Jerica didn't know how long she had been standing at the sidewalk, staring blankly, her thoughts miles away.
"Come on, let's move out of the way..." a voice said, cutting through her haze.
An arm wrapped around hers, gently pulling her out of the way. Jerica blinked, snapping out of her reverie to find Harold standing beside her, his brows furrowed in concern.
"Jerica, are you okay?" he asked, his serious gaze searching her face.
"I..." Jerica cleared her throat and quickly stepped out of his hold, feeling awkward. "I'm fine... I just..." She waved a hand, struggling to find the right words. "I'll just go—"
"You're not going anywhere alone," Harold interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind. "Jeez, Jerica! You've been standing there for five minutes. I came all the way from my office, and you were still frozen on the spot." His jaw tightened, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "I'm not leaving you like this. Come with me."
Before she could protest, Harold took her arm again, guiding her toward his car. Jerica wanted to resist, to say she didn't need help, but the truth was, she didn't have the energy to argue. She let out a quiet sigh and followed him.
-----
Meanwhile, from across the street, Lila watched as Harold gently led Jerica into the car. Her hands clenched into fists, her knuckles white as she saw the two of them drive away together.
"Still think Jerica is your friend?" Regina's voice oozed with venomous delight as she appeared beside Lila, a triumphant smirk twisting her lips.
Lila flinched, startled by Regina's sudden presence. "What are you talking about?"
Regina's smirk deepened, her eyes gleaming with something malicious. "She and him..." She nodded toward the now-distant car. "They belong to a different world, don't they? The Braddocks aren't exactly... common folk. Jerica seems very close to him…"
"Jerica?" Lila's voice wavered with confusion. Sure, she knew the Braddock family was a political powerhouse, but Jerica came from an ordinary background—didn't she?
Regina raised her brows, her expression dripping with fake concern and pity. "Oh, Lila, you really don't know, do you?"
Lila's irritation flared. "I don't have time for your games, Regina," she snapped, turning on her heel and storming away.
Regina's parting words echoed after her like a poison-laced arrow. "I don't think you were ever really her friend."
Lila kept walking, her fists clenched tight at her sides, refusing to let Regina's words get under her skin. But the doubt lingered, gnawing at the edges of her mind.
-----
Harold pulled up to a fancy French restaurant and hopped out to open Jerica's door for her.
"The Lagoon," she said, a note of disappointment in her voice. "It's the best restaurant in the city."
Harold chuckled, clearly picking up on her tone. "I know. If I'm taking you to dinner, I might as well get you the best, right?"
Jerica gave him a sideways glance. "Then why aren't we at The Lagoon?"
Harold's grin widened. "They're fully booked. No free tables."
"Not even for a Braddock?" Jerica raised a brow, surprised.
"I didn't use my name," Harold said with a playful smirk, his fingers poised over his phone. "But if I drop yours, they'd probably clear their best table for us. Want me to make the call?"
Jerica chuckled, shaking her head. "Never mind." She reached for the door handle, but as she tried to step out, a wave of uncertainty washed over her. Did her name even carry weight anymore? Did she even want that?
The smile that had briefly touched her lips faded as quickly as it had appeared.
Just as her foot hovered over the curb, Harold blocked her, gently holding the door in place.
"What are you doing?" she asked, raising a brow.
"We're going to The Lagoon," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument as he gestured for her to stay seated.
Jerica let out a quiet sigh but fastened her seatbelt again. It had been a long time since she'd had a proper dinner—especially at a place like The Lagoon. Despite the tension gnawing at the edges of her heart, she couldn't deny how much she wanted this. She didn't want to eat pizza for dinner again.
"Alright," she muttered, leaning back into her seat. "But don't get your hopes up. They're fully booked."
Harold smiled, a quiet confidence lighting his eyes. "We'll see about that."
They pulled up to The Lagoon, the warm glow from inside spilling out onto the sidewalk, illuminating the night with a soft, golden light. Harold led her to the entrance, where a manager greeted them, his expression polite but firm.
"I'm sorry, sir, but we don't have any available tables tonight," the manager said.
Harold slid a sleek black card across the counter, his voice calm and measured. "Perhaps you could let the owner know we're here."
The manager hesitated, glancing at the card, but before he could respond, a ripple of excitement spread through the dining room. The head chef/owner of The Lagoon had just emerged from the kitchen, surrounded by patrons offering their praises. Amidst the commotion, his gaze landed on Jerica. His eyes widened in surprise.
"Ms. Evans?" he called out, abandoning the group of admirers and rushing toward her. His apron was still dusted with flour, his excitement unmistakable.
Jerica blinked, startled by the sudden attention, but a small, genuine smile tugged at her lips as he recognized her.
"I wasn't sure you still dined here," the chef said, his voice warm with familiarity. "It's been far too long. You'll always have a table at The Lagoon."
Harold glanced at Jerica, clearly amused. "Looks like I didn't need to drop your name after all."
Jerica shook her head, a soft laugh escaping her. "I guess not."
Chef Hector Smith, bustling with energy, greeted them warmly. Jerica knew his story well—her mother's foundation had funded his culinary scholarship, a gesture that changed his life. They used to have family dinners here. She could see the gratitude still lingering in his eyes, even after all these years.
"Ms. Evans," Chef Smith beamed, pulling out a chair for her, "You married a handsome man." He flashed a wide smile at Harold before glancing back at Jerica.
Jerica let out a wry chuckle, her gaze dropping momentarily. Harold's smile froze on his face. He clenched his jaws and as he gulped, a flicker of disappointment flashed in his eyes.