As it was getting later, they checked into the hotel.
Lucas gave Alex a sharp slap on the shoulder.
"Mr. Hilton, relax," Alex said, puffing out his chest like a proud puppy. "I already booked us a room—right next to theirs."
Sophia and Damien, of course, had separate rooms. But a few minutes later, there was a knock at her door.
Damien stood there, holding a bottle of red wine.
"Care for a drink?"
Sophia’s lips curved slightly. "Sure, why not?"
And just like that—he was inside.
Lucas, watching from the hall, nearly lost his mind.
"She actually let him in?! What the hell is she thinking?!"
He was two seconds away from breaking down the door when Alex clung to his arm.
"Mr. Hilton! Think rationally! One wrong move, and everything falls apart!"
"Rationally?!" Lucas snapped. "If I wait any longer, my wife will beco soone else’s!"
Lucas’s jealousy had turned him into a man he didn’t even recognize.
Then, from inside the room—Sophia’s laughter drifted out.
Lucas froze. Her laugh. That soft, genuine laugh.
"Mr. Hilton! I’ve got an idea!" Alex blurted.
...
Inside the room, Sophia and Damien were sitting across from each other, playing checkers and sipping wine.
When the doorbell rang, Angela hopped off the couch to open it.
"Good evening, room service!" said the man at the door.
Sophia nodded. "You can leave it there, thank you."
"The order was placed by Mr. Brown," the waiter said politely. "Eight steaks, dium rare."
Sophia looked up—and froze.
The "waiter" was wearing dark sunglasses and an obviously fake beard. His hands trembled as he set the trays down.
Damien frowned. "You’re new here?"
Lucas had never served anyone in his life, let alone carried plates.
"It’s... part of the hotel’s new ’imrsive experience,’" Lucas replied stiffly. "We like to surprise our guests."
He placed the steaks down and straightened up—still staring at Sophia and Damien.
Playing checkers? Laughing together? Really?
Damien nodded politely. "Interesting idea. Alright, you can go now."
He raised his glass to Sophia. They clinked glasses and drank.
Lucas didn’t move.
Damien stood. "Are you waiting for a tip?"
He pulled out five crisp hundred-dollar bills and set them on the table.
Sophia tilted her head, sensing sothing was off. The man was definitely staring too long.
"I don’t want a tip," Lucas said, forcing calm. "Just... taking a short break."
"A break?" Damien’s eyes narrowed. "Funny. I’ve been here plenty of tis and never seen you before. The hotel hasn’t changed its staff or hiring policies. So who exactly are you?"
Damien grabbed his wrist before Lucas could move.
But then—another "waiter" burst through the door.
"Sir! Sorry for the confusion! We’re testing a new service model. Total misunderstanding! The steaks are complintary—and dessert’s coming soon!"
Before Damien could respond, Alex appeared out of nowhere, yanked Lucas by the arm, and dragged him out of the room.
Damien peered through the peephole for a long mont, brow furrowed. "That was... weird."
Sophia smiled faintly, her tone light. "Forget it. I had a great ti today. Thank you, Damien."
It was the first ti in a long while she’d felt her chest lighten. For one brief day, she wasn’t fighting or hurting—just breathing.
"I’m glad," Damien said softly, pouring her another glass. "If you’re happy, that’s enough for ."
She hesitated, watching him, her voice quiet but steady.
"Damien... I’m sorry."
His hand stilled on the bottle.
"I can’t wait three months to give you an answer," she said. "You’re a wonderful man, but... I don’t feel that spark. Not the kind that lasts. But as friends—I think we’d get along even better."
Her words were gentle but clear.
Sotis, she realized, the more you tried to run from sothing, the tighter it clung to you.
Damien was kind. But he wasn’t hers.
Love wasn’t about settling—it was about eting in the middle, both hearts reaching for the sa place.
As she looked at him across the table, she finally understood sothing she hadn’t before.
Maybe, just maybe... she should’ve listened to him—back then, when he tried to explain everything.
"Three months," Damien said quietly. His voice was low, steady—but the hurt was there, threaded through every word.
"You spent one percent of your ti and you tell that the remaining ninety-nine percent is aningless?"
Their eyes t.
Sophia saw the disappointnt, the disbelief, the quiet ache in his gaze.
And he could see it too—the reflection of himself in her eyes... but not in her heart.
"Damien," she said softly, "I’m sorry. I never ant to mislead you. And honestly... my mission isn’t finished yet."
Her lips curved bitterly. "The truth is, I can’t let go of Lucas. I thought I was winning so kind of emotional ga—but turns out, I’ve been the loser all along. Pathetic, really. I don’t deserve happiness... and I guess part of just wanted to drag soone else down with ."
She forced a faint smile. "You’re a good man, Damien. You don’t belong in my ss."
It was, unmistakably, a good-guy card.
Damien drained his wine in one smooth motion. He was calm, too calm—like a man who’d already accepted the pain before it arrived.
"I respect your honesty," he said finally. "But if the day ever cos when you decide to look back... I’ll still be here."
Sophia nodded, then hesitated. "Could I ask you a favor?"
He studied her face. "Anything."
She leaned in, whispered sothing close to his ear.
Damien sighed, shaking his head helplessly. "Fine."
"Thank you," she said with a small smile.
...
Outside the door, Lucas was pressed against the wall, holding a rolled-up magazine like a listening device.
Then—he heard water running.
His face darkened instantly.
He stord off before his temper got the best of him.
Inside, Damien said, "Give a minute," then stepped out of the room.
The six kids followed him down the hall, obedient little soldiers, clearly part of Sophia’s plan to "clear the space."
Lucas clenched his jaw. Clever. Too clever.
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