Their Happily Ever After

The sight of the shy and quiet Mia on the runway brought immense awe and pride to Wes.

She looked ravishing under the stage lights, as though she had come from a daydream. Not until she’s told to give a speech did Wes snap out of his reverie. 

He leaned forward, already sensing her nerves from the audience seats as she held the microphone tremulously. That’s when he noticed Claire waving.

"You knew?" he inhaled sharply, disgruntled. "And you hid it from me?"

She glanced over, smirking unapologetically. "Now, you know how it feels."

Wes was about to retort when he realized Mia was searching the room before stopping in Claire’s direction; that's why she's waving.

As their eyes met, his heart skipped a beat. Her shoulders squared, and she breathed in. She kept her gaze on him, a bashful smile tugging at her lips.

“T-Thank you for believing in my work, for giving me the courage to believe in myself.”

Her voice was small, but it resonated. After expressing her gratitude, she spoke about her creations—about how everyone grew at their own pace, how nobody was truly perfect even when they appeared so, how those who seemed to have nothing often had a lot within. He listened in rapt attention, marvelling.

At the end of the speech, the crowd applauded once more. Wes grinned from ear to ear, not once looking away from her. Mia clutched at her chest, overwhelmed but still steady.

Seeing her bloom in her own silent way, he could not help but fall all over again.

---

The clinks of champagne towers and tittle-tattles of the upper crust quieted as Wes escorted Mia inside the post-show cocktail reception hall.

“Wes Ashthorne...? And that's his girlfriend?!”

Heads turned. Eyes widened. Cameras flashed.

It was the couple’s first public appearance. Even though she was drained after the speech, she still came since he invited her. The least he could do was to stay close to her, to shield her from the worst of what would come.

“You’re doing great,” he whispered, giving a quick peck on her head. “Here. You can hold me.”

When their hands touched, she pulled away abruptly. He looked at her in concern, then at the gloves she was wearing. Before he could ask what was wrong, they were suddenly surrounded.

“Mr. Ashthorne, Ms. Rosswood! My, you two are a vision!” a magazine editor greeted, followed by a PR manager chiming, “About time you show up together! Everyone’s been talking about you!”

“Congratulations on winning, Ms. Rosswood! Your collection is inspiring!”

"Goodness, aren't you stunning? You outshine all those models!"

“So, Mr. Ashthorne, how did you two meet? We’ve been raring to know.”

Despite the barrage of attention, Mia remained by Wes’s side. 

She appeared tense, but that lessened as he placed his arm around her waist. Unlike when he reached for her hand, she let him hold her this time. His heart felt full having her there, even as he still found it hard to believe.

“Truly a pleasant surprise, Mia. You did well.”

Everyone turned to see Romulus, expression warm and genuine as he congratulated Mia. Behind him were Caesar and Rebecca, who shared the same look of stoic scrutiny.

Wes knew his uncle and aunt, with their elitist inclinations, disapproved of Mia for not being of their pedigree. 

It showed in how they regarded her with subtle disdain. He tightened his hold around her, ready to whisk her away. But he felt her straighten up and speak with a suppressed tremor in her voice.

“G-Good evening, sir. Thank you for your kind words,” she began, now lacing her fingers with his as if anchoring herself to him. “Please consider this as my response to what you said last time.”

Caesar and Rebecca exchanged glances, baffled like the rest of them. Only his father seemed to understand, as he smiled and nodded. Claire and Caleb later joined in, launching into idle talks that steered the conversation away.

Wes couldn’t wait anymore.

He took Mia out of the building, ignoring the voices calling after them. They ran past flaring lights, strobing lenses, outstretched microphones, and into the cool, windy night. His limousine waited for them at the curb, with Seth in the driver’s seat.

Seth turned to Mia as she climbed into the passenger seat with Wes. “Apologies, Ms. Mia. I haven’t properly introduced myself yet, have I? I am Seth,” he said with a courteous bow. “Bodyguard, assistant—whatever that keeps the Young Master safe, on schedule, and out of trouble.”

Her jaw slacked. “I-I thought you’re a driver, Mr. Seth, but you’re a bodyguard? That’s…cool.”

Wes scowled at Mia’s word of admiration while Seth smirked as though to infuriate him more. “My job isn't all that great, miss. He’d ditch paperwork, sneak out, and make sudden demands, but I’m glad he’ll at least be with you every time he disappears from now on.”

She frowned. “That’s bad, Wes. You shouldn't neglect your duties and cause others problems.”

“Drive.” Wes nudged his chin forward and glared at Seth, upset that Mia scolded him. “Partition.”

A dark glass panel rolled up, sealing off the front seats from the back. The car engine started, and the city blurred outside the tinted windows.

Mia looked at him. “Where are we- Mhm!”

He kissed her before she could finish.

Pent-up emotions spilled out from an entire evening of restraint. He cupped her face, fingers brushing her warm cheeks. She sat dazed for a moment, then her arms came around his neck.

Their tangled breaths quickened until she was falling onto the leather cushion. He braced himself above her and kissed her again—slower, deeper, more passionate. The stiffness that had latched onto her earlier was gone as she arched into him with much ardor.

In these stolen moments unbound by expectations, every touch became a vow that needed no witness—a secret world that belonged to them alone.

---

The limousine dropped them off at a place Mia immediately recognized.

Wes smiled and said, “Thought you’d rather be here than some fancy party.”

For a moment, they stared at each other in quiet reminiscence before turning to the café. This was where she’d once counted coins and apologized for ordering nothing, where he’d sat across from her in a coffee-stained shirt. As they stepped inside, now donning a silk dress and tailored suit, they no longer felt unwelcome like back then.

They were conspicuous, though.

“H-How may I h-help…?” The barista at the counter was too starstruck to talk properly, having recognized them.

Mia shrank, out of habit, but stopped herself. “Can I order, um…a strawberry smoothie, please?”

“Black coffee for me. I'll pay, Mia.”

“N-No, wait, Wes! Let me do it!”

Wes tried to insist, yet faltered at her pleading eyes. “Okay, but just that. I'll get the rest.”

“Huh?”

He ordered everything else—pastries, sandwiches, even other strawberry-flavored drinks. She raised an incredulous brow at him, and he threw her a playful wink. He took her to their table, dismissing her protest and reasoning that she had not eaten earlier.

“You couldn't enjoy the banquet even though you're the star of the night,” he complained, and she giggled, “I don't think I can anyway with all those people around.”

They sat in their old seats, where they had talked about laundry and exchanged contact numbers. The café looked and smelled the same, but many other things had changed since then.

Mia eagerly partook of her drink once it arrived, savoring the sweetness that felt earned. Wes watched for a moment before shifting his gaze to her hands.

“Mia, why the gloves?”

“Ah, erm… Well…”

“Well? Show me.”

"I...wasn't trying to hide them." She put down her cup to slip the gloves off. "Actually, I didn't finish some of the dresses on purpose since I was out of time. Good thing my idea worked." 

Small, needle cuts covered by bandages riddled her fingers—damage left after sewing from dusk until dawn.

His eyes widened for a second before drooping with sadness, and he carefully reached for her hands. Her cheeks heated up as he went on to kiss her knuckles affectionately, then each of her fingers. 

It was slow and reverent, meant to soothe her pain, to honor her hard work.

“W-Wes, we’re outside.” Mia closed her eyes and squirmed in her seat, flustered, but that was until she felt something slide on her finger. “Huh? What did you just…?”

It was a channel-set diamond ring with a white-gold band.

Her heart might as well have stopped. She gawked, too shocked to utter a word. He averted his gaze, his face bright red.

“You said only married couples could live together, so... It’s too soon for that, I know. You don't have to answer now. This is only me promising you that I’m serious, that I’ll wait.”

“I see... Then, I'll promise you this, too." She smiled tearfully as she accepted the ring. "I'll do my best for you, for us."

“And I’ll care for you always." He leaned forward, gently resting his forehead on hers. "So, take as long as you need.” 

They came from different planes of existence—one of flashing cameras and red carpets, the other of fraying sketchbooks and scrapped sewing machines. 

Yet their fates intertwined as if by magic, and love sealed them like a spell that could never be broken. Even as the universe conspired against them, it would soon realize they were each other's happily-ever-after that destiny rewrote the stars for.

Light or shadow, perfect or ordinary—neither mattered in this space enclosed by sweet silence.