"But then," Tilda continued, her fingers tracing the edge of her sleeve, "I realized something. Life's too fleeting to obsess over what might happen. Fate brought us together, and right now, I feel his affection. It may not be the grand, all-consuming love of stories, but it's real. It's enough. I choose to live in this moment, not in fear of tomorrow."

Her voice carried a quiet conviction, as if she'd wrestled with these thoughts long ago and laid them to rest.

Reggie studied her, his brow furrowing. "Are you just fooling yourself? You're brilliant, proud, extraordinary. You deserve someone who loves you completely, not someone who offers you scraps."

A faint smile curved her lips, warm but unyielding. "Only I know what fits my heart. Lyndon and I-we work."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she raised a hand, her voice cutting through like a blade. "Reggie, do you have feelings for me?"

The question landed like a stone in still water, rippling through the silence.

Reggie froze, his breath catching. He squared his shoulders, meeting her gaze.

"Yes, I do. I fell for you the moment I saw you, Tilda. I planned to pursue you after establishing my career, but I never imagined you'd marry so soon—and to a man who doesn't even see you the way I do. If I'd known, I would have confessed my feelings to you then."

Tilda's expression softened, but her eyes held a quiet resolve. She stepped closer, her voice gentle but firm. "Fate does not bend to our wishes. Even if you had done that, it would not have changed things. My heart does not lean toward you."

Her words stung, and Reggie's cheeks flushed as he looked away, his fingers raking through his hair.

"Tilda, can't feelings grow over time? You didn't like Mr. Fernandez at first either, but after marrying him, you fell in love with him, didn't you?"

Tilda's brows knitted, a flicker of empathy in her gaze.

"Reggie, there's no use dwelling on what might have been. I am married. Lyndon and I have a son, and we are committed to giving him a stable home. Would you really want to be the man who tears that apart?"

He stared at her, her calm resolve like a wall he couldn't breach. His lips parted, but no words came.

With a small nod, Tilda pushed open the bathroom door, the hinges sighing softly.

As it swung shut behind her, Reggie's gaze lingered on the fading glimpse of her silhouette. "You're my first love," he whispered, the words barely audible, meant more for himself than her. "The one I'll carry forever."

Even knowing she was married, letting go felt like betraying his own heart.

She loved Lyndon, and that much was clear. Even if Lyndon's love was shallow, she embraced it without regret.

They had a child together, a bright-eyed son who bound them tighter than any vow.

Did he really have no chance?

A sharp voice sliced through Reggie's thoughts, cold and mocking. "Mr. Potter, chasing a married woman and playing the homewrecker—don't you think that's a bit pathetic?"

Reggie froze, the familiar cadence of Lyndon's voice cutting through his contemplations like a blade. He pivoted to face him.

"Growing restless already, Mr. Fernandez? If your affection for Tilda runs as deep as you claim, no external force could possibly wedge itself between you, regardless of their persistent efforts."

Both formidable men stood at their full imposing height, their gazes locked in an intense battle of wills. The atmosphere crackled with palpable, unspoken’ rivalry, resembling a dangerous silent standoff between predators.