Turns out—
life loves ruining perfect timing.
Ethan Vale's promised apology?
Didn't happen.
Instead, a stiff message arrived like a bad substitute teacher.
"Mr. Vale has left for an urgent business trip."
…wow.
Romance died instantly.
—
Aria Larkspur stood there, smiling politely.
Graceful. Elegant. Completely composed.
Anyone watching would think she took it well.
They'd be wrong.
System: "Hey."
Aria (internally): I will commit emotional violence.
Out loud, she asked sweetly, "Did he say when he'll return?"
The messenger adjusted his tie. "Mr. Vale requests your presence at a private banquet tomorrow. Seven PM."
Pause.
Aria blinked.
"A banquet?"
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
"He ignores me today and schedules luxury tomorrow?" she muttered inwardly. "What is this—corporate dating?"
System: "Maybe guilt."
Aria: "Maybe stupidity."
—
Still…
freedom was freedom.
No acting. No pretending. No emotional gymnastics.
Just her, a bed, snacks, and games.
Absolute peace.
Servants wisely stayed out of her way.
Rumors spread—"Miss Aria is heartbroken."
Aria, meanwhile, was yelling at her game screen.
"WHY ARE YOU RUNNING INTO TOWERS? ARE YOU BRAVE OR JUST CONFUSED?"
—
Next evening.
Transformation mode: activated.
White suit. Sharp tailoring. Orange pocket square.
Hair styled. Expression controlled.
She looked like elegance personally came to collect rent.
Even the driver paused.
"…Miss Aria, you look—"
"I know," she said, getting in.
Confidence?
Through the roof.
—
She planned to nap.
Because priorities matter.
But when she woke—
A face.
Too close.
Too handsome.
Too Ethan Vale.
She almost threw a punch.
Held back. Barely.
Ethan extended a hand. "Careful."
Aria glanced at it.
Then at him.
Then pushed it away and stepped out alone.
"I have legs. Revolutionary concept."
Savage.
Ethan didn't react.
Just followed, amused.
Which was… irritating.
—
Top floor.
Private space.
No crowd. No noise.
Just one massive object in the center—covered in red cloth with a dramatic bow.
Aria stopped.
Eyes locked.
Brain connected dots instantly.
No way.
She turned slowly. "What is that?"
Ethan gestured casually. "Open it."
Of course he'd act cool.
Of course he wouldn't apologize properly.
Man really said: take a gift instead of words.
Honestly?
Annoying.
Effective—but annoying.
—
She walked closer.
Hands paused on the ribbon.
This was dangerous.
Because accepting meant forgiving.
And forgiving meant… losing leverage.
System: "Stay strong."
Aria: "I am weak for expensive things."
…tragic.
She pulled the ribbon.
The cloth fell.
And there it was.
A Steinway.
Not just any—
the Steinway.
Antique. Legendary. Untouchable.
Her brain short-circuited.
Her soul ascended.
Her anger?
Gone. Evaporated. Deleted.
"…"
"…"
"Okay," she whispered. "I forgive everything."
System: "You have no dignity."
Aria: "I have a piano."
—
"Like it?" Ethan asked.
Like it?
She was already sitting, testing keys like a child reunited with happiness.
"This is illegal," she muttered. "You can't just buy my personality like this."
Ethan pulled her up. "Dinner first."
She clung to the bench. "I live here now."
"No."
"Let me eat here."
"No."
"Heartless."
He dragged her anyway.
—
At dinner—
Aria stared into space.
Mentally composing music.
Emotionally married to the piano.
Ethan tapped the table.
"Eat."
She didn't move.
"Eat properly," he added, "or I'll send it back."
Her head snapped up.
"You wouldn't."
"Try me."
"…you villain."
She immediately started eating.
System: "You folded fast."
Aria: "Survival instincts."
—
Halfway through, she muttered, "Show-off."
Ethan smirked. "I gave you something priceless and you call me that?"
She leaned closer slightly.
Lowered her voice.
"Because you didn't do it for free."
Oh?
Now that was interesting.
Ethan tilted his head. "Then why?"
Aria paused.
Thinking.
Calculating.
Then—
Before logic could interfere—
She leaned forward.
And kissed him.
Quick. Soft. Gone.
Silence.
Time froze for exactly one second.
Then resumed like nothing happened.
Aria calmly picked up her fork.
Ears red.
Face composed.
Dignity… questionable.
Ethan blinked once.
Twice.
Processing failed.
—
She muttered, barely audible,
"…to make me happy."
He leaned in slightly. "What was that?"
She inhaled.
Bravery level: dangerously high.
"I said," she repeated, still not looking at him,
"isn't your goal to make me happy?"
There it was.
Direct hit.
Ethan watched her—really watched this time.
Not the act.
Not the mask.
Her.
And for the first time—
he wasn't entirely sure he understood her.
—
Later—
Ethan, still thinking, asked casually,
"What perfume are you wearing?"
"Hmm?"
"Top note's woody. Something floral underneath. Can't place the rest."
Aria blinked.
Then grinned.
"Oh."
"Mosquito repellent."
Silence.
System: "…I quit."