The door clicked shut.
Sean sank into the couch, one hand over his face — caught somewhere between a smirk and quiet laughter. He rubbed his chin, pressed his fingers over his lips like he was trying to hold something in. Like a man replaying something too precious to let go of.
[Sean — internal]
"Oh God. No — I need to stay cool. Calm down."
But how do you stay calm when the girl you love is so giggly and childish that your hands instinctively want to squish her cheeks? Thank God I held back. The way she was munching — like a little rabbit attacking a carrot, cheeks stuffed full — the reddest, most ridiculous face I've ever seen on a person.
Ha. Such a tomato.
Then it shifted.
The air grew heavy. His body stiffened. The rush came again — that wave of emotion that floods you without warning and leaves you breathless.
The thought of not having her.
It was shattering him quietly, piece by piece, and all he could do was stack those pieces back together and whisper — it's okay. It's okay. I just need to be beside her. Like a silver lining to the brightest cloud. Like thorns that exist only to guard a flower. Like the scent of petrichor that means nothing without the rain that carries it.
Even a single word from her. Just her voice — and something in him settles.
I'll be there. Until I turn to ashes and drift with the wind and somehow still linger near her. Until the tree above my grave blooms and its petals fall over her. I'll be there.
He exhaled sharply.
God. I am so hopelessly in love — with nothing but hope for even the smallest piece of it in return.
He forced himself upright. The pile of his father's unread emails stared at him from the screen. He scrolled through without reading a single one and typed the same reply he always did:
"I'm not interested in the family business."
Send.
How am I supposed to function like this — when she's at her lowest? When she needs someone and I'm right here? I've spent every year from high school to now just finding ways to be near her. Nothing in this world gives me what she does. Nothing comes close.
Am I too much? What if I actually lose my mind over this one day?
...Honestly, that's not the worst outcome.
I'd just paint her face all over the walls of my hospital room.
He laughed to himself — the kind of laugh that's half genuine, half unhinged.
"TYCOON'S SON GOES INSANE FOR UNREQUITED LOVE, NOW RESIDES IN MENTAL FACILITY."
What a headline that would be.
His mind drifted back to Elliot.
Right. Elliot. One thing that still nagged at him — Reva and Elliot met a year after he and Reva did, and Sean knew for a fact that Elliot had kept to himself back then. Avoided friendships with girls entirely because of his own insecurities. Barely existed socially until —
Until Reva happened.
She was the one who pushed for him to be included in that scholarship exam. She was the one who went to their teacher and said consider him. The same way she once did for Rain, quietly, without needing anyone to notice.
That's her. That's my Revvv.
...
And today — she'd told him about the necklace. Brought it up herself, without hesitation. He'd played along like he was hearing it for the first time. But of course he knew. The moment she sold it and walked out of his family's jewelry store, he'd quietly acquired it. She'd never even registered how large that business was — she grew up as a politician's daughter, surrounded by wealth. Why would a jewelry empire catch her eye?
It didn't matter. He had it. That was enough.
The clock struck 3.
3 AM.
Sean blinked at the ceiling. He'd lost track of the entire night inside his own head, and somehow that felt completely worth it.
He got up, washed his face, then lay back in bed — phone in hand, scrolling through the photos from dinner. Her eyes bright, mouth embarrassingly full, looking like she couldn't care less. The same person, somehow breathtaking every single time.
A warmth pressed at the corner of his eye.
He turned his head slowly and let the tear absorb into the pillow without wiping it. No drama. Just the quiet weight of something too big to contain.
His fingers found the bracelet on his wrist — the one she gave him, the very first gift she ever offered him without knowing what it meant to him.
He fell asleep like that. Holding on to the smallest thing. Making it last.
The clock read 4 when the room telephone rang.
Sean's eyes opened instantly. Not groggy — sharp. Like something in him already knew before his hand even reached for it.
He picked up without a word.
The voice on the other end was calm, professional. Hotel staff. But the words that followed were anything but routine.
He was on his feet before they finished speaking. Jacket. Keys.
And he stepped out of the door.