Arianna Stone didn't notice his sudden shock.

She was still lost in her own thoughts, frowning slightly, and said with a touch of embarrassment, "But I don't really have many friends. I'm not sure I can be of much help to you."

"You can," he said, his tone absolute.

Arianna doubted him. "Are you sure?"

Maxwell King looked up at her, his voice unwavering. "You’re the only one who can help."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Maxwell said, staring directly at her before calmly dropping the bomb, "I want to ask you to marry me."

This time, it was Arianna’s turn to be stunned.

The weight of that bombshell left her reeling for a long moment. Her mind went blank, her thoughts swirling into a chaotic mess. She sat there, rigid, staring at Maxwell with a near-vacant expression before finally managing a slow, breathless, "What did you say?"

Maxwell patiently repeated himself. "I want to ask you to marry me. Would you?"

...Wait.

This wasn't a question of "would you." After a long silence, Arianna finally gathered her scattered thoughts. "Can I ask... why?"

"For one thing, I’m at that age where my family is starting to push for marriage. I’m constantly being dragged to blind dates—it’s exhausting. For another, the media is always cooking up baseless rumors about me, which affects the firm's reputation."

Arianna understood immediately. "So you need a partner to fend off the tabloid gossip and stop your relatives from breathing down your neck?"

"Exactly."

"Then why... me?"

Maxwell rested his arms on the table. A speck of white frosting clung to his fingertip, his knuckles long and elegant, his wrist bones sharply defined and cool-toned.

He looked up, meeting her gaze head-on. "We’ve known each other since college. We understand each other's characters, temperaments, and habits. We shouldn't find living together too difficult."

Finally, he concluded with calm precision, "So, it makes perfect sense for us to marry."

Arianna: "..."

He had a point, but still...

Arianna gave him a complicated look, offering a subtle warning. "You should know, Maxwell, that Cameron Hughes and I dated. In a way, you were one of the witnesses to that."

"I know," Maxwell replied, looking entirely unfazed. "That’s all in the past. It doesn't matter to me."

Arianna: ...

But it mattered to her.

Entering into a marriage with her ex-boyfriend’s friend—no, skipping the dating part entirely and heading straight to the altar—was, quite honestly, a pill she wasn't sure she could swallow.

When she said Maxwell was a witness, she wasn't joking.

Back when she and Cameron were together, their hand-holding, hugs, and even the birthday gifts they exchanged—it had all happened right under Maxwell’s nose. Aside from the two people involved, no one understood the details of their relationship better than he did.

The affection, the arguments, the reconciliations, the silent treatments—he knew exactly what stage they were in at any given moment. Sometimes, he had even acted as the mediator when they fought.

***

After dinner, Maxwell drove her home.

Arianna sat in the passenger seat, still reeling. She had been through so much today—the gala, bumping into Cameron, meeting Alexis Morgan, and then being blindsided by Maxwell’s marriage proposal. Her brain felt like it had been hit by a tidal wave.

She stared out the window. High-rise buildings and roadside trees blurred into a rhythmic pulse.

Maxwell drove slowly. The trees distorted into thin, translucent lines in her vision. When they stopped at a red light, he glanced over at her.

Arianna was clearly drifting. Her head bobbed, her eyes fluttering shut before she forced them open again. She was fighting a losing battle against sleep.

Maxwell’s lips curled into an involuntary smile, and he suppressed a chuckle. "Are you tired?"

Arianna forced her system to reboot. "I'm okay. Not really."

She felt it was impolite to fall asleep in someone else’s car, especially while they were driving.

"If you're tired, just sleep," Maxwell said, checking the green light before pulling away. "I’ll wake you when we get there. It’s fine."

Arianna tried to keep her heavy lids up, sitting straighter. "I'm fine, really."

But the exhaustion hit like a freight train. Eventually, she lost the battle, sinking into the seat and drifting off into a deep sleep.

When she woke up again, the car was already parked downstairs at her apartment complex.

In the dim light, Arianna didn't notice the way Maxwell quickly pulled his gaze away from her. A moment later, he looked at her as if nothing had happened. "Awake?"

Arianna gave a sluggish "Mmh."

Coming straight out of sleep, her voice carried a lazy, nasal quality—soft, delicate, and entirely lacking in defense. Maxwell’s eyes darkened for a split second.

Arianna reached up to rub her eyes, sitting up to scan the environment. "Did I sleep for a long time?"

"No."

As soon as Maxwell spoke, Arianna lit up her phone screen and glanced at the time in the top corner. She gasped, "I slept for two hours?"

She immediately realized her mistake and began to apologize. "I'm so sorry, I must have kept you waiting..."

"It’s fine," Maxwell said, not wanting her to feel guilty over such a trivial thing. He lied smoothly, "I was driving slowly, and with the traffic, you’ve only been asleep for about ten minutes."

"Really?"

Maxwell smiled. "Do I have any reason to lie to you?"

Still half-asleep, Arianna leaned back against the seat, seemingly considering it with all seriousness before nodding firmly. "I guess so. Man, I’m so groggy."

But she missed one crucial detail:

At three in the morning, where would traffic come from? Especially enough to cause an hour-long gridlock!

After saying goodbye, Arianna got out of the car. She had only taken a few steps when Maxwell called out from behind her, his voice crisp and warm. "Arianna."

She turned around.

Under the streetlamp, Maxwell leaned lazily against the car door, his long, defined fingers resting against the frame. He looked effortlessly cool.

He hooked his lips into a smile, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Think about what I said tonight. There’s no rush for an answer."

Arianna paused for two seconds, finally registering that he meant the proposal.

"Okay," she replied. "I'm heading in. Get some rest."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Around three in the morning, the street was deathly quiet. Only the glow of the streetlights and the faint illumination from the distant security booth bled into the heavy night.

Maxwell leaned against the car, watching her swipe her key card and head inside. Her elegant silhouette slowly vanished from sight.

A few minutes later, a light flickered on in an apartment on the fifth floor, the one with the spider plants on the balcony.

Maxwell stared at the window for a few seconds to ensure everything was fine. Then, he turned back to the car and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the dashboard.

He wasn't a smoker, only lighting up when his mind was troubled.

Like now.

Maxwell lowered his eyes, biting the filter with a nonchalant air, and watched the flame lick the end of the cigarette. A spark of crimson flickered in the darkness—a perfect mirror to his own unsettled heart.

Thin wisps of smoke curled into the air. He kept his eyes lidded, his expression distant, his handsome features softening into a blur behind the haze.