Rosaline stood there, lips slightly parted, unsure of what to say. Vincent's sudden confession had left her frozen in place.
"I didn't expect this…" she whispered. "Please… just give me some time."
She turned and left, disappearing into the soft pulse of the club lights.
Later that night, as the club dimmed and the laughter died down, Rosaline poured her heart out to Margaux and Cassandra.
"Oh my god, fam!" Margaux gasped, eyes wide. "What did you say to him?"
"I told him I needed time. I mean, it's my first time... Someone saying something like that to me," Rosaline confessed, her voice low.
"You're such a sweet girl," Cassandra said, only half-joking. "You could've accepted it right away! That was the moment!"
Margaux giggled. "You can still say yes tomorrow."
---
The next day after school, Rosaline found herself standing at the bridge—the same bridge Vincent said Emily had died. The lake shimmered below, quiet and deep like a secret. She stared at the water, biting her lip.
"I'm really not ready for a relationship," she murmured.
And then, as if summoned by fate, Vincent appeared before her.
He smiled gently. "You came."
Rosaline couldn't find the words to reject him. His sorrow, his story… it felt too heavy to push away.
"I… I accept your proposal," she said, barely above a whisper.
They agreed to meet that Saturday for their first official date.
---
Saturday came faster than she expected. Rosaline, heart racing, lied to her grandmother, claiming she was visiting Margaux and Cassandra. The moment her grandmother nodded, Rosaline slipped away like a breeze and headed straight to the capital town of Techny.
They met again on the bridge.
"Hi, Vincent," she greeted, a little shy.
Without warning, he pulled her into a hug. Rosaline stiffened at first, caught off-guard, then awkwardly leaned into it. She didn't expect the butterflies.
"Ready to explore Ivia with me?" he asked, holding her hand warmly.
She glanced at their joined hands, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Y-Yeah."
"Do you live here?" she asked as they strolled down a charming cobbled street.
He nodded with a smile and pointed to a sleek house nearby. "That's mine."
(It wasn't.)
Rosaline believed him without hesitation.
They stopped by a quaint ice cream shop. Vincent ordered for both of them.
"Your ice cream is melting," Rosaline teased.
"I forgot to eat it," he replied with a grin. "Got distracted by your face… it's way sweeter."
She blushed again. What's with this guy and his bold lines?
They laughed, talked, wandered through Ivia like two people in their own universe. Everything he showed her was a lie—but she didn't know that.
Then—disaster.
She spotted Mrs. Nora, her grandmother's gossiping best friend, across the street.
"Oh no…" Rosaline grabbed Vincent's hand. "RUN!"
They dashed down the street, laughing and breathless.
"Didn't I just see Rosaline?" Mrs. Nora squinted from afar.
Panting and nearly doubled over, Rosaline leaned on a bench. "I'm exhausted."
"Then give me a hug," Vincent said, eyes twinkling. "I swear, you'll feel better."
"What? That makes no sense," she said, half-laughing.
"Just try it."
She did. And for a second, the world slowed. In his arms, she felt warmth. Maybe... maybe this isn't such a mistake after all.
They ended their day at a lively mall, taking cute selfies, teasing each other in shops, and ending with a meal at a rooftop restaurant with city lights sparkling below. It was fun. It was real. And Rosaline felt like she was floating.
---
But reality hit hard that evening.
As she opened the door, her smile vanished.
Her grandmother sat still, eyes locked on the colored dress Rosaline had hidden under her pillow—the same one she wore to the club.
Rosaline's heart stopped.
"I've been sitting here for hours, waiting for you to come home," her grandmother said coldly.
Rosaline scrambled for a lie. "I—I was at Cassandra's house…"
Her grandmother's voice cut through like thunder. "Where did you say you went?"
"Cassandra's house."
"Again."
"Cassandra's—"
SLAP.
The sting burned across her cheek.
"Stop lying to me, Rosa! Your mother was never like this! She never lied to me. She tried—no, she fought—to be a good child. Are you even her daughter?"
Rosaline stood there, silent tears trailing down her face.
"You're having an affair, aren't you? Who is he? And why do you have this dress? He bought it for you, didn't he?"
No answer.
Only trembling shoulders and teardrops.
Her grandmother's voice was final: "You are not to leave this house for three days. Not even in the morning. No school. No friends. No excuses."
And just like that, Rosaline's breathless weekend turned into a prison.
But little did she know—Mrs. Nora had already made the call.
And someone else knew her secret now.