It was a cold winter evening. Snowflakes were falling softly, dusting the city streets with a glistening white coat. The sun had nearly set, casting the sky in hues of lavender and grey. Everything looked peaceful, almost magical.
Couples strolled hand in hand through the city squares, some wrapped in laughter and love, others quiet in their companionship. A few walked with families, some with partners, and many alone, returning from work or lost in solitude. There was a certain rhythm to the city's life, a harmony between joy and isolation.
Far from this beauty, in a five-star hotel at the heart of the city, I was hurrying through the kitchen wearing my waitress uniform. My name is Marina. I wasn't supposed to be in the kitchen—my actual job was to serve VIP customers at the tables. But one of the senior chefs had ordered me to help out, and I didn't have the luxury to refuse.
I wasn't someone exceptional. I was tall, with light golden hair and pale green eyes that often caught attention, but I wasn't what you'd call strikingly beautiful. Maybe just... above average. I wore light makeup to cover the dark circles under my eyes. I wasn't highly educated, which meant working in a company or office was never an option. This job, exhausting as it was, kept me afloat. And I needed it more than anyone could imagine.
The hotel was starting to get busier as night approached. Everyone around me seemed to be rushing; no one had time to breathe. I finished my work in the kitchen, straightened my clothes, and picked up a silver tray filled with expensive dishes.
As I reached the VIP section and placed the plates on the table, I smiled politely and encouraged the customers to enjoy their meal. I was about to turn back when one of the guys at the next table called out to me. A group of wealthy, spoiled brats—sons of rich men who thought the world revolved around them.
I approached them respectfully and asked if they needed anything else. I had just served them a few minutes ago.
"We don't need anything," one of them said smugly. "But he here wants to tip you. That's why we called."
I turned my eyes toward the guy holding a bundle of cash. My stomach clenched. I recognized him instantly—he was the hotel owner's son. I didn't want to accept the tip. But refusing a VIP guest would be considered disrespectful. And truthfully, I needed the money.
So I bowed slightly, murmured my thanks, and took the money without meeting his eyes.
Back in the kitchen, I tucked the cash into my locker and glanced at the clock. Almost 7:00 p.m. Still two hours left before my shift ended.
My female colleagues whispered behind my back. Some were jealous. The owner's son seemed to pay me more attention than he should. Others, the kinder ones, sympathized with me. They knew a bit about my situation—my father had passed away, my mother remarried, and now I was solely responsible for my younger sister.
Not every girl is the same. Some are cruel, others kind.
At last, 9:00 p.m. approached. I had just one final customer to serve before my shift ended. I wiped the sweat from my brow, picked up the last heavy tray of gourmet dishes, and made my way toward the private VIP chamber.
A man sat alone at the table.
I didn't pay him much attention at first. I simply arranged the dishes neatly, gave a polite nod, and said softly, "Please enjoy your meal, sir." I turned to leave.
"Wait."
His voice stopped me.
There was something familiar in it. I turned slowly, really looking at him this time.
Sebastian Valemont.
My heart skipped a beat. I hadn't seen him in years.
He was the CEO of Valemont Corporation, one of the most powerful business empires in the city. And he had once been my neighbor. I used to call him Uncle Sebastian when I was a little girl.
"Yes, sir. Do you need anything else?" I asked.
So what if I used to call him uncle? That was a long time ago. Today, he was just another customer. A VIP, no less.
"Marina," he said, his voice soft. "Don't you recognize me? I'm Sebastian. We used to live next door."
I forced a polite smile.
"Yes, sir. I remember. But I'm on duty right now, so... I can't exactly call you Uncle."
He chuckled. "Fair enough. But can you stay for a moment? I need to talk to you. It's important."
I hesitated.
"I'm sorry, sir. I can't stay right now. But my shift ends at 9:00. If it's really important, we can talk at the café near the hotel. You'll probably be done with dinner by then."
He nodded. "I'll wait."
I left quickly, finished my remaining tasks, and by 9:00 p.m., I exited through the back door of the hotel, now dressed in my casual clothes.
As I walked toward the café, I couldn't stop thinking: what could Sebastian possibly want to talk about after all these years?
The moment I entered the café, I saw him.
He was seated in a corner booth, his posture composed, eyes calm.
The moment he saw me, he smiled.
I returned the smile politely and walked over. He gestured for me to sit, and I carefully pulled out the chair and sat down across from him.
I didn't have much time. I had another job to get to soon. But I also needed to know what he wanted.
I waited for him to speak. But what he said next took me completely by surprise.
My eyes widened. I stared at him in disbelief.
Because Sebastian didn't just want to talk.
He proposed.
His voice was low, steady.
"Marina... will you marry me?"
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