Chapter 5
1786 Words
I didn’t sleep.
Not properly.
Every time I closed my eyes, my thoughts dragged me back to the same place—my mum lying in that hospital bed, pale and fragile… Joe’s voice in my ear, low and threatening… and Max’s calm, steady gaze cutting through all of it like he could see straight through the chaos.
By morning, I felt worse than I had the night before.
Exhausted. Heavy. Hollow.
I lay staring at the ceiling for a while, listening to the faint sounds of Bessie moving around downstairs. Cups clinking. The kettle boiling. Life continuing, like it always did, no matter how much everything else felt like it was falling apart.
Eventually, I forced myself out of bed.
There was no time to sit around feeling sorry for myself.
Not anymore.
⸻
The florist smelled like damp leaves and fresh roses.
Normally, it was my escape.
Soft music playing in the background, the quiet routine of trimming stems, arranging bouquets, wrapping paper—it gave my mind something simple to focus on.
Today, it barely touched the noise in my head.
“You’re late,” Mrs. Patel called from behind the counter, though her tone was more tired than annoyed.
“Sorry,” I said, tying my apron around my waist. “Bus delays.”
She glanced up at me, her sharp eyes softening slightly. “You don’t look well.”
“I’m fine.”
The lie came automatically.
She didn’t push. She never did. That was one of the reasons I liked working here.
“Just don’t faint on my floor,” she muttered. “Flowers don’t like drama.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
I moved toward the back, picking up a bundle of white lilies and setting them on the workbench. My hands moved on instinct—cutting stems, stripping leaves, placing them into water—but my mind was somewhere else entirely.
End of the week.
The words circled like a countdown.
I had no money.
No plan.
No idea what I was supposed to do next.
My hand slipped slightly, the blade of the scissors catching against my finger.
“s**t—”
A sharp sting followed, and a small bead of blood welled up at the tip.
“Maya?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly, grabbing a tissue and pressing it to the cut.
Mrs. Patel appeared beside me anyway, her eyes narrowing. “You’re distracted.”
“Just tired.”
“You’ve been ‘just tired’ for three days,” she said. “Go take five minutes before you ruin my stock.”
“I don’t need—”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
I sighed, but didn’t argue.
Instead, I set the flowers down and stepped outside the shop, leaning against the wall as cool air hit my face.
The street was busy—people walking past, cars rolling by, the normal rhythm of the day continuing like nothing had changed.
But everything had changed.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket without really thinking.
Then I froze.
Max’s card.
I hadn’t taken it out since last night, but I could feel it in my bag like it was burning a hole through the fabric.
One call.
That was all it would take.
I stared at my phone screen, my thumb hovering uselessly.
What would I even say?
Hi, remember me? The girl you stopped from getting run over? I need money.
The thought made my stomach twist.
No.
I couldn’t do that.
I wouldn’t do that.
I shoved the phone back into my pocket, exhaling sharply.
There had to be another way.
There had to be—
“Maya?”
My head snapped up.
And my heart stopped.
Max stood a few feet away from me, hands in his coat pockets, looking completely out of place on the cracked pavement outside the florist.
For a second, I genuinely thought I was imagining him.
“You’re real,” I said before I could stop myself.
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Last time I checked.”
“What are you doing here?”
“A reasonable question,” he admitted. “Though I could ask you the same.”
“I work here,” I said automatically.
His gaze flicked to the shop window, taking in the rows of flowers, then back to me. “That makes sense.”
I folded my arms, suddenly very aware of how I must look again—tired, pale, probably still carrying yesterday all over my face.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said.
He held my gaze for a moment, then said simply, “I wanted to see you.”
The honesty of it caught me off guard.
“Why?”
“Because I left yesterday with the feeling that you weren’t okay,” he replied. “And I don’t like unfinished situations.”
I blinked at him.
“Unfinished situations?” I repeated.
“Yes.”
“That’s… very vague.”
“It’s also very accurate.”
Despite myself, a small smile tugged at my lips.
This man was impossible.
“You tracked me down,” I said.
He didn’t deny it. “You told me where you worked.”
“I said I worked at a florist.”
“And there are only so many within walking distance of where I dropped you.”
I stared at him.
“That’s… slightly unsettling.”
“Should I have waited for you to call instead?”
I hesitated.
Because the answer to that should have been yes.
But the truth?
I hadn’t been sure I ever would.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
Max stepped a little closer, not enough to crowd me, but enough that I could see the faint shadows of tiredness beneath his eyes too.
“You look worse than you did yesterday,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“That wasn’t meant as an insult.”
“It still sounded like one.”
He exhaled softly, like he was trying not to lose patience. “Have you slept?”
“Not really.”
“Eaten?”
“Kind of.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “Maya.”
“What?” I snapped, the pressure of everything finally spilling over. “I’m fine. I don’t need checking up on like I’m—”
“—about to collapse?” he finished calmly.
I stopped.
Because that was exactly how I felt.
My shoulders sagged a fraction. “I’m just having a bad couple of days.”
“I gathered.”
We stood there in silence for a moment.
Then he said, “Have dinner with me tonight.”
The words hit me like a small shock.
“What?”
“Dinner,” he repeated. “Seven o’clock.”
“That’s not—” I let out a breath. “That’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t know you.”
“You didn’t know me yesterday either.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
Because I didn’t actually have a good answer.
He watched me, waiting.
“It just is,” I said weakly.
His gaze softened slightly. “Maya, I’m not asking you for anything complicated. Just dinner.”
“I can’t afford—”
“It’s my invitation.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
I hesitated.
The truth hovered on the edge of my tongue.
Because I didn’t trust this.
Didn’t trust him.
Didn’t trust the fact that someone like him would take interest in someone like me without a reason.
“There’s always a catch,” I said quietly.
His expression changed.
Not angry.
Not offended.
Just… sharper.
“Is that what you think?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“About me?”
“I don’t know anything about you,” I said. “But I know how the world works.”
He held my gaze for a long moment.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
“That’s fair,” he said.
The calm acceptance of it surprised me more than if he’d argued.
“No catch,” he added. “No expectations. You can leave whenever you want. No questions asked.”
“And if I say no?”
His mouth curved faintly. “Then I’ll leave. And you’ll go back to pretending everything is under control.”
The words landed too close to the truth.
I looked away.
Because he was right again.
And I hated that he was right.
Silence stretched between us.
Then—
“Fine,” I said.
The word slipped out before I could stop it.
His eyes flicked back to mine.
“Fine?” he repeated.
“Dinner,” I clarified. “One dinner.”
Something in his expression shifted—subtle, but real.
“Seven,” he said. “I’ll pick you up.”
“You don’t know where I live.”
“You can tell me.”
I hesitated, then gave him Bessie’s address before I could overthink it.
He nodded once, like it was already settled.
“I’ll see you tonight, Maya.”
And just like that, he turned and walked away.
No hesitation.
No lingering.
No looking back.
I stood there, staring after him, my heart beating faster than it should have.
“What the hell was that?”
Bessie’s voice made me jump.
I turned to find her standing in the doorway of the shop, arms crossed, eyes wide.
“You saw that?” I asked.
“I saw enough,” she said, stepping closer. “Who is he?”
“Max.”
“Max who?”
I hesitated.
“…Charles.”
Her eyes widened. “As in Charles Holdings?”
“You know it?”
“Everyone knows it,” she said. “Maya, that man is loaded.”
Great.
That made this even worse.
“And he just asked you out?” she added.
“Apparently.”
Bessie stared at me for a long second.
Then she broke into a grin.
“Oh my God, you’re going.”
I groaned. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting anything—you are absolutely going.”
“I already said yes.”
Her grin widened. “Even better.”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop the strange mix of nerves and curiosity building in my chest.
This wasn’t normal.
None of this was normal.
But for the first time since everything had started falling apart…
Something felt like it might actually change.
And I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing—
Or the beginning of something I couldn’t control.
- Writer
