Chapter 3: Drifting Apart

Days turned into weeks, and the gap between Raphael and Elara only widened.

At first, she thought it was temporary—that he was just busy adjusting to his new responsibilities. But as time went on, she realized that Raphael was deliberately keeping his distance.

She still saw him, but never like before.

Their usual long walks home turned into brief exchanges in the hallway. The easygoing conversations they once had were replaced with hurried greetings. Her calls often went unanswered, and when they did meet, he was always distracted—his mind elsewhere.

He was slipping away.

And as much as Elara wanted to reach out and pull him back, she wasn't sure he wanted to be pulled back at all.

Meanwhile, someone else was constantly trying to close the distance Raphael created.

Amelia Vaughn.

His cousin.

Beautiful, poised, and sharp as a blade. Amelia had made it clear from a young age that she wasn't just another Vaughn—she wanted everything that came with the name.

Including Raphael.

She played the part of the perfect noblewoman, always appearing at just the right time, acting as if she belonged by his side. Whether it was company gatherings, family dinners, or even at school, she took every opportunity to remind everyone—especially Raphael—that they were a perfect match.

But no matter how many times she spoke to him, no matter how often she placed herself in his path, he never spared her a second glance.

She was nothing more than a shadow in his periphery.

Yet, that didn't stop her from trying.

And as Raphael buried himself deeper into the world of business and power, both Elara and Amelia watched from different sides—one trying to hold on, the other trying to claim him for herself.

Neither realizing that Raphael was slowly losing himself in the process.

As days passed in silence, the weight of Raphael's absence settled heavily in Elara's heart—until one night, as she glanced at the glowing digits on her clock, a familiar ache stirred within her.

Elara sat by her window, the city lights flickering in the distance. The clock on her bedside table read 11:58 PM.

Two more minutes.

Her fingers curled around the fabric of her blanket as she stared outside, waiting. But deep down, she already knew.

He wasn't coming.

Her heart clenched as memories washed over her—their midnight tradition, a promise that had never been broken.

Flashback

The cool night air brushed against her skin as she quietly stepped out of her house, her heartbeat quickening with excitement. The street was dimly lit, the silence of the night making everything feel more intimate, more secret.

And then she saw him.

Raphael leaned against his motorcycle, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips. "You're late."

She huffed, crossing her arms. "I had to be careful. Unlike you, I don't have an army of butlers to cover for me."

His chuckle was low, warm. Without another word, he handed her a helmet and climbed onto the bike. "Come on, birthday girl."

The engine roared to life, and as they rode through the empty streets, Elara felt that familiar rush—the freedom, the thrill, the knowledge that no matter what happened, Raphael was always there.

Their destination was always the same.

A small, cozy restaurant tucked away from the bustling parts of the city. The owner, an old friend of Raphael's family, would always greet them with a knowing smile, leading them to their usual table by the window.

The restaurant was dimly lit, but outside, fairy lights twinkled against the dark sky, casting a warm glow over the night. It was perfect. It was theirs.

"Happy birthday, Elara."

Every year, he said it the same way. Not just as words, but as a promise. A reminder that no matter how chaotic their lives got, this moment would always belong to them.

End of Flashback

Elara blinked, her chest tightening as she returned to the present.

12:00 AM.

Her birthday had arrived.

And for the first time in years, she was spending it alone.

But while Elara sat in silence, coming to terms with the painful truth, miles away, Raphael was already soaring toward his next goal, unaware of the moment he had left behind.

Morning sunlight streamed through the curtains as Elara stirred awake, her body still heavy with sleep.

Then, the realization hit her.

Her birthday.

She sat up, glancing at her phone. No missed calls. No messages. No familiar name lighting up her screen.

Nothing.

A bitter chuckle escaped her lips as she leaned back against the headboard.

She had been foolish, hadn't she?

Even after all this time, even after the distance between them grew wider, some naive part of her had still believed—hoped—that he would remember.

That at exactly midnight, he would be there, just like always.

But reality was cruel.

Raphael Vaughn was no longer the boy who used to wait outside her house, no longer the person who would drop everything just to celebrate with her under the glow of fairy lights.

He had moved on.

And maybe… it was time for her to do the same.

Meanwhile…

A private jet soared through the sky, carrying Raphael toward another city, another business deal. Dressed sharply in a tailored suit, he sat with his laptop open, scanning through reports and financial documents.

His mind was a whirlwind of figures and negotiations.

The Vaughn name carried power, but power was never secure. He had to fight for his place, prove himself over and over again.

There was no room for distractions.

No room for anything else.

Not even the date on the calendar.