He Cracked After I Exposed His True Colors

"The company's dress code is quite... unique." I interrupted Clark's words with a smile, my tone light and casual, though my heart still thudded uncomfortably in my chest. I tilted my head slightly, keeping my expression neutral, masking the unease gnawing at me.

Clark hesitated for a split second, the briefest flicker of tension crossing his features before he recovered with his usual gentle smile. His voice was calm, almost too calm. "It's after work, so how the employees dress is their own choice."

I nodded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, as the earlier scene replayed in my mind like a loop I couldn't shut off. The women's outfits weren't just casual; they were practically designed to showcase every possible curve. Tight dresses, plunging necklines, high heels clicking loudly on the polished floor—everything about the atmosphere reeked of something more than mere professionalism.

I stole a glance at Clark as he drove, his profile illuminated by the dim glow of passing streetlights. He seemed relaxed, his expression calm and composed, as if nothing unusual had happened. What an incredible act. How could he appear so nonchalant after what I had just witnessed?

Clark noticed my silence and smacked his lips, breaking the tension. "Baby," he began, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, "let me tell you a secret."

I arched an eyebrow but didn't respond, waiting for him to continue. He gave a faint, melancholic sigh, his eyes briefly flicking toward me before focusing back on the road. "The reason I was watching that girl earlier in the office wasn't what you're thinking. It's because I felt sorry for her."

I kept my expression unreadable, though inwardly, my mind whirled. Sorry for her? That's a new one.

"Jimmy is a scumbag," Clark continued with a shake of his head, his voice carrying just the right amount of disdain. "He's got both a girlfriend and a boyfriend."

The corners of my mouth twitched, but I remained silent. Clark glanced at me again, as if gauging my reaction. When I didn't speak, he pressed on, his tone earnest now. "I know it's not really my business, but I couldn't help feeling bad for her. If I don't help her, isn't that a little... wrong?"

As he spoke, his expression softened and he gave me a look I had seen countless times before—a mixture of innocence and concern, as if he were the selfless hero caught in a moral dilemma. For a moment, I couldn't see through him. Was this genuine, or just another well-rehearsed line?

I turned to look out the window, hiding the conflicting emotions that churned within me. The passing city lights blurred into a shimmering haze, casting fleeting reflections on the glass.

***

Clark hadn't always been like this—or maybe he had and I simply failed to see it. We had met during a mixer in our junior year of college. At the time, Clark had a reputation—well-known as a playboy, charming and effortlessly charismatic, with girls constantly hovering around him.

His motto had been clear: "No strings attached, no unnecessary headache." In his own words, "I'm openly a scumbag, so everyone knows what they're getting into." He was unapologetically bold about who he was, which somehow only made him more attractive to those around him.

Back then, someone like him shouldn't have even crossed paths with someone like me. I was introverted, preferring quiet solitude over noisy gatherings. But fate—or perhaps coincidence—had other plans. That day, at the mixer, I had accidentally bumped into someone, spilling my drink all over myself. Embarrassed and flustered, I retreated to a corner, trying in vain to clean the mess.

When it was time to leave, I couldn't even hail a cab. The streets were crowded and every passing taxi was occupied. That was when Clark appeared, as if out of nowhere, hands shoved into his pockets, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Hi," he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "Need some help?"

I had hesitated, unsure whether to accept his offer. He wasn't exactly the kind of guy I usually associated with. But that night, drenched and stranded, I had little choice. And so, that's how it began.

According to his friends, after meeting me, Clark had cut ties with all the girls around him. He started attending classes with me, bringing me lunch, walking me home—doing everything in his power to prove he was serious. He was gentle and surprisingly polite, a stark contrast to the carefree playboy I had heard about. Under his relentless pursuit, I slowly let my guard down.

When we finally got together, I could still remember the way his eyes sparkled with promise. "Maya, I'll definitely treat you well," he had said, his voice filled with conviction. And for a long time, he did.

***

I grew up in a single-parent household, raised solely by my mother. She had worked tirelessly to provide for me and when she passed away, I found myself alone in the world. I had learned to rely on no one but myself—until Clark came into my life.

He was like warm sunlight piercing through the cold, solitary existence I had grown accustomed to. He made me feel seen, cared for and cherished in a way I hadn't experienced in years. Slowly, my world began to revolve around him.

In our senior year, Clark told me he didn't want to settle for a regular job. "I have bigger dreams," he had said, eyes alight with ambition. He shared his vision of starting a business, detailing his plans with an infectious enthusiasm. By the time he finished, he looked at me with a hopeful, almost pleading expression.

Despite my initial hesitation, I agreed. I believed in him. I believed in us. I gave him the saving my mother had left me, trusting that we could build something great together.

At first, things didn't go as planned. We lost everything—not just the money, but we also ended up in debt, tens of thousands of dollars weighing on our shoulders. Those were hard times. We endured sleepless nights, endless worry and the constant pressure of failure looming over us. But we didn't give up. We gritted our teeth and pushed forward, determined to make it through.

By the third year, things finally turned around. The business began to turn a profit and we slowly paid off our debts. Clark worked tirelessly, pouring his heart and soul into the company, enduring setbacks and pressure without complaint. I saw every ounce of effort he put in, every sacrifice he made to get us where we were today.