Chapter 7

Ayleen's POV

By the time Saturday night arrived, I was tightly wound, my nerves stretched thin. I walked into the bar expecting disaster, already bracing for another fight with the keyboard.

Instead, I found excitement buzzing in the air.

Everyone looked energized, grinning and whispering like something big had happened.

“What’s going on?” I asked, scanning the room. “Did someone win the lottery?”

Before anyone else could answer, Serena grabbed my shoulders, shaking me. “You did, girl! Why didn’t you tell us about the new keyboard?!”

I blinked. “What? What new keyboard?”

George smirked, gesturing toward the stage.

There, sitting perfectly in place, was a brand-new Casio LK-S250.

I stared.

“What the—how?”

George folded his arms, looking just as surprised as I felt. “We thought you knew. It was delivered this morning. For you.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it again. This had to be a mistake.

“I… I didn’t buy this.”

Silence settled over the group. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marcus shift uncomfortably, his jaw tightening.

His fingers twitched toward his phone.

“No way,” he muttered under his breath before pressing the call button.

After a few rings, a familiar husky voice answered.

“Yes, Marcus?”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “You behind this?”

Clara’s voice oozed amusement. “I’m not following. Be more specific.”

“The new keyboard that was delivered to Ayleen.”

“Oh. A new keyboard? Good for her.”

Marcus’s teeth gritted audibly. “Clara, I swear, you’re a great lawyer. No one lies as well as you do.”

And with that, she laughed—a low, knowing sound—and hung up.

Marcus locked his phone and turned to me, looking dead serious.

“Ayleen. We need to talk about Clara.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand—why would she buy me that? I didn’t ask for it.”

“We know,” Marcus muttered.

George hesitated before speaking. “Listen, Ayleen… you’re a sweet girl. And in this world… well, all kinds of love exist and—”

“Clara is gay,” I cut him off flatly, rolling my eyes.

They both froze.

Their jaws dropped like I had just announced the discovery of fire.

“Wait, what?” Marcus blinked. “You knew?”

I scoffed. “Guys, this is 2022, not another planet. Of course I know gay people exist.”

Marcus rubbed his face, muttering, “Please don’t tell Serena.”

I laughed. “Don’t worry.”

But Marcus wasn’t done. “You don’t like Clara, do you? She’s not a good person, Ayleen. Stay away from her.”

I frowned. “Marcus, I’m not a child. She’s been nice to me. The keyboard was a bit extreme, sure, but I’ll talk to her.”

Marcus clenched his jaw. “Yes, but Clara—”

“Is here.”

Clara’s voice cut through the tension like a blade, smooth and controlled. My entire body stiffened as she approached.

She moved with the kind of confidence that sucked the air out of the room, her hazel eyes locked onto me with a quiet amusement that made my stomach tighten.

Then, without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed a quick, lingering kiss to my cheek.

I barely registered Marcus storming off, George following close behind.

What the hell was his deal?

I turned to Clara, still off-balance, my voice coming out sharper than I intended. “Why would you buy me a keyboard? What’s the game here? If you think you can buy me with your money, you’re mistaken.”

Clara raised her hands in mock innocence, her smirk never wavering. “Whoa, calm down. I didn’t buy you a keyboard. I bought it for my cousin’s band.”

Her gaze flickered with something unreadable. “The boys are my friends. And you, of course, Ayleen. I only wanted to help.”

Guilt stabbed through me. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

The hurt on her face disappeared in an instant, replaced by that infuriating smirk.

“You’ll have to work for my forgiveness,” she teased, winking.

I hated how that made my heart race.

That snob.

"So tell me, Ayleen, do you have a keyboard back home?" Her voice had shifted—less teasing, more curious.

"I had one, but I had to sell it to pay my brother's bills."

She stilled for a second, her usual easy smirk fading into something more thoughtful. "Wow… that shouldn’t be your burden to carry."

Her hazel eyes, which usually held that sharp, predatory glint, had softened. It caught me off guard.

I shrugged, trying to brush it off. "It’s fine. We don’t have a lot of money in my family, but we manage."

She nodded, but there was something off about the way she did it—like she wasn’t just agreeing, like she understood something unspoken in my words. Her lips parted slightly, then pressed into a weak smile.

"Yeah… I can understand," she whispered.

I blinked at her. Clara, the woman who drove a car that probably cost more than my family’s house, the woman who could casually throw money around like it meant nothing—she was claiming to understand?

"You can understand?" The doubt in my voice was sharp, immediate. "Clara, you’re rich. What could you possibly understand?"

She exhaled slowly, shaking her head, more to herself than to me. Then she leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table, her gaze locking onto mine in a way that made my chest tighten.

"You really can’t hide your feelings, Ayleen." Her voice was quieter now, lower, like she was speaking a truth she didn’t share often. "Don’t look so surprised. I do understand."

I wanted to scoff, but something about the way she said it made me pause.

"It was always just me and my mom," she continued, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her glass. "We had it rough. Nothing came easy. Everything I have now, I worked for it. I decided to change my life… but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand suffering."

It wasn’t just the words that struck me—it was the way she said them. There was no arrogance, no bragging about how she pulled herself up. Just quiet conviction, laced with something that almost sounded like… regret?

This was a different side of Clara. Not the confident, smirking woman who wielded power like a weapon. Not the flirt who thrived on control. This Clara… felt real.

For the first time, I saw past the polished surface. And I wasn’t sure what to do with that.