The day of the ad launch dawned bright and golden, the city of Clearville buzzing with an energy that felt electric. The sun spilled warm light over the towering glass buildings, reflecting off windows like shards of sparkling crystal. Streets hummed with the steady flow of cars and people, but all eyes were set on one place — the grand headquarters of Clearville Production Company. Today wasn't just any day; it was the day dreams would take flight. The atmosphere inside the building was thick with anticipation — valiant men and women in crisp suits and elegant dresses moved purposefully, their faces a mix of excitement and nerves. The air was alive with whispered last-minute checks, hushed conversations about the ad campaign, and the surprise product launch everyone had been sworn to secrecy about.
Mirabel arrived like a vision, her long pink gown shimmering under the soft lobby lights, flowing gracefully as she moved with the confidence of a queen. Her beautiful features seemed to glow with pride and determination; her eyes sparkled with the fire of achievement. Behind her, her female employees followed closely, each dressed in tasteful, coordinated outfits that perfectly complemented Mirabel's regal pink. On the other side, Vicky and the men of the company arrived in tailored blue suits, their polished shoes tapping the floor with purpose, their faces carrying the same mixture of nerves and hope. The contrast was stunning — pink and blue, soft and sharp, light and poised — all blending into a harmonious symphony of ambition and style.
The event kicked off with a wave of anticipation as Mr. John Rucozo, the esteemed head of Clearville Productions, stepped up to the podium. A round of applause echoed through the grand hall as he adjusted the microphone with a warm smile.
"I want to welcome you all to this special occasion," he began, his voice rich and confident, prompting another burst of applause. He paused for a moment, scanning the crowd with a glint of excitement in his eyes. "Originally, we planned to launch only the advertisement today, but then I thought—why not go all in?"
A few murmurs and chuckles rippled through the audience as he continued, "Thanks to Miss Mirabel and her incredible team at The Journals, the work behind this ad has been nothing short of extraordinary. And I can assure you all… once you've seen it, you'll be racing to spend every last coin on our newest, coolest, and most affordable innovation yet— " The Dreamweaver !"
The applause returned louder this time as Mr. Rucozo stepped down, nodding appreciatively. One by one, other dignitaries took the stage, offering brief but heartfelt speeches, each praising the vision, creativity, and tenacity that had brought this day to life. Then, the lights dimmed. A hush fell across the room. All eyes turned to the giant screen at the front of the hall. And in that moment, the long-anticipated advertisement came to life—vibrant, emotional, compelling. Gasps, murmurs of approval, and applause filled the room as the video unfolded, drawing everyone in with its stunning visuals and message.
As the ad ended, a dramatic curtain fell away to reveal the product itself—*The Dreamweaver. Sleek, modern, and utterly captivating, it stood center stage beneath a spotlight. The crowd erupted into cheers, phones lifted into the air to snap photos, and excited chatter bubbled across the venue. Cameras flashed endlessly. Guests gathered for photos, their faces lit with excitement and admiration. In the midst of the celebration, Mirabel was quickly surrounded by members of the press, microphones and questions flying her way.
With grace and poise, she smiled and answered each one—speaking confidently about the journey, the inspiration behind the ad, and the promise the Dreamweaver held. She stood radiant, the center of it all, as the night soared on in celebration.
Towards the end of the event, Annabelle and Jake appeared, slipping quietly into the crowd. Mirabel spotted them, offering a brief, tight smile before being whisked away by her female employees and Annabelle herself. They guided her through a set of double doors, leading to the terrace overlooking the glowing cityscape. "What's going on?" Mirabel asked, her curiosity piqued.
"You'll see," Annabelle replied with a mysterious smile. Lucy and Rose trailed behind, keeping a careful distance.
As she stepped onto the terrace, Mirabel's breath caught in her throat. There, bathed in the soft glow of twilight, stood Vicky, Jake, and her male employees. Vicky was down on one knee, a small velvet box open in his hands, the delicate sparkle of a ring catching the last light of day. A slow, solemn melody floated through the air, heightening the moment's intensity.
" Mirabel…right from the time I met you..I felt this umistakable conviction that you were the one for me.. and you are the one for me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you and only you…, will you marry me …" Vicky asked,
"Say yes…" they chanted softly.
Mirabel's heart pounded, but before she could respond, her voice caught in her throat. Shock and confusion clouded her face. Then, with a sudden shake of her head she says, " Vicky I am sorry…I can't…I can't…." she turned away, tears shining in her eyes, and ran from the terrace. Annabelle rushed after Mirabel, calling her name, her voice fading into the distance.
For Vicky, everything fell into a haunting stillness. The cheers, the music, the whispers—they all dissolved into a numbing silence. Slowly, he lowered his trembling hands and rose to his feet, his eyes fixed on the spot where Mirabel had vanished.
"Vicky... don't take it too hard," Dianne said gently, stepping toward him. "She's probably just overwhelmed… shy, maybe…"
But Vicky didn't respond. He stood still, eyes distant, heart sinking under the weight of rejection. The laughter and chatter from the terrace felt like echoes from another world. His colleagues moved in, some resting comforting hands on his shoulders, whispering soft words of encouragement—but none of them truly reached him.
"Give him space," Jake said quietly, sensing the heaviness in Vicky's silence. "He needs time to breathe. To process."
One by one, they backed away, leaving Vicky standing alone in the soft breeze of the evening.
Jake lingered for a moment longer. He placed a firm hand on Vicky's shoulder and said, "You know her, Vicky. Maybe it wasn't a 'no'... just a 'not now'. This might've come too fast for her. Don't let this break you." With that, Jake gave a small nod and walked away, leaving Vicky alone under the open sky—heart cracked, yet still hoping.
From the shadows behind the terrace, Lucy seized Rose's arm and pulled her back with a sharp whisper.
"Rose, this is your chance."
Rose blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Vicky's broken… you saw it yourself. He's vulnerable. This is the perfect moment to pull him away from Mirabel. Take the bull by the horn—get close to him before she does."
Rose hesitated, her voice uncertain. "But… what can I even say? I doubt he'll listen to me right now."
Lucy's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a cold edge. "Listen carefully. If you let this moment slip, everything we've worked for—this entire alliance—ends here. And I promise, the consequences won't be pretty."
With that, Lucy stormed off, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. Rose stood frozen for a moment, torn. Then slowly, she turned toward where Vicky had last stood, his pain still lingering in the air like smoke. Her eyes softened. She could feel it—he was spiraling.
Not long after, Vicky, numb and hollow, wandered into a dimly lit bar down the street. The world outside no longer mattered.
Moments later, Rose entered quietly and slid onto the stool beside him, her presence gentle yet calculated.
She didn't speak right away. She didn't need to. The silence between them was already heavy enough.The dim light flickered off their faces as Vicky stared into his glass, swirling the red wine with trembling fingers.
"Vicky... are you okay?" Rose asked softly, her voice laced with concern.
Vicky let out a low, bitter smirk without meeting her gaze. He swirled the wine in his glass, eyes fixed on it like it held all the answers he couldn't find.
"You're not the type to drink," Rose added gently. "Since when did this become your thing?"
He finally glanced at her, his eyes tired and hollow. "What else am I supposed to do, Rose? Life keeps pushing me into corners I don't know how to crawl out of."
There was a pause. Then his voice dropped lower, more fragile.
"I love Mirabel. I really, really do. And I don't want to lose her. But maybe… maybe it's just not meant to be."
He took another sip, his hand trembling slightly.
"It feels like déjà vu," he continued, his tone aching. "Just like with you… I gave everything I had back then. My heart, my time, my loyalty. But it wasn't enough, was it? I couldn't make you stay. I couldn't make you feel the same."
He looked down at his glass, the reflection of dim lights dancing in the wine. "Maybe Mirabel feels the same way too. Maybe… I'm just not enough."
The words hung in the air like a bitter fog. Suddenly, Vicky began coughing—sharp and sudden. The glass slipped from his hand, some of the wine spilling onto the floor. Rose moved quickly, her hand gently patting his back as he caught his breath.
"Easy…" she whispered, steadying him.
"You know…" Rose began softly, her eyes distant, "Back then, I really did love you—more than I've ever loved anyone. And I regret the choices I made every single day."
Her voice wavered slightly, but she pushed through.
"When you left, it felt like a piece of me broke off… like something vital was gone. But what could I do? I can't rewind time. I can't undo the hurt."
She glanced down at her hands, then back up at him, her tone quieter now.
"When I came here and saw you at the restaurant that night, I felt something... hope, maybe. I thought—just maybe—we could fix what was broken. That it wasn't too late."
A small, bitter smile crept onto her lips.
"But I was wrong. Mirabel… she's already filled that space in your heart. I see it every time you look at her. And no matter what I do, I know I can't come between that. She loves you. She just needs time, Vicky. Give her that."
She turned to look at him, hoping for some kind of response—but instead, his head had slumped back against the chair, mouth slightly open. He had fallen asleep, the half-empty glass of wine still dangling in his hand. Rose let out a soft, sad chuckle. Carefully, she reached over, slid the glass from his fingers, and set it gently on the table.
"Typical," she whispered.
After settling the bill, she rose from her seat, walked over to him, and steadied his slouched frame.
"Come on, Vicky," she murmured, slipping his arm around her shoulder. " I guess you'll be coming with me..."
And with slow, careful steps, she guided him out into the night.
Inside the softly lit hotel room, Rose guided Vicky to the bed, his weight heavy with fatigue. She gently slipped off his shoes and eased him out of his suit, folding it neatly over a chair. As he lay motionless, murmuring in his sleep, Rose turned toward the wardrobe, her fingers brushing against the door—then she froze.
Lucy's words echoed sharply in her mind, like a haunting whisper she couldn't silence.
She looked back at Vicky, her gaze filled with conflict. Stepping closer, she knelt beside him and whispered, "I'm sorry, Vicky… truly. But I have to do something that will make you hate me forever. Maybe that's the only way to let you go."
Vicky stirred slightly, his voice slurred with sleep, "Mirabel… please… come back…"
The name struck her like a blade, but she remained silent. Slowly, she sat on the edge of the bed, removed her clothes with trembling hands, then reached out—hesitating only for a second—before gently pulling back the covers and lying beside him.
As the night deepened and silence took over, her presence was quiet, her intentions hidden beneath a veil of sadness and desperation. And in that moment, under dim lights and heavy hearts, everything began to change.
Meanwhile, Mirabel sat curled up on her bed, her face buried deep in her pillow. The echoes of the evening played over and over in her mind—Vicky on one knee, the stunned silence, her sudden escape. "Should I have said yes?","Why did I run?" "What must he be thinking now?". Each question tore at her, and with every wave of regret, she kicked her legs into the mattress and screamed into the pillow, muffling her frustration.
A soft knock interrupted her spiral.
"Mirabel?" Nanny's gentle voice called, pushing the door open slightly. She stepped in, spotting her sitting on the bed, eyes red and shoulders tense. "When did you get back?" she asked, making her way over and sitting beside her.
Mirabel didn't answer. Instead, she turned and wrapped her arms around Nanny in a tight, desperate hug. Nanny returned the embrace with a calm smile, gently rubbing her back.
"What's wrong, dear?" she asked softly. "Did something happen at the ceremony?"
Still, Mirabel said nothing—just held on tighter.
Nanny leaned back slightly, guiding Mirabel's face to meet hers. Her eyes were filled with concern now.
"You're starting to worry me, sweetheart. Talk to me… what happened?"
"Nanny… Vicky proposed," Mirabel said quietly. A bright, joyful smile instantly lit up Nanny's face. She shot to her feet, grabbing Mirabel's hands with excitement. "Oh my goodness!" she exclaimed, twirling Mirabel around with glee. "That's wonderful news! God, I love that boy—Vicky's got such a good head on his shoulders!"
But Mirabel didn't share her joy. Her smile faded, her expression falling flat. Nanny noticed. She paused mid-celebration and raised an eyebrow. "Wait a minute… come on now," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. " come on now..I didn't mean it that way.., I don't actually love him…",
She gently took Mirabel's hands and looked at her fingers, but the ring wasn't there. Nanny's smile slowly disappeared, confusion creeping into her face. "What's going on…? Where's the ring?"
Mirabel let out a sigh. "Please, Nanny… let's sit. I need to explain."
She led Nanny back to the bed, both of them settling down slowly. Mirabel cleared her throat, bracing herself to recount what happened… and why her answer wasn't what anyone—especially Vicky—had expected.
"Well… it all happened so fast. I wasn't expecting it," I said, my voice trembling slightly. "I love him, I really do—but I don't think I'm ready for marriage. It's a whole different world, Nanny. I didn't know what to say… I panicked."
Nanny's eyes narrowed slightly. "So… you rejected him?"
"No! I didn't reject him… I just said no," I said quickly. "I mean… not yet. I'm not ready. First it's the proposal, then a wedding, then the honeymoon, then… kids, and then—"
Before she could finish, Nanny burst into laughter—loud, hearty laughter that echoed through the room.
Mirabel blinked, stunned. "Nanny… what's funny?"
"You are!" Nanny said, barely holding in another laugh.
"In what way?" Mirabel asked, confused and slightly annoyed.
Nanny shook her head, the smile still tugging at her lips. "Sweetheart, I remember when you used to cry about feeling left out. You'd say how much you hated feeling invisible, unwanted. And now here you are, standing at the edge of everything you ever dreamed of… and you're backing away."
Mirabel looked down, guilty.
"Look," she continued gently, "Vicky didn't just wake up and decide to propose. He thought it through. He saw a future with you. And you know what? You deserve that future. You deserve happiness. This fear in your heart? It's only holding you back. Vicky's offering you love, commitment, peace… everything you once thought you'd never find."
She stood, brushing her hands down her skirt as she headed toward the door.
"You're not a little girl anymore, Mirabel," she said, pausing at the doorway. "You need to stop running from happiness and start embracing it. Talk to him—soon."
With that, she left, gently closing the door behind her.
Mirabel let out a heavy sigh, falling back onto the bed. "She's right… I messed up." My fingers hovered over my phone. She thought of calling him, but slowly set it down again. "No… I'll call him tomorrow. He probably needs space tonight."
She turned to her side, eyes wide open, already rehearsing the words she'd say when she sees him again.