*Who's My Eternal*
*Draven Estate — Living Room, 11:30 AM*
The house was quiet. Too big. Too clean. Smelled like new paint and money.
Cindy kicked her heels off by the door. Walked barefoot across the marble. Phone already in her hand, scrolling.
"Manila buyers want to meet Tuesday," she said to no one. "I need Dad to—"
"Cindy."
Noa's voice. He was by the stairs. Hadn't sat down since they got back. Arms crossed.
She didn't look up. "What?"
"We need to talk."
"Can it wait? I have to email—"
"No." Noa stepped in front of her. Blocked the stairs. "It can't wait."
Cindy finally looked at him. Annoyed. "God, what is it? If this is about the bay—"
"It is about the bay," Noa said. "And Cherry was right."
That got her attention. Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"
"Cherry was right," Noa repeated. Slower. Clearer. "You have no right to look down on people. Especially not Elian."
Cindy scoffed. "He works for us, Noa. He's staff."
"He's your ex," Noa said. Flat. "He's the boy who waited years for you to call. He's the one who kept Dad's house from falling apart while you were playing New York socialite."
"I don't owe him anything," Cindy said. Chin up. "Just because we dated in high school doesn't mean—"
"I'm not saying you owe him love," Noa cut in. "You don't. You don't have to feel the same. You don't have to want him. That's your choice."
He stepped closer.
"But you _do_ owe him basic respect. You _should_ be thankful for his loyalty. For three years of him showing up, working hard, never saying a bad word about you even when you ghosted him."
Cindy's face went blank. "I was busy."
"Busy doesn't mean cruel," Noa said. "Busy doesn't mean _servant boy_. Busy doesn't mean looking at him like he's dirt."
"He's not—"
"He is to you," Noa said. "Yesterday. Today. And if Cherry hadn't said something, you'd keep doing it. Because you think you're better now."
Cindy's hands fisted. "You don't know what it's like. The pressure. The expectations. Dad's company. The board. The—"
"Elian's grandma is sick," Noa said. Quiet. "He takes her to chemo every Thursday. After work. With money from that job you think makes him less than you."
Silence.
Cindy's throat moved. But she didn't speak.
"Cherry's dad can't walk," Noa kept going. "She runs the bay to pay for his meds.
He pointed at her bags by the door.
"You came back different, Cindy. And that's fine. People change. But you don't get to be worse."
Cindy stared at him.
Then rolled her eyes.
"Are you done?" she asked. "Because I have a call."
Noa stared at her. Like he didn't recognize her.
"Yeah," he said. Cold. "I'm done."
Cindy walked around him. Up the stairs. Didn't look back.
Didn't say sorry. Didn't say _you're right_.
Just walked.
Noa stood in the living room.
Got it — the night it finally breaks.
Time skip at night
*The Field — Behind Kael's Estate, 8 PM*
The field was quiet. Crickets. Wind in the grass. Moon high.
Elian was there checking the irrigation line. Flashlight in his mouth. Hands muddy. Still in his work polo.
He heard heels on dirt.
Looked up.
Cindy.
His heart did something stupid. Jumped. Because even now. Even after everything. Part of him still lit up when he saw her.
"Cindy?" He pulled the flashlight out. Smiled. Tired but real. "Hey. What are you doing out here? It's late."
She didn't smile back.
She was shaking. But not from cold. From rage.
"Are you happy?" she said. Voice sharp. Echoed in the open field.
Elian blinked. "What?"
"Are you happy?" Cindy stepped closer. Arms crossed. "You, Noa, _Cherry_. Ganging up on me today. Making me the villain. Is that what you wanted?"
Elian's smile dropped. "Cindy, I didn't—"
"Save it!" she yelled. "You let her talk to me like that! Your little _Best_. You let her humiliate me in front of my brother!"
"I didn't _let_ her do anything," Elian said. Quiet. "She said what she thought. And she wasn't wrong."
Cindy's eyes flashed. "Oh, so now you agree with her? Now I'm the bad guy because I came home and my ex is the houseboy?"
"Don't call me that," Elian said. Voice low.
"What? Houseboy? Servant? Because that's what you are!" Cindy laughed. Ugly. "You work for my father, Elian! You take orders. You carry bags. You fix gates!"
Elian took a step back. Like she'd hit him.
"You think I don't know that?" he said. "You think I'm not reminded every time I put on this polo? Every time your dad's business partners look at me like I'm furniture?"
"Then why are you still here?!" Cindy screamed. "If you hate it so much, leave! But no. You stay. Because this is all you are! This field. This bay. These _chickens_!"
The argument went on. Long. Vicious.
years of silence turned into twenty minutes of poison.
"You changed," Elian said. "New York ate you alive and sent back someone I don't know."
"And you didn't change?" Cindy shot back. "You're still the same provincial boy who thinks _loyalty_ pays bills! Who thinks waiting around like a lost puppy makes you noble!"
"I was waiting for _you_!" Elian yelled. Finally cracked. "three years, Cindy! years of _I'm busy_ and _I'll call_ and nothing! I defended you to everyone! Even to Cherry when she told me you weren't worth it!"
"Well she was right!" Cindy screamed.
Silence.
The crickets stopped.
Cindy was breathing hard. Eyes wild.
Elian just stared.
Then she said it.
Cold. Clean. Like cutting a rope.
"I'm breaking up with you, Elian."
He didn't move.
"You heard me," Cindy said. "We're done. Over. Because you're just a servant and a fisher. You're way below my standards now. You're not my type. You _never_ were. Not really."
She looked him up and down. Muddy boots. Grease on his shirt. _E. Eldridge_ name tag.
"I'm meant for more," she said. "And you're not."
Then she turned.
And walked away.
Heels stabbing the dirt. Back straight. Not looking back.
Elian didn't call after her.
Didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Just stood there.
In the field.
Under the moon.
A servant. A fisher.
And alone.
_Servant boy._
_Not her type._
_Never was._
The words echoed.
Until the field was quiet again.
And Elian was still standing there.