My name is Alicia, but everyone in our town knows me as Tris. My parents got the nickname "Tris" from my second name because my full name is Alicia Beatrice Celestine. I used to be a lawyer at a well-known law firm—now retired.
I retired after a car accident three years ago—an accident that didn't only leave physical scars. According to the doctors, I lost my memories. I believe them, because I truly don't remember everything. I can't even recall what happened during the accident itself. I didn't recognize my own father when I woke up. He told me my mother passed away when I was ten years old, so I don't remember her at all. He showed me pictures of her, but even then, nothing came back.
There are still so many questions I have—about myself, about my past, about the life I lived before.
For now, I help my dad manage our farm. I'm content, even if a part of me still longs for my memories to return.
And if you're wondering whether I have a love life—don't bother asking. I don't.
Not because no one approaches me. I do get admirers. But none of them are what I'm looking for. I'm not picky—I just want to feel magic the first time I look at the man I'm going to love. The kind of magic you see in K-dramas.
Yes, I know. I'm delusional.
But that's what I want.
I'm already thirty-two years old and I've never had a boyfriend. My dad is starting to worry that I'll grow old single because of how choosy I am. Ironically, he's more worried than I am. He even tried setting me up on blind dates, but I always ignored them.
Even if I reach sixty years old, if I don't feel that magic, I won't risk entering a relationship.
Then one day, while I was talking to one of our farm workers, my ears caught snippets of gossip.
At first, I thought I misheard.
But they were talking about me.
"Is it true that Ms. Tris is getting married?" one worker asked.
"I heard Sir Joaquin talking to a handsome man in the mansion garden the other day," another replied. "They looked serious."
"It's exciting to imagine Ms. Tris wearing a wedding gown."
"Shh, keep your voice down. I heard it's going to be a secret wedding."
I couldn't take it anymore and approached them. They immediately fell silent, whispering nervously.
"Is what you're saying about my dad true?" I asked seriously.
"M-Ms. Tris… yes. It's true," one of them answered, his voice shaking. "We'll go back to work now."
"You're too loud," another whispered sharply.
I immediately went to my dad's office at the farm, anger boiling inside me.
"Oh, what do you need, Tris?" my dad asked calmly. "Are you tired? You should go home and rest. You have a check-up tomorrow with Dr. Malvar."
"Dad, is it true?" I snapped.
"About what?" he asked, still calmly writing.
"That you're planning to marry me off," I said firmly. "Is it true what the workers are saying?"
"Yes. You're getting married. What's the problem?"
"What? You're unbelievable! Without my consent?"
"Why? I'm your father. I have the right to decide for your marriage. Besides, you're already at the right age."
"At least you should have asked if I agreed!" I said angrily. "This is my life. How could you decide something like this without me?"
"They're coming later to formally propose," he said. "Get dressed. I want you to look presentable. I don't want to be embarrassed."
"Are you serious? You care more about your pride than me?" I shouted. "If this were just a blind date, I might understand—but marriage? That's insane!"
I walked out, my chest burning with anger.
"Alicia Beatrice Celestine!" he shouted, using my full name.
"Where do you think you're going? I'm not done talking to you!"
But I didn't look back.
For the first time in my life, I turned my back on my father. I didn't care if he thought I was disrespectful. I grabbed my bike and rode away from the farm, pedaling fast.
I was so overwhelmed that I didn't realize how far I had gone.
"BULLSHIT!"
I screamed as a speeding car nearly hit my bike—almost deliberately.
I fell hard, scraping my knee against the pavement. The sting was immediate.
"Damn my luck," I muttered, grimacing as I tried to stand.
The car door opened. A man stepped out—he looked like a secretary. Formal attire, tablet in hand, panic written all over his face.
"Miss! I'm so sorry! Are you hurt? You're bleeding—oh no…"
He crouched to inspect my knee, clearly unsure whether to help or panic.
I raised an eyebrow.
"What do you think? Isn't it obvious?"
Before he could reply, the other door opened.
A man stepped out wearing an all-black suit, sunglasses on despite the lack of sun. Tall. Handsome. With an aura that screamed don't stain me with your presence.
Cold.
Irritating.
Annoyingly attractive.
He spoke without even looking at me.
"Why are we stopping?" he asked coldly.
"We're late."
The secretary stammered.
"Sir, we almost hit her. She fell. She's injured—"
"We don't have time," the man interrupted.
"Give her my card."
I blinked.
"A card? That's it? Wow, you're an asshole."
He stopped. Slowly turned toward me and removed his sunglasses just enough to reveal cold eyes.
"Compensate her," he said flatly. "Bike repairs. Medical bills. Handle it."
My temper snapped.
I walked up and punched him.
"Can't you even say sorry? Who do you think you are? You think money fixes everything? I almost died!"
I hate to admit it—but he smelled expensive.
He wiped the blood from his lip, unfazed. The secretary looked horrified.
"…No," the man said calmly.
My eyebrow twitched.
"You want another one?"
He put his sunglasses back on.
"I've heard worse. Idiot."
"You're arrogant, rude, and shameless," I shot back. "I can sue you for reckless driving!"
The corner of his lips lifted—not a smile, but a warning.
"Idiot woman."
"Arrogant jerk," I muttered.
He ignored me and got back into the car.
The secretary handed me a business card.
"Please, miss. Call that number. We'll pay for everything. I'm really sorry."
"I don't want your bribe," I snapped. "Make your boss come out or I'll call the police."
"I'm really sorry," he said before rushing back to the car.
"Hey!" I shouted.
I looked at the card.
Then at the car driving away.
Then at my scraped knee.
"That jerk's face looks familiar… but I can't remember where I've seen him," I whispered.
Rowan Laxamana. CEO. Blackstone Finance.
"Tsk. So what if he's a CEO? Still a jerk."
I threw the card away.
But when I realized the direction the car was heading—
Toward the farm—
My heart sank.
"No. Don't tell me…"