Oscar was practically seething with rage. But with so many guests watching, it would be catastrophic to cause a scene. He swallowed it all down, barely.

And right on cue, like a well-rehearsed drama, Diana played her part to perfection. "Maya, don't argue with Oscar anymore, okay? He's really been torn up about all this. While you were gone… he couldn't even sleep some nights because he missed you so much—"

"Enough," Oscar cut in sharply. He reached out to take her hand with a show of sudden tenderness, subtly signaling the emcee to continue the ceremony. "Let's just move on."

Maya, standing a few feet away, saw right through him. She had known Oscar too long, too well—his tells were etched in her memory like lines in stone. He was angry. But unlike the past, she had no energy left to soothe him.

Without another glance, she turned and walked out of the venue.

Back at what used to be their shared residence, Maya sighed. Her father's health had been declining over the past few years, and the household had effectively been taken over by her overly ambitious stepmother. So when she returned to Elminas, she never once considered going back to the Beckham family home.

She had rented a modest place on her own, something quiet and tucked away. But Oscar had insisted—dragged her, really—into staying at his place.

Now, standing amidst half-packed boxes, she began methodically folding her things. The irony wasn't lost on her. Had she known this return would turn into such chaos, she'd have declined Oscar from the start. It had been over a month since she moved in, and she had made this place feel like a home.

It took her a full three hours to sort everything out before moving out.

By the time she lay down on the bed in her new apartment, her body was aching and her mind was drained. Sleep swallowed her whole almost instantly.

In her dreams, she was back in university again.

She remembered those days so clearly—the thrill of youth, the giddy rush of love. They had gone to different universities, but every weekend, Oscar would take the metro all the way to see her, no matter how far. By graduation, the stack of tickets he had collected could rival the thickness of a novel.

She used to crave the sound of his voice teasing her, lifting her out of her studies or her melancholy. Later, when she was ill and alone overseas, it was these memories that kept her afloat. They were her anchor in the storm.

Eventually, she'd met someone new—Charles Barrett. A chance encounter turned ally, turned perhaps something more. With his connections and quiet influence, he helped her find treatment and recover.

And yet… every day, her thoughts drifted back to Oscar.

Charles had always been attentive, always there with the perfect gesture at the perfect moment. She felt flustered by his care, often unsure of how to respond.

For the sake of that bright, youthful love she once had, she had turned him down. Not once. Not twice. But six times.

And after the sixth, she'd made her decision.

"I'll wait for you one last time," Charles had told her, his voice unusually fragile. "If he treats you badly… or if he's already chosen someone else, then come back to me. Try being with me, just once."

Charles had no shortage of admirers. He was handsome and rich. He didn't need to chase anyone. But he chased her.

And maybe that's why she sighed then—because in that moment, she realized they were the same kind of people. Stubborn. Hopelessly so.

She woke with her cheeks damp, the residue of her dreams clinging to her skin. She had cried in her sleep.

Quietly, Maya wiped her tears away and swung her legs off the bed. She thought about making something to eat.

But just as she stepped into the hallway, a strange sound from outside the door made her freeze.

Her stomach dropped.

She had picked this apartment in a rush. The building wasn't exactly top-tier, and the security? Questionable, at best.

Could it be a burglar?

Instinctively, she reached for her phone and typed out a message to Oscar for help.

A moment later, his reply came: [You're really using something like this just to trick me now? I'm with Diana. Stop making a fuss, okay?]

The words hit her like a slap.

She stared at the screen. Since when did she ever joke about something like this?

Maybe he just didn't want to come. Maybe that was all.

She muted his messages and was about to call the police when—

A lazy, familiar voice drifted through the door.

"Maya… you awake?"

It was Charles.

Maya visibly relaxed the moment she saw him. "What are you doing here? I never told you where I moved."

Charles gave a low chuckle. "Since when have I ever needed you to tell me what I want to know? If I hadn't shown up, someone might've bullied you to death already."

Both Charles and Maya hailed from Conlay City—though their stations in life couldn't have been more different.

The Barrett family was not only the wealthiest in Conlay City but a political dynasty with fingers in every pie imaginable. Charles, as the heir to this empire, could uncover the secrets of royalty if he wanted. Locating one woman was child's play.

Maya pressed her lips together, equal parts annoyed and touched. After a quick tidy-up, she followed him out to the living room and stopped short.

There he was, Charles, the devilishly handsome princeling of Conlay City, wearing a frilly pink apron with cartoon bunnies, carrying a steaming tray of food. It was such a ridiculous mismatch that Maya, despite her turbulent mood, let out a surprised laugh.

"Tell me you made the ribs I like? I'm starving." She flopped unceremoniously into a chair at the dining table, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. Abroad, she'd had the pleasure of experiencing Charles's cooking firsthand.

The first time she tasted the ribs he made, she'd nearly cried.

"You're supposed to be a pampered heir. How do you even know how to cook like this?"

Charles winked. "If I told you I learned just to take care of you, would that move you to tears?"

Back then, she'd dismissed his words as some elaborate joke—until she once caught him hunched over a tablet, watching amateur cooking tutorials and scribbling notes like a diligent student. He had spent hours attempting new recipes just to make meals she might like.

"I didn't manage to get ribs today, so you'll have to settle for what I could put together," he said apologetically.

Maya nodded and dug in, clearly disappointed but too hungry to care.

Charles sat beside her, watching the way she devoured the food, feeling a pang in his chest. Just a month away, and his little foodie had wasted away.

She was thinner. Paler. And exhausted in a way that no amount of sleep could fix.

And still, she pined for Oscar.

Charles's jaw tensed. The reports he'd received from his well-placed sources had already told him everything. Oscar had let Diana pull her usual petty tricks, completely blind to the manipulation right in front of him—and worse, he'd allowed those tricks to hurt Maya.

The moment Charles heard, he'd abandoned all his appointments, left his overseas meetings hanging, and flown straight back to Conlay City. Maya needed him—damn the consequences.

And she was such a fool. Just before returning home, she had subtly, almost pitifully, hinted that Charles should consider investing in Oscar's business.

But Charles had already done his research. Oscar's company was crumbling from the inside out—glossy on the surface, hollow within. It was but a failing empire clinging to past glories.

"Charles, I'm still hungry," Maya said, crumbs clinging to the corners of her lips.

Charles chuckled and leaned in, wiping them away. She froze, a flicker of emotion flashing across her face before she quickly turned away.

"I can do it myself," she mumbled, embarrassed.

Her feelings for Oscar might have withered, but she didn't want things with Charles to move too quickly. It felt… like cheating. Like using him as a backup plan. And she wasn't that kind of girl.

Charles didn't mind. Unbothered, he got up to head back to the kitchen, planning to cook something else for her.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

A familiar voice came crashing through the door—loud, frustrated, self-righteous.

"Maya, why didn't you tell me you were moving? What kind of tantrum is this? What did I do wrong this time? Four years ago, you ghosted me. Disappeared without a word. And now you're doing it again? I'm human too, you know! Do you even care how I feel?"

Oscar sounded like a man utterly unaware of the gravity of his own sins. In his mind, all he'd done was help Diana fulfill a harmless little dream. Surely that didn't warrant Maya's dramatic exit?

Yes, he'd snapped at her a little. Said some things in anger. But right after that, he'd panicked and rushed home to check on her.

Instead, he was greeted by an empty apartment and a single note on the table:

"Goodbye."

Cursing under his breath, Oscar had gotten in his car and driven like a madman, determined to find her.

Maya furrowed her brows, just about to speak, when Charles got to the door before she could even make a sound.

"Who are you?" he asked casually.

Standing there, face like thunder, was Oscar. The moment he saw a strange man answering the door, his expression darkened as if a storm had broken over his head.

"I'm Maya's boyfriend," Charles said smoothly. "Is there a problem?"

Oscar froze for half a beat. Then his face turned the color of bad wine.

"Boyfriend?" he barked. "What nonsense is this? Maya, come out here and explain this to me right now!"

Inside, Maya had heard every word. Of course, she had—Charles's declaration was clearly for her benefit. She stepped forward, her voice calm but warning, "Charles, don't mess around."

"I'm not," he replied, turning his head to look at her, his eyes unwavering.

Oscar was losing whatever composure he had left. "Maya, what is going on here? Explain it to me!"

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. How could she explain without making either of them look bad? She didn't want Oscar to misunderstand her, but she also didn't want to embarrass Charles, who was clearly standing up for her.

"What's there to explain?" Charles said with a derisive laugh. "The truth's right in front of you. I've been chasing her for years, and she's finally agreed to be with me."

Oscar's fists clenched. A vein throbbed at his temple. "Say that again?"

"Did I stutter?" Charles lifted his chin with theatrical defiance. "I said, Maya is my girlfriend now. You're not welcome here, so stop harassing her."

That was it. Oscar snapped. His fist flew, aimed straight for Charles's face. But Charles was faster. He dodged easily, and with a fluid motion, returned the punch with one of his own. It landed squarely on Oscar's jaw, sending him stumbling backward, clutching his cheek.

"You hit me?" Oscar looked as if he couldn't believe it.

"Damn right I did," Charles said. "That's for bullying Maya."

Maya panicked the moment she saw them come to blows. Without thinking, she rushed forward and threw herself between them, shielding Oscar.

"Stop it! Both of you, just stop!"

The moment she did, Charles's fist froze midair. He looked at her—standing protectively in front of another man—and his eyes dimmed.

She turned quickly, her gaze darting to him, trying to explain. "Charles, that wasn't what I—"

"There's no need to explain," he cut her off, his voice cool now, almost distant. "I get it."

He turned, walked back into the apartment, grabbed his coat, and left without another word or glance.

Maya stared after him, her heart sinking fast. She hadn't thought—her body had simply moved on instinct. She hadn't meant to hurt him.

"Charles!" she called, rushing after him. "Wait! Let me explain."

He stopped, but didn't turn around. "No need. I know who you still care about."

And with that, he walked away.

Maya stood frozen in the hallway, guilt twisting inside her. She didn't even know how to begin fixing this. Charles had always been so good to her. She knew that. And yet…

She couldn't deny that her heart was still tethered to Oscar, no matter how much she wished it wasn't. And that—more than anything—was unfair to Charles.

Behind her, Oscar was still standing awkwardly by the door, watching everything. There was a strange, sour look in his eyes. "Maya, I…"

"Leave," she said sharply, cutting him off. "I don't want to see you."

"What did you say?" Oscar looked stunned.

"I said, I don't want to see you." She turned to face him, her voice cold and final. "Go. And don't come back."

His face fell. "Maya, don't be so heartless, I—"

"I said get out!" Her voice cracked into a full scream. It wasn't calculated—it was raw, emotional, shattering. "Did you not hear me? Leave!"

Oscar was taken aback. He'd never seen her like this. Never seen her break like this.

"Get lost!"

This time, the word came like a thunderclap.

Oscar flinched, then turned away. He walked slowly down the hallway, never looking back. And as soon as his shadow disappeared from view, Maya's tears broke free.

Back inside the apartment, she collapsed onto the sofa like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Her shoulders trembled with silent sobs. She didn't know what to do anymore.

She couldn't face Charles—not after this. Not after the look in his eyes.

He had always been there for her. And she? She was still hung up on a man who didn't know how to love her properly. It wasn't fair. Not to Charles. Not to herself.

And then the doorbell rang.

She jolted, annoyed, assuming Oscar had come back again.

"What now?" she snapped, wiping angrily at her tears.

"It's me," came a familiar voice.

She froze.

It was Charles.

Heart racing, she sprang up and flung the door open. "Charles, you—"

"I was too impulsive just now," he interrupted gently. His voice was calm, his expression softer than she deserved. "I'm sorry."

Her throat tightened. "No… Charles, I'm the one who should apologize."

He looked at her, unwavering. "Maya, I like you. I've always liked you. You don't have to give me an answer right away. I can wait."

A warmth bloomed in her chest, fighting back the cold ache of guilt. She knew Charles wasn't just saying it. He meant it. Every word.

"Charles," she murmured, meeting his eyes with newfound clarity, "I'll think about it seriously."

He smiled then. "Good. I'll be waiting."