The Unwilling CEO’s Love Game

Jocelyn stepped out of the hospital room, her heart heavy with the weight of the conversation she'd just had with Quinta. She

scanned the corridor for Damian, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the flicker of a lighter caught her eye near the fire

escape, where Damian stood finishing his last drag of a cigarette.

Approaching him, Jocelyn could read the turmoil in his eyes even before he spoke, "You talked to her, didn't you?" His voice was

tinged with the scent of smoke.

Backing up to lean against the windowsill, she nodded. The words fell from her like stones, "She wants a divorce, Damian."

"And what do you think?" she asked, her voice laced with a firm gentleness.

Damian seemed to crumble under the weight of the world, admitting, "I don't want to let go."

"It must be really broken for her to consider divorce," Jocelyn reasoned.

"This accident..." he trailed off, hopelessness filled in his tone.

Jocelyn gazed at him steadily, "Are you referring to the miscarriage as an accident, or is it the fact that your ex-brother-in-law

crashed into her the accident?"

"His car had issues," he tried to explain, but his defense was weak.

"Honestly, | don't buy that. It's too coincidental not to suspect foul play," Jocelyn replied candidly. "From the start, you never gave

Quinta the security she deserved. Second marriage is tricky, Damian. It's not just two families coming together—it's three or

more."

She continued with a calm yet piercing clarity, "Quinta tried so hard to make things work with you. She genuinely wanted a life

with you. But you never took her seriously. When your ex made a scene in front of her, causing chaos at her workplace, you never

stepped in."

"I did!" Damian interjected, desperate to defend himself.

"You might have said something, but did you do anything to stop her? Actions speak louder than words. Your ex wouldn't dare to

act out if it weren't for your tacit approval," Jocelyn expressed, disappointment evident in her eyes. "If you can't let go of your past,

then don't string Quinta along. It's better to part on good terms, isn't it?"

Silence fell between them as Damian looked down, lost for words.

Jocelyn knew she was overstepping boundaries, but she couldn't bear to see her cousin suffer. "If you have any respect left for

what you had, don't make this ugly," she urged. "Quinta just had a miscarriage. Regardless of your feelings, please don't upset her

now. Think about the past two years you spent together and whether she's ever wronged you."

Having said her piece, Jocelyn left to prepare sfood for Quinta—a hearty chicken soup, known for its healing properties.

Carrying the steaming pot back to the hospital, she spotted a familiar car pulling up. Hesitating for just a moment, the driver

stepped out.

It was Melvin.

Their eyes met. For a brief second, the world seemed to stand still. With feigned composure, Melvin approached and inquired about

Quinta, his voice a deep timbre that sent a tremor through Jocelyn.

"Still hanging in there," she replied, leading him to Quinta's room despite the awkward silence that hung between them.

As they arrived, Melvin felt a sudden pang of embarrassment for not bringing anything to Quinta.

Jocelyn, sensing his discomfort, offered her soup as a gesture from him. But Melvin hesitated, not knowing if it was appropriate.

Jocelyn thought for a moment and said, "Never mind, your coming is already full of heart. She will certainly appreciate it."

Then Jocelyn knocked on the door. It was answered and she pushed her way in.

Taking a deep breath, Jocelyn said with fake relief, "Melvin is here to see you."

"Who?" Quinta thought she had heard wrong.

Melvin walked over, "I've cuninvited."

Quinta turned to Jocelyn in surprise, who gave a look to show she didn't know what was going on either.

"Have a seat, please." Quinta said, "I'm sorry to bother you and to make you call this way to see me."

"lI cempty handed." Melvin was honest.

Quinta laughed a little, "I'm not stressed when you clike this."

Melvin asked her, "How do you feel now?"

"Just fine." Quinta smiled a bit ruefully, "lI only blmyself for letting you all down for nothing."

"Don't say that. I've asked the doctor. You can still start over after you've toned up and rested for six months." Melvin relieved her.

Quinta smiled bitterly and shook her head, "Thank you for being so thoughtful, but no need."

Melvin frowned slightly but didn't ask why.

His visit was short but meaningful. Before leaving, Melvin's eyes lingered on Jocelyn, a silent conversation held in that glance.

But Jocelyn pretended not to notice, focusing instead on comforting Quinta with the soup and the promise of staying by her side

through the night.

The day's events left Jocelyn with a nagging question—how had Melvin known to come? But as Quinta sipped the soup and the

room filled with a warm silence, the question seemed to fade into the background, overshadowed by the simple act of being there

for one another.

Quinta sipped her soup, eyeing Jocelyn with a knowing look. "He's not here for me, you know. It's all for you."

Jocelyn avoided the topic. "Just drink your soup and rest up."

"He call this way. You should at least check on him."

"He didn't cto see me."

"You sound a bit jealous," Quinta teased, a rare hint of playfulness in her voice despite her frailty.

Jocelyn rolled her eyes. "Stop talking nonsense."

"Yes, he's here for me. But look at me, I'm hardly the hostess with proper look now. So, could you helptreat the guest with a

nice meal, please?" Quinta's voice was weak, her appearance disheveled from recovery, and her request was too sincere to refuse.

With a furrowed brow, Jocelyn muttered, "I never should've let Uncle and Auntie go home."

"They're getting on in years, and they have no common topics to talk with Melvin." Quinta pressed her palms together in a gesture

of pleading. "Dothis favor, will you?"

Speechless, Jocelyn gave in to Quinta's "desperate" plea and stepped outside.

As Quinta predicted, Melvin was still there, lingering as though he was waiting for someone to cout to him.

It was unclear how he was so sure someone would attend to him.

Hearing the door, Melvin turned, a smile playing at the corners of his eyes when he saw Jocelyn.

"Quinta wanted to thank you for being so concerned about her situation. She askedto treat you to lunch on her behalf," Jocelyn

clarified the boundary—it wasn't her idea.

Melvin nodded. "Alright."

Jocelyn hadn't expected him to refuse, but his quick agreement was a bit too prompt for her liking.

"Let's go, I'll take you out to eat," she said, figuring it was best to get this obligation over with quickly.

Melvin followed her like a child being led away, silently trailing behind as she navigated through the streets.

Jocelyn chose a restaurant with a nice atmosphere. After all, hospitality demanded it for a guest.

She handed him the menu. "Order whatever you like."

Melvin casually picked a few dishes and handed the menu back to the waiter.

The wait for the food was the hardest part, at least Jocelyn felt that way.

She pulled out her phone and started scrolling, ignoring Melvin entirely.

"You changed your number," Melvin remarked, sipping his water.

Jocelyn didn't look up. "Yeah."

"Did you change it to avoidfinding you?"

"No." She kept her eyes on her phone.

Truth be told, she wasn't actually browsing anything on her phone. She just flicked aimlessly through her screen, unsure of what to

say to Melvin, preferring this to the awkwardness of a direct conversation, even if it seemed a bit impolite.

"They say I've lost weight," Melvin shifted the topic, not pressing about the number any further.

Finally, Jocelyn looked up at him, her reaction almost instinctive.

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