---
"If it isn't the great Maria," Daisy said, arms folded, eyes scanning Mia like she was a roach on designer carpet. "How shameless do you have to be to show your face here? Or wait—is 'Shame' your middle name now? Claiming Marvin is your husband—wow. Must be nice picking up someone else's trash with that much pride."
Mia didn't flinch. Instead, she gave a slow, pleasant smile. "You wound me… whoever you are. When did I ever claim someone's husband? Tread carefully. Ruining someone's name is still a crime."
Oliver snorted. "Of course you'd know the law. As they say—criminals always know the rules best."
"Oh dear," Mia replied, pressing a hand lightly to her chest. "Is that too harsh? What did I do—murder someone? Did I steal your candy? Don't blame me for benefiting from an opportunity. I'm no saint. If anything, you should reconsider where to place your blame. I can feel your pain… and I'm truly sorry for it."
"Sorry?" Oliver said, her voice dry as dust. "You look like one, too. I didn't know you had a taste for my leftovers. Guess you've always liked the trash I toss."
"Watch your mouth!" barked the woman with thick makeup. "Do you even know who you're talking to? Maria is Marvin's wife!"
Mia's lips curled into a slow smirk as she looked at the ceiling, then the walls, then back at the thick-makeup woman. A chuckle slipped from her lips, low and mocking.
"Tsk. What a pig teammate," Dumpling muttered in the void.
"I didn't ask for a teammate," Mia thought, still chuckling. "This is what happens when someone thinks they're helping… and ends up digging a grave instead."
She tilted her head and looked the woman dead in the eyes. "Marvin's wife? Who told you that fairy tale?"
"You did! Don't lie, Maria!" the thick-makeup woman snapped. "No need to hide your background!"
Mia raised an eyebrow and bit her lip to stop another laugh. Oliver crossed her arms and watched the scene like she'd bought front-row tickets to a drama.
"Who married Marvin?" Mia said. "Did you see me at a wedding? I didn't. Marvin and I are friends. Just. Friends. Get it?"
"Friends? Then why'd you post about how wonderful life is with him?" the woman argued, desperate to prove something.
Daisy let out a harsh snort. "That's what you're clinging to? A post?"
"Yes, I posted that," Mia replied with a light shrug. "Because my son finally regained his eyesight—because of Marvin. I said I was happy. So now I can't even say I'm happy without you marrying me off? What a world. Me and Marvin? Just friends. Nothing more."
Then Mia looked over at Oliver with a sly smile. "And Oliver… aren't you going to say something? It's not nice letting them confuse your husband with another man, now is it?"
The air shifted. The thick-makeup woman blinked.
"Wait—Oliver is Marvin's wife?" she whispered, eyes flicking to the others in confusion.
Oliver said nothing.
Seeing the opening, Mia stepped forward slightly, her tone softer but still stinging. "Oliver… I know you're angry. But when the surgery happened, Marvin didn't know it was his own son who was the donor. If he had, I don't think he would've agreed. I know it hurts. That's why I decided to leave. I never wanted to be the reason you hated him."
"Oh stop your drama!" Daisy snapped. "Do we look like kindergarteners to you?!"
Without warning, Oliver slapped Mia hard across the face. The sound cracked through the room.
"You're disgusting," Oliver spat. "You chased after Marvin even though you knew he was married. Then you play innocent like nothing happened? Shameless doesn't even begin to describe you. But guess what—I'm not with Marvin anymore. So go ahead. Take my trash. I hope it chokes you."
She stepped closer.
"You want to leave? Then leave the city. Now."
Mia turned back to Oliver slowly, one hand on her cheek, lips bleeding slightly but her smile eerily calm.
"I deserved that," she said, voice quiet. "I won't deny it. Believe it or not, I came here because I quit. Not for Marvin. And I have nothing to do with him anymore. You should trust him more. Marvin loves you, even if you don't want to hear it from me."
Daisy lifted her hand, preparing another slap—
But it never landed.
A hand caught her wrist mid-air.
The room froze.
Everyone turned.
Marvin stood there, face unreadable, holding Daisy's hand in a tight grip.
"Enough," he said coldly.
....
Marvin stepped in the moment Daisy and Oliver began closing the distance toward Mia. If Dumpling hadn't whispered a warning through the void, Mia might've reacted with her usual sarcasm and venom—stress was something she refused to entertain.
But this wasn't just some messy catfight.
No. It felt like the universe was pushing her into a scene—a climax where she, Maria, would finally be forced to confess. But Mia wasn't Maria anymore. Not completely. She would never let that script play out... not before she'd taken every benefit possible.
"I know you're angry, Oliver," Marvin began, his voice loud and raw, echoing off the marble walls. "But accusing me of being with her? That's low, even for you. I'm your husband—for God's sake!"
Mia sighed, stepping slightly aside as all eyes turned to her. She smiled thinly, her voice calm and steady.
"Brother Marvin, don't raise your voice at her. Sister Oliver is hurting," she said, softly but firmly. "After all, her son was the donor in my son's eye surgery. That kind of wound doesn't heal just because we justify it with logic or good intentions. It's deep. And it hurts."
She turned to Oliver, her eyes surprisingly warm.
"I don't blame her for being angry. And I don't blame you either, Brother Marvin. I know you feel guilty. But so do I. Someone gave my son the ability to see again… if you think I'd turn that down, then you're underestimating me."
Mia took a small step back. Her voice dropped just a bit more, but every word hit with weight.
"All I can do now is apologize and walk away. I'll cut off all connections with Marvin. I never wanted to be the reason you walked out on your husband."
She gave a final nod—to Daisy, to Oliver, and to Marvin—then turned and walked out with her usual graceful indifference.
Oliver let out a cold snort and moved to pass Marvin as if he were air. But his hand caught hers.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "But I love you. I'm not letting you go, no matter what happens."
Daisy, expression unreadable, reached over and pulled Marvin's hand off Oliver's wrist. The two women walked to the elevator, leaving Marvin standing alone in the silence that followed.
"Sir," his assistant approached quietly, "do you want me to tell the men to take Madam Daisy by force?"
Marvin's eyes darkened for a second—but then he shook his head.
"Not now," he muttered. "I still have something to do. Go. Place the roses in her office."
Without waiting for a reply, Marvin left the building.
Outside, Mia was already standing near the driveway, about to call a cab.
"Let me take you home," Marvin said as he opened the passenger side of his car.
Mia stared at him for a beat too long… then got in, closing the door behind her without a word.
He got behind the wheel.
Neither spoke as the engine hummed to life—because tonight, words were too heavy, and silence said enough.
---
"Sorry for what happened," Marvin said as he drove, eyes fixed on the road. "But quitting your job is not the solution."
"I disagree," Mia replied quietly, folding her hands over her lap. "I have nothing to do with you outside of friendship, and taking a position that clearly belongs to your wife… that goes against everything I stand for."
There was no anger in her voice—only weariness, like someone too tired to fight anymore.
"Quitting… leaving the country… it's not punishment," she added. "It's what I owe her."
Marvin clenched the steering wheel. "Don't be unreasonable. If you leave, how will you support yourself and your child? You're still recovering—your heart condition isn't something to brush off."
"I am being reasonable," she said. "People already call me your wife. Do you know how humiliating that is for me? For my child? You may be helping me out of gratitude, but it's damaging your marriage and damaging me."
Marvin swerved into a quiet side street and parked. He stepped out without a word, walked around, and opened her door. The night air was cool and still, the street dimly lit by orange lamps, casting golden shadows on her skin.
She turned to him, surprised, as he leaned in and gently cupped her face.
"I see you as a friend," he said. "A friend who once saved my life. That's why I help you—not for anything else. And I won't let you struggle."
Mia didn't pull away. Her breath hitched slightly, not from emotion, but from calculation. She had always been beautiful—bone-deep, elegant beauty that didn't scream for attention, but captured it in silence. Her long lashes trembled over tired, glistening eyes; her lips were cracked from exhaustion, but soft and pink under the streetlight. The pale curve of her neck glowed like porcelain, and her voice—low and breathy—was dangerous in its intimacy.
"Brother Marvin," she whispered, her breath brushing against his skin, "if you really want to help me, then let me leave."
She reached up, gently adjusting his collar like a wife would—familiar, natural, invasive in its innocence.
"…and give me some money."
The world paused for a second.
Marvin blinked. He could feel the ghost of her fingers still at his throat.
"I know how this sounds," she continued, voice barely above a whisper. "I probably seem money-minded… maybe I am. Who doesn't like money?" she added with a small, knowing smile. "But I need it. And I didn't want to ask before because I didn't want to seem like your… kept woman."
Her eyes lingered on his, unreadable.
"I can figure things out myself. Waitressing, part-time jobs—"
"Don't say that," Marvin interrupted, pressing a hand gently over her mouth.
His voice wasn't angry. It was quiet. Firm. Controlled.
Mia didn't flinch. Instead, she exhaled softly against his palm, then lowered his hand and smiled faintly.
"Then let me use the wish you once promised me," she said. "I won't contact you again after this. Just this one thing."
She adjusted her collar once more, the fabric slipping slightly to reveal the slope of her neck. Not obvious. Not vulgar. But deliberate.
Marvin swallowed unconsciously and leaned back in his seat, fixing his collar where she'd touched it.
"You really want to cut ties?" he asked, his tone unreadable.
"I do," she said. "And I won't regret it."
Her voice was light, but the air between them felt heavier now.
Marvin said nothing more. He didn't love her. He didn't even want her. But Mia's silence, her skin, her scent—like lavender and antiseptic—lingered in the car like a memory trying to form.
---