Ciara wiped her hands on a dish towel and glanced toward the hallway. Mr. Hayworth had returned home barely an hour ago, his mood trailing behind him like a dark cloud. He hadn't said much—just a small nod and a quiet "I'm home" before heading upstairs.
She didn't need to ask. She knew the cause.
The Pinky situation.
He hadn't spoken about it, but she'd been there. She'd seen the way his brows stayed furrowed all day, the way his shoulders were just a little heavier.
Fuji wasn't the easiest man to work for, but he was fair. Principled. And in his own way, kind—though that kindness was often buried beneath layers of discipline and cold professionalism. Seeing him so withdrawn made Ciara think of the one thing that always seemed to lift his mood on tough days.
She went to the kitchen and got to work.
His favorite soup—simple, rich, and soothing. The kind he often requested when days were long and his patience ran short.
She prepared it with care, placed it neatly on the dining table in a ceramic bowl, and set the cutlery beside it. Then she scribbled a small note on a piece of paper and set it beside the bowl.
"You deserve a proper apology. I hope you feel better after dinner."
With that, she slipped out of the house—her workday done.
---
An Hour Later – Hayworth Residence
Fuji descended the stairs, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. His steps were slow, deliberate. He hadn't meant to isolate himself, but solitude had always been his escape. Today had felt heavier than usual.
As he stepped into the dining room, something caught his eye—a warm aroma rising from a bowl on the table. His gaze moved to the neat handwriting on the note.
He paused.
Read it again.
Then again.
A slow breath left his chest, easing the tension in his shoulders.
He pulled out a chair, sat, and took a spoonful.
The soup was perfect.
And strangely, so was the note.
He didn't realize how badly he needed someone to just acknowledge that he wasn't being dramatic. That maybe he wasn't too harsh. That maybe—just maybe—his feelings were valid.
For the first time in hours, Fuji felt understood.
---
Ciara's Apartment – That Evening
Ciara unlocked the door and stepped inside to the sound of laughter.
She smiled instantly.
There they were—Pinky, Gracie, and Mira—sprawled across the living room like queens of chaos. Gracie had her feet up on the armrest, Mira was wrapped in a blanket on the floor, and Pinky was mid-sentence, hands flailing.
"I said what I said! If Fuji wanted to be mad, he could've sent me an official memo," Pinky declared, rolling her eyes.
Mira cackled. "Girl, he didn't even let you speak."
Ciara laughed as she kicked off her shoes. "Let me guess… still talking about The Fuji Cold War?"
"Finally!" Gracie beamed. "She returns from the castle of Hayworth!"
"Please don't call it that," Ciara muttered, sitting beside Pinky.
Gracie leaned closer. "So? Did he bite your head off today?"
Ciara shook her head. "He barely spoke."
"That bad?" Mira asked.
"He seemed… drained," Ciara replied thoughtfully. "So I made him some soup. His favorite. Left it on the table with a note."
The room went quiet for a second.
Pinky blinked. "You cooked for him?"
Ciara shrugged. "It wasn't a big deal and I usually do cook for him. Just thought it might help."
Gracie clutched her chest. "Okay but wait, the note—what did it say?"
Ciara smiled. "Just… 'You deserve a proper apology. I hope you feel better after dinner.'"
Mira gasped. "Romance!"
Ciara nearly choked. "It's not like that."
Gracie fanned herself. "I love it. Our maid of honor is getting promoted."
"I'm not getting promoted," Ciara groaned. "I'm just… trying to be kind."
Pinky, arms crossed, narrowed her eyes. "Well, he didn't let me apologize. I opened my mouth and boom—he vanished like a puff of grudge smoke."
"He was hurt," Ciara said gently. "You meant well, but offering help in a role he pays for and disrespecting him—it might've felt like stepping on toes."
Pinky pouted. "Fine. Maybe I should try again."
"You should," Mira chimed in. "But this time, try not to sound like you're doing him a favor."
"Noted," Pinky said, half-serious.
They laughed, teased, and chatted into the night, shifting topics from Fuji to workplace crushes to Gracie's weird neighbor who kept offering her boiled eggs.
But Ciara's thoughts quietly drifted back to the moment she left that note.
She wondered if it had meant anything.
---
Later That Night – Hayworth Residence
The TV flickered silently in the background as Fuji sat in the sitting room, half-sunk into the corner of the long, L-shaped couch.
His home was dark, peaceful. The scent of polished wood and freshly laundered fabric hung in the air.
But his thoughts were elsewhere.
Lisa.
He still couldn't wrap his head around her return. Her voice, her smile, the perfume she wore that used to linger on his pillow even after she'd left.
He hated that she made him feel anything at all.
She'd been selfish, cold, and manipulative.
When his parents died, she didn't even show up. Didn't offer support. Didn't send flowers. Just… distance. Like grief was contagious and she didn't want to catch it.
And yet now she was back in town. Acting warm. Familiar.
Like she hadn't wrecked him.
Fuji rubbed his temples.
But then, his eyes flicked to the side table, where Ciara's note still sat—folded, but not forgotten.
He exhaled softly.
Maybe life hadn't given him peace, but at least someone still offered him small moments of kindness.
He reached for the remote and turned off the TV.
Then slowly stood and headed upstairs.
---
The Next Morning – Tribe Company
The sun was unapologetically bright as Fuji walked into his office the next morning. There was a certain pep in his step, a lightness that hadn't been there the day before.
Maybe it was the soup.
Maybe the note.
Or maybe just the decision to keep pushing.
"Morning, sir," a smooth voice greeted from across the glass-paneled room.
Royal.
His assistant. Impeccable as always—sleek ponytail, tailored blazer, and tablet in hand.
She walked beside him as he moved toward the meeting room.
"We've got the fashion pitch prep in twenty minutes. The team from Etna Clothing is expected by noon. I've already coordinated refreshments and slides."
"Good," Fuji nodded. "Let's tighten that offer. Etna's known to lowball."
"Already ahead of you," she said with a faint smile.
They moved through the space like clockwork. Professional. Efficient. No unnecessary noise.
Just the way Fuji liked it.
Then—
The door opened.
Unannounced.
Lisa stepped in like she owned the place. Her dress was sharp, red, and far too confident for someone uninvited.
Fuji's jaw tightened.
Royal's eyes flicked toward him. He gave her a nod.
"I'll give you two a moment," Royal said smoothly, excusing herself without another word.
Lisa walked further in, her heels clicking softly against the floor.
"You really don't smile anymore," she teased.
Fuji remained by the window, refusing to meet her gaze. "You shouldn't be here."
"And yet here I am."
He turned. "Why?"
"I wanted to see you," she said simply. "Wanted to remember what it felt like to be near you. This office… us… It used to be electric."
Fuji scoffed. "That was before you lit a match and walked away."
Lisa chuckled lightly. "You always did have a way with metaphors."
"Get to the point."
She stepped closer. "I miss you, Fuji. I miss what we had. And I want it back."
He didn't flinch.
"You think just walking in here and throwing memories around will change everything?"
"No," she said. "But I figured it was a start."
Fuji's face remained unreadable.
Lisa's tone dipped lower. "Remember how we used to joke behind that meeting room door? How we'd sneak texts during boring clients? That version of us—it wasn't all bad."
He met her eyes finally.
"It's not about what it was, Lisa. It's about what you did with it."
Her smile faded.
He stepped forward, voice calm but final. "This is a different season. And I don't carry dead weight into my future."
She walked back into his life like a breeze—but Fuji wasn't the same man who used to chase the wind.
And this time… he had no plans of letting a storm make itself at home.
Lisa took a slow step forward, closing the space between them, the sharp click of her heels echoing off the glass walls of Fuji's office.
"I know I messed up," she said quietly. "Back then, I was young. I wanted to explore, live fast, have fun. I thought you'd always be there waiting."
Fuji didn't move. He leaned back against his desk, arms crossed, eyes unreadable.
"Lisa," he began, voice calm, "you didn't just mess up. You broke everything we had. You cheated—repeatedly. Lied to my face. Made me doubt myself."
She swallowed but didn't look away.
"You gaslighted me so bad I started apologizing for things you did. You dismissed my dreams. Laughed at my pain. You were never there when it mattered. Not when my business was crumbling. Not when I buried my parents. Not even when I needed a friend."
"I know," Lisa whispered, her voice cracking. "I was selfish. But I've changed, Fuji. I'm not the same girl I was. I know what I want now. And it's you."
He stared at her, silent.
"I'm older. Wiser. And I know you were the only person who truly loved me."
Fuji exhaled slowly. "Lisa, I don't want anything to do with you. Not friendship. Not closure. Nothing."
She blinked rapidly, the sharp smile on her face beginning to falter.
"I mean it," he added. "I'm done."
But Lisa straightened her shoulders and tilted her chin. "I'm not backing down. I'm going to win you back. I can be patient."
"No," Fuji snapped, suddenly irritated. "You don't get to barge into my life and decide that."
Lisa smirked, too confidently. "You're single. You're still wearing that same watch I got you. And you haven't even looked at another woman since me."
A silence.
Fuji's heart thudded once in his chest.
And then, before he could think twice—
"I'm engaged," he said flatly.
Lisa's smile vanished.
"What?"
"I have a fiancée," he repeated. "Someone I love. Someone who respects me. She's the only woman I want."
Lisa stared at him like he'd slapped her.
For a moment, she searched his face, trying to read the truth. But Fuji's expression didn't flicker.
Lisa blinked slowly. Her voice dropped low. "Since when?"
"A few months now."
Lisa's lips parted, but no sound came out. Then she spun on her heels and stormed out without another word.
The door slammed behind her.
Fuji let out a sharp breath, grabbing the edge of the desk.
"What the hell did I just say?"
---
Later – Usual Lunch Spot
Fuji sat at the corner booth of their regular restaurant, staring into his glass of water like it held all the answers. The lunchtime crowd buzzed softly around him, but he barely noticed.
Mikel arrived five minutes later, slid into the seat opposite, and took one look at him.
"Oh no," he muttered. "You look like a man who just gave birth through his ears."
Fuji groaned. "I messed up."
"What happened?"
Fuji looked up slowly. "Lisa came to the office again. Full rom-com mode. Told me she missed me. That she's changed. That I'm the love of her life."
Mikel whistled. "She came prepared."
Fuji nodded. "I told her I didn't want her. Told her everything she did. How much she hurt me."
Mikel leaned back. "Good. Finally."
"I also told her I'm engaged."
Mikel choked on his drink. "You what?"
"It just came out. She cornered me. I needed to end the conversation and before I could stop myself—bam. I told her I was engaged and in love."
Mikel blinked. "Are you?"
Fuji gave him a look. "Do I look like someone with a fiancée?"
"No," Mikel said slowly. "You look like someone who just declared war on a woman who once slashed your tires for liking another girl's Instagram post."
Fuji dropped his head on the table. "What do I do now?"
Mikel scratched his chin, then grinned. "Simple. We find you a fake fiancée."
Fuji sat up sharply. "No."
"Oh come on. It's genius. Someone pretty. Charming. Just enough sass to make Lisa jealous but smart enough to follow the plan."
"I'm not dragging someone into this mess."
Mikel smirked. "You already did. Her name's Lisa."
Fuji sighed. "This is insane."
Mikel leaned in. "Lisa doesn't back down easily. She's going to test you. Follow you. Show up again. If you want peace, you need to sell the lie."
Fuji shook his head. "I don't even know how the lie came out."
"Probably the same way all good lies do—with panic and hope."
Fuji chuckled despite himself.
Mikel smirked. "So… do you want my help or do you want to be fake-married to your career forever?"
Fuji stared at the table, then nodded once. "Fine. But this has to stay clean. No feelings. No strings."
Mikel raised his glass. "To the world's most dramatic fake engagement."
---
That Afternoon – Hayworth Residence
The house was spotless. Not just neat—sparkling.
The white floors gleamed. The throw pillows were perfectly fluffed. The windows were open just enough to let in the afternoon breeze. And the aroma of stew simmering in the kitchen made the whole space feel warm and lived in.
Ciara hummed softly as she stirred the pot, swaying to a beat only she could hear.
She moved effortlessly through the kitchen—chopping, blending, seasoning—all muscle memory by now. She found peace in this work. Fuji barely said anything to her that morning, but the soup bowl had been washed and set carefully beside her note.
That meant something.
Ding-dong.
Ciara paused.
The doorbell?
She quickly wiped her hands and rushed to the door, swinging it open.
"Pinky?"
Pinky beamed, holding a plastic bag and wearing shorts like she'd just come from lounging. "I was bored. Mira and Gracie went to the market and I didn't feel like tagging along. So I figured… why not visit my favorite chef slash bestie?"
Ciara grinned. "Get in here before Fuji walks in and mistakes you for a spy."
Pinky stepped in, looking around. "Whew. You could eat off this floor. Did the house get baptized or what?"
Ciara laughed. "Just did a deep clean. And cooking his lunch."
"Man's lucky," Pinky said, sniffing. "What's on the menu?"
"Spicy goat stew and pasta."
"Oof. You're showing love now."
Ciara raised a brow. "It's my job."
Pinky smirked. "Sure. But I've never seen anyone do their job with this much seasoning and soul."
Ciara rolled her eyes. "Help me set the table if you're not going to stop talking."
Pinky joined her in the kitchen, grabbing plates. "You know, if Fuji walks in now, he'll think we're planning a coup."
"I'll just say you're my emotional support guest."
Pinky giggled. "What do you think he'd do if he walked in right now?"
Ciara tilted her head. "Probably give us that sharp stare of his."
Pinky placed a hand on her hip, mocking Fuji's serious tone. "What is the meaning of this unauthorized laughter in my residence?"
Ciara burst into laughter. "You're mad."
"I'm not wrong though."
They worked together for a while—joking, sweeping, singing badly off-key—until the house felt less like Fuji's fortress and more like their shared little bubble.
Ciara glanced at the clock. He'd be home soon.
And whatever storm Lisa was stirring up, she had no idea how much closer it was about to hit.
Fuji started a lie to bury the past… but what happens when the truth starts sounding like something he wants to believe?