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.

By the time Maya and Charles arrived at the bar, a strange anxiety was already gnawing at Maya's chest.

She hadn't wanted to come. She shouldn't have come. But Charles's earlier words had planted a seed of suspicion in her mind—what if he was right? What if Oscar was just faking the whole thing? Another calculated performance just to lure her in for a reunion?

With a queasy breath, she stepped through the doorway of the private suite.

And what greeted her wasn't the sight of a pitiful, drunken ex-lover—no. It was something else entirely.

A woman's moan. Breathy, sultry, unmistakable.

A muffled gasp.

Then came the sound of bodies moving in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Maya went rigid.

In that one second, all the blood drained from her face.

She shoved open the door, and the scene lay itself bare—there was Oscar, pressing his entire body down against her half-sister. Oscar's lips locked with Diana's in a passionate, fevered kiss.

"...Maya..." Oscar's voice slurred through the haze of intoxication—still murmuring her name, as if she were the one under him.

The irony was sickening.

And then there was Diana—oh, Diana—with her faux-innocent smile curling into something far more venomous. The moment she caught sight of Maya standing at the door, her eyes lit with a victorious gleam, a challenge that didn't even bother to disguise itself.

"Maya, what a surprise! Oscar said he was drunk and needed someone to pick him up, so... here I am. Don't get the wrong idea, okay?"

In the corner, Charles raised a brow.

Well, that was fast.

After all, he was the one who had deliberately fed the message to Diana. His aim was simple: expose Oscar for what he really was. A man who said one thing, did another, and thought he could keep both women orbiting around him like moons circling a sun.

Except this "sun" had clearly been drugged—Charles could see it now. Oscar didn't look drunk; he looked sedated. The flushed skin, the slightly unfocused eyes—it reeked of something chemical.

Still, Charles's eyes drifted toward Maya, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of worry.

But to his surprise, Maya didn't cry. She didn't scream. She didn't even blink.

Her gaze barely lingered on Oscar.

And then she exhaled, slow and icy. "Great. Enjoy yourselves."

Without waiting another second, she grabbed Charles's arm and turned to leave.

Behind them, Diana's voice rose in a syrupy whine. "Oscar... not so rough..."

Maya's stomach flipped. She quickened her pace.

They had barely stepped out of the building when the nausea hit her in full force. She bent over, clutching Charles's arm, retching dryly into the night air.

When she finally lifted her head, her cheeks were wet with tears.

Charles's heart twisted.

He hated this. Hated seeing her like this. But he also knew—it had to be done. Only something this devastating could finally shatter her illusions about Oscar.

Only something this grotesque could wake her up to who he truly was.

Later that night, Diana sent a message.

[Maya, Mom's already working on convincing Oscar's dad about our engagement. I don't think you'd want to make this whole thing uglier than it needs to be, would you? Stay away from Oscar for a while, okay?]

Maya stared at the text. Then, without a word, she blocked Diana's number, as if blocking out the noise could somehow mute the chaos in her heart.

For more than a decade, she had grown up with Oscar, shared secrets and birthdays and tearful adolescent confessions. Their bond had once felt like it would last a lifetime.

Now, piece by piece, it was unraveling.

She walked forward, slowly. Stumbling. As if her legs no longer belonged to her.

And then, just like that—everything went black.

A blinding flash. And suddenly she was seventeen again, Oscar approaching her in his school uniform, calling out her name like he always did.

"Maya..."

"Maya!"

Except now... it wasn't Oscar's voice anymore.

It was Charles's.

She tried to open her eyes. Tried to reach for him.

But she couldn't.

She was sinking, deeper and deeper, into the darkness, and this time... she didn't know if she could come back.

…

Elsewhere, Oscar finally stirred awake.

His head pounded. His limbs felt heavy.

As his eyes adjusted to the morning light, he realized—this wasn't his bed.

And next to him... wasn't Maya.

It was Diana.

He shot up like he'd been burned.

"What the hell—why are you here? Where's Maya?!"

Diana sat up with a face full of hurt. "You're really still thinking about her?"

She sniffled, then gave a trembling sigh. "She never came to get you last night. She called me instead. Said if I didn't show up, you'd be left at the bar all night. You came at me the moment I arrived…"

Oscar's mind reeled. "No—no, I didn't... I didn't... Shut up!" he shouted, scrambling to find his clothes. His heart was racing—no, thundering—with panic.

He had to get out. He had to explain. He had to find Maya.

But as he reached the door, Diana threw herself at him, barefoot and desperate, clinging to him like a lifeline.

"I love you too! Why won't you ever see me? Why do you only look at her?"

Oscar froze. For a moment, he looked as though he might falter.

But then he shook her off, his voice ragged. "Stop. You know it's impossible. You know this was never going to happen!"

And just as he reached for the doorknob—

It opened from the other side.

Standing there was Mary Colridge, Diana's mother.

She looked down at him with a gaze that could slice through steel.

"Before you say another word, Oscar," she said coolly, "you might want to take a look at this."

She handed him two things: A confidential project file—the kind that Francis Group couldn't survive without.

And a set of photos.

The photos were taken this morning. Photos of Charles, quietly looking after a pale, unconscious Maya in a hospital bed.

"Without Diana, your precious Francis Group would've gone bankrupt long ago," she said, her voice honeyed with poison. "And now you want to chase after that slut who abandoned you last night? You have to choose, Oscar. Diana… or Maya. If you pick Maya, you can kiss your company goodbye."