Leila adjusted the strap of her backpack and walked briskly across the campus courtyard, her boots scuffing against the concrete. It was a chilly morning, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was a mess of tangled thoughts; Roman’s return, Nathan’s confession, Eli’s questions, and the truth she hadn’t had the courage to tell.

Zara Montgomery, her best friend and the only person at university who knew even a fraction of the chaos, caught up with her just outside the psychology building.

“Girl, you didn’t answer my texts last night,” Zara said, falling into step beside her. “You okay?”

Leila gave a tight smile. “Define okay.”

Zara’s eyebrows lifted. “So... a no.”

Before Leila could respond, a voice cut through the air like a sharp bell.

“Miss Hart?”

She froze. Turning, she found Professor Collins standing in the hallway just beyond the glass doors. The woman’s sharp eyes zeroed in on Leila like a hawk spotting prey.

Zara nudged her with a smirk. “Good luck.”

Leila sighed and pushed through the doors, stepping into the building with a forced smile. “Yes, Professor?”

“Care to explain why you haven’t submitted your comparative essay?” The professor’s tone was flat, unreadable. “You’re two days late.”

“I—uh—I had some personal—”

“You’re a bright student, Miss Hart,” she interrupted. “But bright students also have deadlines. This isn’t high school.”

Leila swallowed hard, nodding. “I’ll get it to you today. I’m really sorry.”

As the professor walked away, Zara peeked in from the door, mouthing: What happened?

Leila sighed. “Just life,” she muttered to herself, heading toward the stairs.

In class, she tried to focus, but Roman’s face kept appearing in her mind. The way he looked at her, like he already knew the truth. Like he was waiting for her to confirm it.

Then there was Nathan.

And Eli.

The guilt was thick in her chest.

When the lecture ended, Zara looped an arm through hers.

“You need to let some of this out before you explode. Or worse, flunk.”

Leila chuckled weakly. “You sound like my therapist.”

“Girl, I am your therapist. Now, tell me everything- let's go to the club to grab some drinks?”

Leila hesitated.

And then nodded.

Because maybe, just maybe, saying it out loud would help her figure out what the hell she was supposed to do next.

The club was buzzing. The air was thick with heat, perfume, sweat, and bass, vibrating through the floor, crawling up Leila’s spine. Strobe lights flickered over a sea of writhing bodies. Zara had dragged her here with zero warning, zero negotiation.

“Drink!” Zara shouted, handing her a tequila shot with a slice of lime and a wild grin. “Tonight is about forgetting.”

Leila hesitated. “I have class in the morning.”

Zara raised a brow. “And a storm in your chest tonight. Take the damn shot, Hart.”

Leila sighed and knocked it back. It scorched her throat and made her eyes water, but it did something else too, it dulled the ache. The ache that had been sitting on her ribs ever since Roman showed up again and cracked her world back open.

Zara grabbed her hand, tugging her toward the dance floor. “Come on. You’re too pretty to pout. Let’s sweat the pain out.”

They pushed into the crowd, surrounded by strangers dancing like they didn’t owe the world explanations. The music throbbed, and for the first time in a long time, Leila let herself move, hips swaying, hair falling into her face, the music rising in her throat like a pulse. She was starting to forget.

Zara didn’t stay by her side for long. A tall guy with a sleeve of tattoos and a silver chain started dancing with her. He was cocky, grinning like he already had her number.

“Damn, he’s fine,” Zara said to Leila as she leaned in mid-dance. “I’m just dancing. Don’t worry, I have pepper spray.”

Leila laughed, watching her friend melt into the guy’s rhythm. She turned back to the bar, ready to grab water and cool off, when a voice ghosted her ear.

“You move like you don’t have secrets.”

Leila froze. That voice. Low. Controlled. Dangerous.

She turned around slowly. And there he was.

Roman Vance.

Black button-down, sleeves rolled to his forearms. Eyes locked onto her like she was a riddle he had already solved but wanted to hear her lie anyway.

“What are you doing here?” Her voice was clipped, the bubble around her evening popping like glass.

“You made me wait all week. I don’t like waiting.”

Leila stepped back, trying to find space. “This isn’t the place, Roman.”

“Apparently, it’s the place for everything else, dancing, tequila, charming strangers.”

His eyes slid behind her. She turned, Zara was laughing with the tattooed guy, hands on his chest.

Roman’s gaze narrowed. “You always surround yourself with distractions. Is that what Nathan is too?”

Leila’s stomach dropped. “Don’t start.”

Roman stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You lied to me. You kept him from me.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“I’m not here to argue semantics, Leila.” His tone sharpened. “If Eli is mine, I’ll know. And if you won’t tell me willingly, then the court will.”

Leila’s mouth parted, stunned. “You’re threatening me with court?”

“I’m not threatening you.” His jaw clenched. “I’m making it official.”

Leila’s voice trembled. “You don’t even know him—”

“I could have, if you hadn’t disappeared.”

“Don’t twist this around! You left first. I had to survive!”

The moment stretched. Neither of them noticed the crowd parting until Zara appeared, breathless and annoyed.

“What the hell is this?” she asked Roman, catching the tension immediately.

“Your friend is holding onto lies,” Roman said flatly.

Zara crossed her arms. “She doesn’t owe you anything.”

Roman smirked without humor. “She owes Eli the truth. And if I find out he’s mine…”

“You don’t get to play father now,” Zara snapped. “You don’t get to waltz in and make threats. That’s not how this works.”

Roman ignored her. His gaze returned to Leila, softer now but still bruising.

Roman took a breath. “I’m also giving you a final deadline. Sell the bakery to my company before the end of next week. If you don’t, we’ll buy out your suppliers and bury you in legal work. Consider it a mercy that I came to you first.”

“You’d really do that?” Leila asked, her voice raw. “You’d destroy what my grandmother built?”

“I’m not trying to destroy anything,” Roman said evenly. “But I’m done waiting. For the truth. For you.”

Her eyes burned, but she refused to blink.

“You weren’t like this before.”

“You didn’t lie to me before,” he said, voice cutting through her like broken glass.

He stepped back then, his gaze hard and unreadable. “One week.”

Then he disappeared into the crowd, leaving her breathless and reeling under the strobe lights.

Zara turned back to Leila, wide-eyed. “What the actual hell?”

“I… I didn’t think he’d go this far,” Leila whispered.

Zara threw up her hands. “Girl, he’s not playing anymore. DNA test? Ultimatums? Are you sure he’s not in love and insane?”

Leila’s throat felt tight. “I don’t know what he is anymore.”

Zara softened. “Come on. Let’s go home. You don’t need this mess tonight.”

But Leila knew… this was just the beginning.