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."

When Maya finally checked her phone, she was met with a barrage of unread messages—every single one of them from Oscar.

She didn't reply. Instead, she quietly selected the entire chat thread and deleted it.

Since she had made the decision to let Oscar go, she would do it properly—one step at a time.

That evening, Charles was at her side, accompanying her on a leisurely shopping stroll.

Her phone rang again—this time, it was a call from a mutual friend.

"Maya," the voice on the other end sounded panicked, "I don't know what happened to Oscar. He must've gone through something intense today. He drank way too much. We can't wake him up no matter what we do. Could you maybe come over and check on him?"

She paused, her eyes narrowing. She was just about to refuse politely when Charles, who had overheard the conversation, gently pressed her hand and gave her a look—one of those unreadable but decisive glances that said: Say yes.

Maya hesitated. She didn't know what sort of trick Charles was playing at, but with a slight wince, she agreed. "Alright. Send me the location."

Meanwhile, at the bar across town, Oscar—who had been nervously awaiting a response—couldn't stop the smile from curling across his lips when he heard she was coming.

She was willing to come see him. That had to mean something, didn't it?

She must still care.

He leaned back, replaying the memory of Maya scolding him earlier that afternoon, all for Charles's sake. That sting still lingered on his pride. So tonight, he was going to put on a show—play the drunken, tragic fool, just to make her feel a little guilty. Maybe she deserved a taste of her own medicine.

"Oscar, are you happy now?" his friend grinned beside him. "Didn't I tell you? Maya's heart has always been yours. There's no way she could like someone else. Who else could possibly match up to you?"

Oscar chuckled inwardly. That much was true.

Back in university, Maya had been pursued by more than her fair share of rich, eligible young men. Every heir with a trust fund had tried his luck. But she'd always kept her distance, never once giving him reason to feel jealous. Not even a flicker of doubt.

But oddly enough, as he sat there now, Oscar's mind flashed with the image of Diana in a wedding dress earlier that morning—her delicate figure, the way the light caught the veil. He quickly shook the thought away and forced his focus back to Maya.

It was only about fulfilling a promise, he reminded himself. There was never any real emotion. No danger of falling for someone else.

He might've been harsh with Maya today, but he had a clear conscience. He had never wavered. Whatever feelings he had for Diana were nothing more than sympathy—a sense of duty, gratitude for someone who had stood by him at his lowest.

And as for Diana's mom's wishes to see their families joined through marriage? That would never happen. Not if he had any say in it.

…

Meanwhile, Maya was being ushered into Charles's car.

"You're not planning to beat him up again, are you?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously as he started the engine. "Charles, maybe we shouldn't go at all."

With a sly grin, Charles hit the lock on the doors and leaned in until his lips were nearly brushing her cheek.

"Oh, I'm definitely going to beat him up," he teased, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I've been dying for some catharsis."

Maya gave his face a playful jab with her finger. "Stop messing around. Seriously—why are you so insistent that I go pick him up?"

Charles leaned back. "Because I want you to see for yourself what kind of guy he really is. And then, maybe—finally—you'll be done with him for good."

With that, he casually silenced his phone, turned onto the main road, and headed straight toward the bar.