In A World Full Of Full Stops

Dahlia’s gaze remained fixed on Asher, her voice laced with quiet confusion. “Why would you do that?”

“I just want to,” Asher replied simply.

She hesitated, searching his face for an answer beyond the words he had given. “Is it because… you pity me?”

The thought unsettled her. She had seen a different side of Asher tonight, a man with depth, with understanding. The last thing she wanted was for that image to be tainted by pity.

“No, no, no,” Asher rushed to refute her assumption, shaking his head adamantly. “It’s not pity. I don’t— I wouldn’t insult you like that. I know you wouldn’t want that.”

Dahlia studied him for a moment, tilting her head slightly, still puzzled. “If it’s not pity, then what is it?”

Asher exhaled, his voice softer now, thoughtful. “There’s something called a turning point,” he said. “And I want to give you that—the chance to change your story. In a way that would make your father proud.”

Dahlia swallowed, her fingers absently rubbing the pendant around her neck, seeking comfort in its familiar touch. “But that would put me in debt to you,” she murmured, glancing at him. “I don’t know if I’d ever be able to pay it back.”

“Pay it back?” Asher echoed, his brows lifting slightly. “Why would you have to? You’d be taking care of Chloe in return… as her mother.”

Dahlia stilled.

Her voice was quiet but firm. “But would Chloe want that? Would you want that?”

Asher met her gaze without hesitation. “Believe me when I say we both would.”

“But you didn’t even ask how much my family owes,” Dahlia pointed out, eyes narrowing slightly. “What if it’s over a hundred million? Would you still pay it?”

Asher gave a small, deliberate nod. “Mhm.”

“Why?” she pressed.

“One word: Chloe’s happiness,” Asher answered without hesitation.

Dahlia’s lips curled into a faint smile. “That’s actually two words.”

Asher exhaled and lightly face-palmed. “I think I just embarrassed myself.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” she replied with an amused nod.

“Can we… forget about it?” he asked, hopeful.

Dahlia tilted her head playfully. “One word: Never ever.”

“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be?” Asher smirked.

“That’s exactly how it’s going to be, sir.” Dahlia teased, leaning in slightly before rising to her feet.

Asher followed suit, his expression turning serious. “On a serious note, Dahlia, think about what I said. You leave for London tomorrow. I’d love to hear your decision before then.”

Dahlia let out a quiet sigh. “My flight is at nine o’clock. If I call you before ten… it means I’m choosing your offer. If you don’t hear from me…” She let the sentence trail off, knowing he would understand.

Asher nodded slowly, his voice calm yet hopeful. “In a world full of full stops, I hope you choose a semicolon.”

Dahlia held his gaze for a moment before giving a small nod. “I’ll consider it.”

A brief silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. They simply stared at each other—Asher’s eyes quietly pleading for her to consider his offer, while Dahlia’s held hesitation, uncertainty.

“Goodbye. Drive safely,” Dahlia murmured, her voice softer than she intended.

“Goodbye. Sleep well,” Asher replied.

Yet neither of them moved.

They stood there, caught in the moment—wishing, waiting, thinking…

Then, as if snapping out of a trance, Dahlia cleared her throat and quickly turned toward the door. “Well… it’s getting dark and—”

“Yeah, totally.” Asher blinked, regaining his composure before stepping toward the door.

As he reached the threshold, he paused. “I won’t get Chloe’s hopes up unless I know for sure that you’re coming.”

Dahlia gave a small nod in response.

Another lingering glance. A silent exchange of something neither could put into words.

Then, finally, Asher stepped outside.

At exactly ten p.m., Dahlia shut the door behind him and exhaled. The weight of the conversation still clung to her.

She returned to the kitchen, resuming her cooking, but Asher’s words echoed in her mind, each syllable looping like a melody she couldn’t turn off.

Eventually, while eating on the couch, she set her fork down, lost in thought.

“I should probably get some sleep. I can’t keep thinking so much,” Dahlia muttered to herself, running a tired hand through her hair.

Letting out another sigh, she grabbed the TV remote and turned it on, hoping for a distraction. The soft glow of the screen filled the room, and gradually, her thoughts drifted away from her conversation with Asher. Before she knew it, sleep had claimed her.

Hours passed.

At exactly midnight, the peace was shattered by loud, urgent banging on the door.

“Dahlia, if you don’t open this door, I swear I’m going to pee on the floor!” Stacy’s frustrated voice rang out, accompanied by another series of relentless knocks.

She had been at it for ten whole minutes, yet Dahlia hadn’t answered—no doubt fast asleep.

Just as Stacy was about to start another round of banging, the lock clicked, and the door cracked open to reveal Dahlia’s weary face.

“Sorry, Stace, I didn’t hear you—” she began, her voice still thick with sleep.

But before she could finish, Stacy barreled past her and rushed inside.

Dahlia merely raised a brow but wasn’t surprised. It was Stacy. Everything about her was chaotic and weird, but in the best possible way.

After relieving herself, Stacy strolled back into the living room. “You know, I would have had to potentially murder you if you hadn’t opened that door any sooner,” she joked.

“I know. And you would’ve peed on yourself,” Dahlia countered with a small smirk.

Stacy’s gaze shifted to the half-eaten plate of food on the table. “Let me guess… your boss?”

Dahlia followed her eyes to the abandoned meal and sighed. “What other reason could there be?” she muttered, sinking deeper into the couch.

Stacy nodded knowingly. “I’ll go make us some coffee,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Dahlia let out a small, tired smile, then closed her eyes for a moment, bracing herself for the conversation that was about to unfold.