"I needed his help with the investigation, right? Of course, I had to explain the situation clearly to him." Laila couldn't help laughing at Roy's sudden bout of jealousy. She cupped his face and planted two loud kisses on his cheeks. "Don't worry, your place in my heart will never change."
Roy wasn't embarrassed about getting caught out—on the contrary, he pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on her shoulder. "If possible, I want to be the one protecting you," he murmured. Not the one who always watches her shoulder every burden alone.
Call it male chauvinism, call it overprotectiveness, he didn't care. He just wanted to pour all of his love into her. To protect her and their child, to guard this little family of theirs. But even now, she still wasn't his wife. Just his girlfriend, and the mother of his child...
"Laila, will you marry me?"
While his mind was a complete mess, he suddenly heard his own voice blurting out the words he had been too afraid to say—words he had buried deep in his heart for fear of being rejected again.
Crap! I said it again... She's going to turn me down...
He wasn't made of stone. Even though he knew she didn't reject marriage because she disliked him, every time he heard a "no", it still hurt like hell. And this time... who knew how long it would take for him to heal?
"Okay."
Just as Roy was regretting his impulsive outburst, a reply stunned him on the spot like a tornado, sweeping away the last shred of coherent thought from his mind.
"W–What did you just say?" He thought he must have imagined it—he wanted it too badly.
Laila gently cupped his face, her heart aching at his cautious and confused expression. "I said, 'Okay.'"
"You agreed?"
"Yes, I agreed." She laughed softly. Seeing him frozen like that was just too adorable.
Roy didn't even know how to express what he was feeling at that moment. His chest was warm, so warm it felt like it would overflow. He wanted to jump, to cheer, to shout—to release all this emotion that was choking him up. But he was frozen in place, staring dazedly at the woman he loved, who was smiling at him so tenderly.
"I... you... we..." He couldn't control himself. All he could do was open and close his mouth, spitting out a jumble of incoherent words. His mind was completely blank.
Seeing him like this, Laila's eyes misted over. This man loved her so deeply that he was happy just because she said yes. A pang of guilt hit her—maybe she should have accepted his proposal the first time.
"I'm sorry. I was thinking too narrowly before. I kept telling myself that what we had now was already perfect. I have you and little Eli—we lacked nothing but a piece of paper."
Roy gripped her hand tightly. "Then... why did you change your mind?"
"Being 'Roy's wife... that title doesn't sound so bad, does it?" Laila held up her hand, gazing at the ring on her finger. "Unless you don't want me anymore."
"How could I not?!" Roy cut her off, refusing to let her finish a sentence he never wanted to hear. He'd wanted her as his wife so badly it physically hurt. How could he ever not want her?
"I'll never not need you! You're the only reason my life has meaning now!" If he could pluck the moon out of the sky to prove it, he wouldn't even blink.
Laila didn't ruin the moment by bringing up little Eli. Since Daddy Roy had momentarily forgotten their son, she just chuckled to herself in silence.
"I know. Let's get married!"
Those two words—"get married"—instantly wiped Roy's obsession with box office numbers from his mind. The two of them began discussing wedding plans: the ceremony, the dress, who to invite... But the first order of business, of course, was to inform their families.
Yes. She was getting married!
Watching Roy excitedly counting off the number of guests on his fingers, Laila smiled quietly and scooped up little Eli, kissing him.
"Baby, isn't Daddy adorable like this? One day, you'll be in his shoes too. But before that, you have to grow into a responsible and dependable man, okay?"
Inside the house, everything was sweet and filled with love.
Outside, the internet was about to explode.
More and more people were hearing about the controversial report online. Though the original post had been taken down, word had spread, and others kept repeating what they'd heard. Most didn't see the evidence themselves, but since so many swore they had seen "irrefutable proof," people assumed it must be true.
Could it be that Moran really did buy her own box office sales?
Her films rarely featured big-name actors—most were newcomers. She herself was the biggest star in her crew. That meant, contract-wise, there were no major names to split box office profits with. So if she inflated her numbers a bit, her actual loss would be far smaller than people imagined.
Plenty of people were swayed by this kind of reasoning. Some even latched onto it simply because she was a woman. To those people, women were meant to stay home, raise kids, and serve men. The idea of a woman succeeding on her own—and doing it so spectacularly—was just too hard for them to accept. If female directors were really that capable, why did it take until her for one to finally win Best Director at the Oscars?
Don't be surprised. In countries that claim to be "free," sexism is often more deeply rooted—it's just more hidden.
And with the speed of the internet, spreading a hot-button issue like this globally was child's play. Especially on the other side of the world—when it was nighttime in the U.S., it was prime time elsewhere. So the rumors of Laila "buying her own box office" spread fast.
"Director Moran bought fake ticket sales? What movie?"
"Apparently, The Avengers."
"Come on, get real! That movie just premiered! Buying tickets already?"
"Not joking. There are screenshots from foreign websites floating around."
The controversy also spread rapidly in Eastern internet circles. Plenty of people were quick to post screenshots of the deleted report. After all, many people from the East live and work in the U.S.—and if you've ever seen how fast a Weibo post gets deleted, you'll know how quick people are to take screenshots. Saving Western media posts? Easy.
There may not be a ton of fluent English speakers, but there are plenty who can read a few lines—or know someone who can. So once those screenshots hit the web, it didn't take long for translations to follow.
And with them came an explosive revelation.
The translator's identity wasn't important.
What mattered was this: they had circled one line on the screenshot in red, calling attention to it. And after translating the article, they added one bolded sentence at the end:
Didn't expect a marriage proposal at a time like this, huh?