Up on the terrace, the city lights flickered beneath a velvet sky. A soft breeze tugged at the lanterns swaying above as Louisa and Tomas sat awkwardly over half-filled wine glasses.
"You okay?" Tomas asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah…" Louisa replied, her eyes avoiding his.
"This place… you decorated it beautifully. Thank you," he added, voice soft, hopeful.
Louisa offered a small, polite grin, then looked away.
"I want to thank you," Tomas continued, inching his hand toward hers, "for forgiving me… for understanding me."
Louisa didn't pull away at first—but slowly, she let his hand go.
Her phone buzzed. It was Star.
"Mom… can you come to the room real quick?" Star's voice trembled.
"I'll be right back," Louisa said quickly, rising from her seat.
Louisa entered the suite to find Star pacing in her heels, eyes wide with worry.
"Star, what happened?"
"Mom, Mendu called earlier… but now he's not picking up. Is he not coming?" Star's voice cracked.
Louisa moved closer, her tone gentle. "Sweetheart, just breathe… try calling him again, okay?"
Star dialed again—no answer. Her hands trembled.
"Mom… what if something's wrong? What if he's in danger?"
"He's probably just tied up with something. You know how businessmen can be… Maybe he's just running late—or trying to surprise you."
Star didn't look convinced. Her heart was somewhere between hope and dread.
Louisa kissed her forehead and stepped out, heading back upstairs.
Back on the terrace, Tomas stood with a single red rose, nervously checking his watch. The lights above flickered—then went out. A soft rustle behind him. Someone hugged him from behind.
"Louisa?" he whispered, startled but smiling.
The lights snapped back on.
Standing before him was not Louisa—but Frieda, arms wrapped around him, her face glowing.
"Tomas!" Louisa's voice exploded across the terrace.
Tomas froze.
"Frieda…" he breathed, stepping back in confusion.
"Thank you, babe. I love you too," Frieda said, oblivious.
Louisa turned, stormed down the stairs, rage burning in her chest. Tomas tried to follow, but Frieda grabbed his arm.
Meanwhile, in the suite, Star stared at the clock. Her heart beat faster with every tick.
The door creaked open.
Someone stepped inside, slow and confident. He wore a tailored black suit, polished shoes clicking on the marble floor.
Star turned, her breath catching. "Mendu…?"
She rushed forward, arms wide—only to freeze mid-hug.
Her eyes widened. "Daniels? What are you doing here?"
Daniels smirked, looking like a twisted reflection of Mandume. Same black suit. But a black shirt beneath too.
"Mandume's not coming."
Star backed away. "What… what are you talking about? He called me earlier and then—then nothing. Is he okay?"
Daniels pulled out his phone, eyes gleaming.
"He's on a date," he said coolly. "With his fiancée."
"Fiancée?" Star repeated, her voice hollow.
Daniels tapped his screen. Photos loaded. Olivia. Mandume. Hugging. Drinking wine. Smiling under candlelight.
Star stared in disbelief. Her fingers slowly clenched.
Daniels didn't stop there. "While you were waiting here, he was celebrating old memories. You're not the main character in his story, Star."
The suite went quiet—except for the sound of Star's heartbeat crashing in her ears.