Camille sat across from Elias at Luna Azul, a cozy restaurant tucked away from the city's usual noise. The place was known for its intimate atmosphere—dim lighting, rustic wooden tables, and the soft strum of a guitarist in the corner. It was the kind of setting that should have felt warm. Comfortable.
Instead, Camille felt nothing.
Elias didn’t even glance at the menu. He simply pointed at the best seller and ordered two.
Camille barely reacted.
It was familiar. Too familiar.
Julian used to do the same thing—but never like this. With Julian, it had always been a game, a teasing ritual laced with familiarity and something that felt dangerously close to affection.
“Pick two you like the most, Camille. I’ll take the one you don’t want.”
Sometimes, he’d just double her order without asking.
“You always act like you’re not that hungry, but then you steal half my plate. I’m just saving us the back and forth.”
She used to roll her eyes, pretend to be annoyed—but she never stopped him.
Elias? He wasn’t teasing. He wasn’t thoughtful, either. He was just picking the simplest option.
She forced a small nod. “That’s fine.”
Elias leaned back, content. “You’ll like it. It’s popular for a reason.”
Her stomach twisted. Not because of the food.
Because she had chosen Elias.
Serena had nudged her toward him, convinced that stability was exactly what Camille needed. Elias was steady, predictable—a safe path forward. And after everything, Camille had convinced herself she needed that, too.
But Julian hadn’t walked away.
He had been blindsided when she ended things.
He hadn’t argued, hadn’t chased after her. But the way he looked at her that day… that was what stuck with her.
“What?”
Just that.
Not Wait, Camille—what? Not confusion laced with desperation. Not pleading.
Just a single word. Stunned. Flat.
Like he couldn’t believe it—like the thought had never even occurred to him.
And somehow, that had hurt more.
Because it meant she had never been someone he thought he could lose.
Maybe that was why, when Elias had asked her out so soon after, she had said yes.
Because she needed to believe she was making the right choice.
Now, as Elias kept talking, his voice smooth and confident, Camille nodded at the right moments, smiled when expected, played her part.
But her mind was elsewhere.
Because no matter how much she tried to convince herself that choosing Elias had been the smart thing, the right thing…
She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had never really been Julian’s choice to begin with.
Two weeks had passed since the gala. The buzz had died down, the headlines had shifted, but for Sophia, something lingered—an unresolved tension that refused to fade.
Tonight, however, she wasn’t caught up in lingering thoughts. Tonight, she was running.
Her heels clicked against the marble floors of the hotel before she kicked them off entirely, bare feet sinking into the cool grass of the garden. She already knew where to find him. At this hour, Julian would be running.
Just like always.
As she reached the dimly lit path, her breath came fast—not just from the sprint, but from the message she had received moments before.
Julian slowed his pace the second he spotted her, brows furrowing as Sophia stormed toward him, phone clutched in her hand like evidence in a court case.
“What the hell is this?” she demanded, holding up the screen.
Julian barely had time to react before she pressed forward, shoving the phone closer as if proximity would make him understand faster.
“You sent two million pesos, Julian.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Exactly! What?” she echoed dramatically. “Are you drunk? Half-asleep? Did you—" She stopped, her lips parting slightly before narrowing her eyes. "Did you… misclick?”
Julian exhaled, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “No.”
Sophia stared at him. Then at the phone. Then back at him.
Silence.
Then, slowly, her lips curled into a teasing smirk.
“Ohhh,” she said, drawing out the syllable. “I get it now.”
Julian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sophia—”
“No, no, it all makes sense. This is, what—your grand gesture? Some hidden message? You should’ve just told me directly.” She leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a playful murmur. “If you want something alluring from me, Julian, you don’t have to bribe me. You could just ask.”
He let out a sharp breath, a mix of exasperation and something else—something dangerously close to amusement.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered.
Sophia grinned. “I know.”
She didn’t let him explain. Not yet.
Teasing Julian was too fun.
And honestly?
She kind of wanted to see him squirm a little longer.
Sophia stilled, her breath catching as realization settled over her.
She had seen it before—the way people looked at her, eyes gleaming with greed, weighing her worth in status and opportunity rather than sincerity. To them, she was something to be claimed, a prize wrapped in power and privilege.
But Julian… his gaze held none of that.
If anything, it was the opposite.
There was hesitation in his eyes, a reluctance that spoke of restraint rather than desire to take. As if he wasn’t sure if he should reach for her—if he even had the right to.
And now, for the first time, she truly saw it.
A slow smile curved her lips as she stepped closer, each movement deliberate, unhurried. Intimate. Careful, as if approaching something fragile—someone fragile.
Julian stiffened slightly but didn’t step back.
“Julian,” she murmured, her voice a soft invitation. “Don’t be afraid.”
Her fingers brushed against his wrist, a featherlight touch—one that sent warmth spreading between them.
“In truth,” she continued, her tone dipping into something playful, teasing, dangerously sweet, “I’m new at this too.”
Her eyes gleamed as she tilted her head, watching him with amusement.
“But still… this is me, Julian.” She leaned in just enough for him to feel the heat of her words against his skin.
“This is me… pursuing you.”