Aitana Nguyen hesitated, her mind spinning, trying to make sense of Jaxxon's words. "But—"

"I'll change," Jaxxon cut in, firm and unwavering. "To meet your expectations."

Aitana felt a sharp stab of guilt, her resolve weakening in the face of his sincerity. "We really need to think this through. Marriage isn't some game..."

"Are you reconsidering?" Jaxxon's tone was level, almost challenging.

Aitana paused, thoughts tangling into a mess. "Yes," she murmured.

"You sure you don't want to give me a shot?"

The question lingered in the air, Aitana perplexed. Before she could answer, Jaxxon slipped into a side room and came back with his phone. He pulled up an album and held the screen out to her.

One glance was all it took for her to recognize the man in the pictures, and her skin prickled with dread. "What... what is this supposed to mean?" she demanded, alarmed.

Jaxxon withdrew the phone, his face unreadable. "I know the man you're dealing with. I know what you sold him. Imagine if your parents found out."

Aitana let out a bitter laugh, more at herself than him. "I really let the wolf in, didn't I? So you're telling me—if I refuse to marry you, you'll spill everything to my parents?"

"Yes," Jaxxon answered bluntly.

She regretted this conversation wasn't over text. If it were, she'd have bombarded him with angry emojis. This man had changed, that was for sure.

He used soft persuasion followed by hard threats, backing her into a corner with strategy. In this scenario, surrender felt like her only way out.

"Fine. Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock. We get the marriage certificate," Aitana said through gritted teeth.

Jaxxon grinned, satisfied. "No rush. Let's make it afternoon—I've got stuff in the morning."

Aitana fumed silently. He'd proposed the marriage, yet somehow she was the one looking desperate.

"I'll need to request time off," Jaxxon added matter-of-factly.

She rolled her eyes, like she had nothing better to do than sit around waiting.

"Do you need to swing by your place for your documents?" Jaxxon asked.

"Don't worry about me," Aitana snapped.

The next afternoon, the weather was beautiful, but Aitana felt the complete opposite. Her secret had been uncovered by Jaxxon, and now he was weaponizing it to force her into marriage. This once straight-laced man had learned how to manipulate and threaten.

They stepped out of the registry office, Aitana looking pale and drained, Jaxxon relaxed and at ease.

"See you tomorrow," she said, her smile hollow and forced, secretly hoping tomorrow would never arrive.

"I'll drive you," Jaxxon offered, fishing out his car keys.

A Mercedes chirped a few feet away, and Aitana's eyes went wide.

When he'd mentioned he had a car, she hadn't pictured something this flashy.

"Do doctors seriously make that much?" she asked, disbelief thick in her voice.

Jaxxon didn't catch on at first. She nodded toward the car.

Some guy she'd gone out with once had mentioned this was a new model, costing around seventy grand. The carbon black finish shimmered with a blue undertone, dazzling in the sunlight—a little showy, if you asked her.

"Oh, it was a gift," Jaxxon said casually.

Aitana scoffed internally and waved him off. "I'm out of here."

"Where to?"

"The hospital."

"Which one?"

"East River East River East River University Hospital."

"Convenient—we're going the same way."

Aitana stared, stunned. "You work there?"

"Where else?" Jaxxon shot her a look that bordered on pity for her cluelessness.

She smacked her forehead. East River East River East River University Hospital was the top-ranked facility in the region. Where else would someone like him, top of his class, end up?

They weren't even at the hospital entrance when Aitana blurted, "I'll get out here."

"Afraid of running into my colleagues?" Jaxxon teased, catching the blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Of course not. I just don't want to make things awkward for you," she shot back, though her face was on fire.

Jaxxon smirked, a knowing edge to it. "See you later."

"Yeah, sure..." Aitana hopped out and hurried toward the hospital without a backward glance.

East River East River East River University Hospital, officially called East River East River East River University Hospital, boasted a stellar reputation, with top-notch departments in cardiac surgery, orthopedics, neurosurgery, and more recently, hepatobiliary and urology surgery.

Aitana's ex, the one with the shattered leg, was in orthopedics.

As she stepped into the ward, she spotted Cayden Spencer propped up with one leg in a cast, chatting up a young nurse at his bedside with exaggerated animation.

"Once I'm out of here, I'll take you for a ride in my Porsche," Cayden boasted.

The nurse blushed, clearly amused but skeptical. "First, you should focus on getting better."

"Don't doubt me..." Cayden began, but his words died when he noticed Aitana standing at the door, watching.

"What do you want?" he asked, his tone flipping to annoyance.

Aitana strolled in, unfazed. "I'm here to talk compensation."

Cayden leaned back against his pillow, disdain glinting in his eyes. "Finally ready to settle? This leg isn't gonna heal by itself—don't expect to get off cheap. Twenty, thirty grand at the bare minimum."

His eyes turned nasty as he added, "Or you could just stay with me, nurse me back to health as my girlfriend."

Aitana snorted coldly. "Considering you used my ID to register a company without my permission, you're lucky I haven't called the cops. Trying to shake me down? Forget it."

"Oh, using your ID, you say? Prove it! My busted leg is real, and everyone knows your family's responsible. The whole neighborhood saw it go down," Cayden sneered. "I'm feeling generous, so I'm giving you a chance—how much can you cough up?"

"Don't even think about it," Aitana snapped. "I never signed a single registration document. I'll be the one asking for compensation, and if I'm not satisfied, we'll take this to the police."

"Go ahead, dig up your evidence. I'm in no rush. Meanwhile, I could file for assault, send your dad to prison, and you'd have no one to blame but yourself."

Aitana's fists clenched with fury. How could she have been so blind to fall for a guy like Cayden?

"Or maybe you're just out of options?" Cayden continued, smug.

"Mr. Spencer," the nurse suddenly interjected, "Dr. Nguyen is here."

Standing at the door was Jaxxon Nguyen, dressed in crisp white. His broad shoulders filled out the lab coat perfectly, and his slim waist accentuated its tailored fit. He radiated confidence and authority.

Aitana's breath caught at the sight of him.

Jaxxon's gaze swept over her, then settled on Cayden with an unreadable expression. "How's it going?"

"Excellent! Your hospital lives up to its reputation!" Cayden grinned. "Dr. Nguyen, just pick the best for me—money's no issue. I've got someone footing the bill." He shot a pointed look at Aitana.

"Prosthetics are top-of-the-line and pricey—interested?" Jaxxon countered dryly, his glare icy.

Cayden froze.

"Try moving your foot a little," Jaxxon ordered in a no-nonsense tone.

"Oh, uh..." Cayden's smugness evaporated; he knew he needed Jaxxon's skills and didn't dare push further.

Mrs. Lee, a patient's mother, remarked, "He looks like he knows what he's doing."

Aitana couldn't help but snicker. "What makes you say that?"

Jaxxon, with his standoffish vibe, seemed like he needed a good smack, but Mrs. Lee found him professional.

"Just a gut feeling—he gets things done," Mrs. Lee explained. "Feels... reliable."

Aitana silently noted that what she interpreted as Jaxxon's rigid seriousness, the families of patients saw as "reliability." Beauty really was in the eye of the beholder.

…

At the billing counter, the clerk said, "We'll need a five-thousand-dollar deposit."

"Five thousand?" Beau Schmidt exclaimed, then quickly swallowed his shock under Jaxxon's presence.

"It'll be adjusted against the final bill and insurance upon discharge," the clerk assured.

Beau hesitated, gripping his phone, worry written all over his face.

A bank card with the hospital's logo appeared in his peripheral vision. He looked up to see Jaxxon standing there, card in hand, offering no explanation as he handed it to the clerk.

Once the transaction was done, Jaxxon retrieved his card and said, "Let's go."

Beau followed, his emotions a messy knot of gratitude and humiliation.

"Why are you helping me?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.

Jaxxon stopped and turned. "I'm not helping you. I'm just sparing Aitana from you being a burden."

Beau fell silent, his face flushing—a mix of shame and a grudging sense of thankfulness.

"Because you like her?" Beau finally whispered.

Jaxxon let out a short laugh. "So you're finally admitting it."

Beau gritted his teeth, fuming at his current pathetic state, unable to defend himself.

"When do you plan to tell her?" Jaxxon asked, his directness catching Beau off guard.

Beau jolted, thoughts scrambling. He'd been thinking about it forever but never found the right moment.

Back when Aitana was with Cayden, Beau respected their relationship and didn't want to be the third wheel. Now, with Jaxxon in the picture, and with Haley Cox insisting Aitana and Jaxxon weren't officially together, Beau thought he still had a shot.

But his current wreck of a life—he couldn't even cover his father's hospital deposit—made him feel worthless.

"It's not the right time," Beau admitted, turning his head, his voice strained. "Will you tell Aitana?"

"Tell her what? That you're into her?" Jaxxon replied evenly.

"Yes."

"She already knows."

Beau was dumbstruck.

"I pointed it out to her," Jaxxon added.

Beau's eyes flashed with anger.

Jaxxon's cold stare met his. "Did you expect her to figure it out on her own? Might take a lifetime."

Beau was left speechless, stung, but he stubbornly shot back, "You like her too, don't you? Have you told her?"

Jaxxon hadn't anticipated that bold question. After a beat, his expression darkened. "Who said I like her?"

Beau hesitated, reading nothing behind Jaxxon's mask.

"Then why stick your nose in so much?" Beau challenged.

Jaxxon, done with the conversation, said flatly, "We're already married."

The shock hit Beau like a tidal wave, his brain short-circuiting.

Jaxxon continued, "There's no love between us, but no man enjoys a love triangle. So, you can either bury your feelings and stay away from Aitana, or keep chasing her and risk being labeled a homewrecker."

The bombshell of Aitana and Jaxxon's marriage knocked the wind out of Beau, and Jaxxon's ultimatum struck like lightning, leaving him breathless and drained.

Eventually, Beau clenched his fists, forcing the words out. "If there's no love, why get married?"

"Mutual needs," Jaxxon replied impatiently.

Beau understood, but a wave of bitter disillusionment washed over him.

"Was Aitana's family pushing her? And you—what forced your hand?" Beau demanded.

"Same. Family pressure," Jaxxon said, his patience wearing thin.

Beau was skeptical. "I've read articles, and they said..."

"Jaxxon!" another voice interrupted.

A short man with neatly slicked-back hair in a pristine white coat approached.

Beau read the badge: "Liver and Biliary Surgery – Assistant Chief Physician – Arlo Spencer."

Arlo came over with enthusiasm, even leaning in to drape an arm over Jaxxon's shoulder as he glanced at Beau. "Family of the patient?"

"Yeah, Aitana's classmate," Jaxxon replied, barely hiding his discomfort as he sidestepped Arlo's touch.

Arlo chuckled, giving Jaxxon's shoulder a pat. "Look at you, pulling strings for Miss Nguyen. Back in the lab, you wouldn't even babysit my cell cultures—such favoritism, huh?" His tone was playful, borderline mocking.

Jaxxon's skin crawled at Arlo's familiarity, and he stepped further away.

But Arlo's innuendo-laced behavior wasn't lost on Beau, who'd read about Jaxxon's rumored "affair" with a doctor named Spencer.

Beau kept quiet, his fists tightening.

"We're heading out," Jaxxon said, eager to escape Arlo's unwelcome enthusiasm.

Oblivious to Jaxxon's discomfort, Arlo waved cheerfully. "Catch you later! We should all do dinner at 'Everest Excursions'—the gang's finally back together. Let's hang!"

Jaxxon frowned but replied simply, "Sure."

He knew exactly who Arlo meant by "the gang." The trio from East River East River East River University Hospital—Clockwork from Urology, Arlo from Liver and Biliary, and Reese Callahan from Obstetrics—had long been called the "Iron Triangle" thanks to their unbreakable bond.

“Hey, what are you staring at? Can’t you see your boyfriend’s a mess? Aren’t you gonna help him?” Cayden Spencer’s voice was thick with sarcasm as he shot a dirty look at Aitana Nguyen, who stood motionless off to the side.

Aitana’s thoughts were spinning, but before she could get a word out, Cayden let out a dramatic, over-the-top groan. “Ahh! It hurts! It hurts…”

Like a jolt of electricity had hit him, he jerked upright, shoving away the hand that had been pressing on his knee. “Dr. Nguyen, you’re pressing the wrong spot.”

Jaxxon Nguyen didn’t even flinch. His voice stayed measured. “The fluid buildup in your knee has gotten worse. We need to drain it.”

The young nurse nodded along. “That’s correct.”

Every bit of color drained from Cayden’s face. “Drain it? How?”

The nurse mimed a syringe, her thumb pushing down. “We’ll use a needle about this thick to puncture the synovial membrane.”

A cold wave of fear washed over Cayden. “Is it gonna hurt?”

“It’s just a needle, no big deal,” she said with a shrug.

Cold sweat beaded on Cayden’s forehead.

Then, out of nowhere, he turned to Aitana, his whole demeanor flipping to desperation. “Aitana, can we get back together? Stay with me, and I won’t hold you or your dad responsible. Just cover my medical bills, and I won’t go after any more compensation. I’ll even drop the charges against your father.”

Aitana didn’t so much as blink. “When did you visit the Alps?”

Cayden looked baffled. “What?”

“Where’d you learn to flip-flop like that?” she shot back, a razor-sharp edge to her voice.

“… …”

Done with the charade, Aitana cut straight to it. “Cayden, if you can’t understand plain English, let me spell it out: we’re over. You started this mess, and I’m not scared of whatever you bring. So let’s see how it plays out.”

She hit him with a cold stare, then spun on her heel for the door.

Cayden’s face twisted with fury, a curse slipping under his breath as he watched her walk away.

“You fond of that leg?” Jaxxon’s voice dropped, low and dangerous.

Cayden’s eyes popped wide. “This is between me and my ex. What’s it to you?”

Jaxxon gave a subtle nod to the nurse, who quickly slipped out, leaving Cayden squirming.

Jaxxon’s tone was calm, deliberate. “You realize, the day they wheeled you into the ER, if the disciplinary committee found out what you had on you…”

Shock flickered across Cayden’s face.

That day, when Cayden was rushed in, Jaxxon was the attending. Cayden had a fibula fracture with an ankle dislocation—blinding pain. He cussed out anyone who tried to touch him.

“I’ll take it from here,” Jaxxon had said, taking the scissors off an intern and slicing open Cayden’s skin-tight jeans like he’d done it a thousand times. Minutes later, Cayden’s leg was casted, but he’d completely forgotten about the incriminating receipts stuffed in his pocket—a couple for spa visits and one very sketchy tax invoice.

“So what if I hit up a spa with my friends? That a crime?” Cayden spat, defiant.

“I don’t care who you go with,” Jaxxon warned, his voice icy. “But if you mess with Aitana again, consider that leg—and your freedom—kissed goodbye.”

Cayden was thrown. “You know Aitana? What is she to you?”

“My wife.”

Cayden was absolutely floored, his brain struggling to process. “You’re kidding, right? We broke up just a few days ago…”

“We got our marriage certificate today.” Jaxxon flipped it open just long enough for Cayden to catch a glimpse.

Cayden’s disbelief twisted into defiance. “You do know fake certificates are illegal.”

Jaxxon’s smirk was cold. “So is bribery.”

Cayden’s bravado crumbled. Panic crept in.

Jaxxon remained unbothered, like none of it even registered. On his way out, he tossed out one last casual warning: “Be careful. You just might end up needing a very expensive prosthetic.”

A chill shot down Cayden’s spine.

……

Stepping out of the room, Jaxxon was caught off guard when he spotted Aitana sitting on a bench near the nurse’s station.

“Were you waiting for me?”

Aitana lifted her head, then stood. “Can we talk?”

Jaxxon nodded, guiding her to a small meeting room down the orthopedics hall.

He handed her a bottle of water, the cap already loosened, and set it gently in front of her. “What’s up?” he asked, lowering himself into the chair beside her.

For a second, Aitana was struck by how thoughtful he was. Then she pulled herself back to the point. “Cayden Spencer, my ex…”

“I know.”

Aitana bit her lip, feeling stupid for stating the obvious. “Jaxxon, as spineless and obnoxious as Cayden is, he knows how to manipulate and bully people. I can handle our issues, but I don’t want our marriage to cause problems for you at work.”

“Is there a problem?” Jaxxon asked evenly.

Aitana paused, thrown by his calm.

“You don’t need to assume anything about me being your husband,” Jaxxon said, pulling out their marriage certificate and laying it in front of her. “Think this certificate is just for show?”

Her eyes dipped to the red booklet, then drifted up to Jaxxon’s face. “Why do you even carry that around? You didn’t show it to Cayden, did you?”

A beat of silence. “I knew about your relationship with him when he came to the hospital.”

“Huh?”

“Your mom brought him.”

Aitana’s eyes widened. “You met my mom? She never said she saw you.”

“It was chaos. She didn’t recognize me.”

Aitana studied him then, really studied him. He wasn’t the same person she used to know. It wasn’t just how he looked—it was the way he carried himself, the way he thought. There was an alluring mystery about him that pulled her in.

In just three days, Jaxxon had tied everything up with a speed that felt almost too perfect.

Her brows knitted as she scrutinized him. “You planned this, didn’t you?”

Jaxxon looked away, dodging her piercing gaze. “Using those photos from my client meetings to threaten me, pretending you can’t do laundry, mixing up clothes on purpose, and only dropping what you knew about Cayden after we were married—what are you really thinking, Jaxxon?”

In his office, Aitana had settled into his chair, quietly taking in his workspace. The desktop monitor glowed with the hospital’s patient management system; a closed MacBook sat next to it.

The desk was a grand, old oak one—cluttered. On the left, stacks of manuals and books on bones, joints, and 3D printing. On the right, a mountain of medical records and diagnostic reports. With all the recent upheaval, the neat order from her last visit had dissolved into mess.

Not wanting to disturb anything, Aitana clutched the lunchbox she’d brought, careful not to add to the chaos.

Arturo Howell walked in, spotted the container, and asked, “Still bringing lunch for Jaxxon?”

“Huh?” Aitana’s brain stalled for a second.

Arturo nodded toward the box in her hands. “Yeah, his lunch?”

“Oh, uh, sort of,” she replied, dodging the whole backstory.

Arturo said, “I asked him to join us in the cafeteria, but he wouldn’t come.”

“Wait, Jaxxon didn’t eat lunch?” Aitana’s guilt hit her all at once.

“He was slammed all morning. When you called, he finally caught a break—and then you showed up with your classmate’s family.”

The guilt flooded in. Before she’d left, her parents had insisted she take the meal, and she’d grudgingly gone along. Now she was grateful for their wisdom.

“But he’s only working a half day today,” Arturo added. “Should be heading out soon.”

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling a tiny bit better.

Arturo returned to his tasks, and Aitana sat there in Jaxxon’s chair, lunchbox in hand, lost in her head.

When Jaxxon got back, he found her sitting all prim and proper in his seat, back straight, posture almost too obedient.

“You’re back?”

Her eyes flicked over his shoulder, noting no one else. “Where’s Beau?”

“In his room.”

“All sorted?” she asked.

“All set.”

Jaxxon washed his hands, catching Arturo shooting him a knowing look through the mirror. Arturo stood. “I’ll leave you two. Got patients to see.”

With Arturo gone, Aitana didn’t waste any more time. “Beau’s family isn’t doing great. Can we minimize his dad’s treatment costs?”

“Sure.” Jaxxon dried his hands, flicking the faucet off with a paper towel.

“Did they pay an upfront deposit today for his admission? My dad ran into the same thing paying for Auntie Liang. If they run out of money mid-treatment…”

“Don’t worry, it’s handled,” Jaxxon assured her, settling into another chair. “In the future, I’ll take care of his matters. You don’t need to.”

“But he’s my classmate…”

“Just because he’s your classmate, does that mean you’ll be helping him forever?”

Aitana caught the edge in his voice. He was clearly irritated, and that sparked her own temper. “When did I ever say I’d help forever?”

Jaxxon’s face turned stony. “How much do you even make? Even if you gave everything you had, it wouldn’t be a drop in the bucket.”

She knew she didn’t have the money to solve Beau’s problems alone. As his senior and classmate, she could reach out to Arlo Spencer or the university for help. But the way Jaxxon threw her low income in her face—it stung. Humiliating and infuriating at once.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so successful, so capable, and someone like me isn’t even worthy of being your friend, right?” Aitana snapped, shoving the lunchbox into his hands as she stood to leave.

In a flash, Jaxxon grabbed her wrist, yanking her back with surprising force.

She stumbled, losing her balance and landing sideways right into Jaxxon’s lap. He shifted the lunchbox out of the way just in time, but Aitana ended up wedged between his legs.

As she fell, she instinctively reached out to brace herself—her elbow accidentally pressing straight into Jaxxon’s groin. The sudden, intimate contact sent a rush of heat to her face as she scrambled to right herself.

A low, muffled groan escaped Jaxxon, the discomfort all too clear.

Mortified, Aitana shot to her feet and retreated to a safe distance. “I—I’m so sorry…”

Jaxxon’s brow furrowed, the warmth of her still lingering against him. The accidental touch left a hollow ache of want.

“No need to apologize if it wasn’t on purpose,” he said, setting the lunchbox aside and swiveling the chair toward her. “Hang tight while I wrap up a few things, and I’ll drive you home.”

Aitana’s heart was still pounding from the whole mess.

Even though it was an accident, her mind wouldn’t stop spinning.

She sat, her fingers absently brushing the spot on her forearm where she’d made contact—or at least, where she thought she had. Her thoughts raced, the memory stubbornly replaying no matter how hard she tried to push it away.

“Hey, what do you say we hit the fair together next weekend?” Jaxxon suggested.

Aitana managed a smile. “Sure, that sounds fun.”

On the drive home, Jaxxon was unusually quiet. Aitana glanced over and noticed his brow was still furrowed.

“Everything okay?” she asked, concerned.

“Yeah, just thinking about work,” he replied, though his tone was distant.

Aitana let the silence be, turning her focus back to the road ahead. The cityscape blurred past, the familiar route home a comforting backdrop.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Aitana let out a small sigh of relief, grateful for a sliver of normalcy. “Thanks for the ride.”

Jaxxon nodded, offering a faint smile. “Anytime.”

She lingered in the car for just a second, stealing one last glance his way before stepping out. She didn’t know what was weighing on him, but she hoped he’d open up when he was ready.

Inside, she found her parents already busy in the kitchen, her mom prepping dinner with that effortless rhythm she had.

“Hey, kiddo,” her dad greeted, glancing up from chopping vegetables. “Good day?”

“Pretty good,” Aitana replied, joining them at the counter. “What’s for dinner?”

“Your favorite,” her mom chimed in, her smile warm as always. “Spaghetti Bolognese.”

A wave of gratitude washed over Aitana—for the simple, steady comfort of it all. In this kitchen, with the clatter of pots and the smell of home-cooked food, the day’s tangled mess just seemed to melt.

As she slipped into the rhythm of helping with dinner, a flicker of contentment glowed inside her. Despite all the craziness, she knew she was surrounded by love that made everything else feel manageable.

Her mind wandered back to Jaxxon, and she hoped that whatever was hanging over him would find its way to peace soon. In the meantime, she’d be here, ready to listen, with an open heart.

Aitana Nguyen sat still, letting Jaxxon's words sink in. “Pushing boundaries.”

“What’s your point?” she asked, her voice tight with irritation.

“After this, you’re coming with me to meet my mom. It’s a long trip, and I’d rather not have us on the verge of splitting the whole way.”

A chill crept through her chest, the real meaning behind his words settling like ice. “You want to see how much crap I’ll take before I bail on this marriage?”

“Exactly. If you’re miserable and want out, I’d rather it happen before you meet her.”

Her fist clenched, eyes locked on his. “Then consider it over. Right now.”

His expression hardened. “You sure about that?”

“A hundred percent.”

“And you’re not worried about your parents finding out you’ve been talking to other guys?”

She lifted her chin, defiant. “Let them. Worst case, I get kicked out. I’ve survived worse.”

Jaxxon looked down, voice low. “Pick a day, and we’ll file.”

Aitana blinked, taken aback by how fast he agreed. “What about my parents? You’ll just—”

“Once we’re divorced, we’re strangers. Not my business anymore.”

Her heart twisted in a way she didn’t expect. This was exactly what she wanted. So why did hearing him say it rip something loose inside her, something she thought she’d buried?

He stood, all calm control. “Should I walk you out?”

She nodded.

He led her to the elevator at the end of the hall—the one that dropped straight to the parking lot exit, next to the bus stop, saving her a long walk. He pressed the button, and they waited in silence.

When the doors slid open, Aitana stepped inside, a weird mix of relief and sadness knotting in her stomach. She tried for a normal, friendly goodbye, lifting a hand. “Bye.”

Jaxxon kept his finger jammed on the “up” button outside, his intense gaze fixed on her. “So why are we really ending it this time? Don’t tell me it’s still my so-called OCD.”

“What?” She froze.

“Forget it,” he muttered. “Just think about it.”

He let go. The doors closed, swallowing him from view.

Aitana stood there, totally confused. He used to be straightforward. Now he was a puzzle she couldn’t crack.

She barely even remembered why they broke up years ago—probably some dumb reason she blew way out of proportion. She’d claimed she couldn’t stand how neat he was, or something like that. But the confusion faded fast, and she slipped back into her usual calm.

Feelings had always been trivial to her. If her parents hadn’t pushed so hard, she wouldn’t have even dated someone like Cayden Spencer.

Aitana’s priorities were crystal: money first, education second. Relationships didn’t even make the list.

Honestly, what man could ever be as reliable as a bank account?

Especially when she had a walking red flag like Cayden as a prime example.

She stepped out of the hospital, and her phone buzzed. Her mother, Lucia Flores.

“Aitana, did you sort things out with that Spencer boy?” Lucia’s voice dripped with worry.

“Not yet,” Aitana sighed.

“I knew it. He’s got an angle, using that busted leg to hold us hostage. He won’t let go. Did he ask for money?”

“He wasn’t specific, but I’m sure it’ll be a boatload.”

“Maybe I should talk to him, see exactly what he wants. We need this to be over. We can’t let him drag us all down.”

Aitana rubbed her temples. “Mom, you honestly think Dad would pay? He’d flip his lid. And I’m not paying either. He used my identity to start his company, and now the debt is on me. Where am I supposed to pull that kind of cash from?”

Lucia let out a long breath. “The cops keep questioning your father… I’m scared.”

The weight of it all pressed down on Aitana’s shoulders. Lucia was kind, gentle—not built for this chaos—and yet she was the one catching all the fallout.

“We never should’ve introduced you to him,” Lucia said, voice breaking.

“I chose to meet him. It’s not just your bad call—it was mine too.” Aitana didn’t do regrets. “What’s done is done. I’ll ask my advisor if she knows a good lawyer. If not, we’re going to court.”

She was in her second year of a doctoral program at the School of Disease Prevention and Health Management. Her advisor, a top-tier professor, was kind and supportive, though a bit scatterbrained now that she was older.

Aitana spilled the whole mess, and the professor promised to look into it, even giving her a few days off.

Since Cayden’s accident, she’d already taken three days to handle the crisis. Cayden had filed a police report, so they were all tangled in the investigation.

The forensic report labeled his injuries minor, but Aitana’s father, Bodhi Nguyen, could still catch an assault charge and administrative detention.

Right now, the cops were still sorting through conflicting statements. Lucky for them, given Bodhi’s age and the small scale of the incident, he’d been temporarily released—just stuck on call for more questioning.

A few days later, Bodhi called, inviting her home for dinner.

She wasn’t in the mood. “Dad, you and Mom eat without me. I’ve got a meeting with my advisor tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he said, about to hang up when Lucia grabbed the phone, her voice soaked in motherly concern. “Aitana, sweetheart, you remember Auntie Clara from across the street? I ran into her today. They’re moving back—even had a renovation crew with them.”

“Jaxxon’s mom?” Aitana shot up from the sofa, heart lurching.

“Yes! We talked. About six months ago, she had heart surgery—barely made it through. She’s recovering okay, but she still looks fragile.”

Suddenly it clicked. Jaxxon had come to her about marriage because his mom’s health was pressing him hard, leaving him with no easy way out.

But with her own dumpster fire of a life, Aitana couldn’t afford to think about Jaxxon’s.

Better to cut ties fast. The longer Auntie Clara lived next door, the messier the divorce would get.

She shot Jaxxon a text to finalize the paperwork. He replied with his work schedule, highlighting his free windows.

The soonest was tomorrow afternoon.

Aitana typed back, quick: “Tomorrow, 2 PM.”

Jaxxon didn’t respond right away, but she figured that meant he was in.

---

Outside the civil affairs office, the sun was beaming, but Aitana felt nothing but gloom.

First divorce, and of course she was a total newbie.

Who would’ve guessed there was a freaking mandatory cooling-off period?

The clerk told her to come back in thirty days.

Jaxxon looked completely unfazed, not a trace of frustration on his face.

She glanced at him, a weird mix of giving up and questioning everything in her eyes.

“First divorce,” Jaxxon said, tone annoyingly casual.

Her mind drifted, and she couldn’t shake the thought: underneath the cold front, he was softer than he let on.

The truth was, she and Jaxxon hadn’t shared many genuinely close moments. Back when they were young and she’d made the first move, time had blurred those once breathless memories.

At eighteen, physical closeness was more about raw impulse than rational affection.

Now, with age and experience, logic steered the wheel on what intimacy actually meant.

When she sized up a partner these days, a radar chart practically popped into her head, rating every trait.

Jaxxon hit all the marks, except one killer category—love, that ultimate luxury in a marriage.

Did they even have it?

The only honest answer she could give: maybe once, for a blink. Six months, max, before it evaporated into teenage drama.

Back then, whether out of naivety or just guts, she’d been bold about appreciating Jaxxon’s body.

Now, even an accidental brush set her nerves on edge.

After about ten minutes, Jaxxon shut down his laptop, straightening his desk with that obsessive precision—books, reports, files all lined up like soldiers.

“You’ve picked up some solid habits,” she noted.

“Yeah.” He paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

The old Jaxxon had been a total slob. When he lived across from her, his study was a disaster zone—model planes and books thrown everywhere. Pick up a book from the floor, and you’d find a hidden model beneath.

His mom had tried to clean it, but he’d stubbornly refused, sparking epic fights.

Aitana had been in there a few times. It looked like a bomb went off.

His huge desk was buried under a mountain of textbooks and notes, so bad she’d once joked his setup belonged to a mad scientist, not a high school kid.

There wasn’t even space to stand. She’d almost crushed his Hobby King-L39 once.

He’d lunged to rescue it, yelling, “Don’t touch my Hobby King!”

That was the first time she’d learned the model plane’s name.

His trash can overflowed with tissues spilling onto the floor. Aitana couldn’t take it—if it were her place, she’d be out of her mind.

Then one day, as they left, a dictionary slid off his desk and thudded to the floor.

She’d waited for him to pick it up, but he just shut the door.

“You dropped the dictionary,” she’d pointed out.

“I’ll get it later,” he’d said, like it was nothing.

She’d been floored by that level of chill.

But now? He’d changed so much he was barely recognizable.

“Let’s go,” Jaxxon said, making sure every machine was off.

Aitana grabbed her bag and followed him out.

In the hallway, they ran into Arturo Howell.

“Finally emerged! I’ve been waiting so long my legs are numb,” Arturo said with a sly grin.

Jaxxon punched his arm playfully. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Ow, ow, ow,” Arturo hammed it up, dodging away with a laugh.

Then he snapped back to serious. “For real though. If it actually helps you fix your lifelong issues, I’ll cover ten shifts—hell, eight of ’em. Whatever.”

“You mean that?” Jaxxon turned to Aitana. “You heard that, right?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Heard what?”

Jaxxon stayed silent, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Arturo jumped in fast. “Whoa, Jaxxon, you can’t just sneak around setting stuff up. Miss Nguyen, don’t say yes on a whim. I’d be working myself to death here.”

Aitana’s blush deepened.

“I’m starving. Let’s head home and eat,” Jaxxon said, smoothly changing the subject.

“Later,” Arturo waved.

Jaxxon waved without looking. Aitana added a polite, “Bye, Dr. Howell.”

In the elevator, Jaxxon hit the button for the first floor instead of the parking garage.

“You taking me home?” she asked, puzzled.

“Gotta eat first.”

“Then I’ll just grab a taxi.”

His face went stern. “I said I’m taking you.”

She wasn’t sure if he meant it or if this was some weird power play.

“I’ll eat, chill for a bit, then drive you home,” he explained.

“Where are you eating?”

He held up the lunchbox. “At my place, obviously.”

Aitana felt a prickle of annoyance—like she was being played.

Remembering the food, she asked, “You still okay with spicy stuff?”

“Mostly.”

“My parents’ cooking is pretty spicy. Hope you can handle it.”

“Should be fine.”

His confidence felt off. Back in high school, they’d hit every spicy food joint in town, and Jaxxon had blown her away with his tolerance. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

They got to his place. Aitana dropped her backpack and carried the lunchbox to the kitchen.

Jaxxon trailed her, leaning against the doorframe, watching as she opened it up.

“Plates are below, microwave’s right there,” he pointed.

Ignoring his directions, she asked, “Got rice and potatoes?”

“Rice, yeah. Potatoes, don’t know.”

She shot him a look. “Seriously? You can’t check the fridge?”

He obligingly opened it, then shrugged. “Can’t tell.”

Aitana nudged him aside, digging through the packed fridge until she fished out two potatoes. “Here.”

“I didn’t do the shopping,” Jaxxon said, resuming his lazy lean against the door.

Her patience frayed. She stopped what she was doing. “So, am I cooking, or are you?”

That was her way of saying: “Help me out, idiot.”

Jaxxon didn’t miss a beat. “You cook, I’ll eat.”

Aitana rolled her eyes skyward, biting back a curse.

He watched her, looking way too entertained. “I’m beat. You’re always doing good deeds, right? So see this one through.”

Just then, before he could add more, a familiar voice chimed in from the doorway. “His grandfather took away Jaxxon’s credit card, left him stranded. I bought his ticket.”

Aitana spun around. Her mother, Lucia Flores, stood there, looking sympathetic.

“What? His card got taken?” Aitana said, caught off guard.

Lucia smiled, that knowing motherly smile. “Jaxxon’s working now, earning his own keep. We can’t fault him for not having piles of cash. Right, Jaxxon?”

He nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. “Yeah, I’ll work hard.”

Lucia beamed. “See? The boy’s responsible.”

She bustled into the kitchen, washing her hands and reaching to help, but Aitana stopped her. “No need, I’ve got this.”

They fell into a rhythm. Aitana focused on prepping the shrimp, and Jaxxon reluctantly planted himself by the sink, sleeves rolled up, washing greens.

Under Lucia’s direction, they worked together surprisingly well. Jaxxon even helped mince the meat, his movements precise.

“Doctor’s precision,” Lucia praised, watching him.

Aitana couldn’t resist a jab. “What, you think surgeons use butcher knives?”

Lucia shot her a stern warning look.