chapter 64: the call

Bose POV:

Just one more hour until the art exhibition began. Chapa had four pieces on display, and I already knew I'd try to buy one by the end of the night. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to. Her art had always fascinated me—chaotic but precise, wild yet intentional. Just like her.

Sage was coming too, so I made sure to bring some extra cash. It had been two weeks since I last saw her at Chapa's birthday, and I figured she could use a little something. And well... we did make a deal.

I parked my car and took the elevator up to my penthouse. The moment I stepped inside, I heard soft music playing from the bedroom, the smell of perfume lingering in the air. Chapa sat at her vanity, focused on applying her makeup. Her hair was styled in loose waves, and she wore the red dress I had given her months ago.

For a second, I just stood there, watching her.

Then I grabbed the bouquet of roses I had bought on the way and walked up behind her.

"For you," I said, holding them out.

She glanced up through the mirror, raising an eyebrow. "What's this for?"

"Just a small gift because you're coming with me as my girlfriend tonight."

She scoffed softly, but I caught the way her lips curled into a smile. She turned in her seat, taking the flowers from me, her fingers brushing mine.

"Oh, and—" I reached behind me and grabbed a sleek black box. "You don't have to, but I bought another dress for you. Thought you might like it."

Curious, she set the flowers down and opened the box. The moment she saw the black gown inside, she stilled. The fabric shimmered under the lights, silver diamonds stitched in delicate, intricate patterns. It was elegant, sleek, and something I knew would look incredible on her.

Her eyes widened. "It's beautiful."

I smirked. "Especially on you."

She looked up at me. "How much was it?"

I chuckled. "A secret."

She rolled her eyes before standing up, pressing the dress against herself to gauge the fit. Then, without a word, she started unzipping the red one.

"You're changing into it?" I asked, a little surprised.

She glanced at me through the mirror. "Of course I am."

I leaned against the doorframe, watching as she slipped out of the red dress, standing in nothing but her underwear for a moment. Then she pulled the new one over her head, letting it glide down her body. The fabric hugged her perfectly, the diamonds catching the light. She turned around, and damn.

"Say something," she said, adjusting the straps.

I exhaled. "I'm trying to find the right words."

She smirked. "For what?"

"For how unfairly good you look."

She laughed, walking up to me. "Well, zip me up then."

I did, my fingers trailing up her spine as I fastened the last part. She glanced at me through the mirror again, tilting her head.

"You're staring."

"Yeah," I admitted, unashamed.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "Let's go."

—

When we arrived in Swellview, Sage was already outside, sitting on the steps of her house, her arms crossed. Even from the car, I could tell she wasn't just waiting—she was sulking.

Chapa frowned. "Why are you outside?"

Sage huffed. "Got into a fight with Mom and Dad."

Chapa groaned. "What now?"

"They want me to get a job," Sage muttered, picking at her nails. "But I told them I can't find one, and they don't get it. Blah, blah, same old."

I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to her through the car window.

She blinked. "What's this?"

"A little gift."

She hesitated before taking it, opening the envelope slightly. Her eyes widened when she saw the stack of cash inside.

Chapa narrowed her eyes at me. "Bose."

"What?" I said, feigning innocence.

"You can't just randomly hand her money like that."

Sage grinned. "Oh, yes, he can."

Chapa let out an exasperated sigh. "You're going to make her spoiled."

Sage tucked the envelope into her pocket. "Good."

Chapa shook her head. "Whatever, just get in."

—

The moment we stepped into the exhibition, all eyes seemed to shift toward us. I could feel the weight of a few glances, some curious, some surprised, but I didn't care. Chapa walked beside me, looking stunning in the black dress I had given her, her confidence radiating as we moved through the crowd.

I leaned down slightly so she could hear me over the hum of voices. "Is Blaise coming too? You did invite her, right?"

"No, she's interning at this comic book manga thing company," Chapa replied, glancing up at me.

I nodded. "That sounds like her."

As the minutes passed, Chapa got pulled in every direction, chatting with students, observers, and art enthusiasts who were interested in her work. She belonged here—completely in her element, switching between explanations of her pieces and laughing at comments from fellow artists. Meanwhile, I found myself at the bar, nursing a cola while watching her from a distance.

Sage suddenly slid onto the stool next to me.

"You're gonna ask me for a drink again?" I teased without looking at her.

She huffed. "No, I've learned my lesson."

I chuckled. "Good."

For a moment, she tapped her fingers against the counter, then turned slightly toward me. "Have you talked to Chapa about it?"

I knew exactly what she meant, but I still asked, "About what?"

Sage rolled her eyes. "About the kids."

I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Not yet. I haven't found the right time."

"You should do it today. She's in a good mood," she pointed out, taking a sip of her drink.

"I'll try," I said, knowing Sage wasn't going to let me off easy.

"You will keep your promise and babysit our children in the future now that I'm giving you money, right?" I asked playfully, nudging her with my elbow.

"Of course. I like kids. Unlike Chapa," she said with a smirk.

We both laughed, falling into an easy rhythm of conversation. It was nice catching up, even if she still liked to test my patience.

Then, suddenly, Chapa appeared beside us, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Guys! Asuka Iwasaki just complimented my painting and gave me her card to contact her!"

I raised an eyebrow. "She rarely does that."

"I'm so proud of you," I added, meaning every word.

"Who?" Sage asked, looking between us.

"Asuka Iwasaki owns the most successful art gallery in the state," Chapa explained quickly, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. "She has so much talent, teaches others, and even does interior design. She's basically good at everything."

"I thought George had the most successful art thing," Sage said, confused.

"He's just rich," I clarified. "He can get you connections, but people like Asuka actually have influence."

"Ooh," Sage said, nodding in understanding.

Chapa looked at us, a bit breathless. "This is huge. I might actually get somewhere now."

Sage and I exchanged a glance before smiling at her. She deserved this, and seeing her so happy made me proud.

Then, just as quickly, she disappeared back into the crowd, still riding the high of the moment.

Sage turned to me with a knowing look. "See? Now she's in an even better mood. Ask her after the exhibition."

I sighed, but I was already convinced. "I will, I will."

Chapa POV:

The night had already been incredible, and I was deep in conversation with a young artist—probably a student—who was fascinated by my work. She kept asking questions about my techniques, the inspirations behind my pieces, and what it felt like to have my art displayed in an exhibition like this. It was refreshing to talk to someone who was genuinely interested in the process rather than just nodding along to sound polite.

Just as I was explaining one of my favorite pieces, a voice called my name. I turned to see the art department's dealer approaching, his expression unreadable. My heart skipped a beat—was something wrong?

He stopped in front of me and smiled. "I just wanted to let you know that all of your paintings have been sold."

I blinked. "Wait... what?"

"All of them," he repeated. "Every single one."

A rush of adrenaline shot through me, and my chest tightened with excitement. "Oh my god," I breathed out, barely able to process the words.

"That's not all," he continued. "One of them sold for forty thousand dollars."

I gasped audibly, feeling the world slow down for a second. "Forty thousand? Are you serious?"

He nodded, clearly amused by my reaction.

"To whom?" I asked immediately. I needed to know who had spent that kind of money on my art.

The dealer shrugged. "Anonymous buyer."

For a split second, my mind went to Bose. He would be crazy enough to do that just to see me happy. But would he?

I did some quick mental math. Out of that forty thousand, seventy percent was mine. The rest would go to the academy and the organizers. That was how this system worked. Our tuition fees were kept relatively low so that students from different financial backgrounds could have opportunities here, and the academy made up for it through exhibition sales. There were different types of exhibitions—some, like this one, were open to a larger crowd, and we had to split our earnings. Others were private, invite-only events for high-profile buyers, where the artist got to keep the full amount.

Still, this was huge. I had just made more money tonight than I ever expected to this early in my career.

I needed to tell someone.

Without thinking twice, I practically ran across the exhibition hall, weaving through the crowd until I spotted Bose and Sage at the bar. They were deep in conversation, laughing about something, but I didn't care—I interrupted without hesitation.

"All of my pieces got sold," I blurted out, still catching my breath.

Both of them turned to me, eyes widening.

"Wait—what?" Bose asked, like he needed me to repeat it.

"All of them," I said again, a grin spreading across my face. "And one of them sold for forty thousand dollars."

Sage gasped. "Chapa, that's insane!"

Bose just stared at me for a moment before shaking his head in disbelief. "You deserve this," he said, his voice full of pride.

I felt warmth spread through me at his words.

"We need to celebrate," Sage said, already on her feet. "Let's go eat somewhere. My treat."

I raised an eyebrow. "Your treat?"

She shrugged. "Well, with Bose's money, obviously."

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue, which made me laugh.

—

By the time we arrived at the restaurant, I was more than ready to change into something comfortable. The dress Bose bought me was beautiful—I couldn't deny that—but it wasn't me. It made me feel too put together, too feminine, too much like someone I wasn't. So before we left the car, I swapped it for a pair of wide-leg pants and a dark brown cardigan over my fitted top. The moment I looked at myself in the mirror, I felt more like myself again.

The restaurant had a cozy atmosphere, dimly lit with warm-toned lights, soft music playing in the background. It wasn't too crowded, which I appreciated. The three of us sat down at a booth near the window, the cool night air faintly visible through the glass. We placed our orders, and soon after, our drinks arrived.

Just as I took a sip, Sage suddenly spoke up.

"Bose wanted to ask you something."

I looked up from my drink, glancing first at her, then at Bose. His posture stiffened, and I noticed the subtle tension in his jaw.

"What, me?" I asked, setting my glass down.

Sage nodded casually, but Bose shot her an annoyed look.

I turned back to him, raising an eyebrow. "Ask."

He hesitated, exhaling deeply before starting. "I—uhm—I wanted to ask... I mean, I've been thinking about this for a long time... and..."

Before he could finish, his phone rang. The sound cut through the moment, making him flinch.

He glanced at the screen and immediately stood up. "Sorry, may I?"

I nodded, watching as he walked away toward the entrance of the restaurant.

Sage let out a frustrated sigh, stirring the ice in her drink.

"What's going on?" I asked, eyes still on Bose's retreating figure.

She shrugged. "You'll find out."

Five minutes passed. Then another. I was starting to get impatient, but just as I was about to text him, I saw him coming back inside.

Something was off.

His face was pale, his movements slower than before. He sat down without saying a word, looking almost... dizzy.

I frowned. "What happened? Who was it?"

"Nothing," he said, brushing it off too quickly.

Before I could press him, our food arrived. Normally, Bose would be the one making jokes, nudging me to try something off his plate, or at the very least, engaging in conversation. But tonight, he barely spoke. He answered when necessary, nodded when needed, but there was something distant in his expression.

I didn't like it.

I decided to let it go for now. Sage was here, and I had a feeling whatever was bothering him wasn't something he wanted to discuss in front of her.

—

After dinner, we wandered into the city center of Rivalton. The streets were quieter at this hour, the glow of streetlights reflecting off the cobblestone. Nearby, the sea stretched endlessly, dark and endless under the night sky. We found a small wooden pier and sat down, the sound of gentle waves filling the silence between us. The breeze was cold, but it felt nice, grounding in a way.

After a while, I stretched my arms and stood up. "I'm bringing Sage home on my motorcycle."

Bose, who had been staring out at the water, finally looked at me. "You want me to take her home instead?" he asked, his voice distant, almost as if he wasn't really there.

I shook my head. "No, you should go home. We'll meet there."

He nodded but didn't say anything else.

Something was wrong. He had been off since that phone call, and it was disturbing me more and more.

I dropped Sage off at her place, and after making sure she was inside, I got back on my motorcycle and headed toward Rivalton. When I arrived at Bose's penthouse and opened the door, the place was dark and empty. No sign of him.

I checked the time—12:15 a.m.

Where the hell was he?

With a bad feeling sitting heavy in my chest, I turned around and headed back to the city center. I had a gut feeling about where he was.

Sure enough, he was still sitting on the pier, his silhouette barely visible under the dim streetlights.

But as I got closer, I noticed something that made me stop in my tracks.

A cigarette.

He was holding a cigarette between his fingers.

Without thinking, I marched up to him, snatched it out of his hand, and flicked it into the water.

"What the hell are you doing? Why are you smoking?" I asked, my voice sharp with concern.

Bose turned his head toward me, his eyes dull, sad.

"Where did you even get that from?" I demanded.

He exhaled slowly. "A man saw me sitting here alone and asked if I wanted one." His voice was quiet.

I frowned. "But you've never smoked before. Why would you even take it?"

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. "Because I'm lost."

I felt a pang in my chest.

"What happened?" I asked, my voice softer now. "Ever since you took that phone call, you've been acting weird."

He swallowed hard. "I just got a call from an anonymous number. Again."

I stared at him. "And?"

He hesitated before speaking. "They told me where Cookie came from. And the statues."

That made my stomach drop.

"And?" I pressed.

Bose turned his head to look at me, his expression unreadable. "The woman behind the call said it was my dad."

A single tear rolled down his face. He quickly turned away, as if trying to hide it from me.

But I wasn't having that.

I reached out, gently grabbing his face and turning it toward me. His eyes were glossy, full of something heavy, something painful.

"I'm so stupid," he muttered. "I thought I was over it. I don't know why this affects me so much."

"It's okay," I said softly. "Maybe they're messing with you."

"I don't know anymore," he admitted. "She spoke in Italian. She mentioned my father's name. She knew about the goat, the statues... And now that I'm thinking about it—Edoardo, my uncle—he hasn't seen my father in twenty-one years."

My breath hitched. "Do you have any idea who the woman was?"

"It can't be my grandma," he murmured. "The woman sounded younger than that."

I shifted closer to him. "What else did they say?"

"They told me to come meet them in Italy. Gave me an address. But I already forgot it."

I studied him carefully. His hands were trembling slightly, his whole body tense.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" I asked gently.

He turned to me, a small, tired smile appearing on his face as he wiped another tear away. "No, thank you, Chapa. Just being here is enough. Thank you for listening."

I didn't say anything. I just hugged him, feeling the way his body tensed for a second before he finally relaxed against me.

After a moment, he spoke again. "Would you go?"

"Hm?" I mumbled.

"If you were me... would you go to the address?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

I thought about it for a second. "I think I would," I admitted.

He nodded slowly. "Then... should I give it a chance?"

"If you want to. It may give you some answers."

He exhaled, looking back at the water. "I'll think about it then."

Then, out of nowhere, he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" I asked, laughing softly.

"For dropping all of my drama on you."

I shook my head. "Don't apologize for that. Just promise me you won't smoke again." I held up my pinky.

Bose stared at it for a moment before smirking. "Didn't you smoke when you were younger?"

"Sometimes," I admitted, grinning. "But that doesn't matter anymore."

He chuckled and locked his pinky with mine. "Alright. No more smoking."

I smiled. "Good."

"By the way... what were you gonna tell me earlier?" I asked, breaking the quiet moment between us.

Bose hesitated, his fingers tapping against his knee. "I don't know if this is the right time."

"Whatever it is, just ask," I said, nudging him lightly. "I promise I won't get angry. Unless you tell me you've cheated on me."

His head snapped toward me, eyes wide. "What?! I could never."

I smirked. "Just kidding. Now, tell me."

He hesitated again, playing with his fingers. The way he avoided my gaze made me realize that whatever this was, it had been weighing on him.

"When Sage and I went out last week, she asked if I wanted to have children in the future," he started. "I already told her I won't... because I know you don't like children."

I blinked. I wasn't expecting that.

"But then she asked what I wanted," he continued, his voice softer. "And I said I'd like to have them."

I watched him, my lips slightly parted, but I didn't say anything.

"She mentioned I'd be a good dad," he added with a small chuckle, "and pushed me to ask you this. Or at least for you to consider the matter."

I stayed silent, my mind turning over his words, but Bose must've taken my lack of reaction the wrong way because he suddenly reached for my hand.

"I'm sorry if I'm pushing you right now," he said quickly, his thumb brushing against my skin. "Or if you feel uncomfortable. It's just that I wanted to let you know... I'm open for it."

I stared at his face, searching his expression. He looked serious, but there was something nervous underneath it all.

It took me a few moments to react.

"I... I don't really know what to say," I admitted, my voice quieter than before.

Bose's shoulders tensed slightly. "You don't have to. Forget I even brought it up. I know it's too soon anyway, but I just thought I should let you know."

I let out a slow breath. "I think this is a matter we should discuss further in the future."

His face softened, and he nodded. "Yeah... I think so too. Sorry."

I shook my head. "Don't apologize."

He gave me an innocent smile, one that almost made me forget the weight of the conversation.

"Let's go home," I said, standing up.

Bose followed, and as we walked back to my motorcycle, I could still feel the weight of his words lingering in the air.

Blaise POV:

I was sitting at my desk at the company where I interned, staring at my screen, but my focus was elsewhere. The office was quiet, aside from the occasional murmur of conversations and the soft clicking of keyboards. It was a good place—better than I expected. People liked my work. My supervisor even said I had potential to grow faster than most interns. That should've made me feel something. Excitement, maybe. Pride. But instead, all I felt was this dull ache of restlessness, like I was waiting for something. Or someone.

Miles.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard as my mind drifted back. It had been two months since I last saw him. Since Hawaii, where I spent almost every single day with him. Since Chapa's birthday, where—God—I kissed him. I remember flashes of it. The warmth of his lips, the moment of surprise in his eyes, the rush of it all before I pulled away. I don't even know why I did it. It wasn't planned. It wasn't something I thought about beforehand. But it's haunted me ever since.

And now? Nothing. Not a word. Not a glimpse of him. He probably doesn't even know I left George's company or that I'm here in Swellview now. And maybe that was for the best. Maybe it wasn't. I didn't know.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, rubbing my temples. Starting over wasn't easy, but I had done it anyway. I bought a small apartment here in Swellview, left all the money I earned at George's with my dad and sisters, and decided to rebuild something for myself. A new job, a new place, a new start.

So why did it still feel like I was stuck in the past?

Bose POV:

I sat on the couch, iPad in hand, reviewing the final documents for our academy's new professional program. It was finally launching after months of planning, and the workload had been intense. Still, working from home had been the best decision I'd made in a while. I could wear whatever I wanted—right now, just baggy jeans and a white sweater—and, more importantly, I could be with Chapa.

She walked over from the kitchen, carrying a big bowl of fruit: mango, watermelon, strawberries, blueberries, and pineapples. She set it down on the table before plopping onto the couch next to me. "Here. I made us some fruit."

I smiled, setting my iPad aside. "Thanks."

It's been two months since I've received that call. Lately, we'd both been busier. Chapa had started working at Asuka Iwasaki's gallery right after Christmas, and my company had been picking up new projects left and right. Even our New Year's was quiet—we just stayed home and watched the fireworks from the rooftop.

"Have you thought about going to Italy yet?" she asked suddenly.

I leaned back, exhaling. "Yeah, I think I want to go. The past few months, I've felt... unanswered. Almost empty—if it weren't for you. You kept me in a happy mood."

She gave me a small smile. "How long will you stay there?"

"I don't know. It depends. If what that woman said was true, and my father is alive... I might need more time."

"I understand. Just call me every day," she said.

I smirked. "You've gotten so much softer."

"Because I have no reason to be harsh on you. And you already have it harsh," she said simply.

I chuckled, shaking my head.

"I did want to talk to you about something real quick," she added.

"Go ahead."

"When you're back... and if you're ready... would you want to start looking for houses? To move in together?" She glanced around the penthouse. "This place just doesn't feel like us."

A slow grin spread across my face. "Really? I'd love that."

The truth was, I didn't like this penthouse either. It was tied too much to my stepdad, and I never felt like it was truly mine. I also haven't told my mom about the call yet. I'll go see her soon and tell her I'm traveling for business.

Chapa nodded, then smirked. "We should make a deal."

I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of deal?"

"You buy our house. I cook and do groceries."

I laughed. "What about cleaning?"

"Please don't make me clean. I hate cleaning," she said dramatically.

I smiled, already knowing that. "I know, I know. Fine—I'll buy our house, clean, do the laundry, and even give you money for the groceries."

"We can just hire a cleaner," she suggested. "You're already so busy."

"I don't like other people in our house," I said, emphasizing the word our.

She smiled. "Well, if you insist."

"You can start looking for houses while I'm away," I said. "Just use my laptop."

"Oh, I definitely will," she said, her excitement showing.

"Well then," I stretched, grabbing my phone, "I'll start looking for flights. I think I'll leave next week so I can be back sooner."

"Alright. And what about the company?"

I blinked. "What company?"

She gave me an exasperated look. "Hello?! The company you own?"

"Oh. Right." I scratched the back of my head. "I'll ask Andrew to be in charge while I'm gone."

She burst out laughing. "I can't believe you forgot you own a company."

I shrugged. "I just got confused, sorry."

"Don't apologize. I like your stupid side," she teased, moving closer.

My heart started racing.

"I like your glasses on you," she murmured, eyes flickering up to mine. "They make you look smarter."

Then she smirked. "But take them off."

I didn't hesitate—I pulled them off immediately.

And then she kissed me.

Chapa POV:

We stood at the airport, just outside the security checkpoint. Bose had his backpack slung over one shoulder, his suitcase standing upright beside him, fingers tapping idly against the handle. His flight was in less than an hour, and soon, he'd be on his way to Italy.

"I'll miss you a lot," Bose said, adjusting the strap of his bag. His voice was steady, but there was something about the way he said it that made it feel heavier.

"I know." I said. "I'll miss you too."

He exhaled, rocking back on his heels. "I'll bring you stuff when I'm back."

"You better."

He smiled, then pulled me into a hug. It was warm, solid, and familiar. I closed my eyes for a second, taking in the scent of his cologne, the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

"Don't forget to call me every day," I reminded him, my voice slightly muffled against his shoulder.

"I won't." He pulled back slightly, looking down at me. His eyes flickered over my face, as if memorizing me before he left. "And don't burn the apartment down while I'm gone."

I rolled my eyes. "No promises."

He chuckled, letting go, but his hands lingered on my waist for a second longer before he finally stepped back. He grabbed his suitcase handle, glanced toward the security line, then back at me, hesitating.

"I should go," he finally said.

"Yeah." I nodded. "Go before you miss your flight."

He took a few steps back, giving me one last look as if he wanted to say something else but decided against it. Then, with a deep breath, he turned toward security and disappeared into the crowd.

I stood there for a moment, watching the spot where he had been, my arms still faintly remembering the weight of his embrace.

Then, with a sigh, I turned on my heel and walked away.