The Final Blow

The next morning, the hospital discharged Jane.

She walked slowly through the hallway, her body weak, her heart heavier than it had ever been. She wasn't sure where she was going anymore—where she belonged.

Every step felt hollow.

Paul and Marie followed behind her, but she barely registered their presence. The world around her had become a blur.

She just wanted to leave.

She just wanted to disappear.

But the moment she stepped outside, the world caved in on her.

Blinding lights.

Flashing cameras.

Voices—so many voices, cutting through her already fragile mind like knives.

"Ms. Jane, why did Mr. Nick break up with you?"

"Were you at fault again?"

"How do you feel about his engagement?"

The words slammed into her, each one a dagger twisting deeper into her already shattered heart.

Jane froze, her breath catching in her throat. Her hands trembled. Her vision blurred.

No… please… not this…

The reporters surged forward, microphones shoved in her face, cameras flashing violently.

Her body shrank back, every instinct screaming at her to run.

But there was nowhere to go.

"Jane! Look this way!"

"Did Nick leave you because of Mr Paul?"

"Were you cheating on him?"

She tried to step back, to turn away, but they blocked her path. She felt trapped—just like before.

I can't breathe… I can't—

Suddenly, a firm hand grasped hers, pulling her behind him.

"Enough!"

Paul's voice rang out, sharp and commanding.

The cameras shifted to him as he stood protectively in front of Jane, shielding her from the suffocating crowd.

"What are you all doing?" he snapped, his voice filled with irritation. "Nick clearly stated it was due to a difference of opinion. Why are you pestering her?"

The reporters didn't back down. If anything, they became even more relentless.

"Mr. Paul, now that Nick has broken up with her, are you planning to date her?"

"What is your relationship with Ms. Jane?"

"Why was she hospitalized? Is she pregnant?"

Jane flinched.

Pregnant?

Her stomach twisted, nausea rising in her throat.

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Paul clenched his jaw. His grip on her hand tightened slightly, as if grounding her. His patience was running thin.

"Enough," he said, his voice laced with warning. "We have already cleared the misunderstanding between us. Jane and I are just good friends now. Don't make baseless speculations and defame the innocent."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

"Why is he so protective of her?"

"Why does he care so much?"

"Maybe he really is in love with her…?"

The whispers sent a chill down Jane's spine.

She swallowed hard, her body screaming for escape.

Paul, noticing her distress, immediately guided her through the reporters, shielding her from the flashing lights.

"Come on," he murmured, his voice softer now. "Let's get out of here."

Jane was tired.

Tired of the whispers.

Tired of the flashing lights.

Tired of the weight of a love that had been ripped away from her.

The reporters wouldn't stop. Their voices clawed at her, demanding answers she wasn't ready to give. But she couldn't take it anymore.

With exhaustion in her bones, she took a deep breath and lifted her chin.

"What do you want to know?"

The cameras zoomed in, the journalists pouncing on her like vultures.

"Did Nick leave you for Evelyn Sinclair?"

"Was there another woman involved?"

"Are you and Paul dating now?"

Jane swallowed the lump in her throat.

"It's true that we broke up, but it has nothing to do with others," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "I wish Mr. Nick good luck for his future. And I request you all to stop following me."

The words left her lips with no emotion—like she wasn't even there, just a hollow shell speaking on autopilot.

Her body swayed. The weight of it all was too much.

And then—darkness.

She barely registered the strong arms that caught her before she hit the ground.

Paul.

He lifted her into his arms, carrying her as if she weighed nothing. The flashes continued, cameras clicking furiously as they captured the moment, but Jane could no longer see them.

She could no longer see anything.

When she woke up, she was home.

Safe. But still lost.

The world had not changed. The pain had not lessened.

One Month Later

Nick's engagement was just days away.

The news spread like wildfire, the headlines painting a picture of a man who had moved on, who had left his past behind without a second glance.

And Jane… Jane had spent the past month convincing herself that none of it mattered.

Paul had kept his promise. He never crossed the line, never forced anything on her. He remained by her side, just as he had said he would.

So when he invited her to lunch on her birthday, she didn't refuse.

She didn't expect much. But as soon as she stepped inside the restaurant—

"Surprise!"

Confetti filled the air. Maria's arms wrapped around her in a tight hug, her voice filled with excitement.

For the first time in months, Jane smiled.

It was small, hesitant, but real.

Paul grinned, pleased. He had done this for her—made sure she had at least one good memory amidst the ruins of her life which he did with his own hands. 

She allowed herself to enjoy the moment.

When Paul extended his hand for a dance, she hesitated. But then—why not?

She took his hand, letting him lead her onto the floor. The music was soft, gentle. For the first time in what felt like forever, she let herself breathe.

But then—

A voice. Sharp. Bitter.

"You seem to be having a good time?"

Jane froze.

She knew that voice.

Slowly, she turned her head.

Nick stood there, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes locked onto hers.

The music stopped. The world around them faded.

Her smile vanished.

Paul stepped back, his presence retreating into the background, giving them space.

"What are you doing here?" Jane's voice was flat. Emotionless.

Nick's lips curved into something cold. "I had a meeting and saw you. Thought I'd say hi."

Maria scoffed, stepping forward. "You don't have any right to approach her."

Nick's eyes darkened. "I have never seen a more shameless woman than you," he spat.

Jane stiffened. "What?"

He let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head.

"Didn't you claim that he kidnapped you?" he said, nodding toward Paul. "Who dances happily with a kidnapper?"

Her heart clenched.

So that's what he thought?

That she had chosen Paul?

That she had given in to him?

Pain twisted deep inside her, but she refused to let him see it.

"You broke up with me," she said, her voice eerily calm. "Who I meet doesn't concern you."

And with that, she turned away.

But before she could leave—

"Mr. Nick, what are you doing here?"

The reporters had arrived. Cameras clicked. Voices clashed.

Nick didn't flinch.

His smirk was cruel.

"Nothing," he said, his voice carrying through the chaos. "I was just inviting Ms. Jane to my wedding."

Jane's breath caught.

The words were like a slap.

Paul stepped in front of her protectively, shielding her from Nick's gaze.

The journalists turned their attention to Paul.

"Mr. Paul, what is the celebration for? Are you finally proposing to Ms. Jane?"

Nick scoffed.

Paul remained silent.

Then, Jane did something unexpected.

She smiled.

Encouragingly.

And that was all it took.

"Yes," Paul said smoothly, his voice confident. "I just proposed, and I'm waiting for her answer."

The crowd erupted.

"Miss, why didn't you accept his proposal?"

"Do you still have feelings for Mr. Nick?"

Paul leaned down, pressing a kiss to her hand—a move so practiced, so deliberate, that it made her stomach churn.

And then—

"I accept his proposal."

The words left her lips before she could stop them.

They weren't hers.

They belonged to someone else.

But Paul beamed.

And Nick—

Nick stood frozen, his face paling, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Something inside him shattered.

But it was too late.