After dropping Mike off at school and grabbing a peaceful solo breakfast, Mia returned home to a quiet house, the class reunion lingering on her mind. It was scheduled for the evening—but she wasn't in any rush. She had other plans.
First on the list? Finishing another chapter of her novel. Typing lazily as she lounged on the couch with a fruit drink beside her, Mia posted the 11th chapter. The comments and fan theories were already rolling in from the last ten.
> "Author-sama, this plot twist! I'm SHAKING!"
"She updated again?! I need a fan club just for her uploads."
Instead of posting another singing video, Mia felt playful. She set up her camera and recorded a relaxing nail art video instead. Her fingers moved with elegant precision—
Soft lilac tips with a gradient fade into shimmering silver.
On one nail: a tiny galaxy swirl.
On another: a miniature rose painted with fine glitter dust.
A small crescent moon charm dangled delicately from her pinky.
Each nail looked like it belonged in a magical girl series—whimsical, feminine, and oddly hypnotizing.
She posted the video with a light caption:
> "Bored hands do beautiful things. #NailedIt #MiaVibesOnly"
Next, she casually uploaded a new song. This one wasn't dramatic—it had a dreamy, nostalgic tone. A soft beat, lo-fi strings in the background, and her voice…
Smooth like velvet and honey.
It carried a subtle rasp at the end of each note, as if she'd whispered into the mic while smiling. Her high notes didn't pierce—they melted. Her voice didn't just sing the lyrics; it hugged them.
She didn't stop there—she posted a photo of her recent painting: a surreal image of a girl made of stars, sitting on a crescent moon, her eyes closed as planets orbited around her like thoughts.
With a satisfied sigh, Mia shut the laptop.
She had no intention of checking the stats—Dumpling would do that.
"Promote it," she muttered, waving lazily.
Floating like a content little balloon, Dumpling zipped off. Promotion? Done. Bots, trends, secret channels—it was already going viral.
"Your novel just hit 1.3 million views," the ghost of Maria whispered nearby, trying to get attention.
Mia raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You say that like I'm not expecting ten million."
Ignoring the lingering spirit, Mia booked a quick spa appointment, got a heavenly back massage, soaked in flower-scented baths, then—on a whim—went sightseeing.
She strolled through the city like a tourist with no care in the world, eating bubble waffles and cotton candy. Dumplings floated near her head like fireflies, drawing curious glances. She pretended not to notice.
Reunion tonight?
She still hadn't decided if she'd go.
But if she did—she was going to arrive glowing.
...
The restaurant have a soften golden glow, the kind that made everything look a little more expensive than it was. Round tables filled the space, each surrounded by clusters of well-dressed adults catching up, clinking glasses, and laughing just a bit louder than necessary.
Mia sat near the edge of the room with Mike, their table quietly tucked away from the center of activity. She stirred her tea slowly, eyes on her phone screen, flicking through comments and messages. Mike, meanwhile, had already finished a plate of spring rolls and was now sampling everything within reach like he was on a mission.
Around them, the conversations floated like background music—sweet on the surface, sharp if you listened closely.
"I told him, if the team doesn't hit the quarterly target, I'm not signing off. I mean, you can't just expect six figures without putting in the hours, right?" one man said, adjusting the sleek watch on his wrist as though by accident.
A woman across from him laughed softly. "Six figures is cute. I swear, after we expanded into Singapore, the taxes alone gave me a headache. You know how it is when you hit that bracket."
Someone chimed in from another table. "My husband just changed his Porsche again. He says the last one didn't have the right sound when it accelerated."
"Oh, mine's been obsessed with electric now. We're building a smart garage. Voice-controlled everything. I can't even park anymore without it talking to me," another added with a light laugh.
"It's so hard finding a nanny who actually speaks three languages, though. Kids these days absorb everything. We had to fire the last one because she pronounced 'croissant' wrong."
Soft laughter followed. Smooth smiles. Not one pair of eyes glanced toward Mia or Mike.
They were being ignored rudely
Just as Mia refilled Mike's juice, Jane sauntered over with a glass of wine in hand and that all-too-familiar smile that stretched just a little too wide.
"So, Mia… you actually brought your kid to the school reunion?" she asked, eyebrows slightly raised. "Don't you have a nanny or something?"
Mia didn't even blink. "They're arriving tomorrow," she said casually, slicing a piece of cake for Mike. "I like peace and quiet before the help arrives."
Jane let out a soft laugh, clearly trying to recover from being brushed off. "Oh, right. I totally understand. So… do you own your house, or are you renting for now?" another guy chimed in, leaning in with false politeness.
Mia turned to him slowly, her smile gentle but sharp. "Why? You planning to manage my mortgage or babysit me?"
The smile slid right off his face like frosting off a hot cake.
James tried to rescue the awkward silence. "So, what school is your kid attending?" he asked, gesturing subtly toward Mike.
Mike, who hadn't even looked up until now, calmly raised a brow and said, "Can't you read? The uniform's right in front of you."
Jane leaned forward, squinting slightly, her eyes going wide. "Wait… is that the Yuanlan Elementary School uniform?"
"Oh, so you can see," Mia replied, her tone light and mildly surprised. "Impressive."
Without missing a beat, she stood up and placed her napkin on the table. "Anyway, it's past my child's bedtime. Thanks for the free food."
Mike grabbed the last spring roll on the plate as he stood. "Food was good. Company… mid."
Mia didn't even glance back as they walked out, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor, leaving behind a room full of stunned, half-smiling adults pretending nothing just happened.
---
The warm morning light spilled gently through the sheer curtains, casting a golden glow across the kitchen. The rich scent of freshly brewed tea mixed with the buttery aroma of toasted bread and eggs sizzling in the pan.
The nanny moved gracefully, placing the breakfast down on the long dining table. On the plates were slices of thick, fluffy bread, lightly browned and spread with glossy, golden peach jam. A small dish of crispy fried eggs, edges perfectly curled and golden, sat beside them. Steam rose gently from the cups of hot black tea, swirling in the air like dancing threads of comfort. The clink of porcelain and the quiet hum of the kitchen created a soft, homey atmosphere.
Mike sat at the table, one leg swinging beneath his chair as he stared at the food like he was calculating something. Mia, dressed in a light robe, sat across from him, her fork already spearing into a piece of bread.
"I have an idea," Mike said suddenly, lifting his head with purpose.
"What is it?" Mia asked, chewing casually as she sipped her tea.
"I want to become a star," Mike said, looking at her with his usual calm seriousness—as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
The nanny paused mid-step. From the void near the kitchen counter, a familiar floating dumpling blinked into view.
"Where does this come from?" Dumpling asked, spinning slowly in the air like a confused balloon.
Even Maria's ghost, who had been eerily quiet all morning, shimmered into view near the window, her arms crossed, expression unreadable but clearly intrigued.
Mia set her fork down with a faint clink, raising an eyebrow as she looked at Mike.
"Why do you want to become a star?" she asked, tone light but curious.
Mike didn't answer.
He just stared at her, eyes clear and steady, filled with something unspoken. His silence wasn't the stubborn kind—it was the kind that waited. Waited for her to understand, or just to accept it.
Mia sighed, defeated, pressing a finger to her temple. "Fine," she muttered. "Let's hear your plan, future superstar."
A slow smile tugged at Mike's lips as he popped a bite of egg into his mouth.
---
A month have passed
The corridor outside the surgery room was far too quiet, but Oliver's heart wasn't. It pounded like a drum in her chest, every second feeling like an hour.
Then the doctor stepped out.
"The surgery was successful," he said with a calm smile. "Jake can see clearly now—with both eyes."
The world froze.
Oliver stared at him, as if the words hadn't quite settled in her ears. Then, like a dam breaking, her relief surged through her—wild, overwhelming, and warm.
She didn't think. She didn't hesitate.
She ran forward and threw her arms around Damien's neck.
He caught her instinctively, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arms wrapped around her waist, strong and secure, holding her like she was made of glass and fire at once.
Oliver clung to him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket. Her breath shook with all the emotions she hadn't let herself feel—fear, hope, gratitude. It was too much, all at once.
"I was so scared…" she whispered.
Damien rested his chin on her shoulder, his voice quiet and deep in her ear. "I know."
His hand gently moved up her back in slow, calming strokes, grounding her.
Then, as if realizing the intimacy of the moment, Oliver pulled back slightly, her cheeks red. "Brother Damien, we shouldn't…"
But Damien didn't let her go.
He smiled—a small, rare, heartbreakingly warm smile. One that made her breath catch again.
"Don't ruin the moment, Oliver," he murmured, his voice so soft it felt like a secret. "Can't you see it already?"
She blinked, confused. "See what?"
He reached up and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek. She didn't flinch. She leaned into it—just a little.
"I don't want to be your brother," he said, eyes never leaving hers. "Or your friend."
He lowered his hand, but not before his thumb gently traced the line of her jaw, like he was memorizing it.
"I want to be your man."
Her lips parted in surprise.
"I've loved you for so long, Oliver. From the moment I saw you, I knew… this little girl would one day grow up to become the only woman I want beside me."
He stepped closer, so close she could feel the heat from his body. Her breath hitched.
The hallway disappeared. There was no hospital. No fluorescent light. Just the two of them in this suspended moment.
"I waited for the right time," he said, voice husky. "And now, Jake's okay. You're okay. I don't have to pretend anymore."
He leaned in slowly, carefully. His lips hovered just above hers. Oliver's eyes fluttered shut, her heart practically leaping out of her chest.
She could feel his breath against her mouth. So close…
But at the very last second, Damien turned and kissed the tip of her nose instead.
Oliver's eyes shot open in confusion as he pulled back with a soft chuckle, his eyes twinkling with mischief and something deeper—affection, patience, love.
"Let's go see Jake," he said, turning toward the ward.
Oliver stood there, stunned. She blinked. Touched her nose. It still tingled.
Then she flushed a deep pink, both hands flying to her cheeks as she quietly squealed to herself.
She smacked her cheeks lightly, trying to calm the giddy warmth bubbling up inside her.
"Oh my god," she whispered, then chased after him, lips pressed together to hide the wide, uncontrollable smile spreading across her face.
---