The next morning, Gigi woke before sunrise.

Caloy was gone. He'd left a note on her bedside table written on the back of a fast-food receipt:

Didn't want to wake you. You looked at peace.

Call me when the world starts acting up again.

- Caloy

She smiled. Folded it neatly. Tucked it between the pages of her notebook full of unsent letters.

At the office, things moved fast.

Her luxury brand campaign had been greenlit for national launch, and for the first time in company history, the lead strategist wasn't some overpaid executive - it was her.

Gigi Santiago.

At twenty-four.

A woman in a man's world.

A woman they couldn't control, couldn't seduce, couldn't define.

Her team gave her side-eyes at first. "Intense," they whispered. "Tough." "Too ambitious."

But then came the pitch reviews.

The clean vision. The strategy flow. The way she could dissect a market in seconds without notes.

By the end of the week, the whispers had changed.

"Smart."

"Sharp."

"A little scary - but damn, she knows what she's doing."

Raymond watched all this from a distance.

He hadn't spoken to her directly in two weeks, not since the rooftop wine, not since she drew the line with her father and redefined what power looked like.

But he was watching.

After one meeting, he lingered in the conference room as everyone else left.

"Gigi," he said, voice low. "Got a second?"

She didn't flinch. "Sure."

"I wanted to say? I've been keeping my distance. Respecting what you asked for."

She nodded once. "I noticed."

"I also wanted to say I admire how you've handled all this. Not just the project. Everything."

He looked at her - not like a man trying to get something - but like someone who finally understood that she wasn't made for manipulation.

"I used to think confidence was about control," he added. "But you taught me it's about knowing when to let go."

She gave him a tight but honest smile. "Good. Then you learned something."

A pause. "Are we okay?"

"We're neutral," she said. "And that's better than pretending."

He exhaled, smiled gently. "Fair enough."

And that was it.

No messy goodbye. No forced redemption arc. Just truth, and space, and growth.

That evening, Gigi drove home with the windows down, hair whipped by the wind, music low. She passed the family house - still intact, still full of ghosts - and kept driving. She wasn't ready to go back. Maybe she never would be.

Instead, she pulled up to Caloy's apartment.

He opened the door like he'd been waiting.

She didn't say anything at first. Just stood there.

Then: "You've always been the safest thing in my life. And I think? I think I'm finally ready to stop being afraid of that."

He blinked. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," she said, stepping closer, "I might be falling in love with you. And I want to fall on purpose this time."

Caloy didn't answer.

He just kissed her.

Slow. Certain. Not hungry or rushed - but solid.

And for the first time in her life, Gigi didn't brace herself.

She didn't question it.

She didn't calculate the escape.

She just let it happen.

Maybe this wouldn't last forever.

Maybe love was a risk.

But for once, she wasn't running.

And for the first time ever - Gigi didn't feel like she had anything to prove.