From the Shadows

Mia gasped in shock as Lucy’s iced drink exploded and splattered over her.

“Oh, no!" she crooned with fake concern. “Sorry, I'm so clumsy~ You should really watch where you’re going.”

Mocking laughter erupted around Mia, all while she could only stare down at herself, face as white as a sheet. The cold, sticky liquid dripped from her chest, sending a numbness that spread from her skin inward. Her soiled dress clung to her, completely soaked through with syrup and cream.

And this dress was one of the priciest things she'd ever bought for herself.

Gwen readied her phone to take a picture while Mia stood stone-cold like a statue. “Smile, loser~"

Unable to bear any more, she spun on her heel and dashed towards the nearest restroom, tears streaming down her face. People turned to look as she passed, their gazes flicking from her filthy appearance to her miserable expression. Of course, this had to happen when things were going well for her for once.

Once in the restroom, she locked herself into a stall and leaned back against the tile wall.

“W-W-Why…? J-Just why am I l-like this…?”

Her breathing came in short, shaky sobs as she cried her heart out. Tugging her dress with trembling fingers, she inspected the damage, only to feel her heart crumble all over again at the mess that she'd become. She grabbed a wad of paper towels and tried to dab herself dry, but it helped little.

Right now, her only saving grace was the oversized sweater that she'd shoved into her bag at the last minute before leaving.

‘I can’t let Wes see this. I just...can’t. I can't let him see this side of me.’

If he did, he would realize she wasn't worth the trouble. What's more, seeing her in this state would bring back bad memories; he was in this very same position not too long ago. Not wanting to burden him, she braced herself and adjusted the sweater around her.

It was uncomfortable to stay in wet clothes. However, it was all she had at the moment. She needed to go straight home to avoid ending up sick.

She stepped out of the restroom with her head hanging low. Everything inside her was cracking into a hundred pieces, but she couldn't keep Wes waiting, and it's already a miracle that she could still move despite the rioting emotions within her. She made haste and took a different route to the restaurant.

There he was at the first table, looking ever so cool and handsome.

His face lit up the second he saw her. She smiled in return, or at least tried to.

“Found everything?” he asked, standing up to pull out her seat for her.

“Mm-hmm!” Her tone as she replied was forcibly light. “B-But is it okay if I go home now? Sorry, I… I-I’m just not feeling well.”

His eyes widened, now filled with concern. “You are? Is that what the sweater is for?”

“Y-Yes… It h-happens sometimes w-when I get o-overwhelmed while outside, s-so I… I always have one in the r-ready…”

Wes raised a dubious brow but said nothing. It seemed he had been prepared to order too, the menu flipped open on the table, yet she had to come and deliver this news. She felt worse when he offered to bring her home.

“I-It’s fine, Wes. I don't want to b-bother you-”

“Mia.” His voice was stern, catching her off guard. “Please, let me do at least this for you.”

“B-But we've been t-together all day, and you probably have s-something else to d-do…”

“That's my line,” he sighed, “You're the one taking the time to help me, are you not?”

Mia couldn't argue anymore, not when he's starting to get frustrated. They made their way out of the mall without exchanging a single word. When the taxicab arrived, he reached for the door and opened it for her.

She thanked him before sliding inside. He followed behind and sat next to her.

If Wes noticed the scent of caramel, he chose not to say anything.

---

Wes wanted to speak but held back, his eyes shifting between the road ahead and the young woman beside him.

He had sensed it the moment she entered the restaurant. The air around her had changed, and her movements were visibly stiff. She refused to look him in the eye, too, which told him more than he had to know.

There was the faintest trace of sweetness drifting from her, and beneath it a sharp, sterile smell he couldn’t figure the reason behind—of restroom water, paper towels, and an iron tang of pain.

She was hurting. He could feel it.

Even though it had only been a week since they met, he felt like he’d seen enough of her to make it seem otherwise. That quiet yet fierce pride she wore like armor—he liked it at first. Now, however, it weighed on him as it built walls upon walls he’d rather break down than climb over, if only to reach her faster.

When the silence stretched on for too long, his voice came out at last.

“What’s wrong, Mia?” he asked, slow and gentle.

Mia didn’t answer at once, only stared out the window. “…N-Nothing. I’m sorry.”

He frowned. “You don’t have to apologize.”

Everything had been perfect, and they'd been having a good time. Then, all of a sudden, this happened. The day was ruined, and there was no apparent reason as to why.

‘Why? Why won’t she tell me why?’

How he wished Mia would open up to him.

But he’d understand if she still didn’t trust him enough at this point. That wouldn’t stop him from knowing the truth of the matter.

‘I’ll find out soon, and when I do, I'll be sure to deal with it—whatever or whoever it is.’

---

“How surprising. I believe you said you were going to meet a potential fiancée…” said a black-haired man in uniform from the driver's seat. “…Young Master Ashthorne.”

Wes entered the car and threw an unapologetic smirk at him. He’d just parted ways with Mia, then was picked up right after. Seth, his bodyguard and personal assistant, greeted him with a deadpan look as he settled down at the back.

The hush of the night fell upon the streets in Mia's neighborhood.

It’s the ideal time for a luxury vehicle to linger around without drawing attention, though arrangements had already been made earlier so that his pickup could follow them in secret. In truth, Wes had wanted to bring the girl home instead of riding a taxicab. But he couldn’t risk exposing his true identity right now, not when everything still hung by a fragile thread of secrecy.

“You even canceled your appointments today—on the phone. That will come back at you, Young Master,” the man said, his tone clipped with reproach.

“You’re much too strait-laced, Seth. Just consider it as part of my nightlife activities,” he retorted, leaning back against the leather seat, one leg propped over the other.

“Doing nightlife activities in broad daylight? Our Young Master's sure gotten used to goofing around, and this time, with a woman I've never met before.” He tossed a sidelong glance at him through the rearview mirror. “As far as I remember, you’re courting Alice Quin. So, why are we trailing after someone else? I even got a call from the boutique manager of L’Atelier earlier today. Apparently, you reserved the entire place without prior notice. What were you thinking?”

Wes chuckled to himself, recalling how the staff scrambled and scurried about when he’d booked the clothing store on the spot.

Dressed in drab, tacky clothing, they initially thought he was some eccentric weirdo. But as soon as he showed them his obsidian VIP card, their attitude changed in a flash. Mere possession of the item would immediately reveal who the holder was, as it was exclusive to a few selected ultra-elites.

Suddenly, he was Wes Ashthorne, and everyone was at their very best behavior.

Of course, word would’ve reached the people at home. That's the reason for the phone call earlier, his appointments being the other. Needless to say, the person inconvenienced the most was far from amused.

‘But with the man Mia has made me, I'm afraid you would have to work harder from now on, Seth.’