“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.

Aitana shot Jaxxon a sideways glance. "Who wouldn't be feeling this way?"

This was his first time dealing with a mess like this, and honestly, she wasn't any more experienced.

Her impatience flared. "So what's the plan now?"

"We'll come back in thirty days, like they told us."

Aitana let out a sigh. "Looks like that's all we can do."

"But..."

"What now?" A sudden unease prickled through her as she caught the wary look on Jaxxon's face. "Don't even tell me you're about to go on a business trip or that you won't have the time... The cooling-off period is thirty days, not exactly on the thirtieth day, you know."

Jaxxon frowned. "That's not what I was gonna say..."

"Then what?"

"I already took a day off this quarter. If I take another one, I'll lose my quarterly bonus."

Guilt washed over Aitana. She'd dragged Jaxxon into this whole complicated mess. Marriage wasn't some game, and here they were, tangled up in all kinds of trouble—first getting hitched, now getting divorced.

And on top of the hassle, the financial hit was huge.

Sensing her mood, Jaxxon added, "It's not your fault. I'm the one who suggested getting married."

That just made her feel worse.

"It takes two to make a marriage," she muttered. "I agreed to it, so I'm just as responsible."

Aitana wasn't the type to wallow in regret, but right now, she seriously regretted that impulsive decision to marry Jaxxon.

"I pressured you," Jaxxon corrected.

"You didn't have to. I'd already said yes." Her cheeks flushed pink and she looked away.

Back then, she hadn't exactly put up a fight against his proposal. Maybe if he hadn't been so damn obsessive about cleanliness...

"Your obsession with tidiness hasn't changed," Jaxxon remarked out of nowhere, fiddling with his phone. "I just sent you a recommendation for a mental health clinic. Check it out."

Her phone pinged. It took her a second to get what he was implying, and the realization instantly lit a fire inside her.

"Jaxxon! Are you calling me crazy?"

"No, it's just a suggestion. Take it or leave it," he said, all calm and collected.

Heart hammering with irritation, she glared at him. "A suggestion? You're basically saying I need a shrink!"

Mental health clinic? That was just a polite way of saying psych ward, wasn't it?

But Jaxxon met her gaze, his expression dead serious. "I'm being genuine," he said clearly. "Because only someone with some major hangups would end relationships over stupid little things."

Aitana was speechless for a moment.

After a beat, she asked cautiously, "Are you still stuck on why we broke up back then?"

Jaxxon seemed momentarily lost. His dark eyes flickered before he turned away, leaving behind a cool, "No."

Jaxxon's mood swings were so unpredictable, Aitana could never read him. But hearing his denial, she relaxed a fraction.

"Back then... don't worry about it. I just wanted to focus on the college exams, so I made up some dumb excuse to break up." She felt a twinge of guilt as she said it.

Her whole romance with Jaxxon had been a sham from the start—cooked up by her own petty, childish jealousy.

Looking back, her reasoning was laughably pathetic.

When Jaxxon transferred to her school, Aitana's class ranking dropped from tenth to eleventh, and she lost her spot on the coveted "honor roll."

The gap was small, but the school only honored the top ten. Eleventh place meant nothing.

Proud and naive, Aitana had wanted payback.

Weren't romantic distractions supposed to tank your grades?

So she'd hatched this stupid revenge plot: date him, break his heart, mess up his focus on studying.

As it turned out, her scheme worked way too well.

Jaxxon ended up at a different university, not his dream school, trading aeronautics for medicine.

Her methods might have been sneaky, but she couldn't deny that their brief teenage relationship had been full of genuine, innocent affection.

First loves are supposed to be unforgettable—and for good reason.

Back in high school, emotions were pure, free of hidden agendas or money concerns. That kind of thing was rare, something Aitana could never recreate as an adult.

Even if she met the same person today, the simplicity and innocence of young love had long since faded.

When she'd been weighing whether to accept Jaxxon's marriage proposal, her practical mind had sized him up in the most mundane, realistic ways possible.

As an adult, love had gone from being a teenage given to an elusive, precious thing.

She stole a glance at Jaxxon. His serious expression hadn't changed. She murmured under her breath, "I can apologize if it'll make you feel better."

"No need," Jaxxon replied. "We broke up, and you didn't even ace college."

Aitana bristled at his bluntness. "River Valley University is pretty good, okay?"

"Depends on the major," he shot back.

She faltered, no comeback ready.

She hadn't done as well as she'd hoped on her college entrance exams, ending up in healthcare management instead of clinical medicine—a path she'd stumbled through for years, with more than a little regret.

"Let's head back," Jaxxon said coldly.

Frustrated, she tossed him a glare before following him to the car.

As they drove, she asked absently, "How much is the quarterly bonus?"

If it wasn't too much, maybe she could pay him back.

Jaxxon started the car and answered casually, "Five thousand dollars."

Aitana's eyes went wide. "Five grand?"

"Why? Too little?"

"Five thousand a quarter? That's twenty thousand a year—are you seriously asking 'too little'? Compared to that, my reselling side hustle barely brings in as much as your bonus for a single quarter."

Jealousy stabbed at her heart.

Both of them were in the medical field, but the difference in earning potential was ridiculous.

Frustrated, Aitana muttered, "I can't afford to pay five grand. The divorce... will have to wait till your next break."

"Alright," Jaxxon replied, his tone unreadable.

A moment later, he asked, "Where to?"

"My parents' place."

As they neared the neighborhood entrance, a sudden thought hit Aitana, and she urged Jaxxon to pull over.

He stopped the car discreetly, about a block away from the complex.

His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Afraid your parents will see us?"

Aitana felt her cheeks burn, memories from the past flooding her mind.

Back in high school, she and Jaxxon used to say goodbye right here, keeping a safe distance before heading home separately.

She dodged the question, changing the subject. "I heard your mom's moving here. You...?"

"She's moving in alone. I won't be staying—this place is too far from the East River East River University Hospital."

"True, the old neighborhood's too far for a daily commute," Aitana mused aloud. "If it wasn't so inconvenient, I wouldn't need to rent a place closer to campus."

Jaxxon's talent for sarcasm had clearly leveled up, since he started digging up old grievances.

Still, she decided to let it slide—he'd done Beau a favor, and he'd missed lunch because of it. So she held her tongue, focusing on peeling and dicing the potatoes.

She tossed them into the pan with the leftover pulled pork, gave it a quick sauté, and left it to simmer.

"Where's the bread?" she asked.

"Lower cabinet, right in front of you."

Opening it, she found an unopened bag of dinner rolls and shot him an incredulous look. "You haven't even opened it?"

"No time."

She grabbed a knife from the counter, aiming to cut the thread that sealed the bag.

When Jaxxon saw her with the knife, he stepped in. "Hold up, let me get scissors."

"No need," she started, about to show him how easily the string could be undone, but he snatched the knife away and came back with scissors, announcing, "I'll do it."

"Fine, I'll handle it," she retorted, reclaiming the scissors and deftly opening the bag.

Jaxxon opened the oven, pulled out the baking sheet, and Aitana scooped up two rolls to hand to him.

She crouched to tidy up while he warmed the rolls, his back to her.

The pan sizzled on the stove.

When lunch was ready, she dished up the food.

"I'll carry it," Jaxxon offered, retrieving the steaming bowl and setting it on the table.

He'd already set the places, opening the bread basket. "You gonna eat too?"

"No, I already ate."

Jaxxon served himself a portion. "Want some pulled pork?"

"No, I'm fine."

Without another word, he placed a piece of pulled pork in her bowl. "Eat something. It's lonely eating alone."

Aitana wanted to call him out on his weird whims, but the tender, savory pulled pork was impossible to resist. After all, her mom's cooking was unforgettable; she'd always loved it.

"Alright then," she said, taking a bite. "Just don't tell my folks I ate all your pulled pork."

Jaxxon chuckled softly. "I won't," and a gentle smile played on his lips.

As she ate, she asked, "Who buys your groceries? Your mom?"

"Yeah, she orders them online."

"You're old enough to take care of yourself. Give her a break, okay?"

"…" Jaxxon's hand paused. "I'll handle it from now on."

Realizing her concern sounded out of place, Aitana backtracked. "Not that... just, take care of yourself."

"Okay," he replied easily.

Even though she'd started with an appetite, Aitana found herself too troubled to eat much.

"Done?" Jaxxon asked as she set her fork aside.

"Not that hungry after all."

"Okay. I'll finish up and take you back."

"No rush," she said, noticing how quickly he was eating—clearly hungry, yet he kept his composure like always.

Jaxxon was one of the few men she knew who ate so gracefully. He never attacked his food like a starving wolf; even with bony meat, he nibbled carefully instead of gnawing on it like most people.

The first time she noticed, Aitana had found it totally at odds with his otherwise lazy nature.

Jaxxon caught her staring. "What? Want to eat but worried about gaining weight?"

"Huh?" she didn't follow.

"Meat's high in protein. It's fine to indulge sometimes—just control your carbs."

"No," Aitana hesitated. "It's... you look good when you eat."

A beat of silence, then a faint flush crept to his ear tips. Jaxxon smiled, picking up a piece of potato. "That's a first."

Seeing him smile loosened the knot in her chest, and she smiled back.

After the meal, Jaxxon cleaned up while Aitana relaxed on the couch.

He came back from the kitchen, grabbed his car keys, and said, "Let's go, I'll take you back."

"But isn't your car at the hospital?" she pointed out.

"Yeah, so we'll swing by there first."

As they headed toward the East River East River University Hospital, Aitana realized it was a two-for-one: a post-meal walk would be nice anyway.

During the drive, she asked absentmindedly, "Why did you park at the hospital?"

"Convenience."

"For what?"

"Meetings or emergency calls."

She nodded. "Oh."

"Next time, if something like Beau's situation comes up, let me know ahead of time," Jaxxon suggested.

"That's weirdly specific," Aitana commented. "I doubt it'll happen again. My mentor doesn't have that many students."

Jaxxon clarified, "I mean for cases where patients can't afford pricey treatments. I can arrange a visiting specialist."

"What's that?"

"It allows doctors from the university to perform surgeries closer to where the patient lives, so they don't have to travel all the way here."

"Really? I didn't know that."

"It's a newer policy," he explained.

"Are you registered anywhere else?"

"My registration is still processing. I'm planning to register in a rural county."

"Why there?"

"Because those counties have the worst healthcare."

"I didn't take you for a bleeding heart," she joked.

"Not at all," Jaxxon replied. "A lot of our colleagues are registered there."

Aitana chuckled but didn't argue.

They reached her parents' place without a hitch. Since Jaxxon's car was registered, the gate opened smoothly, and he pulled up to the building.

He stopped the car, and Aitana unclipped her seatbelt.

Jaxxon's grip tightened on the steering wheel. "Not inviting me up?"

Aitana froze, staring at him warily.

"I'm kidding. Go on home." A smirk crossed his lips.

She stepped out, waved goodbye, and headed inside.

Watching her disappear, Jaxxon adjusted the rearview mirror and caught sight of a vaguely familiar figure staring back. He drove forward, accelerating past the person, leaving the unease behind.

"Does this have anything to do with me?" Aitana asked.

Arturo Howell hesitated, totally unsure how to respond.

Lucia and Bodhi exchanged glances, just as lost.

Jaxxon cut in, "Aitana, do you accept me?"

She was stunned.

Was Jaxxon seriously confessing in public?

His expression was earnest, almost innocent—completely unreadable.

Even his mom, Lucia, looked taken aback by his bluntness.

Jaxxon was known for his one-track mind, but this level of boldness caught everyone off guard.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Aitana didn't let his words sweep her away. "Accept what?"

"My explanation," Jaxxon replied with complete sincerity.

The abruptness of his statement threw everyone for a loop.