Chapter 118: Perfect in Her Eyes
Dinner was over, the dishes stacked neatly in the sink, and the quiet of evening had settled around us like a blanket. I’d claimed the couch with a book in hand, legs stretched out. It was one of those rare, peaceful moments—no exams, no classmates, no interruptions. Just words on a page.
At least, until Val decided peace was optional.
I didn’t even hear her at first. She drifted over barefoot, carrying a small plate piled with something sweet—cupcakes, by the look of it, each one decorated with uneven swirls of frosting that probably came from her own heavy-handed attempt in the kitchen. She set the plate down on the coffee table, then slipped onto the couch beside me, tucking one leg beneath her as she leaned in close.
I kept reading, though my eyes slowed on the words. She was smiling at me. I could feel it before I saw it.
I froze and finally turned my head. "What?"
She gave a small shrug, her grin widening, eyes flicking to my book and then back to my face. "Nothing. You just look... kinda hot when you’re focused."
The words landed like a sucker punch and a compliment rolled into one. I turned quickly back to the page, pretending to skim, though the letters swam a little. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d rattled me.
She rested her chin in her hand, studying me like she was trying to memorize the shape of my profile. The silence stretched for a beat too long before she asked, softly but clearly, "How rich do you wanna get?"
My eyes lifted from the book. "...What?"
"You heard me." Her tone was casual, but her eyes were steady, sharp in a way that made me wary. "How rich do youwanna get?"
I shut the book halfway, thumb holding my place. "I don’t know. Rich enough to take care of what needs taking care of, I guess. Pay bills, not worry about rent, that kind of thing."
She hummed at that, tipping her head as though weighing my answer. Then she pressed, "So like very rich... or very, very rich?"
Now she had my full attention. Her eyes weren’t sparkling with their usual mischief. There was no telltale smirk. Just a calm kind of curiosity. I frowned. "What are you asking, Val?"
She gave me that same shrug from earlier, only smaller this time. "Nothing. Just wanted to know."
"Uh-huh." I let the silence stretch, waiting to see if she’d fold. She didn’t. Instead, she reached for a cupcake, peeled the wrapper with unnecessary delicacy, and took a bite like we hadn’t just entered the strangest conversation of the week.
I sighed, leaned back, and reopened my book, though my eyes flicked toward her every other sentence.
Another beat passed. Then her voice piped up again, lighter this time. "How about rich enough to buy, like... a yacht. Or a ship. Maybe even a sub."
I nearly dropped the book. "A sub? Like... a submarine?"
She nodded, lips pressing together in mock seriousness.
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. "Val, nobody just wakes up and buys a submarine."
"What?!" she whined, her tone high-pitched and almost adorable in its outrage. "People have them! I saw it once in a documentary. Super rich people buy submarines all the time."
I gave her a look, still grinning. "Do you want me to believe you secretly want a submarine?"
"No," she said, far too quickly. Then she shoved another piece of cupcake into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated innocence.
I set my book down completely now, watching her with suspicion. "What’s wrong?"
Her eyes flicked to me, wide, a little too wide. "Nothing."
"Val..." My voice was low, warning.
"What?" she fired back, defensive but still playful. "Can’t I just ask a question without being interrogated? It’s a free world. I’m allowed to wonder what kind of rich my husband wants to be."
I stared, unimpressed.
She stuck her tongue out at me like a child. "You’re overthinking."
"And you’re hiding something."
> "Nope."
"Yes."
"Nope." She snatched another cupcake, holding it threateningly close to my face like she’d weaponized sugar and frosting.
"Val—"
Before I could get another word out, she shoved the cupcake straight into my mouth. Frosting smeared my lip as the cake crumbled between my teeth. I spluttered around it, muffled laughter shaking my chest as she leaned back, smug as ever.
"This is getting scary." She said sweetly, licking a crumb from her thumb. "You can practically read my mind now. That’s... dangerous."
I chewed, swallowed, and tried not to laugh again. "Dangerous for who?"
"Me." She poked my shoulder. "Definitely me. You’re going to start predicting every dumb thing I do before I even do it, and then what am I supposed to do? Lose my element of surprise?"
That earned a full laugh from me, sharp enough that I choked mid-breath. I pressed a fist to my chest, coughing, while she immediately leapt up.
"Oh my god—hang on." She rushed to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it. When she came back, she pressed it into my hand with more force than necessary.
I smirked into the rim of the glass, took a long drink, and let my chest settle.
When I lowered it, she was watching me again, cupcake half-eaten in her hand, eyes bright even as she tried to look annoyed.
---
I set the glass down on the table, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth. My chest had finally stopped rattling, but the way Val was looking at me now—head tilted, lips pressed together like she was holding back something bigger than frosting—made the air feel heavier than it should have.
"Alright," I said, leaning back, arms folded. "Out with it. What’s going on in that head of yours?"
Her gaze flickered away. For once, she didn’t counter with a quick retort or another joke about submarines. She picked at the wrapper of her cupcake instead, fingers worrying at the paper until it tore.
When she finally spoke, her voice was softer than I’d expected. "Can I... keep this one to myself?"
I stilled. Val didn’t ask permission. She just... did, she demanded, she teased. She didn’t ask. The quiet in her tone knocked me sideways.
I studied her profile, the way her lashes dropped low, the slight bite at her lower lip like she was holding something back. And then, almost too abruptly, she whispered, "Okay, fine. My parents are jerks."
One of my brows arched. "Your parents?"
Her eyes snapped to mine, daring me to doubt her. "It’s true. They are."
I waited, silent.
She drew in a breath, her shoulders rising then sinking. "And... they probably won’t want you for me."
That stung—sharper than I wanted to admit. But before I could react, her eyes lifted fast, locking onto mine with urgency. "Not that it matters. Not to me. Because I’m choosing you no matter what they say. Always."
The words were quick, almost clumsy, but the weight behind them was real. Like she needed me to hear it, to believe it, before I even had the chance to second-guess.
I swallowed. My voice was steady when I said, "Go on."
Her fingers toyed with the edge of the plate, spinning it slightly on the coffee table. She didn’t look at me at first, speaking like she was arranging the thoughts in front of her.
"If you became really rich..." Her lips curved, not in a smile, but something sharper, almost dangerous. "It would shut them up. Especially my dad. And I would love—" her eyes glinted as she finally looked at me—"I would love to see the look on his face when he realizes I made the perfect choice. That I wasn’t some reckless, hopeless girl. That I knew exactly what I was doing."
She leaned back, exhaling, and for the first time that evening, her voice thinned out. "I don’t want them looking down on you, Kai. Because if they do, I’ll hate it. I’ll... hate them, too."
The conviction in her words pressed into me harder than anything else she’d said.
I didn’t know what expression I wore, but whatever it was, it made her soften again. She leaned in slightly, her voice dipping into something lighter, like she was throwing me a rope back to safer ground.
"Also... if you’re really rich, you could buy me that sub."
I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. She knew exactly when to break her own tension.
"What color?" I asked.
Her eyes lit up instantly, like I’d agreed without realizing it. "Black. Matte. Or maybe navy blue. Ooh—like the Nautilus. Not the real one, obviously, but you know what I mean."
I blinked. "Wait—you know the Nautilus?"
She rolled her eyes with mock offense. "You’re forgetting I’m literally a genius. I’ve read Jules Verne, I’ve watched the documentaries. Don’t underestimate me just because I don’t always act like it."
"Fair," I said with a chuckle. "That’s on me."
She grinned, satisfied, and then launched straight into a stream of ideas about what kind of submarine she’d want me to buy, how she’d decorate it, how she’d name it something ridiculous just to annoy people, and how we’d use it not for exploration but to "avoid boring parties."
I listened, smiling faintly, letting her voice spill over me.
But beneath the jokes, I heard what she wasn’t saying—the fear that I might be looked down on, the sting of her parents dismissing me before they even tried to know me. She didn’t care what anyone thought of her, not really. What she wanted was for me to stand so high that no one could ever make me feel small.
She wanted me to succeed. Not for the money. Not for the status. But because in her eyes, I was already untouchable. I was... Perfect.
I leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a beat, feeling something settle heavy in my chest.
Maybe it wasn’t just about exams or degrees or jobs. Maybe it was bigger than that now.
Maybe I wanted to be rich—not just to prove them wrong, not just to wipe the smug looks off faces I had only ever met once—but because she believed I could be.
Because the girl sitting cross-legged beside me, smudged with frosting and dreaming about submarines, was looking at me like I was already more than enough.
And I wanted to make sure no one—not even her parents—could ever make her feel otherwise.
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To be continued...