It has a nice ring to it.

Twyla was hunched over the sink, vigorously scrubbing at a stubborn patch of grime, lost in a whirl of thoughts that refused to quiet down, when the kitchen door creaked open. The new helper she'd just hired stepped inside, her expression uneasy.

"Ms. Twyla, we… we have a special customer."

Twyla blinked, straightened, and wiped her damp hands on her apron before peeking through the narrow kitchen window. Andrea had just stepped into the café, drawing glances and whispers from the other customers like a storm cloud sweeping across a blue sky. Twyla's heart sank. She inhaled slowly, letting the breath steady her. It was going to be one of those days.

That very morning, the entertainment headlines exploded with Andrea's bold, unilateral declaration: she was marrying Calian. A desperate move, Twyla knew—a last-ditch attempt to either win him back or destroy his career in the process. Calian had dropped everything and rushed back to the city to deal with the fallout. But evidently, Andrea wasn't done. Not yet. Not until she brought her mess right to Twyla's doorstep.

Without a word, Twyla led Andrea to that secluded garden patio—the very place she'd once kissed Calian and received a slap from her. A fitting battleground, she thought grimly.

Andrea stood silently at first, her arms crossed, expression unreadable. Then she spoke, her voice low and calculated.

"I'm begging you. Let Calian go."

Twyla had braced for yelling, for drama, and tantrums. Instead, she was met with soft, manipulative sorrow, as if Andrea were the one betrayed. Classic.

"And what is Calian to you?" Twyla asked evenly.

"He's like water," Andrea replied, her eyes glistening. "He washes over me, surrounds me… I can't live without him."

Twyla almost laughed—there was something strangely poetic in the image. She, too, had thought of Calian as water once, soothing and clear. But not anymore.

"To me, Calian is a kite," she said slowly. "I'll help him rise, soar into the skies, and I'll hold onto the string that keeps us connected. He can chase the wildest winds, rise so high the string might snap. But so long as he stays within reach, I'll never let go."

Andrea's eyes narrowed. "So you're saying you won't give him up?"

"If you're too forceful a gust, if you pull him away entirely, then yes—I'll have no choice but to let him go. But right now, he's flying right above me."

The shift in Andrea's face was subtle, but unmistakable. Her mask cracked. Twyla saw the storm brewing in her eyes.

"So what now?" Andrea snapped. "If Calian doesn't marry me, his career goes under. My agency will protect me. Calian's a liability to them. A scandal will bury him. You're going to ruin his life."

"How rich, coming from the one who's been doing the ruining all along. You really don't know when to stop."

Andrea gave a brittle smile. "Just like Carter, Calian will choose his career over you."

Twyla's chest tightened at the mention of that name, but she stood her ground.

"That may be. But tell me, do you honestly think he could love you again after all you've done?"

"He doesn't have to," Andrea hissed. "He just has to stay."

The selfishness in those words made something inside Twyla snap.

"Oh? I always thought you needed to be loved. But maybe you're fine just collecting affection from strangers—since Calian won't give you any."

Andrea's jaw clenched. "Watch what you say."

"Too late for that. You will hide behind a fake engagement, but can you truly keep your secrets? It started with one leaked photo. Who's to say there aren't more?"

She watched Andrea work to keep her face composed. But the threat landed. They both knew another scandal could blow everything up.

Andrea's mask hardened. "You sound pathetic. What can you do, really?"

"Nothing," Twyla said coolly. "Because people like you always self-destruct. All I have to do is sit back and wait. You'll dig your own grave."

Andrea's voice rose, shrill with rage. "Don't you dare talk like you're better than me! You're just a pathetic little café owner in some backwoods town!"

"And you," Twyla shot back, "are a cheating, manipulative piece of trash. Celebrity or not, you're still garbage."

The words scorched her tongue, but they felt right—earned.

Andrea's face twisted in fury, and for a second, Twyla thought she might actually explode. She decided to walk away—no point stooping any lower. But the satisfaction of unmasking her lingered.

She wondered bitterly how Calian had ever fallen for someone like Andrea. But kind-hearted people often got tangled up in wreckage like her. She felt both triumphant and uneasy—because someone as vindictive as Andrea wouldn't let this end here.

Back inside, the staff had already cleaned up and locked the café for the night. Still unsettled, Twyla grabbed a mop and began cleaning again, trying to clear her thoughts. That's when Andrea burst back in.

A vase shattered near her feet—sharp shards sliced her leg.

"You dare mock me? You're nothing!" Andrea screamed. "You think I'm filth? You're the one sleeping with someone else's man!"

"Are you done?" Twyla said, voice like ice. "Or do I call the cops?"

Andrea laughed bitterly. "You can't even sue your ex. You're powerless! Just like you'll never take Calian from me. He was always mine!"

Twyla's blood ran cold. "How dare you bring up Carter?" she growled. "You stood there and did nothing while I begged for help. You bitch!"

She lunged, grabbing Andrea's hair. They spiraled into a vicious, chaotic fight—fists, screams, and tangled limbs. Calian's assistant rushed in, shouting, trying to pry them apart.

"Twyla! Stop!" Calian's voice boomed.

Everything froze.

Twyla turned. Calian stood there, looking like he'd stepped into a nightmare. A small crowd had formed outside, some filming. His manager was trying to shield them.

Andrea shrieked, "See, Calian? Look who you're choosing!"

"Enough!" Twyla yelled. "All you do is lie!"

They were ready to clash again when Calian forcibly dragged Andrea out. Twyla felt something inside her break. Without thinking, she fled through the back door, into the woods, tears blinding her.

She didn't stop running until she reached her secret haven—an ancient tree deep in the forest. There, she collapsed, sobbing until sleep took her. When morning came, she felt foolish, childish, and achingly tired. She trudged back toward the café.

As she reached the entrance, she spotted Calian racing toward her like a man possessed. His eyes were wild with panic.

She darted inside and locked the door.

"Twyla! Open up or I swear I'll break it down!"

"Not unless you stop looking like a demon!"

"Open this door!"

His fury shook her, but she relented. He burst inside—and instead of yelling, he pulled her into a trembling hug.

"Where are you hurt? Show me!"

His anger was gone. All that remained was fear. He dropped to his knees to check her legs and, upon seeing dried blood, swept her into his arms and carried her to the clinic.

She sat quietly while the doctor tended to her. She didn't say much, just stared out the window. Calian sat beside her, looking lost in thought.

After Andrea's wedding stunt, the agency dropped all pretense. Calian fully decided that he would live on his own terms.

Meanwhile, the internet lit up with a new scandal. Another photo surfaced—Andrea kissing a man while wearing her engagement ring. More followed. The agency had no choice but to suspend her. She fled the country in disgrace.

Calian was too busy promoting his movie to speak with Twyla again after the clinic visit. She wondered if he'd had something to do with the photo leaks. She wanted to ask. But hadn't.

Now, it was premiere night.

The role was his breakout—the first time he played a lead, a complex villain. He was exhausted and alone when he finally climbed into his van and leaned back.

"Calian."

He nearly leapt from his seat. The blanket beside him moved, revealing Twyla.

"Twyla? What the hell?"

"Your manager told me to hide."

He shook his head, chuckling despite himself. Classic revenge from his sleep-deprived manager.

She looked uneasy. He pulled her close.

"Don't worry. It's over."

"But your agency…"

"They can't touch me now."

She hesitated. "Andrea said your career was stagnant. That you'd lose everything."

He raised an eyebrow. "You believed that?"

She looked away, embarrassed.

I've made more off endorsements than both her and Carter combined. He thought.

He grinned. "Will you take care of me if I lose everything?"

"Why are you asking that?"

He feigned hurt. "So you're not sure yet?"

She pulled him in tight. "Will it really be enough for you—just… me?"

"I'll stay with you anywhere, my love."

She laughed. "My love. I like the sound of that."

—

Months passed. Calian was invited to a prestigious awards show for his performance, and Twyla, 28 weeks pregnant, walked beside him.

She glowed in a white, flowing gown adorned with soft gold embroidery. Her hair fell in lush curls down her back. A vision. People turned their heads in awe. Calian beamed but also worried—she looked too breathtaking to go unnoticed.

At the afterparty, she sat quietly at a table full of celebrities who ignored her. Calian had told her not to worry, and she didn't. She was there for him.

"How far along are you?" a blonde woman beside her asked, eyes wide.

"Twenty-eight weeks," Twyla answered with a smile.

A smirk curled the woman's lips. The atmosphere shifted. The others suddenly tuned in.

"Wow. Andrea was a different story, but Calian's taste is… surprising."

"I thought their breakup was tragic."

"Twenty-eight weeks? Is the baby even his?"

"So he's dating some pregnant girl now?"

The whispers turned cruel. The gossip spread like wildfire from one table to the next.

Twyla sat quietly and listened—really listened—to every vile comment. Then, as their attention drifted to trivial things like cars and bags, she smiled faintly and lifted her fork to enjoy her dessert.

Just as the blonde tried to "accidentally" spill red wine on her, Calian stepped between them and caught the glass, stopping its contents from spilling.

Silence fell.

"You should be careful, Ayana," he said icily.

The woman paled. Others recoiled.

He turned to Twyla with the softest expression.

"How's my love?"

"I like the cake. Not too sweet." She said, completely avoiding commenting on the almost-accident. 

"What else do you want? I'll get it."

"It's okay. I think I want to bake this for our baby's first birthday."

"Is it that good?"

"Taste it."

She offered a bite, and he took it.

"It's good. But I still like yours better."

"But this one's prettier."

"Then make me your pretty, colorful cake again—with those buttercream flowers."

She laughed. "You and your buttercream obsession."

—

As they bantered, Calian was wholly tuned in, like the world faded into silence around them. She had his full attention, his heart. The whispers and stares meant nothing.

She gazed at him with wonder.

He paused.

"When you look at me like that, you make me want to kneel and worship you."

She kissed him deeply, claiming him like he was hers by right—and in that moment, he felt it too.

He was hers. Completely.