The tranquil hush of early morning still enveloped the University of Uriel, rendering its typical first-day chaos nonexistent. There was no laughter, no hurried footsteps, and no rustling of fresh notebooks—only the crisp morning air and the distant hum of a solitary security guard pacing near the entrance.

  He stood near the campus gate, a bouquet in hand, waiting.

  It was a tradition—one he never acknowledged openly but never failed to uphold.

  Then, just as always, she appeared.

  Blair came running, her dark hair catching the soft morning light as she moved along the empty pathway. Her eyes, bright and filled with unguarded delight, found him instantly. When she spotted the flowers in his hands, her smile blossomed into something radiant, something unshakable.

  She did not hesitate. She never did.

  With practiced ease, she plucked the bouquet from his grasp, holding it close to her chest like a priceless treasure, as if she had been waiting for this moment just as much as he had. She twirled the bouquet between her fingers, the bright yellow petals of the sunflowers brushing against her cheek.

  A faint pink hue dusted her cheeks, blooming from the tips of her ears down to her neck. She looked up at him through her lashes, her lips parting slightly as she mumbled, her voice barely louder than the rustling leaves in the still morning air.

  “I once told you,” she said, tracing the ribbon wrapped around the sturdy stems with delicate, almost nervous fingers. “I’d prefer a bouquet of cymbidium flowers adorned with diamonds for a proposal rather than just a plain diamond ring.”

  Blair held the bouquet close, her fingers grazing the petals of the sunflowers as if she were absorbing their warmth. However, despite the golden glow in her hands, a flicker of disappointment danced in her eyes—subtle yet unmistakable.

  Her smile faltered—subtle enough that no one else would notice. She hesitated, then slowly extended her hand, palm facing up and fingers slightly curled, as if waiting—expecting. The movement was subtle yet deliberate; her wrist was delicate and poised, and her fingertips trembled just the slightest bit.

  She didn’t look at him immediately, keeping her gaze fixed on the space between them, anticipating the cool sensation of a diamond ring sliding onto her finger.

  But nothing came.

  The moment stretched, silent and unfulfilled. When she finally looked up at him, Ezra’s expression remained as cold and unreadable as ever, as if the thought had never crossed his mind.

  Blair’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her fingers twitching slightly before curling into a loose fist. She let out a soft, breathy laugh—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes—before tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

  “You’re not…” she hesitated, her voice softer now, almost fragile. “You’re not proposing?”

  The words slipped past her lips before she could stop them. A nervous chuckle followed, as if she could play it off, but the hope in her eyes betrayed her.

  She exhaled, glancing at the flowers in her arms before looking back at him. “It’s the right time, you know.” Her tone was light, teasing even, but the weight behind it was undeniable.

  Ezra’s jaw tightened, his expression unreadable as he met Blair’s hopeful gaze. He had seen that look before—far too many times.

  “What made you think I was going to propose to you?”

  The question cut through the air like a blade, sharp and merciless. She blinked, her breath catching in her throat as her fingers instinctively curled around the bouquet. The warmth of the sunflowers, once comforting, now felt foreign in her grasp.

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  Her lips parted, but before she could utter a single word, Ezra continued, his tone colder than the autumn wind biting against her skin.

  “I told you before, Blair. I told you a hundred times—I will never accept you as my lifetime partner.” His words were unwavering, each syllable carrying the weight of finality.

  A muscle in Ezra’s jaw twitched. His next words were sharper, cutting deeper than the last. “And don’t think for a second that just because I slept with you, it meant something more.” His voice dropped, laced with an almost cruel honesty. “I’m a man, Blair. Just like any other man with desires.”

  She flinched as if a lightning had struck her. The color drained from her face, and for the first time, her fingers loosened around the bouquet, the ribbon slipping slightly from her grip.

  “I warned you not to expect anything from me,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less brutal. “You should have listened.”

  He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he watched the way her face crumbled. For a moment, just a fleeting second, something inside him wavered.

  She looked so small, standing there with that damned bouquet in her hands—like a child who had just been told their dream was impossible. Her lips trembled, parting as if to say something, but no words came. Her eyes, always so bright, so full of stubborn determination, now glistened with a pain she couldn’t quite hide.

  And for that moment, something in him screamed to take it back.

  To reach for her. To soften the words he had thrown like knives.

  But then—

  The memory washed over him like ice water, drowning out every ounce of hesitation.

  “If she has even a shred of dignity left in her, she should die quickly.”

  Kennedy Wilson’s voice, cold and unyielding, echoed in his mind. The image of his father on the hospital floor, begging and pleading for a life that was never spared—his mother’s life—returned with perfect, brutal clarity.

  His chest tightened, and his fingers twitched at his sides.

  How could he falter at this moment?

  How could he even contemplate offering her a shred of warmth when the family that raised her had determined, without a moment’s hesitation, that his mother was not worth saving?

  He inhaled sharply, his jaw locking into place as his momentary lapse of weakness was buried beneath the weight of his resolve.

  Blair let out a laugh—light, breathy, yet painfully hollow. She tilted her head, a careless shrug rolling off her shoulders as if his words had merely grazed her, rather than carving straight through her chest.

  Yet, even as she forced a smile, the truth betrayed her.

  Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes, stubbornly clinging to her lashes and refusing to fall. She blinked rapidly and looked away, as if that would be enough to conceal the raw ache seeping through the cracks of her composure.

  “The rough seeds of the sunflower brushed against my skin,” she murmured with a soft chuckle, though her voice trembled. “I must be allergic… I should go wash my face.”

  She took a step back, followed by another.

  And just as she turned to run, her voice rang out, unwavering despite the emotions clawing at her throat.

  “I’ll never give up, Ezra. So, don’t you dare give that diamond ring to anyone else,” she warned, a teasing lilt in her tone despite the glimmer of unshed tears in her eyes. “Or I’ll hunt her down.”

  He stood frozen, her last words settling over him like an iron shackle.

  Hunt her down? A diamond ring? His brows furrowed as a flicker of unease stirred in his chest. She wasn’t one to make threats lightly—not unless she had a compelling reason.

  Without wasting another second, he pulled out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly as he opened the latest news updates. The moment the page loaded, his breath caught in his throat.

  He was trending online.

  “Ezra Taylor’s Diamond Ring Purchase Sparks Frenzy—Who Is the Lucky Bride?”

  Beneath the headlines were crystal-clear photos of him at a luxury jeweler inspecting a diamond ring. The timestamp sent a chill down his spine.

  It was before he saw the video clip, when Kennedy Wilson’s chilling words shattered his resolve.

  The ring had been intended for Blair. Now, she thought, he was proposing to someone else.

  Instinctively, he turned in the direction Blair had run, his gaze scanning the near-empty campus. Then he saw her—frozen in place.

  And standing right in front of her was Samantha.

  She wore a wide, almost triumphant grin, holding a bouquet of sunflowers—the exact kind and brand he had just given to Blair.

  She didn’t speak. Didn’t argue.

  Instead, her fingers clenched around the bouquet for a fraction of a second—before she tossed it into the trash without so much as a glance.

  His chest tightened. A strange, uneasy weight settled in his gut as he watched her ran away, her posture eerily composed. No sharp retorts, no biting remarks. Just silence.

  And that silence unsettled him more than any argument ever could.

  Samantha, still grinning, watched Blair’s retreating figure with satisfaction, cradling the bouquet only God knows who gave it to her as if it were a prize.

  Ezra’s jaw locked. His pulse thundered in his ears, but he remained frozen, rooted to the spot as an unfamiliar sense of frustration clawed at him.