Diary…
There are moments in life when you're stuck in between choices — moments so quiet yet heavy, where the next step feels like stepping into fog. That's where I am. And truthfully, no one else would understand the conflict inside me — not fully.
I can't deny the fact that I still love Vicky.
As absurd as it sounds… I do.
I've tried to shake him off, distract myself, bury my feelings under excuses — but he keeps finding his way into my thoughts. He's the first guy who's ever made me feel like this. With the others, I followed blindly, out of loneliness, maybe desperation. But with Vicky... it's different. He's persistent. Sweet. Kind of dumb — in the most adorable way.
Why did he write that song?
She paused, a crooked smile forming on her lips at the memory. Then she continued writing:
Honestly, I'm exhausted — tired of feeling like the one who always gets hurt. Maybe it's time I ended this eight-day thing. He's putting too much effort into something that's already doomed. The last thing I want is to see his heart shattered after giving his all.*
Mirabel dropped the pen and stood from the bed, catching her reflection in the mirror. She stared at myself for a second — that familiar blend of confidence and confusion in her eyes.
"Well… time to head to the office," Shemuttered.
Just as she reached for her bag, her phone buzzed. She checked the screen.
Vicky.
She siighed. "Couldn't wait for me to get to the office?" she asked playfully as she answered.
"Urm… we—well…" Vicky stammered, clearly nervous. "I just… needed to talk to you about something important."
Mirabel sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Alright, I'm listening."
"It's the fourth day," he began. "Which means I only have four left. And I want to make the most of every second. I—"
"Vicky," she interrupted gently, "I just need to say this now. This whole eight-day thing… I don't think it'll lead anywhere. You should stop. I— I can't bear to see—"
"—me heartbroken," Vicky cuts in, "I know."
There was silence on the line. Then he added softly, "But that alone gives me strength to keep trying. Like they say, there's no harm in trying, right? That's why… I want us to go on a date. Just the two of us. Tonight."
"A date?" Mirabel sighed. "Vicky, not this again…"
"I know our past dates haven't exactly been perfect," Vicky replied, his voice laced with hope, "but something always came up — interruptions, arguments, fights and I don't blame you for all that.., it's all on me but I promise this time will be different."
"Vicky, I honestly don't feel like going out tonight. Besides, the ad launch is just days away. We still have a mountain of work to get through."
"A few hours won't hurt… will it?" he pleaded. "And if you're not up for going out, I can come over instead — if that's okay with you."
Mirabel blinked. "To my place?"
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "I don't mind at all."
She paused, heart caught between resistance and temptation. "Vicky… do we really have to do this?"
"Please, Mirabel… Just give me this one evening."
"…Alright. Fine."
"Thank you," Vicky breathed. "I'll be over by 7 p.m."
"Okay," she murmured, ending the call.
She let her phone drop to the bed and stared at the ceiling. "Lord, help me…" she whispered. After a long breath, she stood up and got ready for the day ahead.
The rest of the day slipped by quickly. In the office, Vicky couldn't focus — his mind was on the evening ahead. He ran scenarios in his head, rehearsed lines, imagined Mirabel's reactions. Then he stopped himself.
Just breathe. The words will come when you see her. They always do.
Meanwhile, Mirabel buried herself in work, pretending not to care. But a dull throb of anxiety sat in her chest — the same sinking feeling she always got before things fell apart. Her expectations were low. Maybe too low.
Elsewhere, Rose sat quietly , lost in thought. With Rufus finally out of the picture, the fear that once held her back had faded. Now, it was pressure — Lucy's growing impatience, her own crumbling resolve. What did she even want anymore? Was it still Vicky… or just a chance to feel whole again?
One thing was certain — she couldn't stay idle much longer. Choices had to be made. And soon.
Later that night, everything pointed to a perfect evening. The weather was calm, the moon bright, and the air carried that rare promise of something beautiful.
Mirabel stood in front of the mirror in a simple blue dress — elegant but effortless. No sparkle, no drama. Just her. She didn't want to expect too much, but somewhere deep inside, she hoped. She hoped tonight would be different.
Nanny watched her with a teasing grin.
"For someone who claims it's just a simple conversation, you look ready for a romantic confession," she said with a chuckle.
Mirabel rolled her eyes but smiled. "We're just going to talk, Nanny. That's all."
But Nanny wasn't convinced. "Talks turn into something more… especially when feelings are involved.", Mirabel feigned a smile, " Trust me.. it's only a conversation.." she said.
Meanwhile, across town, Vicky was ready. Crisp blue trousers, a clean white shirt, and polished black shoes. He combed his hair, checked himself in the mirror, and gave a half-nervous smile. Caroline sat straight on her bed, starring at Vicky as he walked past her room.
"You look handsome. Good luck, my boy," she said.
"Thanks, Mum,I'll be back soon.." Vicky replied, grabbing his phone. He stepped out the door, confidence in his stride — until his phone rang.
He stopped. The screen lit up. " Rose."
The smile on his face faded into confusion.
He answered. Her voice came through in fragments, filled with panic.
Ten minutes later, he was racing through the night.
Mirabel checked the time: *7:15 PM.*
"He said seven," she whispered.
7:30.
No message. No call.
8:00.
She sat on the couch, hands cradling her chin, eyes glued to the wall clock.
"Maybe he's stuck in traffic," Nanny offered gently, placing a hand on her shoulder.
8:25.
Still nothing.
Vicky stood in the hotel lobby, eyes tired, jaw clenched. He spoke to the receptionist, who quickly picked up a phone, whispered into the receiver, then pointed upstairs.
He climbed the stairs two at a time, stopping outside a room. He knocked. The door opened.
Rose was there — disheveled, teary-eyed, trembling.
"He came back," she whispered urgently. "Rufus. He broke in. He was drunk and violent. He tried to…" Her voice broke. "He tried to hurt me, Vicky."
Without hesitation, she threw herself into his arms.
Vicky held her, his mind racing.
"It's okay. I'm here. He won't hurt you again." ,His hands rested gently on her back.
"I'm scared," she whispered.
"I know. Did you call the police?"
"I couldn't… he said if I told anyone, he'd kill me. I didn't know who else to call."
Vicky swallowed hard. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
9:00 PM.
He glanced at it.
Mirabel.
He didn't answer.
"I'm sorry," he muttered under his breath, turning back to Rose. "I'll stay until you feel safe."
10:30 PM.
Mirabel stood in front of her mirror again — but this time, in her nightwear. The makeup was wiped off. The dress lay folded on the bed.
She stared at her reflection, lips trembling.
"He didn't come."
She climbed into bed slowly. The room felt heavier now. As she lay on her side, a single tear rolled across her cheek and disappeared into the pillow.