eyebrow. “That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear from you.”
He let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, well, I never thought I’d have to say it. I made a few bad decisions, trusted the wrong people. Now I’m paying for it.”
I frowned. “How bad is it?”
“Bad enough that if I don’t turn things around soon, I might have to sell part of my company.”
I blinked. “Asher.”
“I know,” he said quickly, holding up a hand. “It’s temporary. I’ll fix it. I always do.”
I wanted to believe that. But I also knew Asher—his pride, his need to handle everything alone.
He sighed. “But this isn’t about me. I asked you here because I wanted to check on you.”
I forced a smile. “I already told you, I’m fine.”
He gave me a look. “Remi.”
I swallowed.
And then, without warning, it all crashed down.
My eyes burned. My chest ached. My hands trembled as I stared down at the table.
“Asher…” My voice cracked. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”
And just like that, I broke.
I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white. My throat felt tight, like if I tried to speak, I’d choke on the emotions clawing their way up.
“Asher…” My voice wavered. “Everything is a mess.”
He didn’t say anything, just waited.
I took a shaky breath. “Claire woke up, and for a second, I thought—” My lips pressed together, trying to keep from crying. “I thought it was going to be okay. But then she looked at me, and she screamed like I was some kind of monster. And I just… froze.”
Asher’s hands curled into fists, his expression darkening. “What do you mean, she screamed?”
I swallowed hard. “She panicked. Like she didn’t recognize me. Like I was the reason she was in that bed.”
“She’s been through hell, Remi,” he said gently. “You know that.”
“I know that,” I whispered. “But it doesn’t change how it felt. And then that doctor—Dr. Simmons—basically told me I shouldn’t have been there. That I made it worse.”
Asher’s jaw clenched. “I don’t like that guy.”
I let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah, well, neither do I.”
Silence stretched between us, the weight of everything pressing down.
I stared out the window, my fingers gripping the table. “And then there’s this town. The way people look at me. The whispers. The judgment. No matter what I do, it’s like I can’t escape it.”
Asher exhaled, shaking his head. “They don’t matter.”
“They do,” I said, my voice small. “They always have.”
He leaned forward, his voice firm but kind. “Remi, you have saved lives. You built something incredible from nothing. These people? They talk because they have nothing better to do. But you? You matter.”
I blinked rapidly, looking down.
“You’re stronger than you think,” Asher continued. “You always have been.”
I let out a shaky breath. “Then why do I feel so tired?”
Asher sighed, reaching across the table. He didn’t touch me, just rested his hand close to mine. “Because you never stop. Because you carry too much. Because you refuse to let anyone help you.”
I bit my lip, my shoulders sagging.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he murmured. “Let people in, Remi.”
I wiped at my eyes, trying to regain control of myself.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then Asher smirked. “Also, next time Dr. Simmons talks down to you, let me know. I’ll handle it.”
A laugh bubbled up from my chest, surprising me. “Oh? You’d fight a doctor for me?”
He shrugged. “I’d win.”
I shook my head, still smiling. For the first time in days, I felt just a little lighter.
****
Rowan had only meant to stop by.
That was what he told himself as he stepped into the restaurant, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the room for a familiar face.
He hadn’t seen Remi since the awards ceremony, since their eyes met across the room after Lucian had been dragged away. He wasn’t even sure why he was here—why he cared.
But then he saw her.
Sitting in a booth near the window, shoulders tense, fingers curled around a glass of water.
His feet moved before his mind could catch up.
He was about to approach when another man slid into the seat across from her. Rowan stopped short, frowning as he recognized him.
Asher.
He knew the name. Knew the man. Not well, but enough to know Asher had been in Remi’s life for a long time.
Rowan stepped back quickly, ducking into an empty booth nearby, angled just enough to see them. His assistant, Callum, and two of his guards lingered a few feet away, exchanging looks.
Callum raised an eyebrow. “Are we… spying now?”
“Shut up,” Rowan muttered, eyes locked on Remi.
He told himself he wasn’t eavesdropping.
But then she spoke.
And he listened.
\---
“I don’t know how much more I can take,” Remi whispered, her voice raw.
Rowan stiffened.
She was upset.
“I thought when Claire woke up, things would get better,” she continued, running a hand through her hair. “But I made it worse. And now I feel like I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
Rowan’s brows furrowed.
She sounded... exhausted. Broken.
That wasn’t the Remi he knew. The one who always stood tall, who threw back every sarcastic remark he gave her with twice the sharpness.
Asher sighed. “You know, this isn’t the first time you’ve felt like this.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “No, it’s not.”
There was a pause before she said, voice quieter now, “You remember back then, don’t you? When I was just the charity case? When no one thought I’d amount to anything?”
Rowan’s frown deepened. Charity case?
Asher nodded. “I remember.”
Rowan barely breathed as he listened, his fingers tightening against the table.
Because something about this felt wrong.
Something about this conversation, about the way Remi was talking—
Like he had been there. Like she had been in his world before.
Like he had known her.
His stomach twisted.
He had pushed those memories away for so long. The accident, the gaps in his mind—he had stopped trying to piece them together.
But now, sitting here, hearing her say charity case…
Something shifted.
Who was Remi to me before?
A waiter suddenly appeared beside him, shattering his thoughts.
“Would you like to order anything, sir?”
Rowan barely looked up.
Callum, his assistant, sighed. “No, he won’t. We’re leaving.”
The waiter hesitated before nodding and walking away.
Rowan exhaled, leaning back into the booth.
Remi and Asher had gone quiet. He couldn’t hear anything else from their conversation, and staying any longer would just look suspicious.
He tapped his fingers against the table, thinking.
“Let’s go,” he finally muttered, standing up.
Callum didn’t argue. The guards followed as they stepped out of the restaurant and into the waiting car.
Once inside, Rowan stared out the window, jaw tight.
The city lights blurred past, but his mind was still stuck on what he’d overheard.
Charity case.
No one thought I’d amount to anything.
His fingers curled against his knee.
That phrase—it meant something. It wasn’t just a passing comment. It tugged at something deep in his mind, something buried under years of lost memories.
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