Ryan finished buying everything, especially the flowers—because he knew, no matter what, he couldn't miss this chance to finally apologize to Maria. For her, flowers were a must. With the delicate bouquet carefully wrapped in his hands, he headed back home, heart pounding with anticipation.
The moment he walked through the door, he went straight to the kitchen, where Trixie was busy wiping the counter. He cleared his throat softly.
"Trixie, can I talk to you for a second?" Ryan's voice was gentler than usual.
She looked up, surprised but smiling brightly. "Sure, boss."
If anyone had seen that moment, they'd know it was unusual—Ryan, the cold-hearted mafia leader, speaking so softly to a maid. It caused a ripple of murmurs among the other staff. Jealousy and suspicion simmered beneath their breaths.
"Did he just talk with a soft voice?" whispered one maid to her friend.
"Yeah, he did. I bet he likes her—that's why he talked like that," the other whispered back, rolling her eyes in disbelief.
Maria, overhearing, couldn't keep her fury quiet. "How would you know? Just because he's kind sometimes doesn't mean anything."
"Well, apparently, he's not kind to you," the maid said, shooting a pointed look at Maria.
"Why are you even mad if he likes her? It's not like he's your boyfriend or something," the other teased. "Besides, you're not as pretty as her."
Maria wasn't the type to crumble under insults about her looks or weight. She brushed those words off easily. But she was an overthinker, and sometimes those sneers crept into her mind, planting tiny seeds of doubt.
Then her thoughts spiraled back to Ryan's words from a few days ago—the way he said he liked her, wanted to spend his life with her. And now? Now he was sweet-talking Trixie. Maria's heart twisted painfully.
Really, Trixie? My best friend, the only one who knows how much I love him? How could she do this to me? she thought, eyes beginning to sting.
She stormed toward her room, packing her things in a flurry. She couldn't take it anymore. The jealousy crushed her, turning hope into a raw ache inside. Had Ryan been playing with her all along? Was she just a fool?
On her way, she caught muffled voices near the hallway. Curious and desperate, she pressed herself against the wall, peeking cautiously.
"I'm sure she'll love this, boss," Trixie's voice said softly.
"She?" Maria's mind raced. Wasn't Ryan interested in her? Why was Trixie talking like this?
Ryan's voice softened, heavy with regret.
"I haven't slept these days… feeling guilty about the argument. I was so stupid to make her mad. She doesn't even look at me anymore. Whenever I want to talk, I remember what she said… and I shut up. I can't live without her, but I'm sure she hates me now."
Maria's breath caught. Ryan… was talking about her. About her.
The pain of realizing how much he cared—how he was just as lost and hurt—hit her like a punch to the chest. Tears welled up, blurring her vision. She couldn't listen anymore.
Running outside to the backyard—her sanctuary—Maria tried to clear her head.
"I hurt him so badly, and here I am thinking he was using me… How could I be so stupid?" she murmured, tears streaming down. "From the day he met me, he's been kind. He's never yelled at me or gotten angry… except that day."
A soft voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Are you okay?"
It was Ryan.
She didn't dare look up, ashamed of her red, swollen eyes and the tears still falling.
"I'm… okay. Thanks for asking. I should go now," she stammered.
She tried to walk away, but strong yet gentle hands caught her wrist, stopping her.
"Maria, please, just look at me. Please," Ryan pleaded.
Reluctantly, she met his gaze. His eyes were filled with concern, pain even. She felt exposed, vulnerable.
Ryan lifted her chin gently, brushing a tear from her cheek.
"Why were you crying? Was it because of me?"
Maria's heart ached, hearing the tenderness in his voice.
"I-it's nothing, boss. It's not because of you… I'm just stressed," she whispered, stammering, still embarrassed.
"Boss? You really just called me boss?" Ryan's tone was sharp, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Maria stayed silent, unsure what to say.
"I'm sorry, Ryan. I'm so, so sorry." Her voice cracked as she broke down, sobbing hard.
Without thinking, Ryan pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly, his own heart pounding. She kept repeating sorry, over and over, but said nothing else. He didn't know what to do—just held her, letting her cry it out.
Minutes passed.
Slow, soft snores rumbled against his chest. Maria had fallen asleep.
Ryan looked down at her peaceful face and wished time could stop. Gently, he lifted her bridal-style, careful not to wake her. Carrying her like a treasure, he brought her to her room.
He laid her down on her bed, eyes softening when he saw how serene she looked. He placed the bouquet, chocolates, and the letter beside her before quietly leaving, hope swelling in his chest.
---
When Maria woke, confusion clouded her mind. Why was she in her room? Then, the memory of the backyard—the tears, Ryan's touch—flushed her cheeks bright red. She felt shy, the warmth of his embrace lingering on her skin.
Her gaze fell on the flowers and chocolates by her bed. A smile broke through her sleepiness. She picked up the bouquet, inhaling the sweet scent, then reached for the letter.
She knew it was from Ryan—no one else but him and Trixie ever entered her room. As she read his words, tears welled up again—but this time, they were tears of hope.