Self

Chapter 7

Yale only noticed as he got closer that Yara’s gorgeous wavy hair was sleek and straight, and her hair color, which he adored, was back to its natural black.

No makeup, no high heels.

Just a stark white tee, simplicity at its purest.

Except for her eyes. They sparkled with a light that seemed even brighter than before, with no trace of the heartbreak shadow that should have been there.

If she was faking it, Yale had to hand it to her; she was nailing it.

She had nailed it so well that it got under his skin.

Yara’s brow creased; she could read him like a book. That look meant trouble was brewing.

Yale sneered, “But seriously, your taste could use some work. After all the years with me, you’d think you’d aim a little higher, wouldn’t you?

“Don’t just go for any random guy. Otherwise, what does that say about me, your ex?”

“About you?” Yara could not help but let out a bitter chuckle.

Yet, hidden beneath that chuckle was a whisper of sadness that Yale was too blind to see.

His head was swarming with visions of Yara grinning at some other guy, driving him nuts.

He chalked it up to some kind of guy thing–a territorial instinct.

Yara was his territory once, and even if he had walked away, he was not about to let any random man waltz in and take over.

“I’ve got stuff to do. I’m out,” Yara cut him off, not in the mood for

more.

“Out? Where to? Rainie’s place? Seems like that’s your only option.

now. But look at you, bold and independent, taking your check and ID with you.

“So, you’re up for a challenge now, are you?”

That jab hit Yara right in the chest.

She was no stranger to his temper tantrums, even his downright nastiness, but those words still managed to cut deep.

Did he think she was only playing games with him?

Yara took a deep breath, trying to get a grip on her swirling emotions. She smiled and said, “Look, Mr. Shelton and I are just friends, nothing sketchy like you’re imagining. And for the record, we’re over. Whatever you think, that’s on you.”

Just then, her cab pulled up.

Yara slid into the backseat and told the driver, “Let’s go, please.”

Yale let out a scoff. It seemed like Yara had stepped up her game.

He remembered their fight three months back; she had threatened him with something like that.

Well, she had actually brought some guy right under his nose. The

nerve!

Out of nowhere, Chantelle’s soft hands were on his arm, her body inching closer. “Yale, why are you rushing off? You’re not even going. to wait for me?”

Her perfume was overpowering. Yale winced but did not push her. away. Instead, he pulled her in by the waist. “Oh? You want to tag along?”

Did Yara think she was the only one who could play that game?

Inside the taxi, Yara caught a glimpse of the cozy duo in the rearview mirror and smirked. So, it was not just Xandra, after all.

Six years down the drain.

As the taxi drove off, Yale’s expression turned icy.

He shook off Chantelle’s hand without a word.

Confused, Chantelle tried to get close again, but he shoved her away and strode off without a backward glance.

“No, wait! Yale! Yale, stop!”

She stood there, fuming, biting her lip.

Yale hopped into his car, fired up the engine, and dialed Charlotte’s number.

“Yale? I thought you were on a blind date?”

Yale clenched his jaw, frustration seeping through his words. “Did you tell Yara about my date at the West Coast Restaurant today? Why do you have to blab everything to everyone?

“Mom’s on my back about blind dates, and you’re not helping me keep it under wraps. Instead, you tip off Yara, and she brings some guy to tick me off.

“Can’t you think before you act, or is it just one dumb move after another with you?”

Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat at his sudden anger. “No, what are you even saying? When have I ever-”

Cut off mid–sentence, she stared at her phone in disbelief as the call ended. “What on earth did I do now?”

Her irritation was short–lived as the butler approached with a list in

hand. ‘Miss, can you check if this is sufficient?”

She skimmed the list–everything was perfect. After a thorough check. and being satisfied there were no errors, she gave a pleased nod.

“These are for Professor Olson. Make sure everything’s perfect when you pack them, okay?”

“Understood.”

“Ms. Simmons, you’re looking at the best housing near Bellmere University. Check out the light and the vibe–people are lining up to rent this place.

“You might lose out if you don’t snap it up now.

The real estate agent smiled as Yara took in the space. It was cozy, a two–bedroom with a living room, and the decor screamed ‘90s. It was a bit wom and a classic walk–up, but the perks were undeniable.

A stone’s throw from Bellmere University, right next to a library, and with easy access to transport–not to mention the natural light and peaceful setting.

If she was aiming for a fresh start, that was it.

“Alright, I’ll take it.

She inked a year–long deal without batting an eye.

Rainie walked in to find a suitcase splayed open on the floor.

‘Planning to move?”

Yara was busy folding clothes. “Yep, I found a new place.”

Rainie hummed thoughtfully. “Yale came crawling back, huh? Good on you for standing your ground this week. Gotta show those jerks they can’t walk all over you, thinking they’re hot stuff…”

Yara stopped, their gazes locking.

“Rainie, it’s over with Yale this time. I’m not going back.”

Rainie paused, a flicker of belief in her eyes.

For six years, she had seen Yara tuck away her sparkle for Yale, her light dimming into a shadow of a woman wrapped up in a man’s world.

Yara was not even his wife; Yale, that jerk, was just trashing her life!

“Good riddance! Should’ve dumped him ages ago! The world’s full of guys; Yale’s just one less to worry about!”

“Right!” Yara agreed with a nod.

“Er… so, you’re serious this time? You won’t dash back to him in a few days, right?”

Yara could not help but chuckle.

Later, she swung by the market on her way home.

The place was ancient, plaster peeling off the walls.

The furniture was as old as heirlooms.

She picked up some eco–friendly paint to give the place a fresh coat.

“Thanks a bunch,” she said to the driver as he unloaded several hefty cans from the trunk.

Yara craned her neck to look at the seventh floor.

Time to climb.

With a new coat of paint, it was the perfect opportunity to shuffle the furniture and change the layout.

Yara propped the door open and started lugging the heavy paint buckets up the stairs. Each one felt like a ton, and she had to stop every two floors to catch her breath. By the time she finished, she

was panting like she had run a marathon.

After a few minutes of rest and a splash of cold water on her face in

the bathroom, she felt her energy creeping back.

She eyed the wall, paintbrush in hand, ready for a makeover.

She rolled her sleeves up; it was time to dive in!