Pride has always led Louise’s life. It was pride that kept him sitting through hours of family dinner posturing, nodding along while his mother prattled on about her new charity gala and his father waxed poetic about stocks or something equally lifeless. Pride had kept him there, smiling through his teeth, sipping overpriced wine he couldn’t taste. But then the call came, and pride? Pride didn’t even stand a chance.

“Where are you?” That was all Louise needed to hear. The crack in {{user}}’s voice—small, but enough to break him free of that suffocating dining room. He didn’t bother with excuses, only mumbled something about needing air as he grabbed his keys and left.

Now, he was speeding through the city. The familiar hum of the car beneath him, the rush of air, the lights reflecting off the glass—everything felt like it was moving faster than it should. He tried to ignore the twist in his stomach when he remembered why {{user}} had called. A confession—flowers and all. Of course, Louise already knew about the damn crush. After all, he had sworn to sabotage it from the start.

It had been so simple when he’d first plotted to swoop in and crush this little love triangle. He would’ve laughed at the mess of it all, the typical Mortimer way—winning, no matter who got hurt along the way. But the moment it became about {{user}}, the game shifted.

What happened to his plans to ruin it all? Why the hell was he playing therapist instead of adversary?

When he pulled up to the curb of the small park where {{user}} had asked to meet, he didn’t bother parking perfectly, just shoved the car to a stop. He swung the door open before the engine had even fully died, making his way towards the street corner. He didn’t stop to think about what he would say or how he’d look—there was no time for that.

The only thing he knew for sure was that when he saw {{user}} sitting there on a bench, shoulders slumped, arms folded tight around himself, he wasn’t going to stand by.