6 months pior to the setup
Olivia sat in the plush armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window of her hotel suite, her laptop open on the sleek marble table beside her. The soft hum of the city below drifted through the thick glass, a blend of distant car horns and the occasional burst of laughter from the bustling streets. Dubai never slept. It was a city that shimmered under the desert moon like a mirage come to life—modern, extravagant, and always moving.
Her hotel, the Burj Al Arab, was nothing short of opulence wrapped in architectural brilliance. The suite was adorned with gold-accented decor, deep blue velvet furnishings, and a sprawling balcony that overlooked the Persian Gulf. The marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of recessed lighting, and a fresh fruit platter sat on the glossy counter beside a complimentary bottle of Dom Pérignon, courtesy of the concierge, who had addressed her by name upon arrival. The bed, dressed in Egyptian cotton sheets, looked like something out of a royal palace, and the bathroom boasted a freestanding soaking tub positioned under a panoramic window. Every detail screamed indulgence, and yet, sitting there with a half-finished work report on her screen, she still felt the familiar pull of the past.
Two years.
Two years since she had walked away from Paul the asshat and his seven years of wasted promises. Seven years of compromise, of waiting, of believing she had a future with him when, in reality, she had been nothing more than a placeholder. A convenient filler for the life he actually wanted—with someone else. It was almost laughable now, how she had once adjusted, stayed, and endured, thinking that love was about patience.
It wasn't.
Love was about being chosen. Being seen. Being irreplaceable.
Paul? He had never truly chosen her—not once.
She exhaled sharply and glanced back at her screen, trying to refocus on the regulatory compliance report she was supposed to be finalizing. Pharmacology was predictable. Safe. Unlike love, it had clear rules, defined outcomes, and no risk of broken hearts.
Her phone buzzed beside her, pulling her from her spiral of thoughts. She glanced at the screen. Rebecca.
With a sigh, she answered, her voice shifting into something lighter. "Hey, Becca."
"You forgot, didn't you?" her sister teased before Olivia could even say hello.
"I did not forget. I was just… confirming my plans," Olivia lied, stretching her legs across the chaise.
Rebecca scoffed. "Uh-huh. Well, consider this your official reminder. Michael's already planned the whole thing, and the twins are excited. You know they adore their Aunt Liv."
Olivia smiled at the mention of her niece and nephew. Rebecca and Michael had built the kind of life people wrote about—stable, loving, perfect. The opposite of what she had with Paul the asshat.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Olivia said, meaning it. No matter how much she loved traveling, nothing could replace family.
"Good. Now, where in the world are you this time?" Rebecca asked with a laugh.
Olivia smirked. "Take a guess."
"Hm. Somewhere with five-star room service, a view, and a minibar stocked with champagne?"
"Obviously."
Rebecca paused. "Europe?"
"Further."
"Oh, don't tell me—Asia?"
"Warmer."
"Dubai?"
"Ding ding ding."
Rebecca groaned. "Of course, you're in Dubai. What's it like?"
"A fever dream," Olivia admitted, glancing out at the glittering skyline. "Everything is over-the-top. Like, even the McDonald's looks like it should have a dress code. I walked past a gold vending machine earlier, Becca. A vending machine. For actual gold bars."
Rebecca burst out laughing. "I don't even know why I'm surprised. You really do have the best job."
Olivia smiled. She did.
Being a remote pharmacist had turned out to be the perfect career for her. Most people pictured pharmacists behind a counter, stuck in the same place for years, but Olivia had found a way to turn her expertise into a passport to the world. Consulting with clients, reviewing prescriptions, ensuring safe medication use—it was all done online, giving her the freedom to be anywhere.
"You know, you could have done this too," Olivia teased.
Rebecca scoffed. "Please. You know I'd never survive your lifestyle. I like a set schedule, school drop-offs, and knowing where I'm sleeping every night."
Olivia grinned. "That's why we balance each other out."
Rebecca sighed. "True. And I love that you're living your best life, but seriously, don't forget about Dad's birthday. Are you flying in?"
Olivia glanced at her laptop, the email notifications piling up. She had a full workload, but…
"I'll make it happen," she said, and she meant it.
Because no matter how far she roamed, home would always be waiting
"I'll make it happen," she said, and she meant it.