Sophia's POV.
The first challenge is over, and the initial tension has settled into a strange kind of quiet. As the group gathers in the lounge, people are talking in small clusters, sharing opinions about the day's events. I've never been good at small talk, but Maya seems to have a way of cutting through the superficial chatter.
Maya leans against the couch, a wry smile on her lips as she watches the others. "I thought it was supposed to be a competition," she says, nodding toward the group of contestants who are already exchanging gossip. "But it feels more like a game of Survivor than The Bachelor and You."
I can't help but laugh. Maya has a sharp edge to her, but there's something about her that feels real, not like the other contestants who are just here for the attention. She's quick-witted, observant, and doesn't take any of this too seriously. It's refreshing, especially since I'm struggling to keep my own head above water.
"You're not wrong," I admit. "I thought the point was to get to know him, not to make alliances."
She shrugs, her eyes flicking over to Alexander, who's surrounded by a couple of other women, all vying for his attention. "It's all part of the game. But I think you're here for more than just the game, aren't you?"
I meet her gaze, unsure of how to respond. Maya's perceptive; I can tell she's already sizing me up. But I don't think she's being judgmental, just curious. And honestly, it's nice to be seen for once, instead of just being the ex-fiancée or the broken-hearted girl on display.
"I don't really know why I'm here," I confess. "I guess I thought it would be a good way to... get some closure. Move on. But, seeing him again... It's complicated."
She nods, her expression softening. "I get it. It's hard when emotions are tangled up in all this. But from what I can tell, you're stronger than you think."
I want to believe her, but the doubt in my chest refuses to be quiet. "I don't feel strong," I mutter.
"You will," she says simply. "I can tell. You're not like the others. You're different."
Before I can respond, I feel a familiar presence beside me. Ethan's leaning against the couch, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. He gives me a charming smile, his eyes glinting with something that I can't quite place.
"Flowers?" I raise an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth lifting in a half-smile. "Really?"
Ethan shrugs, his smile never wavering. "You're too beautiful to not receive flowers." He hands them to me, his fingers brushing against mine as he does. "Consider it a peace offering for being the most intriguing contestant here."
I blink, caught off guard. "Intriguing?"
"Definitely," he says, his voice smooth, like he's said this before. "I like a challenge. And I can tell you're not here for the typical reasons."
There's something in his gaze, something that makes me wary and curious all at once. He's not like the others who are just trying to get attention from Alexander. Ethan's approach is different—subtle, almost calculated.
"Thanks," I say, taking the flowers, even though I'm not sure what to make of this.
Maya chuckles from beside me. "Careful, Sophia. He's got that charm down to an art form."
I turn to her, laughing softly. "I'm not sure I'm his type."
"Oh, he's everybody's type," she responds dryly. "But he plays the game well. Just remember, not everyone here is as innocent as they seem."
I glance back at Ethan, who's still watching me with that same intriguing intensity. He hasn't broken his smile, but there's something in the way he watches me, like he's trying to figure me out.
"I'll keep that in mind," I say, my voice a little more guarded than I intended.
Ethan's grin widens, clearly pleased by my reaction. "Good. So, would you like to go out with me sometime? Dinner, maybe?"
I'm taken aback by the directness of his question. The thought of going on a date with someone else feels... wrong. It feels like I'm betraying the part of me that still clings to Alexander, even though I hate myself for it.
But Ethan's gaze doesn't waver. There's a sincerity to him that's hard to ignore.
"I... I'm not sure," I say slowly, trying to figure out how to respond without shutting him down completely. "I'm here to figure things out. And right now, I don't think I'm ready to think about anything else."
Ethan nods, as if he expected the answer, but there's no disappointment in his expression. If anything, he seems more intrigued.
"That's fair," he says. "Take your time. But when you're ready, you know where to find me."
With that, he walks away, leaving me standing there with the bouquet still in my hands, my thoughts a tangled mess.
Maya watches me carefully. "Careful, Sophia," she repeats, her tone more serious this time. "The game is full of people with hidden motives. Don't let yourself get too distracted."
"I won't," I say, even though part of me wonders if I'm already too far gone.
I glance down at the bouquet in my hands, feeling the weight of Maya's words. There's something about Ethan's approach that doesn't sit quite right with me. It's not that I don't appreciate the gesture—it's sweet, in a way—but there's a part of me that still can't shake the feeling that everything here is a game. And I'm just a pawn.
Maya must sense my hesitation because she doesn't press me further. Instead, she stands up, her eyes scanning the room for anyone who might be getting too close to her own territory. "Look, I'm not saying Ethan's a bad guy. But everyone here has something to gain, Sophia. Even you. You need to watch your back."
Her words are sharp, but they're not meant to wound—they're meant to warn. Maya's been observing people, gathering information in her quiet, subtle way, and I can tell that she's already mapped out who's playing to win and who's here for the right reasons. As much as I want to believe that I'm here to find myself, there's a nagging suspicion creeping up inside me: am I just another contestant, another player in someone else's game?
I don't know how long I sit there, the flowers in my lap, my mind reeling. Maya drifts off to join a few other contestants, but I stay put, feeling the quiet hum of the house around me, the low buzz of conversation, the soft clinking of glasses, the distant echo of footsteps on the hardwood. The cameras are always watching, always capturing the small moments, the unnoticed interactions, and for the first time, I feel their presence.
The door to the lounge opens, and I look up to find Alexander standing in the doorway. His eyes immediately find mine, and for a split second, it's as if nothing has changed. But I can see it in his posture—the stiffness in his shoulders, the tightness around his jaw. The Alexander I once knew would have walked toward me with ease, confident and warm. But now, he hesitates.
"Hey," he says, his voice soft but strained.
My stomach twists, a mix of longing and frustration. I force myself to smile, but it feels fragile, like a mask I can't quite hold up. "Hi."
He takes a step forward, his eyes darting toward the bouquet in my hands. His gaze lingers for a moment, but he doesn't comment. Instead, he lowers himself into a chair opposite me, watching me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle, though it's not a comforting feeling.
"You're still here," he says, the words sounding heavier than they should.
I nod, unsure of how to respond. "I'm not going anywhere."
There's a moment of silence, the kind that stretches too long, too thin, until it becomes suffocating. I feel the tension between us, thick and palpable, as if every word, every gesture, carries more weight than it should. And yet, despite everything—despite the broken trust, the betrayal, and the hurt—I can't help but want him to stay. I want him to say something, anything, to make it feel like there's still a chance for us.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he looks at the others in the room, then back at me. "I hope... you're doing okay." His voice falters on the last word, and it stabs into me, sharper than I expect.
"Are you?" I ask before I can stop myself, the words escaping in a rush. It's a simple question, but it holds so much more—so much unsaid, so much unresolved. I want to know if he's struggling with this, too. I want to know if, deep down, he feels the same confusion, the same loss.
Alexander shifts in his seat, his eyes lowering briefly before meeting mine again. His expression is unreadable. "I'm managing. It's... hard," he admits, the admission raw, unguarded. "But I'm here because... I made a mistake. I should have told you the truth. I never should've—"
He stops himself, his voice thick with regret. I feel the familiar ache in my chest, the yearning for the Alexander I used to know. But that Alexander doesn't exist anymore, does him? Not here. Not now.
"I know," I whisper, the words slipping out before I can catch them. I've said it so many times before, but it still doesn't feel like enough. "You should've told me."
His lips tighten, and for a moment, I think he's going to say something else—something to fix this, to make it better. But instead, he stands up abruptly, his hand resting on the back of the chair. "I have to go," he says, the words sounding final, like he's closing a door I didn't even know was open.
I watch him walk away, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the room as if marking the end of something, though I don't know what that something is.
Maya's voice cuts through my thoughts as she returns to my side, a knowing look on her face. "He's a mess, isn't he?" she says softly, almost sympathetically.
I nod slowly, my chest tight. "I don't know what to do with him. Or with any of this."
She studies me for a moment, her gaze sharp. "Well, whatever you decide, don't let him be the one to control it? You deserve better than that."
I'm not sure if I believe her, not yet. But I know one thing for certain: I can't keep living in the shadow of what was. I have to move forward. For myself. For whatever comes next.
And somehow, amidst the whirlwind of emotions and the chaos of this game
, I'm starting to believe that I might just be able to.