Ezra sat in his spacious office atop one of his company's buildings abroad. The setting sun casting long shadows across the desk. Despite the stunning cityscape view, Ezra found himself increasingly bothered by a growing headache.
He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples as he leaned back in his high and tall leather chair. Blair's 21st birthday would be tomorrow, and the mere thought of her beaming face appearing out of nowhere was enough to make his head throb even harder. Every year, without fail, she would arrive like a magician—each time bringing a new, extravagant gift.
As the office emptied and fell silent, Ezra glanced at the clock—11:45 PM. He had stayed late, anticipating her arrival with her usual enthusiasm before midnight, her birthday. Yet, with only 15 minutes remaining, there was still no sign of her arrival. Drumming his fingers on the desk, he frowned, recalling their last conversation two months ago, on his birthday.
They were in the expansive kitchen of the Taylor mansion after school, with Blair perched on the counter while Ezra cooked for her as she requested.
Blair sat at the counter, her eyes fixed on him as he flipped the steaks with precision, the perfect sizzle reaching her ears.
She swung her legs like an impatient child, her eyes twinkling as she prepared for yet another confession. Ezra could already feel a groan rising within him.
"Ezra," she began, her voice sounded with that familiar, syrupy sweetness. "I love you."
He didn't even glance away from the pan. "Blair, we've discussed this before. The answer is still no."
Her smile remained unwavering; in fact, it grew even wider, as if his rejection were merely background noise.
"Well," she shrugged her shoulders in an exaggerated, playful manner, "I'm just saying I love you. No big deal!" She grabbed a slice of Hawaiian pizza with extra pineapple, biting into it with excessive cheerfulness. "Fate is like this pizza, you know? Pineapple and pizza—people say they don't belong together, but look! They're perfect!" She waved the slice in the air triumphantly, as if making a grand point.
He looked at her with a horrified expression. He couldn't decide which was more terrifying: her absurd statement or the pineapple on pizza. Both seemed equally unsettling, and for a moment, he genuinely questioned her taste—in both food and life choices. She even liked her steak coated with peanut butter.
Now, sitting in his empty office, the memory made him clench his jaw. It was 11:58 PM, and there were only two minutes left until her birthday. Blair—who always showed up without fail—was nowhere to be seen.
As he made his way home to the Taylor mansion, curiosity gnawed at him. He turned to his loyal driver, who had been unusually quiet. "What's going on with Blair, Gab?" he asked, unable to suppress his curiosity about why he hadn't heard from her in three months while he was abroad. To his surprise, the driver's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "You'd better ask your Uncle Alex," he replied, his voice thick with emotion.
"Why didn't anyone tell me what happened to Blair?" he asked, his voice echoing in the stillness of his father's office.
Damon looked up, worry etched on his face. At the mention of Blair's name, sorrow and guilt filled his eyes. He knew that his brother, Alex, had already told every detail of what had transpired during her birthday party to Ezra.
His gaze shifted away. "Because it was the only way I could grant your wish, son," he said, tears streaming down his face. "Your engagement to her was inescapable, and I thought... perhaps fate was siding with you." The weight of his decision crushed him. "Now, it is your chance to live your own life."
Ezra's chest tightened as emotions swirled in a storm of confusion and disbelief. His jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his fists curled against his sides, as if trying to hold himself together. This was the first time Damon had ever prioritized his son's wishes over those of Blair, the girl he had always treated like his own daughter.
His brows furrowed deeply, frustration darkening his expression as his throat tightened with words he couldn't articulate. Damon's tearful gaze, filled with regret and grief, only intensified the turmoil within him.
"Absolutely. This is what I want." His tone was low yet resolute, carrying the weight of suppressed emotions—bittersweet, with a hint of defiance—as he turned to leave his father's office.
A week later, standing at the University of Uriel's campus gate, Ezra clutched a bouquet, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. This had become his annual tradition since Blair started college, fulfilling a request she had made when they were younger. He tried to convince himself it was merely an obligation, a way to meet the expectations placed upon him. Still, he felt compelled to do it, certain that the Wilsons would never truly sever ties with their beloved princess.
As he stared at the vibrant blooms, a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He recalled how her face would light up like the sun breaking through the clouds as she flew to snatch the flowers from his hand. Her voice, filled with delight, would ring out as she thanked him in a loud, joyful tone, ensuring everyone heard that she had received flowers from him.
Suddenly, a blur of movement caught his eye. He turned to see Blair running, but this time she was moving away from him, her expression filled with fear as if she were fleeing from something—or someone.
Determined to find her after the morning class session ended, Ezra made his way to her classroom. However, as soon as he saw her, Blair's gaze was fixed on Samantha, who stood triumphantly holding the flowers he had thrown. The corners of her brows turned down in a frown, and it seemed all the light had vanished from her amber eyes.
Ezra's instincts kicked in as he saw Blair dart through the store, her arms laden with eco bags. Without thinking, he followed her quietly through the aisles, driven by an urge to ensure her safety because he knew all too well that if anything were to happen to the Wilsons' princess, the blame would inevitably fall on him.
As he approached the checkout counter, he noticed her standing there, petrified by a magazine cover featuring Kennedy and Scott Wilson. He could see the trouble in her shoulders, the way her brow furrowed in concentration as she scrutinized their smiling faces.
Ezra could almost hear the whirlpool of thoughts spiraling in her mind. He felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him. He wanted to reach out, to pull her back from the precipice of despair, but just as he was about to step forward, his father's voice echoed in his mind, stopping him in his tracks.
"Because it was the only way I could grant your wish, son," his father had said, the memory still raw, the grief still fresh. He remembered the tears streaming down his father's face, something Ezra had rarely seen in his lifetime. "Your engagement to her was inescapable, and I thought... perhaps fate was siding with you. Now, it is your chance to live your own life."
Ezra clenched his jaw, feeling the familiar knot tighten in his chest. His father's words had been well-intended, an attempt to give him his freedom. Something he had wished for since childhood.
…
Blair's eyes drifted open slowly after a deep, seven-hour sleep, the gentle lavender scent of incense enveloping her like a comforting embrace. As her vision adjusted to the dim light, she noticed Ezra seated quietly on her small couch. His solid, well-built body stretched beneath his white-fitting shirt. Blair's eyes fluttered open slowly after seven hours of sleep. For a moment, she blinked in confusion, the remnants of sleep still clinging to her mind. Instead of the surprise or delight she might have shown, her expression remained surprisingly calm. She stretched slightly, then swung her legs off the bed, her feet landing softly on the floor. Without a word, she padded over to the corner of the room, where her kitten lounged.
"Hey there, little one," she whispered softly, bending down to scoop up the tiny white and grey kitten. Chuchu nuzzled closer, its soft fur brushing against her skin, and she couldn't help but smile at the sweet, innocent moment.
Blair cradled her kitten as she stood up. Her eyes wandered around the small apartment, and that's when she noticed the shiny new appliances—a massive refrigerator, a sleek oven, and a gleaming electric stove—still nestled in their cartons, waiting to be unpacked.
"My electricity bill is going to skyrocket!" She gestured dramatically toward the countertop, her hands spread wide.
Ezra looked up, a hint of amusement dancing in his steel-blue eyes. She shook her head and furrowed her perfectly shaped brows.
Blair placed Chuchu on the couch, inspecting each appliance as if they were potential threats. "Where do you expect me to put all of this?"
Ezra shrugged, his expression casual. "I'll take care of it for you. There's no need to worry." His voice carried a nonchalant tone.
She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "You don't know what it's like to be poor. The bill arrives like a horror movie twist. Suddenly, you're rationing your electricity like it's the apocalypse!" She gestured dramatically, her voice rising theatrically. "You'll be standing in the refrigerator light, staring with only a bottle of water inside because you couldn't afford anything! Just thinking about pressing the AC power button again will traumatize you!"
"Are you trying to survive in the Stone Age? These are essential for modern living," he said, suppressing his laughter.
What frustrates him the most about her was her uncanny ability to turn even the most serious matters into something comedic, leaving him struggling to maintain his stoic expression.
Blair rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Oh, Mr. Whiz Kid, do you really think you know everything about life? Balancing comfort and practicality with limited resources can be quite challenging!"
Blair plopped down onto the couch, crossing her legs as she launched into one of her trademark over-the-top rants. Ezra could already tell he had no choice but to listen.
"I mean, look at the stove. Do you know what happens if I decide to cook dinner? First, I have to buy the ingredients. Remind you, it cost a lot just for some vegetables that will rot in the fridge if I don't cook them quickly enough."
Ezra raised an eyebrow but said nothing, allowing her to continue.
"Then," Blair added dramatically, "you have to chop all the ingredients that require time. So, after all that chopping, you're exhausted before the actual cooking even begins!"
Ezra's lips twitched, but he remained silent, sensing that the grand finale was approaching.
"And let's not forget," she exclaimed, raising her hands in mock frustration, "the oil splatter, the dirty pans, and the lingering smell of spices for days—I mean, is it really worth it? I could just order something online!"
Ezra's composed facade finally cracked. "Yeah, sure. As if it's not because all your greatest culinary achievement is boiling an egg!" A low chuckle escaped his throat, and soon he surrendered completely, his extremely handsome face illuminating with a rare, genuine smile. His typically sharp, guarded features softened as laughter crinkled the corners of his steel-blue eyes.
A dull ache spreading through her heart. He had finally laughed, and while it was beautiful to witness, it left her with a profound sense of pain. He had finally found his smile, free from the burden she had unknowingly placed upon him.
As Blair watched Ezra reheating the food he had prepared earlier, her thoughts drifted back to her 18th birthday—the night she had filled with dreams and hopes. She hadn't skipped a grand banquet because she wanted a simple celebration, but because she had planned something more meaningful for both of them.
To confess.
She had loved Ezra for as long as she could remember, convincing herself that he felt the same way. How could he not? They were bound by fate, family, and they were together for years. She believed it was only a matter of time before he recognized it as well.
So, when she whispered, "I love you," her voice filled with hope, she genuinely believed he would accept her feelings.
But his response had left her devastated.
"Do you think I'm some kind of birthday gift?" His words, laced with contempt, shattered the delicate dream she had constructed around him. "You've crossed the line, Blair." Ezra's voice was piercing, striking her with brutal clarity. "They made me your guard dog, running around keeping you safe, but marrying you is too much."
Back then, she was unwilling to accept the truth. She clung to the illusion that his coldness was temporary, believing she could win him over with time. "I'll make you love me," she insisted, filled with confidence and naivety. However, in hindsight, she recognized how selfish she had been. She had disregarded his feelings, blinded by her own desires.
"I was delusional from the start," Blair admitted to herself, her heart heavy with the burden of this realization.
She had molded his indifference into hope and his silence into patience. For years, she had built a fantasy in which he would one day turn around and love her in return.
"I was selfish," she thought, the bitter truth settling deep in her chest. She had never considered what Ezra wanted and had never truly recognized the pain in his eyes.
But in the end, she accepted, he was never hers. It was all her delusion. And fate finally sided with his luck.