THE COST OF LOVING YOU

The Interview

Lydia took a slow breath before opening the door.

She stepped inside, her heels soft against the office carpet, and the moment felt strangely still. The room was modern, bright, neatly arranged. A wall of windows behind the desk. A few framed certificates. The faint smell of coffee.

And then she saw him. Paul. Sitting behind the desk. But she didn’t recognize him.

Not in the crisp button-down shirt. Not without the movie-theater casual look. Not with that intense, focused expression he wore at work.

He didn’t look like the man who bought popcorn. He looked like a man in charge. Paul glanced up from the papers in his hand.

A woman walked in — confident, graceful, put-together. Smooth glowing skin. Dark curls. Full lips. Eyes that held something soft but strong underneath.

He had no idea he’d seen her before. No hat. No uniform.No popcorn bucket between them. Just a woman with an impressive résumé and presence that hit him quicker than he expected.

“Good morning,” he said, voice deep and firm. “You must be Miss Finn.”

“Yes,” she replied, taking the seat he gestured to. “Good morning, Mr.Moss .”

The sound of her voice tugged at him for half a second.

Familiar.

But he couldn’t place it.

He brushed it off.

He didn’t stare. Didn’t linger. That wasn’t his style. But there was something… something he wasn’t used to feeling in an interview room.

Lydia met his eyes for a moment too long.

She felt it — a pull she didn’t understand. Not attraction. Not nerves. Just… something stirring under her skin.

Why did his voice sound familiar? Why did his face feel like half a memory?

She blinked it away. Focus, she told herself. You need this job.

Paul went through his questions  direct, professional, steady.

But every so often, when she answered, her tone, her expression, the curve of her smile… it brushed up against a memory from that movie night. One he didn’t even realize was stored.

“Your experience is strong,” he said, flipping a page. “You handled a lot of responsibilities at your last job.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “Until they downsized.”

Her voice again.

He tapped his pen lightly. Something clicked in him — faintly, but there. He’d heard her speak before. But where?

Then it happened. She shifted in her chair. The exact way she leaned slightly forward — the same way she’d leaned across the popcorn counter to hand his son the bucket.

And just like that… Paul froze. A flash. A voice. A shy boy saying, “Thank you, Miss.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, not unkind, just searching.“Wait…” he said slowly, almost under his breath. “Have we met before?”

Lydia’s heart thumped once — hard. She tried to think. Tried to replay faces from the theater. Customers. Families.Then she saw it. Not him, but Noah’s smile. Her breath caught.

“Oh…” she whispered. “You… you were at the theater. With your boys.”

His jaw tightened just a little — surprised.

He remembered the moment right after she did. Fate had chosen him first… but only by a second.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning back. “You were working there.”

They stared at each other — not with desire, not with fantasy — but with the strange, electric awareness of two people who weren’t supposed to meet twice.

And yet here they were.

Lydia tried to look away. “That was weeks ago. I didn’t think—”

“It’s fine,” he cut in gently. “I just didn’t recognize you at first.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t flirt. But something in his voice shifted. Softer. Lower. Just slightly warmer than before.

Lydia felt it straight down her spine.

The room was silent for a moment. Not awkward. Just full… charged… waiting.

And then Paul cleared his throat, forcing the professionalism back into place.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s continue.”

But nothing was the same anymore. Something unseen had already started between them — small, subtle, impossible to name.

The kind of thing fate doesn’t explain… only reveals.