"Yes, of course, I'll arrive in London by next week. We can have that meeting with Mr. Carlton then," Max said over the phone. "No, you've heard it wrong, I won't be settling down in Asthel. I'm just here to meet the family."

Max cut the call. Hearing footsteps behind him then he looked over his shoulder from the window and bit his tongue. It was his father.

"Max."

"Dad."

Robert smiled looking at his son, but that attempt of a smile faltered soon. "Are you leaving?"

Tilting his head, Max studied Robert's expression carefully. "Yes, dad. I'll be leaving next week. Got to go back to work."

"What if I say that I don't want you to leave?" Robert asked, his eyes were tight with cautiousness.

Max looked away as Robert asked that. Earlier he had for a while thought to stay back for than one reason. But now, seeing Sofia everywhere, thinking about her and trying find answers of confusing questions that were related to her, Max had suddenly filled with the fear of returning to the place he was in ten years back. If the agony and his broken self returned this time, Max doubted if he then ever would be able to gather himself back together.

"It is better I leave, dad." Max said truthfully. "Besides, you were the most eager one, more eager than even mom, to send me off to London. You were so excited hearing I got accepted in Oxford."

"For studies, son, only for studies. Not to settle down over there, so far away from us." Robert sighed. "You've never come to visit me or your cousins here in Asthel, not even once, in the last ten years. It was me who had to travel all the way over to London each time I wanted see you. And I've been getting quite surprised seeing the way you changed over the years—slowly but surely. It was like you've been growing some kind of a hard shell around you which to make matters far worse have layers and layers of unbreakable material coated all over. You distanced yourself from everyone, Max."

Max clenched his jaw realizing his father had seen more than he'd thought him capable of. "That's called growing up, dad. People change, they change for the better, become stronger. You can't deny that my going away had secured my future, you can't deny that I used to be too weak, too much of a sad-case back then ten years ago. You seem to see more than you let on, dad, you must have been aware of that too."

His father had already had him decoded halfway anyway, so Max figured he could at least say his reasons at least indirectly now.

Robert nodded, but warily. "I agree with you on that. You would have wasted yourself if you were here in Asthel at that time. I don't know the reason, you never wanted to discuss about it and neither did I pressurize you to talk but maybe I should have—"

"What if I still waste myself here if I stay, at this time, as well?" was Max's wise retort as he cut in, the storm in him peeking out.

"I gave my consent to your decision to leave and was even happy for you, of course, thinking it'll be the best for you then but that doesn't mean in any way that I wished for you to never return. You're my only son, Max, and my heir. Don't forget that you're supposed to take over Wilders," Robert had his brows furrowed in diligence. "I would have let you off the hook gladly if you'd chosen another career, but aren't you a lawyer already?"

"I'm already working in our London headquarter."

"It's not the same as taking over the owner and director's chair here. Let me repeat it to you, son, you're my only heir."

Max looked away, flinching—still very much adamant, still not wishing to settle down in a place where that infuriatingly selfish and snotty woman dwelled. Damn, he should have tried to be an actor or something, that way he would have been able to smooch all the heroines. Now, that sounded far more interesting than being a lawyer and smooching heavy law books freaking every day. Most importantly, this conversation with his father would have never happened had he dashed that way.

"Neil's here, dad. He's a Wilder as well and very well can take over the firm."

A long pause followed Max's stubborn solution.

"I see. You've changed more than I thought," Robert gave Max a look, a look that felt like could see past all his exteriors. "I just hope it wouldn't cause a ruin in the future which you yourself won't be able to rectify."

Max looked away, his gaze blankly set out to the outside as he crossed his arms and leaned against the window frame. His eyes shielded—hiding all the storm, all the pain and incertitude back inside.

It was not like he enjoyed the restlessness flickering in his father's eyes, he didn't, not one bit. But he also couldn't risk the fatal consequence that his staying here in Asthel could bring.

He was better off as being a guarded void filled with nothing but resentment only. Well-calculated logic and strategies were his most trusted weapons, for, his heart had already failed him many years ago.

--

"Skyler called earlier, she will be late," grampa informed Sofia.

She nodded. "I'll go pick her up."

"These group study sessions take way too long, don't you think? Are you sure your cousin's not doing drugs or things she really shouldn't?"

Sofia was stirring a gooey substance in the saucepan in the kitchen while her grandfather stood at the doorway. A lovely, spicy aroma had filled the entire kitchen and had drifted out in their attached sitting and dining room. She looked up to see grampa drawing in a long breath, he smiled pleased by what he smelt.

"I'm sure it's because her exams are approaching. In fact, we had a lengthy conversation about it already, she'd quite stressed out, you know, her grades were not that impressive last year."

"It's just that I worry about Skyler and Sam. With her mother going astray, they already have a bad example of a parent. I don't want to lose them."

"You won't," she said firmly, hearing the deep concern in his tone of voice. "I will make sure of it."

Grampa smiled softly. "It should have been their parents taking all of these responsibilities, not you, but still you're here—looking after them like not just a mother but a father, too. You're providing for us, holding the weight of this entire family on your shoulders when you could have just moved out after high school, enjoyed life, and secured your future like everyone else. I'm proud of you, Sof, I want you to always know that."

Sofia's eyes went moist. "I know, grampa. I just love you guys way too much," she said simply. Because this was the truth and there was no complexity in it.

Grampa smiled back at her, his eyes and mouth had creases all around them as he smiled at her affectionately. He began walking further inside the kitchen, near the counter upon which the stove was. He walked in the midst of smoke, heat, and the kind of spicy smell that would surely make someone of his age sneeze away to a heart attack.

Sofia panicked. "Grampa, it's not good for your health to stand in so much smoke and heat. Your cough will get worse."

Not heeding her warnings, he came to stand beside the counter anyway and took a closer look at the sauce. He seemed happy and hungry, but didn't he know he was forbidden to eat it?

"You're so much like your grandmother," Grampa announced, nodding to himself thoughtfully.

"How so?" Sofia stopped stirring the spoon. "Do I look like her?"

Surely he'd told her this many times, but there was no fault in listening again, especially when he loved so much to reminisce about his better half.

Grampa shook his head in negative. "What I mean is you're as talented as her. I still remember how much she used to love cooking. She was an expert in the baking department. we always used to have greedy neighbors, or hungry guests coming over around lunch or dinner time. And just like you, she too loved feeding others. No one ever left our home with an empty belly."

Sofia chuckled. And it seemed like finally, she could smile from her heart, for real, after so many days.

"I can see how much you loved her, Grampa, and her cooking. You two must have been the cutest couple ever," she teased.

"Yes, I did love her a lot, I still do. And someday, someone will come in your life as well, who'll love you as much, and your cooking too," he teased back.

Something softened in Sofia's heart at that moment. She flushed a little as grampa slowly walked away, chuckling to himself.

A certain someone's face flashed in her mind suddenly, whose return she'd waited for so many years. Fond memories resurfaced of old times.

But then, her finger got absentmindedly dipped inside the bubbling liquid that filled to the brim of the pan.

Sofia hissed in pain and jumped back. Then she quickly turned off the stove and watched the bubbling liquid shrinking down at rapid speed. At that same speed reality sunk in too. The memories of the party came rushing back like waves crashing upon a sandy beach. Her wait surely had come to an end, no matter if it took a decade, but what had returned to her was the least she had ever expected.

The thing about our earnest prayers is that they do get answered sooner or later, but ironically, in the most twisted of ways.

--

The evening of the party arrived at last.

Sofia was busy running around the huge kitchen at the back of the building—the banquet hall Neil had hired where the actual party was to start any second.

"Small party—my ass," she muttered under her breath.

It was true that there were only a few people on the guest list but Neil had clearly underrated the entire essence of the party. Because having the senator and his fashionista wife, a couple of business magnets, and their girlfriend and fiancée, a good number of socialites among other top-class guests were not considered something ordinary, at least not to Sofia. Neil had made her believe that there were going to be just more or less a dozen of attorneys.

Now, how was her simple menu going to save the night? Holy pumpkin!

She was yelling orders to her staff while refraining from going absolutely mental. She forced herself to stay as calm and confident as possible, or her tumultuous state of mind might spread out into her staff like a wildfire. And soon she found herself lost in the work she held so dear to her heart. The result was satisfactory.

Everyone around her worked in frenzy. The exhilaration, the adrenaline, and the perspiration were what they loved. They were cooking—their favorite addiction, hence it all hardly made them feel down, annoyed or tired.

"We don't have much time, what about the beverages, Simmy?" Sofia asked having a look at the time on her wristwatch.

Simmy raised the spatula in her hand and nodded vigorously. "Ready to serve."

Satisfied, Sofia ran out the door to call for the awaiting servers. And in the next half, an hour as dish after dish of a variety of appealing and tempting food went out of the kitchen in the hands of the servers, Sofia found herself briskly storming about every end of the kitchen and to the main hall's door like a headless chicken. Simmy did stop Sofia once to point out to her just that with a chortle. Simmy fully expected to receive a hard glare or some scolding for her hilarious comments but was surprised instead, when Sofia pulled her into a tight hug.

"Everything would have been so much more difficult without you, Simmy," Sofia said in a thick tone full of emotions.

She was not just referring to this evening, but to the entire course of time since her business had been established. Blood and guts and an impossible amount of hard work had been sown beside the money to reap the success that Sofia's little diner was now.

Simmy looked a bit emotional too, understanding in her eyes. "Ah hell, now don't make me cry, Sofia. We're already looking like wet ghosts with all the sweat and patches of flour and God knows what. If that friend of yours—what is his name—Neil sees us like this, he will definitely never let us cater for any of his parties ever again."

From the doorway, someone cleared their throat.

Sofia turned around to see it was Neil.

"Why are you here now? Has something happened? Anything wrong with the food? Didn't they like the main course?" Sofia was going near hysterics with her questions making Neil chuckle.

He marched over to her with a huge grin. "The party's kicking off just fine, nothing happened and everyone loved the food. The main course is an absolute hit, Sofia."

"Then?" Sofia looked at him with a frown.

Laughing, Neil put a hand around her shoulder. "I'm here to whisk away the master chef from the kitchen and present her in front of all my guests. Everyone is praising the food so much, Sofia, they loved everything. Seriously, girl, it's high time you start up a catering business too. I swear you're undoubtedly a pro in this."

All the ladies cheered in the background as Sofia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled, pondering what Neil just said.

--

Max stared at the phone in his hand as he sat stiffly in the recliner. He had just had a very interesting chat with one of his father's clients, whose case his father was persistent that he handled.

Apparently, the client had just called Max to ask why he wasn't present at his cousin's party. Also in the background, during the conversation, Max heard Neil's voice—introducing Sofia to all the guests.

His brows pulled up in a deep frown before he sprang up to his feet and threw his phone away. Thankfully, it landed bouncing on his bed.

Neil hadn't invited him to his success party.

A party where Sofia was invited.

A party where Neil was introducing Sofia like she was the center of the world.

And the cheering crowd was behaving as though they thought the same.

Max ran a hand through his hair.

What the hell was going on?

And then as if something clicked in place as if a light bulb had for real lit on in his head—everything suddenly fell into place. All confusion scurried off. The puzzle looked to be solved and every freaking thing suddenly was making sense, it was so much like the Rubik's cube he was so mastered at solving in a matter of minutes.

Sofia was manipulating Neil.

She was taking her revenge.

Playing her turn in the game by spoiling his relationship with his favorite cousin. And she was already on the winning line. The brother who until a few days ago used to worship him now ignored him like he was the plague. It was all her filthy plan. Also, alongside she was making her way up the social ladder to reap cheap business benefits for her scrap of a disgusting diner.

Once again she'd shown her true colors.

Max curled his fingers into tight fists and glared into thin air. A vein twitched in rage under his left eye.

"So, you're still the same vile girl," Max muttered through gritted teeth. "You've proved you're still the Sofi I know."

Certitude descended upon him in the dullest blue of despondency, he recognized what he so desperately wished for.