Alex's P.O.V.

At night, I come home, my thoughts still a mess from everything that happened with Stella at basketball practice. I can't get her out of my head, and it's driving me insane.

As I pass by the dining room, I hear voices. It's Stella's voice, and I stop. She's sitting at the table, but she's not alone. One of the maids is there, wobbling slightly as she tries to serve Stella her dinner.

"Are you okay?" Stella asks, her voice filled with concern.

The maid, looking pale and unsteady on her feet, gives a weak smile. "Yes, ma'am. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine to me," she responds, pushing the maid's hand away from the serving dish. "I'll serve myself. You need to take a break."

The maid shakes her head. "No, ma'am, it's my duty—"

Stella cuts her off in a firm but kind tone. "I've got it. I'm used to doing things on my own, anyway. And besides, I think you haven't eaten dinner yet—that's probably why you're feeling dizzy. Come on, sit down with me and have something to eat."

The maid looks horrified at the idea. "Ma'am, Sir won't like that."

"Don't worry about him." Stella smiles, pulling out a chair for her. "I don't like eating alone, anyway. My mom is busy, wrapped up in her new marriage, and I don't want to bother her all the time. You can join me."

The maid's eyes widen, clearly taken aback by Stella's kindness. "Ma'am, you're so sweet."

Stella shrugs, then starts serving herself dinner, adding a portion for the maid as well. "It's no big deal. Now, eat. You'll feel better after a proper meal."

I stand there watching, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. Stella is sitting at the dinner table, laughing softly with the maid, chatting as though they're equals. She's not who I thought she was. She's kind, down-to-earth—nothing like the gold digger I accused her of being.

She's... different. She is completely unlike the girls I've known.

My chest tightens as I realise just how wrong I've been about her.

"She doesn't deserve the shit I've been giving her," I mutter to myself, rubbing the back of my neck.

I quietly slip away before Stella notices me and head to my room. I can't stop thinking about what I just saw—the way she cared for the maid, the way she didn't make a big deal out of it like it was the most natural thing in the world for her to be kind.

How can anybody be so kind on this earth?

I run a hand through my hair, replaying the moment over and over in my head. She's not just some pretty face or a girl trying to get her hands on my dad's fortune. There's something more to her—something real.

Shit! I'm in deep trouble, and I know it. She's forbidden, but I can't stop my heart from beating for her.

***

Stella's P.O.V.

The next morning

I walk to the dining table to have breakfast. As I see Alex already sitting there, I make myself fully prepared for another snide comment or sarcastic remark.

But Alex looks up from his seat at the table, and to my utter shock, he smiles. Not a smirk or a mocking grin—just a simple smile.

"Good Morning," he says, his voice casual.

I freeze mid-step. Did he just...wish me a good morning?

"Uh, good morning?" I reply hesitantly, blinking in confusion. Maybe I'm still dreaming.

But no, it's real. Alex is sitting there with that calm expression, like it's the most natural thing in the world for him to greet me politely.

Then, before I can fully process what's happening, he stands up, grabs the juice pitcher from the counter, and pours a glass. Not for himself—for me.

"Here." He places the glass in front of me.

"What are you doing?" I stare at it, my eyes widen in shock and disbelief. I can't figure out why he is behaving so differently.

"What does it look like? I served you juice," he replies, filling another glass for himself.

I narrow my eyes at him. This can't be real. I glance down at the juice, and then back at him suspiciously. Is this some kind of trick? Has he poisoned it? Spiked it with something? Of course, he has.

He's Alex Blackwood, Mr Grumpy, who hasn't left a single chance to annoy me since we met. How can I trust him?

So, I swap our glasses, sliding his toward me and mine toward him.

Alex gives me a bewildered look, his brow furrowing.

"Why'd you do that?" he asks.

"I can't trust my enemy," I whisper after leaning in slightly. "What if you've mixed something into it? Poison, maybe?" I watch his reaction closely.

He sighs, shaking his head with a small smile. "We're not enemies, Stella."

I raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious. "Oh? Then what are we, Alex? Because we've spent the last two weeks fighting over every little thing."

He chuckles, taking a sip of the juice I handed him. "We can take a break from fighting. I'm tired."

I blink at him, completely taken aback. What the fuck is happening? Is this the same Alex who's been driving me crazy since day one? What happened to his grumpiness?

"Yeah," I murmur, still in shock. "You're right. We can take a break."

I sip my juice, trying to act normal, but my mind twirls with thoughts. Alex, the guy who has done nothing but argue with me since we met, is now acting like a normal human being. What on earth is going on? Is this a parallel universe?

***

When it's time to leave for college, I again mentally prepare myself for the usual chaos in the car—loud music and endless bickering. But Alex keeps the volume at a reasonable level, and we drive in silence.

I glance at him from the passenger seat, trying to make sense of this new, calmer version of him.

He's definitely sick.

I reach over and place my hand on his forehead, checking for a fever. His head snaps toward me, eyes wide.

"What are you doing, Stella?" He asks, giving me a sideways glance.

"I'm checking if you've got a fever or something. You're acting way too normal," I reply, my tone half-joking but also genuinely confused.

He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. "I don't have a fever. I'm just trying not to fight with you for once."

"Uh-huh," I mutter, still not entirely convinced. I let my hand drop before settling back into my seat. "Well, it's weird. You're not blasting music, you're being polite... Who are you, and what did you do with the real Alex?"

He glances at me, his smirk softening into something else—something that makes my heart race a little faster. "Maybe weird isn't so bad."

For the rest of the drive, I catch myself stealing glances at him. He's different today, and I'm not sure how to feel about it. Part of me misses the back-and-forth banter, but another part—the part that's exhausted from constantly arguing—feels relieved.

Maybe this break from fighting is exactly what we need.