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In Angela's Room
Alice pushed the door open, her steps light but hesitant.
"Mom?" she called softly.
Silence answered her, the room carrying only the faint hum of the bathroom fan. Alice frowned and raised her voice.
"Mom! Where are you?"
A muffled reply floated out, "I'm bathing, Alice. Wait ten minutes."
Relieved but still restless, Alice wandered inside. Angela's room was immaculate as always—the faint fragrance of lavender clung to the curtains, and the drawers were perfectly aligned. Alice sighed, pacing, until her eyes landed on a drawer slightly ajar.
Curiosity tugged at her. She opened it. Inside, neatly stacked papers and envelopes lay hidden. One envelope, unsealed, slipped into her fingers almost naturally. She hesitated only for a second before sliding the photo out.
Her breath caught.
It was a photograph—Rico, unmistakably Rico, his lips against Jenna's, fireworks bursting in dazzling color behind them at an amusement park. The kiss looked unplanned, raw, genuine. Alice's hands trembled so badly the photo slipped and fluttered to the floor.
Her chest burned, her knees weak. Why… why is this here?
The bathroom door clicked open ten minutes later. Angela stepped out, drying her hair, wearing her calm motherly smile—until her eyes met Alice's tear-stained face.
"Mom…" Alice's voice cracked as she held up the photo. "What is this? Why did you hide it? Did you already know… that Rico likes Jenna?"
Angela froze, her hand tightening on the towel. Slowly, she lowered her head. "Yes."
Alice staggered back a step, her heart shattering. "Then why… why would you still plan my engagement with him? Am I a fool to you, Mom?"
Angela's composure broke. Her voice rose, sharp and wounded.
"Because you liked him! As a mother, whatever you like—I will bring it to you. Even if it means him!"
Alice's eyes widened in horror at the confession. For a heartbeat, she couldn't breathe. Angela realized her mistake, her fury collapsing into guilt. She reached for Alice, her voice trembling.
"I'm sorry… I only wanted your happiness. I thought… I thought I could handle Jenna. I thought his heart would change. I—"
But Alice couldn't hear anymore. Tears spilled, and she turned away, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't need a happiness built on lies, Mom."
The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Angela standing alone, the fallen photo still burning on the floor like an exposed wound.
---
In Clara's Office
Stacks of glossy photos lay scattered across Clara's desk. One after another, she examined them, her elegant brows knitting. With a wave of her hand, she dismissed them.
"Not good enough. Bring me more candidates."
Her assistant bowed quickly and left. The room quieted until the door creaked open again—this time, it was Rumi, bouncing in with her usual careless grin.
"Mom," she chirped, "how was your day?"
Clara barely looked up. "Busy. How was your… gathering with friends?"
"Fantastic!" Rumi replied a little too quickly, her voice dropping into an excited whisper. "They were super hot… I saw them so close…"
Clara's head snapped up. "What? Close? Hot? What are you blabbering about? Speak properly."
Rumi's lips clamped shut. She fumbled, forcing a laugh. "I mean… my middle school friends. They've grown up so well, such a glow-up! Ha-ha!"
Clara narrowed her eyes but turned back to her laptop. Rumi's heart raced. Oh no… I almost said the truth. If she finds out I snuck into Enphayan's concert, I'm dead. Sorry, Mom, that's why I lied.
But Clara wasn't fooled so easily. She slowly lifted her gaze again. "Rumi… are you hiding something from me?"
Rumi's eyes widened like a startled cat. "N-nothing! Just my assignment deadline. I was thinking about that." She forced another laugh, her nerves prickling.
The assistant returned just in time, carrying another file. "Ma'am, I found one more candidate."
"Who?" Clara asked distractedly.
The assistant placed a photo on the table. Clara's eyes softened with interest.
"She's impressive."
"Her name is Ameya," the assistant explained. "But she isn't a model."
Clara tilted her head. "Then?"
"She's a rising idol. The main dancer of SuperNova."
Clara's smile faltered. "An idol? That's complicated. They're always busy, never adjusting to our schedules."
Rumi's head snapped up. "Wait… is that Ameya?"
Clara's eyes flicked to her daughter sharply.
Rumi waved her hands quickly. "No, no, I mean… my friends said she's a famous idol. Everyone likes her moves, they're impressive. Not me—my friends!"
The assistant chuckled. "It's true, ma'am. She's gaining popularity fast. If Herman's Ornaments secures her as our ambassador, it will skyrocket our brand."
Clara tapped her chin, torn. "But her schedule… idols like her are unpredictable."
Rumi leaned forward. "Mom, are you saying yes?"
Before Clara could reply, the assistant nodded eagerly. "Don't worry, ma'am. I will handle the arrangements."
"Very well," Clara sighed, still cautious. "But we'll need a male ambassador too. For balance."
The assistant agreed. "Yes, ma'am. Male and female ambassadors together will expand our reach."
Rumi suddenly blurted, "How about brother Rico?"
Clara's expression stiffened. "Rico? He won't agree. I know him."
But the assistant's face lit up. "Actually, that's a great idea. He has the right image."
Rumi thought quickly, her lips curling into a grin. I can't believe it—Ameya could be our ambassador. This is my chance to create the best impression of her to Mom. This much I can do for them.
She nodded firmly. "Mom, leave Rico to me. I'll get his consent."
Clara gave her a skeptical glance but finally relented.
As Rumi and the assistant stood at the desk, Clara returned her gaze to her laptop. On the screen, a muted video played—a clip of Rumi screaming and dancing in a sea of glow sticks at the Enphayan concert, her face lit with pure joy. Clara's lips tightened, suspicion flickering in her eyes.
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