By the time Rege returned to his penthouse, Manhattan had fully awakened beneath the silver afternoon light.
Muted sunlight stretched across the black marble floors through the towering windows overlooking the city while distant traffic hummed faintly beyond the glass. The penthouse had returned to its usual stillness again, cold and elegant in a way that almost never felt lived in.
Except today—
The scent of warm food lingered softly through the air.
Rege loosened the sleeves of his grey sweatshirt slightly as he walked toward the dining area before stopping briefly.
His mother sat calmly at the dining table.
Several dishes had already been arranged neatly across the dark surface. Soup. Roasted vegetables. Grilled salmon. Fresh bread. Tea.
Olga glanced up the second she noticed him.
There was no dramatic expression on her face. No exaggerated teasing.
Only quiet relief.
Rege pulled out a chair opposite her and sat down without speaking.
Olga watched him briefly before reaching for her glass of water.
"So..." she began mildly.
Rege glanced at her once before picking up his fork.
"You know what I mean," Olga said, the corners of her lips lifting faintly. "Tell me everything."
Without lifting his gaze from the plate, Rege replied smoothly, "You said no talking while eating."
Olga rolled her eyes dramatically.
Rege took another bite calmly.
"After eating," Olga continued while pointing at him with her fork, "you are going to tell me everything."
He finally glanced at her briefly before nodding once.
Satisfied, Olga smiled triumphantly and began eating as well.
For several minutes, only the quiet sounds of cutlery and distant traffic filled the penthouse. The atmosphere felt strangely peaceful despite the enormous difference between their personalities.
Olga carried warmth naturally.
Rege carried restraint like a second skin.
Still, beneath all the silence and emotional distance, affection existed between them quietly. Deeply.
The kind that existed between people who understood each other without constantly needing words.
Olga watched her son quietly while eating.
He looked different.
Not drastically.
Most people would never notice it.
But she did.
His shoulders looked less tense than usual. The permanent sharpness around his eyes had softened faintly, almost imperceptibly. Even the way he sat felt calmer somehow.
Rested.
That alone unsettled her slightly because Rege had looked exhausted for years.
And now suddenly—
Something had changed.
Or perhaps someone.
Olga lowered her gaze briefly toward her plate to hide the knowing look in her eyes.
Meanwhile downstairs, inside Tatiana's penthouse, warmth replaced the cold quietness of Rege's home completely.
Soft sunlight poured through the cream curtains while the television played quietly in the background. The scent of Maya's vanilla shampoo still lingered faintly through the room after her shower.
Adela lay comfortably against the pillows on Maya's bed scrolling lazily through her phone when the closet door opened.
Maya stepped out wearing loose grey shorts and an oversized yellow shirt, her damp dirty blonde hair falling freely over her shoulders.
Adela immediately looked up.
And smiled.
Not because of Maya's appearance.
Because Maya genuinely looked lighter.
Relaxed.
Happy.
"You are glowing," Adela teased softly.
Maya laughed immediately.
"Naaaa, that's an overstatement."
"It really isn't."
Maya rolled her eyes before climbing onto the bed beside her.
The mattress dipped slightly beneath her weight as she settled comfortably against the headboard.
Adela studied her quietly for a second before asking gently,
"So... how did it go?"
Maya exhaled slowly before laughing under her breath.
"That's the thing. I honestly don't even know."
Adela frowned slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"I was supposed to just visit his place and return home after a while," Maya explained softly. "But somehow I ended up falling asleep."
Adela blinked.
"In an unfamiliar place?" Adela asked, visibly shocked.
"Yes," Maya answered immediately. "That's the unbelievable part."
She shook her head lightly as if still confused herself.
"That's actually insane," Adela murmured honestly.
Maya laughed softly again before tucking strands of hair behind her ear.
"He was working while I was reading in his study," she explained. "And honestly his study is ridiculous. It's literally a library disguised as an office. Every book imaginable is there."
The memory softened her expression unconsciously.
"He just worked quietly while I read," Maya continued. "And next thing I woke up..."
She paused.
Adela immediately narrowed her eyes.
"You woke up and?"
Maya buried her face briefly inside one of the pillows before muttering,
"I woke up in his bed."
Adela widened her eyes instantly.
"With him?"
Maya nodded against the pillow, cheeks burning scarlet already.
Adela stared at her for two seconds before slowly lowering her phone onto the bed.
Adela stared at her carefully now.
Because that mattered.
Maya was not someone who relaxed easily around people. Not emotionally. Not physically. Not unconsciously.
Especially after everything with Calvin.
Yet somehow—
She had fallen asleep inside Rege's penthouse peacefully enough for him to carry her upstairs without waking her once.
"Well," she said carefully. "That's definitely an improvement."
Maya lifted her head immediately.
"No it's not."
Adela looked unconvinced.
"Rege and I are friends," Maya insisted firmly. "Nothing more."
"Mhm."
"We are."
"If you say so."
Maya groaned dramatically before reaching for her phone from the bedside drawer.
The second the screen lit up, a Google Photos notification appeared.
Calvin shared new photos.
Adela noticed immediately.
Her eyes shifted toward Maya quietly.
"Will you look at it?"
Maya stared at the notification briefly before calmly scrolling it away.
"There's no need."
And she meant it.
There was no bitterness in her voice.
No lingering sadness.
Nothing cracked painfully inside her chest anymore whenever Calvin's name appeared unexpectedly.
That part of her life had ended already.
Not suddenly.
Not easily.
But completely.
Adela watched her carefully before relaxing slightly.
Maya noticed.
And smiled faintly.
"Actually… there's something I've been thinking about lately," she admitted quietly as she glanced toward Adela.
Adela immediately shifted her attention fully toward her, her playful expression softening into something more attentive.
"What is it?"
Maya leaned back slightly against the headboard, fingers absentmindedly smoothing the blanket over her lap.
"I want to call Calvin."
The room grew quieter afterward.
Outside the massive windows, Manhattan remained alive with distant movement and muted traffic below, but inside the bedroom, only the soft sound of the television playing quietly in the background remained.
Adela did not interrupt her immediately.
She simply listened.
Maya exhaled softly before continuing.
"I've thought about everything properly these past few months," she admitted honestly. "Not emotionally this time. Just… clearly."
Her voice remained calm.
Steady.
Very different from the broken girl Adela had comforted months ago.
"At the time, everything felt unbearable," Maya continued quietly. "I loved him very deeply, so every rejection hurt more than it probably should have. Every misunderstanding felt personal. Every distance between us felt bigger in my head."
She paused briefly before lowering her gaze.
"And yes, Calvin hurt me," she admitted softly. "But I also know now that I handled a lot of things badly toward the end too."
Adela's expression softened immediately.
Maya rarely spoke about that part openly.
"At that time, I was too emotional to see things properly," Maya murmured. "I kept trying to hold onto something that was already slipping away because I didn't know how to let go."
The confession carried no bitterness anymore.
Only honesty.
Maya sighed softly before continuing.
"But now when I think about everything…" She smiled faintly to herself. "I genuinely don't hate him anymore."
And she truly didn't.
The anger had disappeared long ago.
So had the heartbreak.
What remained now was simply acceptance.
"He wasn't evil," Maya said quietly. "He just didn't love me but I loved him."
The words sounded strangely peaceful coming from her now.
Not forced.
Not painful.
Just true.
"And honestly…" Maya continued after a brief pause, "I should have realized it earlier too. I should have let him go earlier and saved both of us the unnecessary heartache."
Adela reached for her hand quietly.
Maya intertwined their fingers instinctively before continuing.
"I don't love him anymore either," she admitted softly. "Not romantically. Not emotionally. Nothing."
Her voice remained certain.
"He honestly feels like someone who simply passed through my life once," Maya murmured thoughtfully. "Someone important at one point… but not anymore."
The room fell silent again afterward.
Soft afternoon light spilled lazily across the bed while the faint scent of Maya's vanilla shampoo still lingered in the air from her shower earlier.
Adela squeezed Maya's hand gently.
"So why do you want to call him?"
Maya leaned her head back against the wall thoughtfully.
"Because I want to end things properly," she answered honestly.
Adela remained quiet.
"I've already forgiven him completely," Maya continued. "But I also want to acknowledge my own mistakes too. I want to tell him that I genuinely hope he's okay… and that I hope he also forgives me for everything as l have forgiven him."
Her gaze drifted absentmindedly toward the television screen without truly watching it.
"He's not my enemy," she said softly. "And I don't want that chapter of my life to feel bitter anymore."
For several quiet seconds, Adela simply stared at her.
Then slowly—
She smiled.
Not teasingly this time.
Proudly.
"That's actually very mature of you."
Maya laughed softly under her breath.
"I'm trying."
"No," Adela corrected gently. "You already did the hard part a long time ago. You already released him emotionally. This just sounds like closure."
Maya went quiet afterward.
Because deep down—
She knew Adela was right.
There was no lingering attachment left inside her anymore.
No hope.
No resentment.
Nothing unresolved emotionally.
Only unfinished words.
Adela leaned back comfortably against the pillows before speaking again.
"Honestly, I support it," she admitted calmly. "I think it's a good idea. Not because you still care romantically, but because sometimes people deserve peaceful endings too."
Maya nodded slowly.
"That's exactly how I feel."
"But," Adela added thoughtfully, "I still think you should discuss it with Tatiana first."
Maya nodded immediately.
"I already intended to."
"That's good."
Silence settled comfortably between them afterward.
The kind that only existed between people who truly understood each other.
Then suddenly—
Adela's expression shifted.
Maya narrowed her eyes instantly.
"What?"
A very knowing smile spread slowly across Adela's face.
"So…" she said carefully.
Maya already knew that tone.
"No."
Adela ignored her completely.
"How exactly did you and Rege sleep?"
Maya widened her eyes immediately.
"Adela!"
Adela burst into laughter.
"What? I'm curious!"
"There is nothing to be curious about," Maya defended quickly, cheeks already warming.
"Mhm."
"I'm serious!"
"Yet somehow," Adela said dramatically, "you accidentally slept in his bed."
Maya grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it directly at her face.
Adela laughed harder as the pillow hit her.
"You are impossible," Maya groaned while hiding her burning face behind her hands.
Adela lowered the pillow slowly before grinning.
"But you're smiling again."
Maya froze briefly afterward.
Because she was right.
Without even realizing it—
She really was smiling.
Maya rolled her eyes softly before stealing the pillow back from Adela's hands.
"You are seriously annoying."
"And yet you love me deeply," Adela replied proudly.
"Unfortunately."
Both girls laughed quietly afterward.
The heaviness from the earlier conversation had disappeared completely now, replaced by the familiar warmth and comfort that always existed between them.
Adela shifted closer until both of them were properly snuggled beneath the blankets while Maya grabbed the remote lazily from the bedside table.
"My Page In The 90s?" Maya asked.
Adela gasped dramatically.
"As if you even need to ask."
Maya laughed softly before pressing play.
Soon, the bedroom filled with the familiar sounds of the Chinese drama while the two girls relaxed comfortably against each other, occasionally laughing, arguing over scenes and stealing snacks from the bowl resting between them as Manhattan continued moving endlessly outside the windows.
Upstairs, the atmosphere inside Rege's penthouse had settled into something quieter after the morning's commotion.
The dining table had already been cleared, though traces of lunch still lingered faintly in the air alongside the scent of black coffee and polished cedarwood from the penthouse itself. Sunlight spilled lazily through the towering windows overlooking Manhattan, softening the sharp edges of the otherwise dark luxurious space.
For the first time in years—
The penthouse no longer felt completely cold.
Olga noticed it immediately.
Not because of decorations.
Or objects.
But because the space itself somehow felt lived in.
Warmer.
Human.
And she already knew exactly why.
Seated comfortably in the living room with a glass of juice resting elegantly between her fingers, Olga watched her son quietly from across the room.
Rege sat opposite her with one leg crossed over the other, looking composed as always. One arm rested against the chair while the other remained folded loosely across his stomach.
Calm.
Controlled.
Unreadable.
At least to most people.
But Olga had raised him.
She noticed everything.
The looseness in his posture.
The absence of tension constantly pulling at his shoulders.
The fact that he looked rested.
Actually rested.
It startled her more than she cared to admit.
For several moments, silence lingered peacefully between them while distant sounds from Manhattan drifted faintly through the windows far below.
Then finally—
Olga rolled her eyes softly before taking a sip from her juice.
"So…" she said mildly. "Tell me everything."
Rege glanced at her briefly.
"Why are you here?"
Olga sighed dramatically.
"Can I not come see my son whom I haven't seen properly in weeks?"
Rege simply looked at her.
That look alone made Olga exhale softly.
"Fine," she admitted calmly. "I got worried."
Rege remained silent.
"You stopped answering my calls and messages," she continued. "And your father kept insisting you were fine, but I still worried."
Her gaze softened afterward.
"You isolate yourself whenever you're overwhelmed, Rege."
That made his jaw tighten faintly.
Not defensive.
Just uncomfortable with being understood too well.
"And knowing you," Olga continued quietly, "if something was wrong, you still wouldn't ask for help."
Silence followed her words.
Heavy silence.
Not awkward.
Just honest.
Rege lowered his gaze briefly toward the untouched glass of water resting on the table beside him before finally speaking.
"Thank you," he said quietly after a moment. "I've just been preoccupied."
Olga studied him carefully.
Even his voice sounded different today.
Less sharp.
Less distant.
Still controlled.
But softer somehow.
"I know," she answered gently.
Then after a brief pause—
"But now you can tell me about Maya as compensation."
Rege's eyes lifted toward her instantly before shifting away again almost immediately.
Olga noticed.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
A small smile appeared at the corner of her lips.
"I'm waiting."
Rege said nothing.
Olga leaned back comfortably against the couch.
"You brought her here."
Still silence.
"That alone already tells me enough."
Rege's fingers tightened subtly against the fabric of his sweatshirt.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But Olga caught it anyway.
"The only people allowed inside this sacred penthouse are your father, James and myself," she continued calmly. "Even your siblings rarely enter this place because you dislike people invading your privacy."
Rege's gaze drifted quietly toward the windows overlooking Manhattan.
Olga followed his silence patiently before continuing.
"And the only woman who even entered this building before today never stepped beyond the lobby."
A faint shadow crossed Rege's expression.
Brief.
Gone almost immediately.
But it was there.
Olga remembered the incident clearly.
That woman had later complained to her during a charity gala.
She had sounded offended.
Humiliated even.
According to her, Rege had calmly informed her that his penthouse was private and he did not share his personal space with people.
At the time, Olga had almost laughed.
Because that sounded exactly like her son.
Cold.
Detached.
Untouchable.
But Maya—
Maya had slept inside his bed.
Inside the same sacred private space he protected from everyone else.
Olga's smile softened faintly.
"So yes," she continued gently. "You absolutely have to tell me everything about Maya because this is definitely something."
Rege remained quiet.
But this time, Olga noticed something else.
His silence no longer looked dismissive.
It looked uncertain.
And uncertainty did not belong to Rege.
Not usually.
His folded arms tightened slightly against his chest before finally—
Very quietly—
"I don't know where to start."
The words came low.
Almost reluctant.
Olga blinked once in genuine surprise.
Because that confession alone revealed more than anything else he could have said.
Rege always knew exactly where to start.
Exactly what to say.
Exactly how to control every situation around him.
Yet now—
He genuinely looked lost.
Not negatively.
Just unfamiliar with whatever this feeling was.
Olga's expression softened immediately.
"How many times has she been here?" she asked gently.
"The first."
Olga stared at him for several seconds afterward.
Because somehow—
That answer only made the situation feel even more significant.
One time already mattered this much to him.
One time had changed the atmosphere of this entire penthouse.
One time had him sleeping peacefully past ten in the morning for the first time in years.
Olga lowered her gaze briefly into her juice before speaking quietly.
"She feels warm."
Rege's eyes shifted toward her instantly.
Not defensive.
Just attentive.
Olga smiled faintly to herself.
"You looked different beside her."
Silence.
But not denial.
That alone told her enough.
"You looked peaceful," Olga added softly.
Rege's jaw flexed slightly afterward.
Not because he disliked the observation.
Because he knew she was right.
And perhaps that realization unsettled him more than anything else.
For years, his life had existed in rigid control.
Schedules.
Meetings.
Silence.
Isolation.
Responsibility.
Pressure.
Everything calculated carefully to prevent chaos from entering his life.
Yet Maya—
Maya walked into his penthouse carrying warmth, noise, emotions, books scattered across tables, sleepy smiles and toasted bread in his untouched kitchen.
And somehow—
Nothing inside him wanted her gone.
The realization sat heavily inside his chest.
Dangerously heavily.
Olga observed him quietly for another moment before finally standing gracefully from the couch.
"Well," she murmured lightly while reaching for her Chanel handbag, "I suppose that is all I'm getting from you today."
Rege stood immediately afterward.
Automatic.
Instinctive.
Olga noticed that too.
For someone emotionally distant, Rege had always been deeply attentive in quieter ways.
He never let her leave alone.
Never forgot details about the people he cared for.
Never failed to notice discomfort.
His love simply existed silently.
Without performance.
"I should leave before your father realizes I disappeared without telling him," Olga added calmly.
A faint almost invisible softness crossed Rege's features at the mention of his father.
Then as Olga approached the entrance—
She paused.
"Oh," she said suddenly while turning slightly toward him. "Bring Maya to family dinner sometime."
Rege's steps halted almost imperceptibly behind her.
Olga smiled knowingly to herself.
Not because of the pause.
But because he didn't reject the idea immediately.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Without turning around fully, she added quietly,
"I like her."
Rege remained silent behind her.
But Olga could almost hear the internal conflict happening inside her son's mind.
Because this was new territory for him.
Emotional territory.
Uncontrolled territory.
And despite how calm he looked externally—
She knew her son well enough to understand one thing clearly.
Maya mattered already.
Far more than Rege himself probably realized.
"I'll drop you off," Rege said calmly after a moment.
Olga turned toward him immediately.
A genuine smile spread across her face this time.
Not teasing.
Not playful.
Just warm.
"Okay."
Together, mother and son left the penthouse quietly while sunlight continued pouring across the once-lonely space Maya had unknowingly filled with life only hours earlier.