Chapter 5
How did Freddie even know where I live?
My mind froze. All I could think was I couldn't let him in.
He couldn't see me like this—in such a mess.
I hung up on Maya and pressed myself against the door, barely daring to breathe.
The doorbell stopped.
Instead, his clear, steady voice carried through the door, cutting through the silence.
"Arabella," Freddie said softly. "I know you're in there. Open the door. Let's talk."
His voice was steady—no blame, no anger—like he was just stating the obvious.
But that calmness only made my shame burn even hotter.
I'd rather he just blow up at me or yell.
Anything would be better than this—him standing there like some merciful judge, offering the guilty one a final bit of dignity.
I bit my lip, refusing to make a sound.
If I just pretend I was not here, maybe he would go away.
The hallway fell silent for a moment.
I almost thought he'd given up.
But then his voice came again, with a faint, helpless sigh. "It was easy enough to get your address from the TV station's guest info sheet.
"If you don't open the door, I'll just wait out here, just like I did ten years ago."
That last line landed like a heavy blow, striking deep in my heart.
There was no more running away.
I reached for the doorknob, turning it slowly.
The door opened.
Freddie stood outside, his tall frame casting a shadow over me, his presence filling the doorway.
He'd changed out of the suit he wore for the show, now in a simple white shirt with the sleeves casually rolled up to his forearms.
He seemed less like the aloof CEO and more like the boy from my memories—youthful and quietly charming.
His eyes landed on my puffy, tear-stained face, and his brow furrowed ever so slightly.
I dropped my gaze, too ashamed to meet his eyes, like a criminal waiting for my sentence.
He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
The entryway felt even smaller and heavier with Freddie standing there, his presence almost pressing in on me.
He didn't bother turning on the lights and just quietly scanned my apartment by the moonlight spilling in from outside.
After taking it all in, his eyes finally landed back on me.
"Why did you run?" Freddie asked.
My throat tightened, and after a long pause, I finally managed to choke out a few words. "I'm sorry."
That was all I could say.
"I don't want an apology," Freddie said.
His tone was gentle, but there was no room for argument.
"I want an explanation," Freddie said. "Arabella, did you really think I said 'meet you at pinnacle' back then?"
I snapped my head up.
Under the moonlight, his eyes were deep, filled with emotions I couldn't decipher.
I nodded, tears spilling over again despite my efforts to hold them back.
"Yes," I whispered. "That day, the cheers at the basketball court were deafening, and the wind was crazy.
"I was so nervous that my ears were buzzing, and I could only make out those four words.
"I thought... I really believed it was the most romantic promise you ever gave me."
I couldn't finish. My words dissolved into sobs, and I felt myself falling apart.
Freddie listened quietly, never interrupting.
As my sobs slowly subsided, he finally spoke, his voice soft and measured. "Do you know what I was thinking that night?"
I shook my head, blankly.
He gave a bitter smile.
"I went to the convenience store next to our school and grabbed two sodas," Freddie said. "Your favorite—orange soda.
"I waited at Pinnacle Tower from six o'clock, all the way until night fell.
"I kept thinking maybe your teacher kept you late, or something urgent happened.
"When it got dark, the mosquitoes came out in force, and I ended up covered in bites.
"So I went up to the top of Pinnacle Tower, thinking if I was higher up, maybe you'd see me.
"I watched the lights in the valley come on one by one, and then go out one by one.
"I thought maybe you weren't coming. But I just couldn't believe you'd be the kind of person to play with someone's feelings like that.
"So I kept waiting. I waited until the moon rose and then set again.
"I waited until the street cleaners were out sweeping, and dawn had already broken. That's when I finally realized I'd been stood up."
He spoke in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone, recounting the past I'd buried for ten years.
But every word felt like a knife, stabbing right through my heart.
Turned out, my ten-year promise was just him waiting all night for nothing.
My story of perseverance was, in truth, the breaking of his young heart.