"I told you a long time ago—Les Gilbert is too proud, too self-absorbed. You were never going to hold him, and you couldn't afford to burn yourself trying."

Professor Hale's voice was heavy with frustration. "Do you have any idea how disappointed I was when you gave up your spot at the Core Research Lab last year? People would kill for that chance. And you threw it away for a man, just like that."

"Professor, I was wrong." My voice cracked.

"It's not too late to fix it." She slid a folder across the desk. "This year's National Core Research Lab selection has opened again. I've already submitted your name. This time, don't sacrifice yourself for anyone. You were never meant to stand behind someone else—you belong at the top."

I looked down at the words National Core Research Lab on the cover, and my eyes burned.

A second chance at something already lost was more precious than anything.

"Professor, I won't let you down again." I gripped the folder, my voice steady.

"One more thing," Professor Hale said, as though something had just come back to her. Her expression turned serious. "The overall lead for this year's selection is Dustin Vance."

My heart jolted.

Dustin Vance. In the research world, that name was practically a god's.

Barely past thirty, already academy-level, running a National Key Research Lab, leading multiple state-level major projects, publishing in the highest-tier international journals. Everyone knew him as young, low-key, and impossibly brilliant.

He was the idol of every young scholar in the country, someone you could admire from a distance but never expect to get close to.

I hadn't imagined he'd be personally overseeing this round of selection.

"Professor Vance almost never gets involved in the selection himself. This time, for whatever reason, he asked to see a few specific candidates' materials—and you're one of them." Professor Hale's voice tightened with barely contained excitement. "Madge, prepare well. This is the best chance you'll ever get."

I nodded hard, my heart hammering.

To be noticed by Dustin Vance was an honor I wouldn't have dared to dream of.

I stepped out of the office, took a deep breath, and deleted the last photo of Les from my phone.

Three years. Done.

From now on, I live for research and for myself. No one else.

Les vanished completely for two weeks.

I found out later, through a colleague, that he'd taken extended leave to go traveling with Michelle.

Every day her feed was a highlight reel: ocean sunrises, amusement parks, five-star restaurants, limited-edition gifts.

Every caption in the same style: "Thank you, Les, for making all my wishes come true."

Each photo was a knife that would have cut straight into the old me.

But now, looking at them, all I felt was calm. Almost amused.

I threw myself into preparing for the selection—practically lived in the lab, buried in literature, crunching data, pulling results together, sleeping three or four hours a night.

When you're that deep in the work, love and all its noise really aren't worth mentioning.

At some point I went back to the burned-out apartment to salvage what I could.

The place was wrecked. Blackened walls, warped furniture.

My foot caught on something hard in the debris. I looked down. A plain-band ring, scorched dull and dark.

I'd saved up for a long time to have it made. Designed it myself, had it custom-ordered.

The night of the fire was our three-year anniversary.

I'd planned to bake a cake at home, hide the ring inside, and propose to Les from across the distance—just the two of us on a video call.

I'd even rehearsed the line: "Les, let's get married. We'll do research together for the rest of our lives and grow old together."

What a joke.

I was choking in smoke and flames, clawing to stay alive—and he was across town, surrounded by flowers and applause, celebrating someone else's birthday.

I picked up the ring and closed my fist around it, squeezing until the metal edge bit into my palm.

Then I tossed it into the trash.

Three years of deluded love went with it.

When I turned around, I walked straight into a solid chest.

I looked up and froze.

Les was standing in the doorway—no telling how long he'd been there. His face was dark, his gaze dropping to the ring in the trash, then to the burn on my hand, and whatever shifted behind his eyes, he didn't let it settle into anything I could name.

"You're back." His voice came out dry, almost rough.

I ignored him and stepped sideways to leave.

"Madge, stop." He grabbed my wrist, grip tight enough to hurt. "We need to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about." I wrenched free. "I already made the breakup perfectly clear."

"So what, one conference? A couple missed calls? And you have to turn it into this whole thing and insist on breaking up?"

Les frowned, still wearing that same look of lofty condescension:

"I can apologize. I'll spend more time with you from now on. Just stop throwing a fit."

I almost laughed.

"Les, do you honestly still not know what you did wrong?"

"You stole my spot—that's not nothing. You locked me in the apartment—that's not nothing. While I was nearly burning to death, you were celebrating someone else's birthday—that's not nothing. And you went around telling people she was your lover—that's even less than nothing."

"All of that, and you think I'm the one making too much of it?"

He had nothing to say. The color drained from his face, then flushed back in patches.

"That was just... a lapse in judgment. Michelle's like a sister to me."

"A sister you'd hand my spot to? A sister you'd introduce as your lover?"

I let out a cold laugh. "Les, you are unbelievably selfish. You only ever care about yourself and whoever you feel like protecting. My feelings, my career, whether I live or die—none of it means a thing to you."

"That's not true!" His voice dropped to a raw growl. "You matter to me!"

"Your love is cheap." I looked at him, my gaze perfectly still. "I don't want it anymore. Don't come looking for me again. We're done."

I stepped around him and walked away.

Les stood rooted to the spot, watching me go, and for the first time, real panic cracked through that composure. He was only now realizing that this time, I wasn't coming back.

The day of the selection review, I arrived at the designated location early.

The man seated at the head of the room wore a simple black shirt, his bearing cool and remote. Dustin Vance.

He looked younger than in his photos, and far more imposing. He was perfectly still, doing nothing but sitting there, yet the weight of him made it difficult to hold eye contact.

"Begin." His voice was low and pleasant, stripped of any extra emotion.

I steadied myself and began: research focus, results, future plans. Not a single tremor in my hands, not a hitch in my voice. Every word landed where I aimed it, and I held nothing back.

Dustin listened closely, occasionally making notes, occasionally glancing up at me. His gaze was deep and unreadable.

When the defense was over, he asked me several technical questions, all of them extremely difficult, all aimed straight at the core.

I kept my composure and answered every one.

A slight nod. He offered no verdict either way, just: "Go home and wait for the notification."

I bowed and left, but something in my gut told me with fierce certainty.

I stepped out of the review room and there was Les. He'd found out about the selection somehow and had been waiting, and the moment he saw me, he closed the distance.

"Madge, you applied for the Core Research Lab selection. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't owe you updates on my life."

"We haven't broken up!" His voice cracked with urgency. "You promised you'd stay in the capital with me. The Core Research Lab is in the Northwest—you'd actually drag yourself out there just to get away from me?"

"Les, we're done."

I cut him off. "I've already told you to stop hounding me. Whether I go to the Northwest or the Southwest, it's nothing to do with you."

A cool, low voice came from behind me. "Madge."

I turned. Dustin Vance was standing there, and I had no idea when he'd arrived. His gaze dropped to where Les was gripping my hand, and his brow creased, just barely.

Les recognized him instantly. The color in his face shifted to something stiff and deferential.

Next to Dustin Vance, a junior scholar like Les didn't even rank.

"Professor Vance." Les let go of my hand on reflex, straightening up with an awkward greeting.

Dustin didn't look at him. His eyes stayed on me, his tone unhurried. "Come with me. I need to talk to you."

"Okay." I followed without hesitation.

Les tried to come after us, but Taylor Reed stepped into his path, smooth and wordless.

All he could do was stand there and watch me walk away with Dustin, his eyes full of frustration and panic.

We reached a quiet corridor. Dustin stopped and turned to face me.

"You passed."

Joy surged through me before I could contain it. "Thank you, Professor Vance!"

"Don't thank me. You earned it." He paused, his tone still level. "That's not why I asked you here."

I blinked.

"My family won't stop pushing me to marry. I need a wife on paper—someone to put in front of the elders and get them off my back."

He held my gaze, direct and unapologetic. "I know you just got out of a relationship. A ring on your finger would keep certain people from bothering you again."

My mind went blank. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

Dustin Vance—the name the entire research world treated like myth—was asking me to marry him?