CHAPTER FIVE

SCARLET'S POV:

I was filled with a mix of anger and sadness as I processed his assumption that I was a gold digger simply because I came from a poor background. It hurt deeply, especially because I genuinely loved him.

When I arrived home, I paid the taxi fare and walked inside, feeling a heavy weight on my shoulders. I threw my box on the table and slumped onto the couch. My mind was spinning with conflicting emotions, driving me towards the brink of insanity. Desperate to escape my thoughts, I went to the fridge and grabbed a couple of bottles of beer.

As I sat down and turned on the music on my DVD player, the familiar tunes created a temporary solace for my troubled mind.

Moving to the kitchen, I started preparing lunch while the music continued to play. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, interrupting the temporary respite. Curiosity piqued, I went to answer it and found Mason standing there, exuding an air of pride. I rolled my eyes at his presence and asked curtly, "What do you want?"

A smile played on his lips as he replied, "Won't you let me in?" I opened the door wider, begrudgingly allowing him to enter. He sauntered in, casting judgmental glances around my small house. I crossed my arms and stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

Finally, I pressed, "What do you want?"

He cleared his throat and began, "Laila told me that she was the one who sent that text, not you." I gave him a sarcastic smile and he continued, "But, it doesn't change the fact that you have feelings for me."

Taking a seat across from him, I spoke firmly, "There's nothing wrong with liking someone. If you don't like me, that's fine. But don't underestimate the impact your words had on me. You called me a gold digger."

Mason raised his hands in submission and sighed, "Listen, I'm here to clear up any misunderstandings, not to create more. I was married, and I have two sons. I can't give anyone the space I had in my life for my late wife Diana. So, please, remove those thoughts from your mind."

He stood up, ready to leave, and turned his back to me. I couldn't hold back my emotions any longer and spoke passionately, "It's your choice if you can't give someone space in your life the same way I can't keep dwelling on the past. The dead stay in our hearts as memories, but we can't let that dictate our future. Each day is a gift from God, hence why it's called the present."

He turned his head to look at me, but remained silent. We shared a charged moment of eye contact, but eventually, he broke it and left my house.