Ophelia practically skipped into the bathroom, the pale blue shopping bag clutched in her hands like a precious treasure.
She locked herself in the largest stall and began unpacking.
First, she pulled out a shirt—soft cotton, beautifully tailored.
Beige.
Then pants. Also beige. Perfectly her size.
How did he even know my size?
She continued unpacking, her eyes widening with each item.
A bucket hat. Beige.
Sneakers—thank God, her feet were dying in those heels.
And... jewelry? Simple pieces. Elegant.
Gold accents.
Ophelia held up the bucket hat and started laughing.
Is Maxi's assistant trying to play matchmaker, or is this just a coincidence?
She remembered Maxi wearing a baseball cap in some of the photos she'd seen online. And his outfit today was beige cotton...
Everything matches him.
The shirt matched his style. The pants were the same color family—just a lighter hue.
Even the accessories coordinated.
People are going to think we're a couple.
The thought made her heart do a little flip.
She quickly changed, grateful to be out of the purple nightmare and into clothes that actually fit and felt comfortable. The sneakers were like heaven after hours in heels.
When she looked at herself in the mirror, she had to admit—Maxi's assistant had excellent taste.
And possibly ulterior motives.
Back at the Table
Maxi was checking his phone when he sensed movement and looked up.
Ophelia was walking toward him, and his eyebrows shot up in surprise.
She was dressed almost identically to him.
Her beige shirt and pants were a shade lighter than his deeper tones, creating a coordinated but not overly matchy look.
She'd even put on the bucket hat, which somehow looked adorable on her.
Levis.
His assistant was absolutely dead.
Mother must have gotten to him. I'm going to kill him for listening and spying.
But despite his internal grumbling, Maxi couldn't help but smile. Ophelia looked comfortable. Happy. And the coordinated outfits were... actually kind of nice.
"Ready to go?" he asked as she approached.
"Yeah, sure." She grabbed her winter coat, folded it neatly, and tucked it into the shopping bag along with her purse.
They started walking toward the exit when Ophelia paused.
"Can I ask for a favor?"
"Of course."
She bit her lip, suddenly looking a bit nervous. "Instead of going for dessert at some fancy place... I want to show you the other side. You know, I was privileged growing up, but I was also lucky enough to experience the kind of life those people outside our circle live. And it's quite... blissful. Simple."
She looked up at him, her eyes bright with hope.
"I just feel like we'd connect more if we experienced something real together. Does that make sense?"
Maxi studied her for a moment, then smiled warmly.
"I'd like that."
"Really?" Her face lit up.
"Really. It's good to experience new things. And honestly?" He leaned in slightly, voice dropping conspiratorially. "I'm kind of tired of fancy restaurants."
Ophelia laughed, delighted. "Okay! Perfect. Let me order us a ride."
She pulled out her phone and started typing rapidly as they exited the restaurant.
Street Food District
The Uber dropped them off in a part of the city Maxi rarely visited—vibrant, loud, alive with energy.
Street vendors lined both sides of the road, their stalls lit with colorful string lights. The air smelled like grilled meat, fried dough, spices, and smoke. Music blared from competing speakers. People laughed, shouted, haggled.
It was chaotic.
It was wonderful.
"This is amazing," Maxi said, looking around with genuine curiosity.
"Right?" Ophelia grabbed his hand without thinking, tugging him forward. "Come on! I know the best spots."
The Food stalls
"Two spicy pork, one chicken!" Ophelia ordered confidently in a language Maxi didn't recognize.
The vendor—a weathered man with kind eyes—grinned at her. "Ophelia! Long time no see!"
"I know, I know! Been busy with the gallery."
"Always working, this one." The man winked at Maxi. "You her boyfriend?"
Ophelia's face went red. "Uncle Beck—"
"He better treat you right, or I'll come find him!" Uncle Beck laughed, already assembling their tacos with practiced efficiency.
Maxi just smiled, deciding not to correct the assumption.
They ate standing up, leaning against a concrete barrier, and Maxi had to admit—these were the best tacos he'd ever had.
"Good?" Ophelia asked, watching him with barely concealed amusement.
"Incredible," he admitted, already reaching for his second. "Where has this been all my life?"
"Hidden from people who only eat at Michelin-starred restaurants," she teased.
"You have to try the mango sticky rice," Ophelia insisted, pulling him toward a cart covered in colorful sweets.
She ordered two portions, and they sat on a nearby bench, eating with wooden spoons.
"Okay, this is dangerous," Maxi said after his first bite. "I could eat this every day."
"Right?! I used to come here every week when I first opened the gallery. It was my stress relief."
"Not anymore?"
She shrugged. "Got busier. Lost track of the simple things."
Their eyes met, and something warm passed between them.
"We should make this a regular thing," Maxi said softly.
Ophelia's breath caught. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Third Stop: Arcade
"Oh my God, they have vintage arcade games!" Ophelia practically bounced with excitement when she spotted the small gaming corner tucked between food stalls.
"Have you ever played Street Fighter?" she challenged.
Maxi raised an eyebrow. "Are you challenging me, Miss Levesque?"
"I absolutely am, Mr. Blackwood."
They played three rounds.
Ophelia won all three.
"How—" Maxi stared at the screen in disbelief. "How are you this good?"
"Secret misspent youth," she said smugly. "I told you I experienced the other side of life."
"I need a rematch."
"Loser buys the next round of snacks."
"Deal."
He lost again.
As the night went on, Ophelia pulled out her phone more and more, capturing moments.
"Can I take pictures?" she asked at one point. "For my Instagram?"
Maxi hesitated. He rarely did social media. Rarely allowed his photo to be taken outside of official business events.
But Ophelia was looking at him with such hopeful eyes...
"Sure," he found himself saying.
Her face lit up. "Really?"
"Really."
What followed was possibly the most fun Maxi had ever had with a camera.
Ophelia took candid shots of him trying street food, laughing at something a vendor said, looking genuinely relaxed in a way he rarely did in public.
She convinced him to pose in front of a vibrant mural.
She dragged him into a photo booth and they took ridiculous pictures with silly props.
"One more!" she insisted, pulling him toward a mirror outside a vintage clothing shop.
She positioned them in front of it, holding up her phone to capture the reflection. Her face was visible and happy. Maxi stood behind her, using his phone to block his face while still being clearly present in the shot.
Click.
"Perfect," Ophelia whispered, reviewing the photo with a satisfied smile.
Maxi found himself smiling too.
He was indulging her. He knew it. Letting her take photos, post them, document their night together.
He never did this.
But with Ophelia... he wanted to.
End of the Night - Ophelia's Apartment
The Uber pulled up outside Ophelia's apartment complex—a modern mid-rise building in a nice but not ostentatious neighborhood.
They sat in the back seat, neither moving to get out immediately.
"I had so much fun," Ophelia said softly, turning to face him.
"Me too," Maxi replied honestly. "More fun than I've had in... I don't know how long."
"Really?"
"Really."
There was a pause.
"So..." Ophelia bit her lip. "Does that mean our Monday date still holds?"
"Yes. Of course," Maxi said immediately.
"Great!" Her response came out perhaps a bit too eager, and she winced slightly.
Maxi just smiled. "See you Monday then."
"See you Monday."
Ophelia reached for the door handle, then paused. On impulse—driven by the warmth in her chest and the joy of the evening—she leaned forward to kiss his cheek.
A sweet, innocent gesture of gratitude and affection.
But Maxi, sensing movement, turned his head at the same moment.
Their lips met.
Both froze.
Their eyes went wide with shock.
Time stopped.
Then Maxi pulled back slightly, his expression stunned.
"I'm sorry!" Ophelia blurted out, her face flaming red. "I didn't mean—I was just—oh my God—"
She fled.
Grabbed the shopping bag, threw open the car door, and practically ran toward her apartment building without looking back.
"Ophelia—" Maxi called after her, but she was already gone.
Ophelia's Apartment
"Ugh, I hate myself!" Ophelia groaned, slamming her apartment door behind her and sliding down to sit on the floor.
She buried her face in her hands.
I kissed him. I KISSED him. On the first date. By ACCIDENT.
He's going to think I'm desperate or weird or—
Her phone buzzed.
She was too mortified to check it.
Instead, she just sat there, replaying the moment over and over, dying of embarrassment.
Maxi sat in the back of the Uber, touching his lips with his fingertips, a slow smile spreading across his face.
She kissed me.
Well, technically they'd kissed each other.
An accident. A beautiful, perfect accident.
He started humming—something he never did—as the driver pulled away from the curb.
The smile wouldn't leave his face.
Blackwood Manor
When Maxi walked through the front door, the household staff looked up in surprise.
"Good evening, Master Maximilian," the butler, Harrison, said formally.
"Evening, Harrison." Maxi crossed the foyer and, to everyone's shock, pulled the older man into a brief hug.
Harrison went stiff with surprise. "Sir...?"
"Great night," Maxi said simply, still smiling.
The maids exchanged bewildered looks.
The cook peeked out from the kitchen doorway, eyes wide.
Master Maximilian never hugs anyone.
Maxi just hummed as he climbed the stairs, oblivious to the stunned staff he'd left behind.
After a long, hot shower, Maxi changed into comfortable pajamas and climbed into bed.
He should sleep.
It was late.
But instead, he found himself reaching for his phone.
I wonder if she posted those photos.
He opened Instagram—an app he rarely used—and searched for Ophelia's account.
He found it easily. @artbylia
Her most recent story appeared at the top.
He tapped it.
The first image was the mirror photo. Ophelia's face was visible and radiant. His silhouette was there, phone covering his face, but clearly present.
Maxi felt something warm bloom in his chest.
He swiped to the next story.
A photo of their matching sneakers, side by side.
The next one: a blurry shot of the street food stalls, lights glowing.
Then her main page feed.
The most recent post was a photo of his back—him standing at a taco stall, looking relaxed and casual.
The caption read:
"Date went well. Hopefully the journey continues. ✨"
Maxi hugged his pillow, grinning like an idiot.
She'd posted him.
She wanted the journey to continue.
So do I, he thought.
Still smiling, still humming softly, Maximilian Blackwood drifted off to sleep with his phone still in his hand, Ophelia's Instagram page glowing on the screen.