Vince found himself trailing behind her like a clueless puppy—awkward, obvious, and not nearly as slick as he thought. Every time Vanessa glanced back, he'd duck behind a pole or pretend to browse something invisible, failing miserably at subtlety.
She led him through the winding streets of Manx's largest outdoor market, where fishmongers shouted prices, crab claws twitched in crates, and fresh vegetables spilled out of wooden stalls. The air was thick with noise, spice, and the raw pulse of a part of the city Vince had only heard about in passing.
So many people, he thought, elbowing his way through the crowd, trying not to lose sight of her golden hair slipping through the masses like sunlight through trees.
Then—she was gone.
The crowd swallowed her whole.
Vince pushed forward, weaving past vendors and carts, until he reached the end of the street. He turned in circles, scanning every corner.
"I lost her," he muttered to himself, hands on his hips, out of breath and a little dazed.
"You looking for someone?"
He spun around.
Vanessa stood there, casually sucking on a lollipop, her expression unreadable.
"Following me around makes you look like a stalker," she said flatly, her voice edged with something between amusement and annoyance.
"Stalker? No, I was just—I mean—" Vince stumbled over his words like bricks in his mouth.
"Anyway," she said, brushing past him. "Stop following me. It's weird."
She stepped off the curb and crossed the street, the crowd parting for her like she belonged there, while Vince stood rooted in place.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "What the hell is wrong with me? Following a girl I don't even know... I must be crazy."
He turned and walked toward the bus stop, defeated, the taste of embarrassment sitting heavy in his mouth as he head home.
Vince's family estate sat far outside the city—twelve thousand acres of private land, dense forest, and winding road leading to a mansion tucked deep in isolation. It always felt more like a fortress than a home.
He usually stayed in his dad's apartment in the city, close to school and far from expectations. But today wasn't negotiable.
It was his grandfather's birthday.
And in the Balar family, that meant everyone showed up—no excuses. A tradition Vince had grown to resent, wrapped in luxury and pressure.
He walked up the long private road, past trimmed hedges and old oak trees, until he reached the front gate. The security guards recognized him instantly and let him through without a word.
As soon as he stepped inside the main foyer, he didn't even have a chance to breathe.
"There you are!"
His mother, Grace, appeared in a swirl of silk and perfume, both worried and irritated. "Why did you walk here? You couldn't have call for one of the cars?"
"You know me, Mom. I had stuff to do."
"'Stuff,' huh? You got in trouble again, didn't you?" she asked, following him as he climbed the grand staircase.
"Of course not," Vince said with a grin. "Your son would never get in trouble. I couldn't break my beautiful mother's heart like that."
She narrowed her eyes. "Are you playing with me right now?"
"Never," he said innocently, arriving at his bedroom door.
"Tsk." She sighed, shaking her head. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I don't know, Mom. Raise me better?"
"Too late for that," she muttered. "Anyway, hurry up and get changed. Everyone's already gathered in the backyard. Don't make me come back up here."
"Yes, ma'am."
He gave her a mock salute before slipping into his room and closing the door behind him.
For a second, he leaned against the door, taking a deep breath. The house smelled like old wood, expensive cologne, and expectation. He'd grown up in these halls, but it never really felt like home.
And today, he was back in the lion's den.
Vince flopped onto his bed, still wearing his school uniform, the collar loose and his tie half undone. He stared up at the ceiling, arms folded behind his head, but his mind wasn't there. It was somewhere else—somewhere far more complicated. He stayed that way for almost an hour.
Why the hell can't I stop thinking about her?
He groaned and kicked his feet, scattering the pile of pillows across the bed like a kid throwing a tantrum.
"She told me to stop following her, so why the hell am I still playing the replay in my head?" he muttered, rolling onto his stomach and burying his face into the mattress.
Knock knock knock knock!
A loud, obnoxious pounding rattled the door—fast, rhythmic, and unmistakable.
"Leave me alone, Sonia!" he yelled without looking up.
From the other side: "Open up! Mom said to get your ass downstairs! Why are you still holed up in here?!"
"Damn it! Can't a guy just chill in his room for five minutes?!"
He yanked the door open—and instantly regretted it.
Sonia, his older sister, leapt into action, hooking his neck in a tight headlock before he could blink. She was barely up to his shoulder but wrestled like she trained with MMA fighters.
"Gotcha, punk!" she shouted, dragging him into the hallway, laughing like a maniac.
"Get off me, you gremlin!" Vince shouted, trying to twist free.
She tightened the grip. "That's for making Mom worry again. You think you're a rebel but you're just a lazy brat."