Heartstrings and Heartbreaks

Maya furrowed her brows, just about to speak, when Charles got to the door before she could even make a sound.

"Who are you?" he asked casually.

Standing there, face like thunder, was Oscar. The moment he saw a strange man answering the door, his expression darkened as if a storm had broken over his head.

"I'm Maya's boyfriend," Charles said smoothly. "Is there a problem?"

Oscar froze for half a beat. Then his face turned the color of bad wine.

"Boyfriend?" he barked. "What nonsense is this? Maya, come out here and explain this to me right now!"

Inside, Maya had heard every word. Of course, she had—Charles's declaration was clearly for her benefit. She stepped forward, her voice calm but warning, "Charles, don't mess around."

"I'm not," he replied, turning his head to look at her, his eyes unwavering.

Oscar was losing whatever composure he had left. "Maya, what is going on here? Explain it to me!"

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. How could she explain without making either of them look bad? She didn't want Oscar to misunderstand her, but she also didn't want to embarrass Charles, who was clearly standing up for her.

"What's there to explain?" Charles said with a derisive laugh. "The truth's right in front of you. I've been chasing her for years, and she's finally agreed to be with me."

Oscar's fists clenched. A vein throbbed at his temple. "Say that again?"

"Did I stutter?" Charles lifted his chin with theatrical defiance. "I said, Maya is my girlfriend now. You're not welcome here, so stop harassing her."

That was it. Oscar snapped. His fist flew, aimed straight for Charles's face. But Charles was faster. He dodged easily, and with a fluid motion, returned the punch with one of his own. It landed squarely on Oscar's jaw, sending him stumbling backward, clutching his cheek.

"You hit me?" Oscar looked as if he couldn't believe it.

"Damn right I did," Charles said. "That's for bullying Maya."

Maya panicked the moment she saw them come to blows. Without thinking, she rushed forward and threw herself between them, shielding Oscar.

"Stop it! Both of you, just stop!"

The moment she did, Charles's fist froze midair. He looked at her—standing protectively in front of another man—and his eyes dimmed.

She turned quickly, her gaze darting to him, trying to explain. "Charles, that wasn't what I—"

"There's no need to explain," he cut her off, his voice cool now, almost distant. "I get it."

He turned, walked back into the apartment, grabbed his coat, and left without another word or glance.

Maya stared after him, her heart sinking fast. She hadn't thought—her body had simply moved on instinct. She hadn't meant to hurt him.

"Charles!" she called, rushing after him. "Wait! Let me explain."

He stopped, but didn't turn around. "No need. I know who you still care about."

And with that, he walked away.

Maya stood frozen in the hallway, guilt twisting inside her. She didn't even know how to begin fixing this. Charles had always been so good to her. She knew that. And yet…

She couldn't deny that her heart was still tethered to Oscar, no matter how much she wished it wasn't. And that—more than anything—was unfair to Charles.

Behind her, Oscar was still standing awkwardly by the door, watching everything. There was a strange, sour look in his eyes. "Maya, I…"

"Leave," she said sharply, cutting him off. "I don't want to see you."

"What did you say?" Oscar looked stunned.

"I said, I don't want to see you." She turned to face him, her voice cold and final. "Go. And don't come back."

His face fell. "Maya, don't be so heartless, I—"

"I said get out!" Her voice cracked into a full scream. It wasn't calculated—it was raw, emotional, shattering. "Did you not hear me? Leave!"

Oscar was taken aback. He'd never seen her like this. Never seen her break like this.

"Get lost!"

This time, the word came like a thunderclap.

Oscar flinched, then turned away. He walked slowly down the hallway, never looking back. And as soon as his shadow disappeared from view, Maya's tears broke free.

Back inside the apartment, she collapsed onto the sofa like a marionette whose strings had been cut. Her shoulders trembled with silent sobs. She didn't know what to do anymore.

She couldn't face Charles—not after this. Not after the look in his eyes.

He had always been there for her. And she? She was still hung up on a man who didn't know how to love her properly. It wasn't fair. Not to Charles. Not to herself.

And then the doorbell rang.

She jolted, annoyed, assuming Oscar had come back again.

"What now?" she snapped, wiping angrily at her tears.

"It's me," came a familiar voice.

She froze.

It was Charles.

Heart racing, she sprang up and flung the door open. "Charles, you—"

"I was too impulsive just now," he interrupted gently. His voice was calm, his expression softer than she deserved. "I'm sorry."

Her throat tightened. "No… Charles, I'm the one who should apologize."

He looked at her, unwavering. "Maya, I like you. I've always liked you. You don't have to give me an answer right away. I can wait."

A warmth bloomed in her chest, fighting back the cold ache of guilt. She knew Charles wasn't just saying it. He meant it. Every word.

"Charles," she murmured, meeting his eyes with newfound clarity, "I'll think about it seriously."

He smiled then. "Good. I'll be waiting."