Mark's POV – The Golden Boy
Life had always been... easy.
Grades? I could charm my way through. Professors liked me enough to give me the benefit of the doubt, and when I actually studied, I did fine.
Friends? I had too many. I could walk into the cafeteria and never sit alone.
Girls? Don't get me started. A wink, a grin, a half-hearted joke, and they lined up.
Golden boy. That's what people called me. And I never argued.
But then there was Clara.
She wasn't like the others. She wasn't loud, she wasn't flashy, and she sure as hell wasn't chasing me. She sat at the front row of lectures, highlighting like her life depended on it, jotting down notes in perfect handwriting while I doodled nonsense on my paper. She wore thick glasses that hid half her face, and she never dressed up—hoodies, jeans, hair tied back.
Most people barely noticed her.
But I did.
Because when she laughed, it wasn't the polite giggles I was used to. It was unfiltered, unguarded, a sound that made me want to hear it again.
And when she looked at me—really looked at me, without expectation—I felt like I wasn't just the golden boy. I was... Mark.
So yeah, I made her mine. Or maybe she made me hers.
But here's the thing about dating someone who doesn't know she's gorgeous: every guy who figures it out wants in. And Clara, sweet and naïve, treated them all like "just friends."
That's when the jealousy started.
Clara's POV – The "Nerd"
I never understood why Mark Dominguez liked me.
He was everything I wasn't: charming, confident, handsome enough to make girls scream at concerts. He walked into a room and people noticed. I walked into a room and people asked me for homework help.
But he chose me. Somehow.
I still remember the first time he held my hand in public. My face burned so badly I thought I'd faint. Everyone stared. Girls glared. And he just grinned, squeezing my hand like it was the easiest thing in the world.
"I don't care what they think," he whispered. "You're mine."
I believed him.
But sometimes, he pulled away. Sometimes he ignored my texts for hours, claiming he was "busy." Sometimes he'd show up late to study dates and brush it off with a lazy smile.
And sometimes... I caught him glaring when I laughed too hard at another boy's joke.
I didn't mean to make him jealous. I just didn't know how to live in his world.
The Jealousy
It started small.
"Who's that?" Mark asked one afternoon, nodding toward a boy from our accounting class.
"Daniel," I said, confused. "We're in the same group project."
Mark's eyes narrowed. "He's always around you."
"Well, we have work to do," I said, shrugging.
He didn't answer. But later, when I texted him, he took hours to reply.
Then it escalated.
"Why were you sitting with him at lunch?" he demanded one day.
"Because you were late," I said, hurt.
He scoffed. "So what, you replace me that easily?"
I stared at him, stunned. "Mark... he's just a friend."
But he turned away, muttering, "Right. Just a friend."
That night, he didn't call.
And I cried into my pillow, wondering if I was enough.
The Opportunity – Singapore
Mark got accepted into a one-month trainee program in Singapore.
"International business immersion," he said, puffing his chest out. "Networking, finance, all that good stuff. It's a big deal."
I smiled, proud of him. "That's amazing, Mark."
But my heart sank. A month without him? A month where his jealousy and my insecurities could stretch into something worse?
He cupped my face at the airport, eyes soft. "It's just a month. We'll talk every day. It'll fly by."
I nodded, pretending to believe him.
It didn't.
The Break – Long Distance
The first week, we managed. Late-night calls, sleepy messages, blurry video chats.
The second week, it started unraveling.
"Sorry, I was in meetings."
"You didn't even text me."
"I told you, I'm busy here."
"Busy enough to forget about me?"
The third week, it exploded.
"You're always with that classmate!" I accused, tears blurring my eyes.
"She's just helping me review—why are you making it a big deal?"
"Because you don't talk to me anymore!"
"God, Clara, do you know how much pressure I'm under? Do you think this is easy for me?"
The call ended with both of us shouting. Then silence.
Days passed. No calls. No texts. Just... nothing.
And then, the message came.
This isn't working. I can't do this right now.
My chest cracked open. I stared at the words until they blurred, until I couldn't breathe.
And then I packed my bags.
Clara's POV – The Glow-Up
I moved cities. Found a tiny apartment. Told myself I was starting fresh.
But starting fresh hurt.
So I buried myself in work.
I'd been tinkering with a small project for months—a platform to help local artisans sell globally. I'd coded prototypes, pitched half-heartedly to professors, but never believed it would work.
Until I had nothing left to lose.
I applied for a grant. Got accepted. Got a mentor. Got an office space in a start-up incubator.
And somehow, between the tears and the sleepless nights, my "little project" grew into a real company. A team of twenty. Investors calling. Clara Wallace—CEO.
I wore blazers now. Contact lenses. My hair down. I still felt like the same girl inside, but the world looked at me differently.
And for once, I let them.
Mark's POV – The Hollow
When I got back from Singapore, I expected Clara to be waiting.
She wasn't.
Her dorm was empty. Her favorite café didn't know where she'd gone. Her number was still the same, but she didn't answer.
The silence gutted me.
I told myself I was fine. Threw myself into band practice, into business classes, into late-night games with the guys. But at night, when the noise faded, the hollow inside me grew.
Until one day, scrolling mindlessly through business articles, I saw her name.
Young Entrepreneur Breaks Barriers in E-Commerce: Clara Wallace Leads New Start-Up Incubator Slot.
There she was. Smiling in a blazer, hair glossy, glasses gone.
My Clara.
But not mine anymore.
The Chase
I stormed into her office like a man possessed.
She was at the head of a table, speaking to investors with the kind of confidence I'd never seen before. My nerdy girl, the one who used to chew on pen caps, was commanding a room full of suits.
She froze when she saw me. The mask slipped, just for a second.
"Mark," she said, voice steady. "What are you doing here?"
"Fixing the biggest mistake of my life."
She blinked, then turned back to her investors. "Meeting's over. Thank you for your time."
As the room cleared, I stepped closer. "Clara, please—"
She cut me off, eyes sharp. "You broke me, Mark. Why should I let you try again?"
I wanted to tell her because I loved her. Because no one else made me laugh, made me jealous, made me real.
But words weren't enough. Not anymore.
The Redemption
So I showed up.
To her presentations. To her late nights, offering to review contracts. I learned her business, asked questions, listened. I brought food for her team so they'd let me stay.
Every wall she built, I chipped away with proof.
And slowly, she started letting me in again. A smile here. A joke there. A soft glance when she thought I wasn't looking.
Until one night, when she finally broke.
She was exhausted, slumped over her desk, eyes rimmed red. I touched her shoulder gently. "Clara..."
She looked up, tears slipping down her cheeks. "I missed you."
My chest cracked open. I pulled her into my arms, holding her like she was the only thing keeping me alive.
"I'll never make you question me again," I whispered fiercely.
She buried her face in my chest. "Don't you dare."
Fast Forward – The Proposal
Years later, I proposed in the only way that felt right.
Not on stage. Not in front of cameras. But in her office, surrounded by the notes and charts that built her empire.
She walked in, tired from a meeting, and stopped dead.
Roses covered her desk. A ring sat on top of her laptop. And I was on one knee.
"Clara Wallace," I said, voice shaking. "I was the golden boy who thought he had everything. Until I lost you. You taught me love isn't about getting—it's about choosing. And I will keep choosing you. Every day. Even when I'm stupid. Especially then."
Her hands trembled. "Mark..."
I smiled. "So. What do you say? Want to make me the happiest idiot alive?"
She laughed through her tears. "Yes, you idiot."
The Wedding
Our wedding wasn't the grandest. Not compared to Gelo and Xiarya's palace-sized ceremony or Steve and Ariela's family-arranged extravaganza.
But it was ours.
Clara walked down the aisle without her glasses for the first time. Everyone gasped—not because she was transformed, but because they finally saw what I'd always seen.
She was radiant.
And when we said our vows, there wasn't a dry eye in the room.
Her promise was simple: "Golden boys shine brighter when they stop shining alone."
And when I kissed her, I knew—I'd never let her go again.