Chapter 3 3

Kingsley leaned his head back against the couch, his voice distant and soft, as if he was speaking more to the past than to Katherine in front of him.

"I still remember the first time I saw her. We were in this little coffee shop just off campus. She was sitting by the window, sipping on an iced caramel macchiato, lost in whatever book she was reading. And then she looked up."

He paused, swallowed.

"Her eyes... Katherine, they were the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. This pure, crystal aqua blue-like the ocean right before sunset. It stopped me. Right there. I couldn't move. I couldn't think. Just... those eyes."

Katherine turned her face slightly, trying to hide her reaction, but the hurt still showed.

Kingsley glanced at her, guilt flashing across his face. "I'm not saying this to hurt you. I just need you to understand. Those eyes-they pulled me in. And when she smiled? God. Her entire face would light up. She had this soft way of tilting her head when she was curious, the exact way you do sometimes. Her laugh? It felt like home."

"I fell in love with her that day. Completely. I didn't even know her name yet. But I knew I wanted to spend every second getting to know her."

He gave a quiet, bitter laugh. "It sounds crazy. I get that. But it was real. So real."

They were both quiet for a moment before Katherine finally asked, "So... was I just her replacement?"

Kingsley didn't answer right away. His shoulders dropped slightly.

"When I met you," he said carefully, "it was years after I lost her. And when I looked at you for the first time... your eyes. They were exactly the same. The same shade, the same softness, the same intensity when you were upset or happy or curious. I froze. For a moment, I thought I was seeing her again."

Katherine closed her eyes, hurt all over her face.

"I know it's not fair," Kingsley added quickly. "But it's the truth. That's what pulled me in. That's what made me start talking to you. And at first, I told myself it didn't mean anything. That I was just drawn to you, not because of her, but because of you. But as time went on... I kept seeing her in you. Every time you smiled. Every time you looked at me that way. And maybe... maybe I thought I could rewrite the ending I lost."

**Fades into a memory.**

It started on a cloudy autumn afternoon in Northern California.

The sky had been overcast since morning, the sun struggling to break through a veil of fog that curled around the hills behind Aldridge University. The air carried the scent of damp pine and freshly ground espresso from the cafés scattered around campus. Students in designer coats and messy buns hurried between classes, dodging golden leaves as they fell in spirals from tall oaks.

Kingsley wasn't paying much attention to the weather. His head was buried in a finance textbook as he sat alone near the back patio of the student center, his black coffee untouched, his phone vibrating every few minutes with family group chats and unread messages from girls he didn't care about.

Then he saw her.

At first, it was just a flash of movement in the corner of his eye. Then a laugh-light, musical, completely unguarded. He looked up.

She was standing by the coffee cart, blonde waves pulled into a loose bun, one hand cradling a latte while the other tugged playfully at her friend's scarf. But it was her eyes that stopped him. Aqua blue. Piercing and bright, like they didn't belong in the real world. He'd never seen anything like them.

He couldn't look away.

That was the moment something shifted inside him.

Her Name Was Beth

Beth Whitmore. Everyone on campus knew her name. She was the daughter of Harrison Whitmore, one of the biggest real estate moguls in the country. Her family was the kind of powerful that didn't just donate to the university-they had buildings named after them. She wasn't loud about it, though. She was graceful, funny, low-key in a way that made people want to know her even more.

Kingsley didn't expect anything when he first introduced himself. He just knew he had to. Something about her made the rest of the world feel... quiet.

Their first real conversation happened at a student fundraiser-a gala in a glass-walled venue at the edge of campus. She was standing near a balcony, clearly bored, sipping on cranberry juice. He walked up beside her with a drink in his hand and said, "This punch tastes like bad decisions and leftover sugar. Want some?"

She turned to him, brows raised in amusement. "Wow. That's probably the most honest thing anyone's said to me all night."

"Then I'm off to a good start."

She laughed.

That was it. That was all it took.

They Fell Hard

From that moment, they were inseparable. Kingsley had never believed in things like fate. But Beth made him rethink everything. She wasn't just beautiful-though she was stunning. She was brilliant, witty, and effortlessly kind. She loved old movies, hated olives, and snorted when she laughed too hard. She got excited about the smallest things-a new book, a rainy day, a song that reminded her of childhood.

They went on long walks at night, hand in hand, talking about their pasts and dreaming about their futures. They'd fall asleep on each other's shoulders in the library, leave notes in each other's lockers, skip class just to lie in the grass and listen to music.

Kingsley wasn't just in love.

He was hers.

"I think about you when you're not around," he told her one night, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as they sat on a bench overlooking the water. "Even when I don't mean to. You're just... there."

Beth had smiled, eyes glistening. "I think you're in my bones, Kings."

The Promise

They talked about the future constantly-where they'd live, the places they'd travel to, the wedding she dreamed of (small, beachside, just close friends and family). They joked about kids, argued playfully about how many dogs they should get. Every time Kingsley looked into her eyes, it felt like everything would be okay.

He didn't need anything more. Not his parents' approval. Not the ridiculous expectations from home. All he wanted was her.

And on the night of graduation, he made that clear.

The Proposal

The restaurant was closed to the public. He'd rented out the rooftop, filled it with soft lights, music, and candles that danced in the coastal breeze. It wasn't grand, but it was intimate. Perfect.

Beth walked in and froze.

Her hand flew to her mouth. "Kingsley..."

He smiled, nervous and sure all at once.

"I didn't plan the perfect moment," he said, reaching into his pocket. "I just... couldn't wait."

He knelt down on one knee.

"I don't have a billion-dollar last name. I don't have a father who could buy half of Los Angeles. But I love you. I see you. And I want to spend every sunrise and sunset figuring out how to love you even more."

Beth's tears fell before she could answer. "Yes. God, yes."

They kissed beneath the stars, wrapped in each other's arms, and made promises they thought would never break.

But Love Isn't Always Enough

It started to fall apart just days later.

Beth had told her father about Kingsley. She had gone into that conversation with hope in her heart, still glowing from the proposal.

But Harrison Whitmore wasn't moved by poetry or blue eyes. He saw dollar signs and headlines.

"You'll marry Alastair," he said flatly, sliding a file across his desk. "He's the future of Whitmore Enterprises. You've known this since you were fifteen."

Beth's voice shook. "I'm not a chess piece."

"You're my daughter," he replied. "And your mother and I didn't build this empire so you could throw it away on someone whose name no one recognizes."

Kingsley's family was wealthy. But not Whitmore wealthy. Not elite enough to protect Beth from the expectations of her bloodline.

The Message That Broke Him

She left without a word. No goodbye, no explanation. Just a short message, three days after the proposal.

"I'm sorry. Please don't contact me again."

Kingsley was wrecked. He called. Emailed. Showed up at her apartment. Nothing.

He didn't know until years later that she'd been forced. That she'd cried herself to sleep the night she sent that message. That she'd worn the ring under her clothes until the day her father made her return it.

She'd left him, yes.

But not because she stopped loving him.