Talia woke up with a headache, but it wasn't from champagne. It was an emotional hangover, a dull ache of pure disappointment.
She felt foolish.
For a few hours, she had let herself believe in something, a mysterious, fated, romantic liar.
A married liar.
The word echoed in her mind as she dragged herself to the kitchen, her feet heavy. Elara was already there, bright and full of energy, pulling walking boots from a closet.
"No," Talia groaned, slumping into a chair. "Auntie, please. I just... I don't want to go."
"Nonsense," Elara said, her voice a bit too cheerful. She was clearly trying to manage things after their conversation last night. "This is exactly what we are doing. We're not going to let some sad-eyed, silver-tongued, probably-married ghost ruin your holiday. We're going to a beautiful, 40-acre park. We're going to breathe in air that doesn't smell like coffee and mystery. And we're going to... cleanse."
Talia sighed. There was no arguing with Elara on a mission. "Fine. Cleansing. Great."
An hour later, she stood at the entrance to Fletcher Moss Park, a sprawling botanical garden. The air was cool and smelled of damp earth and pine. It was beautiful. And she hated it.
She was too angry to be cleansed. She was furious at "Jadon." She was angry at herself for being so foolish and easy. After being a shut-in for three years, the first handsome, mysterious man who listened to her had her ready to... what? Have an affair?
"I'm not talking about him," Talia announced as they started down a tree-lined path.
"Good!" Elara said. "I'm not either. Look! A squirrel! How lovely."
They walked in silence for ten minutes, Elara clearly wanting to talk about him while Talia radiated an aura of pure gloom. They rounded a bend, descending a small, stone staircase into the Rock Garden, a secluded area filled with ferns and small, trickling streams.
"See?" Elara said. "Isn't this better? No men. No... oh."
Talia's head snapped up.
A runner. A man was running up the stairs toward them, his head down, music clearly blaring from the white earbuds in his ears. He was fast.
"Oh, look out—" Elara started.
But it was too late. Talia, lost in her dark thoughts, stood directly in his path.
"Oof—"
The man slammed into her, not hard enough to knock her over but a solid, jarring collision.
"Oh my God," Talia yelped, stumbling back. "I'm so—"
The man pulled out his earbuds, his chest heaving, his face slick with sweat. He was breathing hard. "I'm so sorry, I... I had my music on, I didn't even... Talia?"
Talia's world, which had been gray with anger, just imploded.
It was him.
Jadon.
He stood right in front of her. Not as a king. Not as a ghost. But as a normal person. He wore dark, expensive-looking running gear, his hair damp and mussed, and his face flushed with exertion. He looked gorgeous. He looked healthy. He looked...
Talia's eyes flicked down to his left hand.
It was bare.
No ring. No tan line from a ring, recently removed. Just a strong, bare, unmarried hand.
He had seen them.
He'd been there since 8 AM. Kael's team had done a full, 24-hour analysis. They knew this was Elara's "Tuesday-morning-clear-your-head" walk. They knew she always took the Rock Garden stairs at exactly 10:15.
He had been running sprints up and down a nearby hill for ten minutes, working up a genuine sweat. The earbuds were a prop, but the panting breath was real.
He had taken the stairs with perfect timing, his head down.
And then he had slammed into her.
He "fumbled," pulling out his earbuds. He looked "surprised," then "embarrassed." It was the performance of his life.
"Talia?"
He watched her face. He saw the shock, the anger, the confusion.
And then he saw it. The flick of her eyes. Down to his left hand.
Got her.
In that half-second, he silently shattered her "married" theory. He watched the hostile armor melt away, replaced by a deeper, delicious confusion.
"This... this is..." Elara's voice, filled with stunned awe, broke the silence. "This is you."
Talia's head snapped to her aunt, her face flushed with mortification. "Auntie, don't."
"This is 'Jadon'!" Elara exclaimed, her eyes wide, looking between him and Talia. "The one from... Didsbury!"
Jadon, his mind sharp and focused, seized the moment. He turned to Elara, extending his hand, his face showing polite charm.
"I... I am. Jadon," he said, breathing hard. "And... I'm sorry. I... I wasn't looking. You must be... Talia's aunt?"
"Elara Levine," she said, shaking his hand, her gaze fixed on him. "And you... you're real."
"Auntie!" Talia cried, her voice an urgent squeak of horror. "I... we... he... stop!"
Jadon turned back to Talia. He needed to close the deal.
"Talia," he said, his voice soft and apologetic. "I... I'm sorry. Again. This is... getting ridiculous. I promise I'm not... following you."
"We're... we're just... cleansing!" Elara chimed in, unhelpfully.
"I just..." Jadon rubbed the back of his neck, looking flustered, awkward, and, most importantly, single. "I felt like an idiot yesterday. After our coffee."
This got Talia's full attention. "What... why?"
"Because," he said, pouring all the real, raw obsession from his observations into this simple, vulnerable lie. "Because I talked to you for three hours. I had the best conversation I've had in years. And then... I let you walk away. I didn't even get your number."
He met her eyes. "I've been kicking myself all night. I was wondering if... maybe... I could?"
The silence was absolute.
Talia just stared at him.
He wasn't married. He wasn't a liar. He was interested. He was... shy.
It all made sense. The hesitation. The mystery.
A slow, dazzling smile broke across her face. "Oh," she said, her voice soft and breathless. "Oh. I thought... I..."
"She thought you were married!" Elara blurted out.
"ELARA!"
"Well, you did!"
Jadon's face showed a perfect mix of shock, confusion, and then... a deep, rumbling laugh.
"Married?" he said, the laugh making him sound even more attractive. "No. Just busy. And apparently terrible at this."
He pulled out his phone from his running armband. "So...?"
"Yes," Talia breathed, her own dead phone suddenly in her hand, thanks to Elara. "Yes. Of course."
They exchanged numbers. He now officially had her contact. He was no longer just the stalker. He was invited.
"Okay," he said, smiling at her, a genuine "Jadon-from-the-café" smile. "I should... finish my run."
"Yes," Talia said, her voice still breathless.
"I'll... text you?" he asked, uncertain but hopeful.
"Okay."
He put his earbuds back in, gave a small nod to Elara, and ran past them, up the stairs, and out of sight.
Talia stood still, her phone in her hand, her heart racing with excitement.
Elara put an arm around her, her grin triumphant.
"See?" Elara said, her voice glowing with satisfaction. "What did I tell you? Bashert. Fate."