Chapter 1

It was no secret among friends that Yara Simmons had fallen hard for Yale Johnson.

Her love was all-consuming; she had no life, no space of her own—she would gladly spend every waking moment with him if she could.

No matter how many times they split, she would be back within three days, asking to make up.

Anyone could say, "We're done."

However, not Yara. Not ever.

The moment Yale strutted in with his latest catch, the room went dead silent for five seconds.

Yara froze mid-peel of her orange. "What's with the silence? Why's everyone staring at me?"

"Yara..." Her friends looked at her, eyes full of concern.

On the other hand, Yale was all cool, draping his arm around his date and plopping down on the sofa. "Happy birthday, Zachary," he said as if he did not have a care in the world.

Yara got to her feet. It was Zachary Chavez's birthday, and she was not about to cause a scene.

"I need the restroom."

As the door clicked shut behind her, she caught snippets of the chatter inside.

"Yale, Yara's here. Didn't I give you a heads-up? Why'd you bring her along?"

"Seriously, Yale, you're getting out of line this time."

"It's fine," Yale replied, releasing the woman's waist to light up a smoke. His smile was hidden in the curling smoke, like a rogue who played life by his own rules.

The rest of the words were lost as the door closed; Yara did not catch them.

She kept her cool, finished up in the restroom, and while fixing her makeup, she caught her reflection and smirked.

"Pathetic."

She was living a pathetic life.

Yara inhaled deeply, steeling herself with a silent decision that she made.

However, she was still unprepared for the sight that greeted her when she pushed the door open; her fist clenched around the doorknob, and her defenses nearly shattered.

Yale's lips were on the woman's, separated only by a thin piece of tissue.

The crowd around them erupted in cheers and laughter.

"Damn, Yale's got game!"

"Those lips are so close!"

"The vibe's all set now; we want to see a kiss!"

Yara's grip on the doorknob was shaky.

That was the guy she had been head over heels for six years, and right then, all she could taste was the bitter sting of irony.

"Hey, cut it out..." someone murmured, nodding toward the door.

All eyes shifted her way.

"Yara, you're back? We were just goofing around, don't be upset..."

Yale cut off the feeble excuse, his gaze cool and detached. "Yara, good you're here. Let's just lay it all out."

"Sure, go ahead."

"Going in circles these past years has been a drag, and let's face it, we've both checked out."

Yara's fingers tightened into a fist, her nails biting into her flesh, but the pain did not register.

Six years of love, and all she got was that they had checked out.

"Xandra's a great girl, and I want to make things official with her."

Yara gave a numb nod. "Fine."

"We may have called it quits, but we're still pals, right? I'm here if you ever hit a rough patch in the Capitolium."

"No thanks." Yara managed a faint smile. "If we're done, let's keep it clean, for her sake too."

Yale's eyebrow quirked a flash of surprise.

"Zachary." Yara turned to the birthday boy. "Happy Birthday. I hope you all have a blast—I'm out. Enjoy the oranges on the table; I peeled them. Don't let them go to waste."

Yale was not a fan of fruit, but he made an exception for oranges.

He was fussy, though, insisting on stripping away every trace of white pith before taking a bite.

For years, Yara had meticulously prepared his daily vitamin dose, peeling the oranges and removing every last bit of pith, arranging them just so on his plate.

Whenever Yale was in a good mood, he would wrap his arms around her and playfully whine, "My girlfriend is just too amazing. How can you be so sweet and caring? Are you doing this in hopes that I'll pop the question?"

He always knew what she was after but never mentioned he would give it to her.

Yale said, "I'll have my driver take you."

"No thanks, I've got a ride on the way."

Zachary chimed in, "Yara, I'll walk you out."

Yara gave a polite wave, declined the offer, and headed out.

"Yale, the drama this is causing... I think Yara's really ticked off this time."

"Nah, it's nothing serious."

"Right! How many times have they had a spat? When has Yara not come back after a few days, cool as a cucumber at the next party?"

"I'm betting five days this time."

"I say six."

Yale glanced at the slightly ajar door of the private room, a chilly smile on his face. "Three hours, tops. She'll be back looking for me."

"Sure thing! Yale's got this in the bag. Everyone knows Yara's head over heels for him."

"Man, why can't I find a woman who's that into me?"

"You? Dream on, buddy!"

Everyone laughed.

Back at the villa, well past midnight, Yara took half an hour to pack her bags.

She had been there three years, yet everything she had could fit into a tiny suitcase.

She left behind the unworn designer outfits and untouched jewelry hanging in the closet. She only felt a pang of regret for the wall of professional books.

It was no big deal, though. She had all that knowledge locked in her head; the books were not so important.

Her eyes swept over the vanity, and Yara pulled open a drawer.

Inside, there was a check for 50 million dollars.

Beneath the check lay a document— the transfer Contract for Plot 3-5 of No. 72 East Suburb.

Even though it was just the suburbs, the place was worth 20 million.

Yale had scrawled his signature on both items during one of their messy, unsuccessful splits, and they had been gathering dust in the drawer ever since.

He was pretty sure Yara would not take them. To take them would mean the end of everything between them.

Six years for 70 million bucks?

Suddenly, Yara did not feel so shortchanged.

How many could say their youth netted them that kind of cash?

She tossed both items into her purse.

Since he was offering, why would she not accept it?

Their romance was history, but the money was real.

She was not some doe-eyed damsel from those cheesy billionaire romances who treated cash like trash.

"Hey, is this the cleaning crew? You guys do rush jobs?"

"Yeah, a full-scale cleaning, and I'll tip extra."

Yara dropped the keys in the foyer, hopped into a cab, and zoomed off to her best friend's place.

En route, the cleaner called back to double-check.

"Miss, you sure you're ditching all this stuff?"

"Yes, it's all yours to handle."

She hung up.

Yale stumbled home way past midnight, the cleaners long gone.

The stench of his cologne gave him a headache. He loosened his tie, plopped on the couch, and conked out.

When it was morning, the clatter of dishes from the kitchen stirred him awake.

He sat up, groggy, reaching for his water glass—nothing but air. His hand hovered over the coffee table.

A smirk played on his lips. She had returned and tucked him in, but no tea to kill the hangover?

That half-hearted rebellion of hers—still not tired of playing that game after all those years? Please...

Yale stood up. "Today, you'd better—"

"Young master, you're up?"

"Mary?"

"Go freshen up. Breakfast in two, okay? Oh, and were you warm enough? I cranked the heat, but I threw on an extra blanket just in case."

"Okay."

Chapter 2

At the breakfast table, Yale frowned. "Why isn't there any mushroom soup?"

"You mean the special mushroom soup?"

"Special mushroom soup?"

"Yeah, the one Ms. Simmons always cooks with a blend of mushrooms, herbs, and a touch of cream, right? Sorry, but I didn't have time to do that.

"Just soaking the mushrooms and getting the broth ready takes a lot of time, and it needs to be overseen while it simmers.

"And getting the heat just right is super important. I'm not as patient as Ms. Simmons, watching the stove non-stop. It wouldn't come out tasting the same, plus there's—"

Yale cut her off. "Just grab me some steak sauce."

"Coming right up, Young Master."

" Why does this taste off?" Yale eyed the bottle. And this isn't the usual brand."

"We ran out of the other stuff; this is all we had."

"Pick up a couple of jars from the store to keep here."

"You won't find the taste you want, sir."

"What?"

Mary chuckled embarrassedly. "That was Ms. Simmons' homemade recipe. I haven't got a clue how to make it."

Clang!

"Hey? Young Master, you're not eating?"

"No."

Mary watched him head upstairs, utterly baffled.

What made him lose his cool all of a sudden?

"Lazybones, time to rise and shine!"

Yara burrowed deeper into the covers, mumbling, "Cut it out, just a few more minutes..."

All dolled up and picking out a purse, Rainie Shelton said, "It's nearly eight. Don't you have to dash back and cook breakfast for Young Master Johnson?"

Yara sometimes crashed there, but she would usually be up before the sun, making that special mushroom soup for Yale's sensitive stomach.

Rainie did not get it.

Was Yale seriously incapable, or what? How hard could it be to whip out his phone and order takeout?

No, he just had to be a pain in the ass.

Honestly, it was his bad habits; he was spoiled.

Yara was out like a light, but she waved her hand dismissively at Rainie's words. "Not going back. We're done."

"Oh, and how many days do you think this will last this time?"

Yara ignored her.

"Alright then, sleep some more. I left breakfast on the table for you. I've got work and a date tonight, so don't worry about dinner for me.

"Actually, scratch that. You'll probably change your mind and go back soon. Just close the balcony window when you head out, will you?"

Yara's stomach woke her up.

Munching on the sandwich her best friend had whipped up, she gazed out at the dazzling sunlight and could not even recall the last time she had woken up without an alarm.

After her breakfast-turned-lunch, she slipped into a fresh outfit and made a beeline for the bank.

The first order of business: cashing a check for a cool 50 million dollars.

Money only felt real when she could touch it.

The next stop was the bank next door. "I need to speak with your private banking manager. I'm here to deposit ten million."

Eventually, the bank president offered a pretty sweet annual interest rate. Yara haggled for two extra percentage points, and they shook on a deal that left both sides smiling.

She pulled the same move at two other banks, stashing another ten million in each one.

Each time, she talked her way into an even better rate.

By the time she strutted out of the last bank, Yara was rocking three black cards, 30 million in the bank, and a liquid stash of 20 million—talk about a jackpot.

"This split worked out pretty well," she murmured.

She had hit the wealth jackpot overnight, for real.

As she strolled past a bustling hair salon, Yara did not hesitate to step inside.

She snagged a two-thousand-dollar salon card on the spot, with the perk of jumping the queue.

As she settled into the salon chair, she caught her reflection—those big, brown waves—and for the first time, she was not feeling it.

"Darling, your hair is just gorgeous, like a doll's!"

She had kept her curls because Yale was all about that long, curly hair.

After every tumble between the sheets, he would get all caught up playing with her locks.

Sporting a head of gorgeous curls meant extra hours in front of the mirror, but Yara was done with that.

She flashed a small smile at the stylist. "Can you cut it short, straighten it, and dye it black?"

A doll, no matter how pretty, was just a plaything.

Someone else could be the doll; Yara wanted out of that game.

As she stepped out of the salon, Yara felt like a weight had been lifted.

Lucky for her, a shop was having a sale right next door. She snagged a white tee and jeans and slipped them on right there. They were a perfect match for her kicks.

Her stroll took her to the gates of Bellmere University. Pausing, she watched the students biking back and forth in the golden sunset, zoning out momentarily.

"Solomon! Over here!" someone called out.

A young guy breezed past Yara. "There are too many people. Why is everybody here?"

"Everyone wants to see Professor Olson, so..."

Solomon Harris said, "The hospital won't let this many of us in. Let's just have two from the Bioinformatics Program join me."

Bioinformatics... Professor Olson...

Yara's eyes narrowed, and she stepped up quickly. "Who did you say is sick?"

A bit flustered by the pretty girl before him, Solomon stuttered, "Professor Olson."

"Wendy Olson?"

"Yeah."

"Which hospital?"

"West Capitolium."

"Thanks."

"Uh... what's your major? You're a student of Professor Olson's?"

Yara did not look back; she left his question hanging.

Back in her apartment, Yara's thoughts were a whirlwind that refused to settle down.

The feisty granny who would leap up and thump heads at the slightest irritation was ill?

How bad was it?

She thumbed through her contacts, pausing at Emerald Foster; her finger hovered over the call button. After a few deep breaths, she could not muster the courage to make the call.

Once upon a time, she had given up a golden chance at a grad program without a second thought, all for a shot at love with Yale.

She had not worked a day since college, playing the role of a wife whose world orbited her man.

Professor Olson would shake her head at that decision for sure.

"Huh? Yara, you're still here?" Rainie asked, surprised, as she kicked off her shoes.

Yara's lips quirked in a half-smile. "Why? Trying to kick me out?"

"Wow, you're sticking it out longer than usual. Last time you and Yale split, it took one call from him, and you were back in his arms before the hour was up."

"Help yourself to the soup in the pot."

Rainie beamed and dashed to the kitchen, scooping out a steaming bowl. "That Yale's one lucky dude. He got to enjoy this every day."

Yara called over her shoulder, "Don't forget to wash up after. I'm going to sleep."

"Seriously, you're not going back?"

The only answer was the soft click of the bedroom door shutting.

Rainie muttered, "Looks like someone's finally standing her ground..."

Meanwhile, at a villa by the river, Yale took a call under the same stretch of the night sky.

"Mr. Johnson, the bank confirmed Ms. Simmons cashed a 50-million check at 12:05 PM today..."

Yale ended the call, his gaze icy as he stared into the night.

"Yara, what's this new game you're playing?"

She must be kidding if she thought that stunt would bring him back. When Yale made up his mind, there was no turning back.

"Zachary, care to join me for a drink?"

Half an hour had passed when Yale swung the door to the private room wide open.

Zachary was there, grinning ear to ear. "Hey Yale, the gang's all here. We've been waiting for you. So, what would you like to drink tonight?"

Yale stepped inside.

Zachary stayed put, peering over Yale's shoulder.

"Dude, what's got you zoned out?"

"Where's Yara? She's still trying to find a parking spot?"

Yale's face clouded over.

Chapter 3

"If she's having trouble finding a spot, I can help..."

Oops!

When he caught the grim look on Yale's face, Zachary finally caught on. "Yale, don't tell me... Yara hasn't... she hasn't returned?"

More than three hours had ticked by.

Yale just spread his hands and shrugged. "Return? She broke up with me, didn't she?"

He breezed past Zachary and plopped down on the couch.

Zachary scratched his head. Was it for real, then?

He quickly dismissed the thought, figuring he was reading too much into it.

Sure, Yale could drop a relationship at the drop of a hat; he could buy that, but Yara...

She was the one girl who would never agree to a breakup. Everyone knew that.

"Yale, flying solo tonight?" Michael Gray chimed in, arms folded with a teasing smirk. "You lost your three-hour bet, and now it's been a whole day."

Yale's lips curled. "I lost, fair and square. What's my punishment?"

Michael's eyebrow quirked up. "Let's switch it up today. No booze."

Yale raised his eyebrows.

"Give Yara a call. I'm sorry; I was wrong; I love you—tell her that in the sweetest voice you've got."

The room burst into laughter.

Zachary did not waste a second, grabbing Yale's phone to dial Yara.

After a few rings, the voice message played. "Sorry, the number you've dialed is currently unavailable..."

Wait, had he been blocked?

Yale was taken aback.

The chuckles and snickers died down as everyone exchanged puzzled glances.

Zachary ended the call in a flash, handing back the phone while trying to cover up. "You know, maybe there's just no signal. Yara won't block Yale, right? That would only happen when pigs fly—ha!" He cringed at his own joke.

Michael rubbed his chin, deep in thought. "Yara might mean it this time."

Yale let out a dismissive snort. "Breaking up is no joke. I'm not up for round two of this game. Mention Yara again, and you can forget about bro code."

Michael's eyes narrowed, and after a moment, he said, "You and Yara…well, just… just don't end up regretting it. "

Yale just smirked. Regrets? Not his style.

Sensing the tension, Shane Shields quickly tried to lighten the mood. "Come on, guys, let's keep it chill. We're all bros here."

Dawn cracked at seven.

Fresh from her morning jog, Rainie stepped inside and was greeted by the delicious scent of breakfast.

Yara emerged from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of soup in hand. She was wearing a houndstooth dress that showcased her flawless legs. She was a knockout, even without a stitch of makeup.

"Go shower, then come eat," she said.

Rainie blinked. "New hairdo? Black, long, and tied up high? Looking this pretty—are you heading out, or is Yale swinging by to pick you up?"

Yara chuckled. "Can't you hope for the best for me?"

"I'm hoping Yale's coming to get you, aren't I?" Rainie approached the table, eyeing the soup.

"Seriously, go shower," Yara said, batting Rainie's hand away. "You're a mess."

"That's not fair! You never swat Yale's hand away."

"Mm, next time, I'll make sure to," Yara replied with a smirk.

"Yeah, right..." Rainie scoffed, not buying it for a second.

Rainie stepped out of the shower to find that Yara had already taken off with a thermos packed with breakfast.

"Seriously? She made breakfast for me and remembered packing some for her boyfriend. Talk about choosing love over friends..."

At West Capitolium Hospital, in a private room, Wendy was interrupted from her research papers by an unexpected visitor.

"Hey, how are you feeling today?"

She looked up, pushing her reading glasses up her nose in surprise. "Matthew?! What are you doing here?!"

"Stay put," Matthew Sherman insisted, quickly tucking a pillow behind her for support. "You're not fully healed yet."

"Just a small surgery for appendicitis. But with my age, recovery's a bit slow, so the doctor's is keeping me here longer than I like. Speaking of which, did the master's program admission numbers come in?"

"They did. You have three students; I have four."

"Three, huh..." Wendy mused.

"Still planning on taking just two this year?"

"Yep, I'm not as young as I used to be; two is all I can handle."

Matthew smirked. He knew that extra spot was meant for her, but she was too stubborn to admit it.

"Professor Olson—oh? Professor Sherman, you're here too?" Solomon entered with a couple of junior students, bringing fresh fruit and flowers. "We came to check on you."

As they chatted, one of the students said, "Did you hear about the freshman prodigy? She landed a spot in the university's fast-track program straight out of high school. A Ph.D. straight from a bachelor's program—can you believe that?"

At Bellmere University School of Life Sciences, it was rare to see someone jump straight to a Ph.D. program—probably less than a handful in the past decade.

"They said she snagged two gold medals last year—one in the International Math Olympiad and the other in the International Olympiad in Informatics—and got an automatic pass to get into our department."

"Two gold medals? That's pretty impressive. But hey, didn't we have a senior who was like a superstar? I think she was one of Professor Olson's protégés.

"By the time she started college, she had already had four gold medals—aced math, physics, chemistry, and informatics! What was her name again? Yara... Yara something..."

"Time to scoot!" Matthew cut in right on cue. "Head on back to school, guys."

"Oh, okay then... we're off."

"Right."

The student's shoulders slumped as they stepped out of the hospital room. "Solomon, did I say anything wrong back there? Why did Professor Olson and Professor Sherman look so upset?"

Solomon shared the confusion.

Back in the room, Matthew tried to reassure Wendy. "The kids didn't mean any harm, don't sweat it."

Wendy tried to brush it off, but her quivering lips and the tears welling up in her eyes betrayed her, spilling over unchecked.

"A genius like her... she just shouldn't have... shouldn't have wasted it! But why? Why didn't she value her own brilliance?"

"Take it easy..." Matthew said.

"Do you know what she told me the last time we saw each other? She said she was after love! Love? She shattered my heart..."

Yara lingered at the doorway, gripping an insulated food container tightly, her tears mirroring Wendy's.

'I'm sorry... Professor Olson...'

She could not bring herself to enter. Instead, she left the container at the nurse's station. "This is for Professor Olson. Can you please give it to her? Thanks."

"Hey! You didn't leave your info! Where do you think you're going?"

Yara bolted outside the hospital building, gulping down the fresh air, but the crushing weight of guilt remained. It was impossible to shake off.

"Yara?" A statuesque woman with flawless makeup clicked across the floor in high heels, a chic Lady Dior bag swinging from her arm.

She was the picture of sophistication in her tailored blazer and pencil skirt, her lengthy hair cascading down her back.

It was Charlotte Johnson, Yale's younger sister.

"Is that you? What are you doing at the hospital instead of being at home?" She eyed the building in front of them.

The inpatient department. Yara was definitely not there for a maternity check-up.

Charlotte let out a silent cheer for her mother.

If Yara had been expecting and had to get hitched because of it, her mother, Jean Shultz, would have a fit.

"Charlotte." Yara forced a weak smile, her eyes tinged with red.

"Have you been crying?"

Yara stayed quiet.

"Another argument with my brother?"

"It's not that."

Charlotte mistook her silence for stubbornness, her eyes softening with pity.

She did like Yara; she was gorgeous and had a great personality.

Too bad she did not quite meet the Johnson family's high bar.

Jean, in particular, was all about academic prestige, only wanting a top-tier graduate for a daughter-in-law.

"It's got to be rough with my brother, huh? His temper's a handful. Just try to hang in there."

Yara said, "Actually, we've already split—"

"Look, I've got to run. I can't stay and talk."

Charlotte checked her watch and headed inside.

She was there to impress Professor Olson, who was known to favor bright and diligent students. That day could make or break her chance at a fast-track Ph.D. spot.

Chapter 4

Yale had had too much to drink last night, and Zachary had been all about keeping the night going.

The driver dropped Yale off at his villa as dawn broke.

He had barely hit the bed when exhaustion washed over him, but he still dragged himself to the bathroom for a shower, knowing Yara would give him a hard time if he did not.

The next time he opened his eyes, it was because of the sharp pain that jolted him awake.

"Ouch..." He held his stomach, struggling to sit up in bed.

"My stomach's killing me! Ya—"

He cut himself off mid-name.

Yale scowled. Yara had outdone herself, even more so than before.

Alright! He wanted to see how long she could keep that act up.

Where was his medication, though?

Yale tore through the living room, checking every nook and cranny, but the spare medication box was nowhere to be found.

He called Mary.

"Stomach medicine? It's in the medication box."

Yale's temples pounded, and he inhaled deeply. "And where's that?"

"In the bedroom closet drawer, there are a few boxes. Ms. Simmons said you often get stomach aches after a night of drinking, so she put the meds there for easy access..."

"Hello? Hello? Are you still there, Young Master? Why'd you hang up—"

Yale found the medication box right where Mary said it would be, in the closet drawer, with five boxes of his usual stomach meds.

The pain subsided after he took the medication, and his nerves finally started to unwind.

As he pushed the drawer shut, his hand stopped short.

All the jewelry and designer bags were still there, but Yara's IDs, passport, and certificates were missing.

One suitcase was definitely short in the corner where the luggage was stacked.

Yale stood frozen, a sudden wave of anger surging to his head.

"Great... just great... great..."

He repeated that three times, nodding with each word.

He just knew he could not let women get too comfortable.

The more he did, the worse they got.

The moment Yale heard the front door swing open, he bolted downstairs. "What? You?"

Charlotte, slipping off her shoes, raised an eyebrow. "Who else were you expecting?"

Yale slumped onto the couch, clearly not thrilled. "Why are you here? Something up?"

"Heard you were having stomach trouble again. Mom sent me to check on my favorite brother," Charlotte said a little sarcastically, heading for the kitchen. "Haven't had lunch yet, so I figured I'd crash here and grab a bite."

She had to admit, one of the perks of visiting was Yara's cooking—it was out of the world.

Then, just a half-minute later, Charlotte called out, "Hey! Why's the kitchen looking like a ghost town? Where's Yara? She's not home? That's odd!"

Normally, Yara would have a feast ready by then, and Charlotte sometimes got lucky and scored a free meal.

Yara? It was always about Yara. Yale massaged his temples, trying to ignore his sister.

Charlotte emerged from the kitchen, her face etched with disappointment. "Is she sick or something? She looked pretty pale at the hospital yesterday..."

"She was at the hospital?" Yale perked up, his concern palpable.

"Yeah, I bumped into her at West Capitolium Hospital while visiting Professor Olson. Oh, and guess what? Olson has allowed me to enter a fast-track program to a Ph.D.!"

Yale's brow creased with worry. "Why was she at the hospital?"

"How should I know? You know her better."

Yale fell silent, lost in thought.

"Maybe Yara isn't sick at all? Could she be visiting someone? But I've never heard of her having any friends. Seems like her whole world is just you, and, well, you..."

"Done talking?"

Charlotte pursed her lips.

"Spit it out and get going. I'm still half asleep here." Yale stood up, stretching.

"Really? You're in that much of a hurry to get rid of me? Okay, okay, I'm leaving." Charlotte grumbled as she slipped on her shoes. "Just so you know, I didn't come over for nothing today."

Yale could not care less, already heading upstairs.

"Remember, tomorrow at 2 PM, West Coast Restaurant. Mom's set you up on another blind date. Don't be late!"

"Always with the nagging..." he muttered.

Charlotte stuck her tongue out at his retreating figure before storming off.

She was no stranger to those matchmaking attempts. Hanging out with Yara did not stop her family from trying to pair her brother with someone supposedly more appropriate.

Yale had been dragged to plenty of those meet-ups over the years, mainly to keep their mom off his back.

Once Charlotte was gone, Yale retreated to his study to tackle some work. He had started his own company years ago, desperate to escape under his family's thumb.

Those first three years were brutal, and he had been too stubborn to take any handouts from his family, with only Yara by his side.

He had finally made it, built something worth talking about, and ditched the whole spoiled-rich-kid label.

His family had even started warming up to him, going from totally against his thing with Yara to a sort of see-no-evil stance.

When his work was done, he noticed the sunset had given way to evening, the city lights flickering to life.

Yale's stomach growled. He grabbed his phone and dialed his girlfriend's number. "Hey, what's up?"

The phone chimed, and the girl's hushed voice came, "Hey, sorry babe, I'm in class. I'll find you after, okay?"

Yale cringed at the word babe. "Yeah, you do your thing."

He ended the call and tossed his phone aside.

His phone buzzed again a minute later, but Yale ignored it, lost in his work.

Not until his stomach started growling did he realize it was time to take a break.

He had plans to grab dinner with Zachary and the crew, so he threw on some fresh clothes and was about to leave.

The girl sitting by the door jumped at the sound, turning with a bright and bashful smile.

"Xandra?"

"Oops, sorry, I knocked, but you must've missed it. So I just waited here." She eyed the suit jacket on his arm. "Heading out?"

Yale raised an eyebrow and asked, "How'd you find me?"

Xandra looked a bit sheepish. "I asked one of your friends..."

"Zachary?"

"Nope, it was Michael."

"Come on in," Yale said.

Her smile returned as she bounced inside, taking in the place while playfully pouting. "You didn't pick up my calls after hanging up. I was worried for ages..."

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"I ditched. Boyfriends trump class, don't they?"

Yara would never do that.

When he was dating her, she was a busy freshman who never missed a class for him.

Only in her senior year, with a lighter schedule, she started carving out time for him.

"Hey, you haven't eaten yet, right? I could—"

"Can you make mushroom soup?" Yale blurted out unexpectedly.

"Mushroom soup?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know how, but I'm up for learning."

Yale had gently turned down Xandra's not-so-subtle hint to crash at his place. After finishing the takeout she had brought over, he drove her back to the school before heading out to find Zachary.

He stopped at a red light, checked his phone, and a thought crossed his mind about Charlotte mentioning she had seen Yara at the hospital earlier.

They might've called it quits, but the old flame still flickered after all those years. Even just as friends, he felt he should check in on her.

He tapped open the Messenger app.

[Sick?]

[You're not friends on Facebook.]

Chapter 5

"What's up with Yale?"

Zachary eyed the brooding figure nursing his drink and subtly slid closer to Michael.

Yale had stormed in with a thundercloud over his head, and the once-buzzing room had toned down.

"She blocked him," Michael said, unable to resist stirring the pot, clearly not one to shy away from a bit of drama.

Yale's scowl deepened at the words.

Crash!

He slammed the glass down on the table as he yanked at his shirt buttons, a storm brewing in his movements.

"I told you to drop it. Are you deaf?"

Michael just shrugged, keeping mum after that.

The mood shifted; the singing crowd clammed up, and everyone else went silent, not daring to make a peep.

Zachary nearly coughed up his drink. Yara meant business, then?

Feeling the buzz, Shane leaned in and whispered to Zachary, "Had Yara gone back yet?"

Zachary shook his head and mumbled, "I don't know."

Shane figured Yara probably had not.

The bartender lined up a fresh round of drinks, and someone, feeling brave, piped up.

"Hey, how about a game of Truth or Dare?"

The room was full of savvy players, each with a plus-one in tow. With just a couple of sly winks, everyone was on the same page, quickly stepping up to break the ice and smooth over any awkward vibes.

"Truth or Dare rocks, it's my absolute favorite."

Just then, a woman walked in.

"Angie, right over here, you're just in time. Yale is one short..."

They gently nudged the woman to sit by Yale. She was the club's star hostess and no stranger to keeping Yale company.

"Young Master Johnson..."

Yale shot up from his seat, clearly over it. "You all have fun; I'm out of here."

He left a room full of stunned faces and a disappointed Angie, who just missed out on a big payday.

After Yale stepped out of the bar, the driver checked with him in the back seat for the destination.

With two glasses of brandy under his belt, his head was doing somersaults.

As he thought of his lonely villa, he muttered, "To the company."

"Mr. Johnson? What are you doing here?"

At ten at night, the assistant was just about to clock out when he spotted Yale exiting the elevator and entering the office.

The assistant's surprise only made Yale more annoyed.

Usually, Yara would be on his case about his sleep schedule, playfully nagging until he gave in and went to bed. He would act annoyed, but he would always end up following her advice.

"You heading out?"

"Yes, do you need anything else, sir?"

Yale almost said no, but his empty stomach and the alcohol were a bad combo, making him turn a bit pale. "Grab me some soup, will you?"

He thought for a second, then said, "From the top spot in town."

The assistant was quick, and in 20 minutes, he was back with a fancy meal box for Yale.

The moment Yale opened it, his brow furrowed.

"Seafood soup?"

The assistant was clueless. "But that's the signature dish. You—"

"Never mind, just go."

The seafood soup was a feast for the senses, bursting with color and aroma, and each spoonful was a delicate blend of light fragrance and the sweet taste of the ocean.

However, he barely managed a few spoonfuls before his appetite vanished, and he tossed the spoon aside with a clatter.

Yale's thoughts drifted to Yara's mushroom soup.

"Ugh, what's gotten into me!"

Back at the apartment, after leaving the hospital.

Yara flicked on the light switch and was greeted by heavy breathing.

The room lit up, revealing Rainie in a slinky silk nightgown, draped over a young guy in a way that left little to the imagination.

They were tangled on the couch, her pale, soft hand boldly exploring under his shirt, tracing the lines of his abs.

Their lips were locked in a hungry dance, leaving telltale red marks on her neck.

The room was thick with a steamy, tangled vibe.

Rainie blinked against the sudden brightness, her face a mix of surprise and confusion as she instinctively stopped the guy from planting another kiss.

"Oh? Yara, you're back."

"Maybe you two should, you know, get dressed?"

Yara's lips twitched in an awkward half-smile as she quickly turned her back, giving them a moment to sort themselves out.

She let out a sigh. Staying at Rainie's had started to seem like a bad idea.

Even the closest friends needed their space, and crashing there was getting too complicated.

Rainie, unfazed, flashed a cheeky grin and slipped her arms into a coat, casually tossing the guy's jacket at him.

He was left with a smudge of her lipstick on his cheek and a dazed look in his eyes as Rainie gave him a reassuring pat. "Hang tight. I'll be in the bedroom."

The young man grabbed a shirt and slung it over his chest, not quite covering the love bites peppering his shoulders. He flashed a cheeky grin at Yara. "Hello, good evening."

Yara's response was automatic. "Hi, Keven."

He chuckled, not bothering with more words, and strolled into the room.

Rainie treated herself to a glass of red wine, savoring the sweet yet slightly tart flavor as it danced on her tongue. She let out a pleased sigh before correcting Yara in a leisurely tone. "It's Steven this time, not Keven."

Yara just blinked, speechless.

Rainie's eyes narrowed in concern as she noticed the redness around Yara's eyes. "Why are you back so late? Have you been crying?"

Yara poured herself some warm water. Her voice was distant when she said, "I visited Professor Olson in the hospital today."

They were both alumni and former students of Wendy Olson. Rainie, who was still in the college's Facebook group, had heard the news.

She gave Yara a furtive look. "You..."

Her words trailed off, filled with hesitation.

Yara had been Wendy's star pupil back in the day.

Rainie knew the inside scoop, having seen the professor go out of her way to mentor Yara, hand her choice projects, and even co-author papers with her. Yara was just an undergrad then; she was not even Wendy's official mentee.

She had poured so many academic opportunities Yara's way.

If Yara had stuck to the path Wendy had laid out for her, she could have been the country's youngest Ph.D. in biosciences within five years.

Rainie still could not wrap her head around why Yara would walk away from all that.

As Rainie thought about the professor's soft spot for Yara, a wave of emotion hit her. She realized that perhaps receiving something without a struggle made Yara value it less.

That was the perk of being a genius, though, right? Yara could get away with being a little unpredictable.

"Did you hear anything about how the professor's doing? Her illness sounded pretty serious, and she had surgery, right?" Rainie asked.

Yara just shook her head.

Rainie could not help but laugh, though it was more out of frustration than anything else. "Seriously, what kind of hospital visit did you make if you didn't find out anything about how she's doing?"

"I... I just couldn't bring myself to go inside."

"That scared, huh?" Rainie caught the look on Yara's face and blurted out, "Well, that's what you get!"

Yara's eyelashes fluttered, but she did not say a word.

Rainie noticed her defiant silence, and it clicked—the breakfast she had seen Yara with that morning was all meant for the professor.

"Are you going to keep avoiding him?"

Yara was usually the type to face things head-on, but she acted like she could not bear to be seen.

Yara seemed to snap out of it a bit. "I'm going to have to face the professor sooner or later. Some people, some things... I can't just run away from them."

Then, lifting her eyes, she asked, "Rainie, would you come with me to see the professor?"

"What are you thinking of?"