The Blackwood mansion had fallen into a dull routine.
Quiet mornings.
Long, hollow hallways.
Meals eaten in solitude.
Aaron left before dawn and returned long after dark, their conversations reduced to fleeting, polite exchanges that barely lasted a minute.
Elara had long stopped hoping for anything different.
That morning, she sat by the towering living room windows, a book resting in her lap, though she hadn't truly read in over an hour. Her mind kept drifting.
The silence was almost too much to bear.
Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the coffee table.
She glanced at the unfamiliar number.
Usually, she would ignore it.
But something compelled her to answer.
"Hello?"
A pause—then a voice burst through with unmistakable energy.
"Elara Hart."
Elara froze.
That voice…
"No way," the voice continued. "You're answering your phone like a stranger now?"
Elara sat upright.
"…Maya?"
A peal of laughter erupted from the speaker.
"Finally! I thought you'd forgotten me."
Warmth flooded her chest after days of emptiness.
"Maya Thompson."
Her childhood best friend.
Or at least… she used to be.
Before Maya's family suddenly moved overseas during their final year.
"I can't believe this," Elara exclaimed, rising with excitement. "Where are you?"
"Back," Maya replied.
"In the country. Just three days ago."
Elara blinked, stunned.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried," Maya said. "But apparently, I became the mysterious billionaire's wife and broke the internet."
Elara winced.
"Oh… you saw that," she muttered.
"Unfortunately," Maya replied with a dry tone.
A pause.
Then Maya's voice softened.
"Are you okay?"
Elara hesitated, unsure how to sum up the past few days.
"I'm… adjusting," she finally said.
Maya snorted.
"That sounds suspiciously like 'no.'"
Despite herself, Elara chuckled softly.
God, she'd missed that voice.
Maya had always been her opposite—loud where Elara was quiet, bold where Elara hesitated, unapologetic in ways Elara never quite mastered.
Back in high school, Maya was her shield—fighting for her whenever cruel jokes about her weight arose.
Sometimes with words.
Sometimes without.
"Elara?"
"I'm here."
"Good," Maya said firmly. "Because I'm coming over."
Elara blinked.
"Coming over where?"
"To your ridiculously rich husband's mansion, obviously."
"You can't just—"
"Too late," Maya interrupted cheerfully. "I'm already in the car."
⸻
An hour later, the mansion's front doors swung open.
The staff barely had time to react before Maya Thompson strode confidently inside like she owned the place.
She hadn't changed much—still tall, still bold, her curly hair bouncing freely as she surveyed the grand foyer.
"Wow," she muttered.
Then Elara appeared at the top of the staircase.
For a moment, both women just stared.
Then Maya broke into a wide grin.
"Elara!"
They met in a quick, tight hug halfway down the stairs.
"I can't believe you're actually here," Elara said, smiling for the first time all day.
"Of course I'm here," Maya replied.
She stepped back, eyeing Elara carefully.
Her expression darkened slightly.
"Okay," she said. "Who do I need to fight?"
Elara chuckled nervously.
"No one."
Maya crossed her arms.
"Elara."
"I'm serious."
Maya raised an eyebrow.
"Because I saw the internet."
Elara's smile faded.
Maya noticed immediately.
Her tone softened.
"They were disgusting."
Elara shrugged.
"People have always been like that."
"Yeah," Maya said flatly. "And I've always hated them for it."
Elara looked away.
"You shouldn't read those things," Maya said softly.
"I try not to."
A brief silence.
Then Maya placed her hands on Elara's shoulders.
"Listen to me."
Elara met her gaze.
"You were never the problem."
Elara blinked.
"Back in high school, those bullies didn't pick on you because something was wrong with you," Maya said firmly. "They bullied you because they were small-minded."
Her voice grew more intense.
"And you let them convince you that you needed to change."
Elara stayed silent.
Maya sighed.
"Honestly, I'm glad I'm back."
"Why?"
"Because clearly, someone needs to remind this entire city that confidence comes in many forms."
Elara laughed softly.
"You haven't changed."
"Nope."
Maya grinned.
"And neither should you."
Elara looked around the vast mansion.
"I don't think the Blackwood world agrees with that philosophy."
Maya followed her gaze.
"Good," she said casually.
"Then let them deal with it."
Despite herself, Elara smiled again. For the first time since the wedding, the mansion felt infused with a spark of life.
⸻
Upstairs, Aaron entered the house. An hour later, he paused when he heard unfamiliar laughter echoing through the living room—bold, confident female voices.
Not Elena.
He frowned and moved toward the sound.
Inside, he saw them—Elara and a woman he'd never seen before.
They sat close, talking animatedly. Elara was actually laughing.
He stopped at the doorway, taken aback.
Then Maya noticed him first.
Her sharp gaze fixed on him, then she leaned toward Elara, whispering.
Elara turned and saw him.
Her smile faded slightly. Silence enveloped the room.
Maya stood slowly.
"So," she said casually, "you must be the husband."
Aaron met her gaze calmly.
"And you are?"
Maya crossed her arms.
"Elara's best friend."
Her tone sent a clear message: Watch yourself.
Aaron remained silent.
But the tension shifted. For the first time since the wedding, someone in the house was unafraid of him.
Maya Thompson had just arrived.