His mother greeted us soon after — elegant, with gentle eyes that made you feel seen even when she said nothing. She hugged Adrian first, the kind of embrace that said I'm proud of you, even when you don't see it. Then she turned to me.
"You must be Arisha," she said. Her voice was melodic, her smile genuine. "Adrian talks about you."
I froze. "He—he does?"
Adrian coughed, looking anywhere but at me. "Mom."
His sister appeared then — Lucia — a mirror of him in spirit if not in look. She was light where he was shadow, laughter where he was silence.
"So you're the Arisha," she said with a grin, circling me like she was appraising a piece of art. "Finally. I was starting to think he made you up."
Adrian groaned. "Lucia, please."
She winked. "Oh relax, birthday boy. I like her already."
I couldn't help but laugh — the sound surprising even me.
---
Dinner was intimate, not the political affair I'd imagined. Just family and a few close friends. The table gleamed with candlelight, soft music playing beneath the hum of conversation.
I watched Adrian interact with them — the way he softened around his mother, how he teased his sister but always listened when she spoke.
He wasn't the campus heartthrob here. He was just… Adrian.
When his father entered, the atmosphere shifted slightly. The Prime Minister — tall, calm, eyes like still water. His presence filled the room without effort.
"Arisha," he said, shaking my hand. "Thank you for being a friend to my son. He doesn't have many who see past the noise."
"I'm… honored, sir," I said quietly.
He smiled, faintly. "Call me Mr. Madden. Titles belong outside this house."
And for the first time, I understood where Adrian's strength came from. Not from wealth or power — but from this strange blend of gentleness and restraint.
---
After dinner, everyone moved toward the garden for cake and laughter. The night air was cool, heavy with the scent of jasmine. Tiny lights strung through the trees cast everything in gold.
Adrian stood beside me as the others sang. I watched the candles flicker on the cake, their glow catching the small, boyish curve of his smile.
When everyone dispersed, he looked at me. "You don't like lying to your mother, do you?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Then why did you?"
I hesitated. The truth was too raw, too fragile.
"Because I wanted to see this side of you," I said finally. "Not the one everyone at school knows. The one that reads, that listens, that… cares."
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, softly — "And did you find him?"
I looked up at him, at the way the candlelight reflected in his eyes like molten gold. "Yes."
He smiled faintly. "Then I'm glad you lied."
---
Later that night, I stood on the terrace alone. The garden shimmered below, laughter spilling from somewhere behind me. I looked at the sky — deep, endless — and felt something unfamiliar tighten in my chest.
Maybe this was what falling felt like. Quiet. Inevitable.
And somewhere inside, I already knew — when I returned home and saw my daisy again, I'd plant another.
Because tonight, something new had begun to bloom.
Chapter Thirteen — The Circle
The next afternoon, sunlight spilled lazily through the Madden family's glass veranda, scattering gold across the marble floor.
It was one of those late weekends when time seemed to move slower — laughter echoing from the garden, music humming from someone's phone, and the low murmur of voices tangled with the smell of tea and fruit pastries.
I sat near the edge of the long sofa with Mila, the two of us half-listening to the chatter around us. Adrian's friends — the same ones who filled the university with noise and charm — lounged across the room, legs crossed, drinks in hand, like they owned the day.
Lucia, his sister, sat on the armrest of a chair, swinging her legs, her laughter bright and unfiltered. She had that easy confidence that came from being loved without condition — a freedom I both admired and envied.
Adrian was near the window, talking to one of his male friends. Even from across the room, I could feel his presence — calm, magnetic, like the eye of a storm.
---
"God, this ring is everything," Sophia said suddenly, lifting her hand so the diamond caught the sunlight. The sparkle threw fractured light across the table. "Dad said it's custom from Milan. Took three weeks to finish."
"Oh wow, that's gorgeous," Lucia said politely, reaching for a macaron. "Your dad spoils you."
Sophia smiled, tilting her wrist. "He says girls should shine. Especially when you have the means to."
Her gaze drifted, landing on me for a brief second — a flash of something too deliberate to be casual.
Mila shifted beside me, her elbow brushing mine. "Don't react," she whispered under her breath. "She's fishing."
I forced a smile, eyes fixed on my teacup. "I'm not reacting."
Sophia leaned back, her voice lilting, sweet and sharp. "Not everyone understands that, of course. Some people prefer simpler things. Books. Plain dresses. Modesty, I guess."
Lucia frowned slightly. "There's nothing wrong with simple."
Sophia waved her hand. "Oh, I didn't mean wrong. Just… limited. You can't understand luxury unless you've lived it."
The air seemed to still for a moment. Mila looked ready to throw her teacup.
I smiled faintly. "You're right," I said quietly, setting my cup down. "I haven't lived luxury. But I understand value."
Her brow arched. "Value?"
"Things lose their meaning when they're too easily replaced."
A soft silence followed — not angry, but weighted. Adrian's gaze lifted from across the room. Our eyes met, and for a heartbeat, the noise faded.
The corner of his mouth twitched — the ghost of a smirk that said he heard every word.
---
To ease the tension, Lucia clapped her hands. "Okay, that's enough jewelry talk! Let's play something."
"Like what?" Mila asked.
"Truth or dare," one of Adrian's friends said instantly, grinning.
"Oh God," Lucia groaned, "you people never grow up."
Sophia smirked. "Why not? It'll be fun."
They rearranged the chairs in a circle, cushions on the floor, laughter returning as if the air hadn't just crackled with quiet rivalry.
I hesitated, but Mila tugged my sleeve. "Come on. You can't escape now."
So I sat.
Adrian joined last, settling opposite me, long legs folded casually, his expression unreadable.
Lucia spun a glass bottle in the middle of the circle. It whirled, glinting under the light, and stopped — pointing directly at Adrian.
"Truth or dare?" she asked, eyes gleaming.
"Dare," he said, without missing a beat.
Lucia grinned. "Tell Arisha…" She paused dramatically. "…one thing you really think of her. No jokes."
The group erupted in teasing laughter. My pulse spiked.
Adrian leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, eyes never leaving mine.
His voice dropped low, quiet enough that it felt private even in a crowded room.
"I think she's different," he said. "She doesn't try to belong — she just… exists. And somehow that makes everyone else feel small."
The laughter faded into something else — curiosity, surprise, maybe envy.
My face burned, and I looked away, pretending to fix my sleeve.
Mila leaned toward me, whispering, "You're doomed. He's definitely into you."
I shot her a glare, but she only grinned wider.
---
Later, as the evening wound down, I stepped outside to the garden for air. The faint hum of conversation floated behind me. The world smelled of roses and damp grass.
I didn't hear him approach until his voice came softly behind me.
"You didn't like that game."
I turned. Adrian stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets.
"I don't like being looked at," I said.
He tilted his head. "You'd rather be invisible?"
"I already am, most of the time."
He took a step closer. "Not to me."
Something inside me tightened. "You don't have to say things like that, Adrian."
"I'm not saying it because I have to." His tone softened. "I just want you to know that… not everyone measures worth in diamonds."
The wind stirred between us, cool and fragile. For a moment, I wanted to believe him.
But then Lucia called from inside, breaking the spell. "Adrian! Cake's ready!"
He smiled faintly. "Come on. Before my sister eats all the frosting."
I followed him back inside, the echo of his words lingering —
Not everyone measures worth in diamonds.
And for the first time that night, I wasn't thinking about Sophia's ring.
I was thinking about his eyes when he said it.