Mira Langston had never felt love
Not when her father left her and her mother at seven with a heap pile of debts, not when her relatives cursed at her for being the reason for her mother's downfall,not when she was known to be a failure as a daughter
She grew up in a place where love was practical. Transactional. Her mother had married for stability that still didn't last long. Her aunts had married for survival from their either abusive or cheating husbands, or even both. Mira had promised herself she would marry for more.
For magic.
For meaning.
For someone who saw her.
And to her that person was Ethan Brown.
But did he really see her,or did he see a new toy to control
Sometimes, she wondered, why her,why he could have any girl he wanted but still chose her.
Maybe that's why he never took her out, was he embarrassed by her poor background or was it her broken home or the fact that she wasn't up to the level of girls he had dated before.
Is that why he never stayed the night.
Why he never called her on weekends.
Alas she still told herself it was because he was busy. Important. That he was protecting her. That he didn't want office gossip to ruin what they had.
She told herself to be patient.
He just needed time.
Time to heal.
Time to be ready.
Time to realize she was the one.
But then came the lipstick.
A faint smudge on his collar, not her shade.
She noticed it during a Monday morning meeting. He didn't seem to realize it was there. Or maybe he did, and didn't care.
She stared at it for the entire hour.
Didn't say a word.
That night, she asked, "Are you seeing anyone else?"
He didn't flinch.
He smiled. "Why would I need anyone else, are you perhaps jealous?" He said smirking as he kissed her neck reaching down for her cleavage
She smiled back,her smile stiff as he let him touch her.
But something inside her cracked.
She started watching him more closely.
Noticing the way he lingered at the front desk. The way he laughed too easily with other women. The way he always had an excuse.
She told herself, she was just being paranoid.
That she was overthinking.
That she was just scared because of the difference in their world.
But the fear didn't go away.
It grew.
She started writing in her journal again.
Something she hadn't done since university.
She wrote about the first time he touched her hand after a conference. The first time he said her name at a company barbecue . The first time he kissed her at his office.
She wrote about the lipstick.
She wrote about the label,how he avoids it.
She wrote about the ache.
—
She didn't want to believe it.
Didn't want to believe she was just another name in his phone, a booty call at best. Another secret. Another girl who thought she was special.
It was damn clear that signs were changing.
And this time even Mira couldn't ignore them.
They definitely weren't pointing toward love but something else.
And she was terrified to even find out.
___
Mira had been quiet all day.
She typed her reports. Answered emails. Smiled when spoken to. But inside, her thoughts were loud, a constant hum of questions she couldn't silence.
He didn't texted her last night.
He just left so quickly the last time they were together after a phone call.
Why did he always say the right things, but never at the right time?
She was trying not to spiral. She told herself he was busy. That he was under pressure from growing his company. That he wasn't like other men, he was an important man, and important men didn't have time for clingy girls with too many questions.
But still.
The lipstick hadn't been hers.
The perfume on his coat hadn't been hers.
And the way he smiled at her lately — it was still warm, still charming, but there was something behind it. Something distant. Something rehearsed.
She hated herself for noticing.
She hated herself more for pretending not to.
—
That afternoon, he called her into his office.
He was leaning against his desk, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, the city skyline glowing behind him like a painting.
"M," he said, smiling. "Cancel your evening plans."
She blinked. "I don't have any."
"Good," he said. "You do now."
—
They drove out of the city just before sunset.
He didn't tell her where they were going. Just said, "Trust me," and handed her a playlist he'd made, soft jazz, old soul, a few songs she'd once mentioned liking.
She clutched her purse in her lap, heart pounding.
She didn't know what this was.
A date?
A goodbye?
A distraction?
She didn't ask.
She didn't want to ruin it.
—
They ended up in a quiet town two hours away — quiet streets, fairy lights, a restaurant tucked between grey coated buildings. The kind of place you only found if you were looking for it.
He held the door open for her. Pulled out her chair. Ordered wine without asking.
"You've been quiet lately," he said, swirling his glass.
She looked down. "Just tired, you know ."she said smiling faintly
He reached across the table, took her hand.
"You don't have to be scared, Mira."
She looked up, startled. "I'm not—"
"You are," he said gently. "And it's okay. I know I've been… distant. But I've been thinking. About us."
Her breath caught.
Us.
He smiled. "I want to do this right. I want you to be my girlfriend."
The words landed like a stone in still water rippling through every doubt, every fear, every sleepless night.
She stared at him, wide-eyed. "You do?"
"I do," he said. "I should've said it sooner. You're the only one who makes me feel calm. Like I can breathe."
She felt the tears before she could stop them.
All the questions, all the second-guessing, all the little moments she'd twisted into knots, they unraveled in an instant.
Of course he loved her.
Of course he'd just needed time.
Of course she'd been right to wait.
She smiled through the tears. "Yes. I'd love that."
He leaned across the table and kissed her hand.
And just like that, the ache in her chest disappeared.
Because Mira Langston had always believed in signs.
And tonight, Ethan Brown had given her the biggest one of all.
She started feeling high from being "Chosen"— but will she remain the chosen one....