Chapter 133: By the Lotus Pond

“I’ll wait for you at the university gate. Our usual spot.”

“Got it.”

Marcus ended the call, his pulse already picking up. This was only his second date with Anya, yet the anticipation hit him like a shot of adrenaline. He tore through his wardrobe, yanking shirts from hangers and tossing them aside, searching for something that did not make him look like he had just rolled out of bed. Dates with Anya always did this to him. They made him restless, keyed up, almost irrationally excited, though even he could not fully explain why.

As he reached for a clean shirt, his hand stopped. Folded neatly on the shelf were clothes he and Lily shared, arranged with quiet care, still carrying the faint scent of fresh laundry. It was unmistakably Lily’s doing.

Marcus froze.

’What the hell are you doing?’ The thought struck him hard, guilt pressing down on his chest. ’You have Lily. She loves you. How can you be this all over the place? How can you still be carrying a torch for someone else? How do you look her in the eye after this? Do you even love her?’

The truth landed with uncomfortable clarity. His emotional life was a mess. He had a woman who adored him, someone warm and devoted, yet his heart still wandered, drawn toward someone else without permission or reason.

’No, that’s not it,’ he argued with himself, forcing the thought back into place. ’I do love Lily. I love her deeply, just like I loved Snow. That part isn’t a lie.’ His feelings for Lily were real, rooted deeply enough that denying them felt impossible.

But he was also, undeniably, a man. A flawed one. Someone whose heart was too easily stirred, whose instincts were still pulled by women and attention. Like so many others, he carried that selfish, primitive desire to be admired, to be wanted, to feel chosen by every beautiful woman who crossed his path. It was less about betrayal and more about ego, though that distinction did little to ease the guilt.

No man with a pulse truly says no to a beautiful woman; it was a design flaw of the species, not necessarily a betrayal of love. But when faced with a woman whose love was steadfast and true, a guy like him felt he’d forfeited the right to even say the word.

Still, Marcus believed he had a sense of responsibility. He had the drive to protect and cherish the women he cared about, to be the solid ground they could stand on, the one who made them feel safe.

A year ago, with Snow, he’d failed. That failure was a scar that would never fade. But with Lily, he was damn sure he could do better. He ’would’ do better. No matter what, Lily was his, and he wasn’t letting her go.

Even so, as he finished getting ready and jogged toward the Crestwood University gate, he had to admit it: when it came to beauty, his willpower was paper-thin.

Anya was impossible to miss.

She stood near the entrance in a flowing white dress, sunlight catching on her like it was meant to frame her. People slowed as they passed. Men stared openly, admiration written all over their faces, while women cast sidelong looks filled with envy. As Marcus approached, he felt every one of those gazes shift, especially when Anya noticed him and broke into a radiant smile, the kind that made onlookers wonder what he had done to deserve it.

“You’re late again, Marcus,” she said, her lips forming a playful pout. Seeing him always sparked a rush of happiness she never quite managed to hide, and teasing him felt like the natural outlet for it.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. There was no good excuse, especially not for the twenty minutes he had spent obsessing over his hair.

He glanced around, then back at her. “Chloe isn’t here?”

Anya raised an eyebrow, a mischievous spark lighting her eyes. “Do you want her to be, or do you want her not to be? I could always go back and tell her exactly how you feel.”

Marcus winced. Anya had clearly figured out that Chloe was his biggest weakness. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

Despite himself, a thrill ran through him. He knew Chloe was usually glued to Anya’s side, especially after their last outing alone. Somehow, Anya had managed to slip away without her. The thought filled him with relief and a quiet admiration. For today, at least, he had her to himself.

“Well then,” Anya said, stepping closer, “you’re in charge. Where are we going?”

She loved watching him fluster, but when she noticed him genuinely struggling for an answer, color creeping into his face, she softened and gave him space, sparing him without drawing attention to it.

Marcus, of course, missed the gesture entirely. All he noticed was how easily she placed the day in his hands, trusting him to lead. The sense of responsibility, and the quiet pride that came with it, settled warmly in his chest.

They spent the afternoon wandering through the city, eventually drifting into a nearby park. Conversation flowed without effort, jumping from small observations to shared laughter. Even the most ordinary streets seemed different, brighter somehow, simply because they were walking them together.

They attracted attention everywhere they went. People whispered, stole glances, and lingered longer than necessary. Marcus felt it all, and he would be lying if he said it did not feed his ego. Being seen with someone beautiful changed how the world looked at him, and how he looked at himself.

“Marcus, look,” Anya said suddenly, tugging at his hand. “That’s beautiful. Let’s sit there for a while.”

She pointed toward a lotus pond, its surface shimmering green beneath broad leaves that swayed gently in the breeze. The air felt cooler there, calmer. Without waiting for his response, Anya took his hand and pulled him toward the water.

She had no idea that to Marcus, her presence eclipsed everything around them. Her elegance, her natural grace, her quiet radiance outshone the scenery by a thousand times. As long as she was there, the world felt complete, but she was always the one he noticed most.

Only when they reached the pond did Marcus realize she was still holding his hand. The softness of her skin startled him, sending a sharp, electric sensation up his arm. It felt unreal, as if he had stepped into a moment he was never meant to reach so easily.

Then Anya led him to a bench by the water and sat down, tugging him with her. She leaned in, close enough that her shoulder pressed into his, her body warm against his side. She did not pull her hand away. Instead, she let it rest naturally in his, as though it belonged there. A faint, delicate fragrance surrounded her, subtle but intoxicating.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears. His blood seemed to rush all at once, his muscles tightening as his mind struggled to catch up. Anya was leaning into him, relaxed, unguarded, as if this closeness required no explanation.

He had imagined this before, more times than he cared to admit, but the reality overwhelmed him. The intimacy felt too sudden, too effortless, leaving him frozen between disbelief and desire.

How was this happening? He searched for reasons, cycling through possibilities that made sense in his head, but none truly explained it. Was she unaware of what she was doing, or was she perfectly aware and simply unconcerned?

’Anya,’ he thought, calling her name silently. His thoughts tangled, emotions colliding. This single gesture pierced straight through the defenses he had carefully built, stirring feelings he had tried to keep buried.

Without consciously deciding to, his fingers tightened around her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Almost instinctively, he shifted closer, lifting his other arm and wrapping it around her shoulders. He pulled her in, steady and protective, until she was nestled securely against him, her weight fitting naturally into the curve of his embrace.

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