Chapter—Prologue

Ace Rhodes.

I delicately ran my fingers through the tousled strands of my hair, finding a sense of comfort in closing my eyes and leaning my head against the plush headrest of the bus seat.

Today was surprisingly enjoyable. After almost a year, I went to see Noah, and suffice it to say I was thrilled to find him and William content with their lives.

My long-suffering best friend had finally found love, and as far as I knew, Emily was the only person who could be the best match for him. The way she fit in with them and the way Noah's eyes lit up every time that idiot heard her name was all that had always been missing in their lives for as long as I could pinpoint.

William himself seems pleased to see his son and Emily together. I never imagined I'd ever see him truly smile again after everything he went through and dealt with.

Today was Emily's 18th birthday, and since she didn't know anything about me, I felt the odd one out almost the whole time.

Not like that stopped me from being, well, me.

But I was happy that, despite the impression I got from Noah's never-ending rants, she was timid and introverted. She even made an effort to hide her displeasure when I made dirty jokes and did her best to make me feel at home considering my controversial nature.

The bus came to a halt as new passengers started climbing in and I cringed at the thought of having to share my seat with someone. Socializing wasn't my forte. The seats filled up, and I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that no one had targeted my unoccupied space.

Almost everyone got seated and I heaved a sigh of relief when nobody bothered asking me to share my seat with them. As I was about to close my eyes again, I heard a clanging sound and I rolled my eyes and lifted my head up to see the cause of that sound.

"Hold up! Hold up, dude," a faint feminine voice called out, and there she was, climbing the bus with a bag that appeared larger than her petite frame.

She gave a small smile to the driver and then turned towards the passengers, her eyes roaming the entire bus for an empty seat.

She exchanged a brief smile with the driver before surveying the passengers. Her eyes alighted upon the sole vacant seat beside me, and a smile graced her lips as she made her way to the back of the bus.

For reasons beyond my grasp, I felt surprisingly okay sharing my seat with this girl. Her endearing smile and the flush that crept up her cheeks provided all the rationale I needed to share this journey with her.

Clad in a mauve sweatshirt paired with black ripped jeans that flattered her slim legs, she exuded a captivating charm. Her dark brown waves cascaded down her shoulders, enhancing her allure.

I cringed inwardly. I was not one to casually compliment girls—what had gotten into me?

While on her way toward my seat, she hit her foot on the side of a seat in front of me and almost landed on the floor flat on her face.

"Whoa, take it easy there, Princess," my words slipped out before I could filter them, and she responded with an eye roll, swiftly recovering her bag.

"Hey mister, a little scoot would be appreciated," she addressed me, and I conveyed an exaggerated eye roll to convey my apparent disinterest in her presence.

I shifted to the window seat, observing as she settled in, her fragrance redolent of jasmine wafting my way, a scent I endeavored to ignore.

Why did this girl practically radiate happiness? It bothered me more than it should’ve.

She settled down and looked my way, straight into my eyes. Her eyes were a mix shade of hazel and light brown that looked even prettier up close.

Her face was emotionless and so was mine. She kept looking at me, as if curious to know the answers to the questions that were haunting her for decades. And then again, she smiled, a genuine smile, and I swear I felt my heart stopped beating in that precise moment.

For weeks afterward, she occupied my thoughts. At the end of each day, as I lay in bed, her flawless smile and the lingering scent of jasmine would find their way into my mind. But as time passed, the memories of her began to fade, like a distant echo growing faint.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and eventually, she slipped from my thoughts altogether. The memory of her smile, her eyes, and the scent of jasmine dissipated, leaving only a vague recollection of a girl who had briefly brightened my existence.