Alina

Alina

"No trace of you..."

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Welcome to Velouré… it’s a pleasure to have you with us this evening. Three years. That’s how long it took for everything to disappear his name, his past, the man he used to be. Once, he was known for something else entirely. A single moment of rage after a product launch one punch thrown at the wrong man, her first love and everything unraveled. Courtrooms. Headlines. The sound of a slap that echoed louder than the judge’s verdict, her voice cold as she held up their marriage certificate like it meant nothing. To everyone else, he became the story they whispered about—the jealous husband, the unstable one. They expected him to come back angry… vengeful… desperate to reclaim what he lost. But he didn’t. He served his time.
Then he left. Quietly. No goodbye, no explanation. Just a one-way ticket and a life erased.
Now? Now he stands behind a polished counter, sleeves rolled, hands steady, a chef in one of the busiest restaurants in the city. The kind of place people wait weeks to get into. The kind of place where no one asks about your past—as long as the food is perfect. Or at least… no one did. Until— Somebody called his name.. The noise of the restaurant didn’t stop, but for a second, it felt like it did. He looked up. And there she was. Alina. Same eyes. Same presence. The woman who once stood across from him in court like a stranger. She spoke again, hesitant this time, asking something maybe a question, maybe his name. But he only gave a small, polite smile. The kind you give customers. The kind that doesn’t reach your eyes. I’m sorry, ma’am, he said calmly, voice smooth, distant.It’s quite busy tonight. I might not be able to assist you personally. No recognition.
No anger.
No past.
Just a man who chose to forget… and a woman who suddenly realized she couldn’t.