Don't Chicken Out, Carlyle
Ding-dong! Ding-dong!
THE TRAIN WILL ARRIVE SOON!
The cold winter air filled her lungs and left again. Yet for some reason, it felt refreshing, bringing a smile to her face. The station buzzed with bustling crowds, everyone clutching large travel bags.
"Ah, Grandma. I'm heading down now."
"See you soon, Dad."
People grinned ear-to-ear on their phones, families gripped their kids' hands tight as they hurried along. Amid the festive end-of-year excitement, Vita was doing the same—walking hand-in-hand with someone special.
She'd always gone home alone around this time, but not this year. It was nothing like that frantic dash to this very station before. Back then, she'd been in denial about her feelings for so long, only realizing them at the last second, her mind a whirlwind of Is it too late? Like a miracle, they'd spotted each other in the crowd and frozen. Nothing else mattered in that moment—just each other's presence. The memory was still vivid, so Vita instinctively glanced up at her side.
There he was, the tall guy. His handsome, well-defined features too. Was he thinking the same? Carlyle looked down at her with a soft smile.
"Feels kinda weird, huh?"
Vita nodded. "…Yeah, really."
It was so different from back then. The warmth of his hand felt comforting now. Carlyle had a habit of stroking her fingers with his when they held hands.
"I could pull the bag, y'know."
Vita hesitated before speaking. It was about the luggage. She'd mentioned it several times already, but Carlyle wouldn't budge.
"Guys carry the heavy stuff."
"Since when does gender matter for heavy lifting?"
"With those skinny arms of yours?"
Bonk. Carlyle flicked her forehead lightly. He smirked, and though it should annoy her, it just made her happy.
I used to be a guy too, you know, you jerk.
There was some lingering pride or conscience deep down, but whatever. If he wanted to suffer, fine by her. She already knew it was his way of being considerate.
Her cheeks puffed out a bit before she smiled and spoke. "I could do it, but I'll let you this time."
Treating Carlyle like a servant felt pretty good. Like she was being pampered. Even a guy like him was putty in her hands.
"My honor, princess."
But when Carlyle chuckled and said it, Vita's face flushed red at the teasing. She pinched him lightly. "…Why do you have to be so cringey?"
"Don't like it?"
"What do you take me for?"
"My princess. That's what you are to me."
To Carlyle, it wasn't exaggeration at all. Princess? Treasure? Cute nicknames didn't even cover it. No words were enough for his most precious person. To him, Bianca Shama was one of a kind.
"Sh-shut up."
Vita shoved a walnut cookie into his mouth and hurried ahead, cheeks burning. Carlyle stared at her adorable back for a second before catching up, still holding hands. He couldn't help chuckling.
God, she's cute.
Sometimes she seemed so childlike. Not in a bad way—just pure and innocent. That's what Carlyle loved most. If such a pure girl loved him, it had to be real. His heart swelled every time.
HAVE A SAFE TRIP.
The train pulled in soon after, and the two boarded together.
They'd reserved a two-seater. The train interior was clean, the seats cozy.
"In you go, first."
Carlyle naturally guided her to the window seat, taking the aisle. He stowed the luggage overhead, then checked everything—seat comfort, her seatbelt not too tight. Satisfied, he smiled.
"Just the trip left now."
He stroked her hair gently. Vita's face heated up; she started to say something but closed her mouth.
Why is he always so sweet?
She knew why, but admitting it was embarrassing. Carlyle's constant care never got old—it always felt good. No wonder she'd fallen for him.
"The train will depart shortly—please take your seats."
Station staff bustled, passengers settled. Soon, the gentle rumble of the train on the tracks reached their ears. They exchanged glances, smiling for no reason, before Vita spoke.
"Hey, Carlyle."
Something she'd been wondering lately.
"Yeah, Bianca?"
His smile was soft, golden eyes full of affection. Vita knew exactly how he felt—gentle, thoughtful, quietly diligent. Still, she couldn't help asking.
"Well, um…"
She fidgeted, then got to it. Meanwhile, his fingers brushed cookie crumbs from her lips.
"Why are you… so damn nice?"
Her face burned. She liked him already, but this made her fall harder every day.
What if he ever left…?
Impossible, but imagining it choked her. Life without him was unthinkable. She was hooked on his endless trust, kindness, reliability. His love had become her normal.
"Why so sweet…?"
Vita nuzzled his shoulder. Carlyle chuckled.
"What's this, all of a sudden?"
She mumbled again. "I mean… you weren't this sweet before."
"How was I then?"
"Lighter? More carefree, kinda playboy-ish?"
He was different now—attentive posture, serious expression. Vita continued.
"But now you're… way more mature than your first impression."
"Good change?"
She nodded slightly after a pause.
Though he's still cheeky sometimes…
Like calling her princess at the station. But there was more weight to him now. Carlyle felt distinctly more grown-up lately.
Hmm, what is it…?
In the last few months, Carlyle had matured, become more manly. She caught herself leaning on him more naturally. He was a good guy—great, even. Solid man material. Once peers, now he felt increasingly adult. A real man scent? A proper grown-up, building and taking responsibility for a family.
The kind of guy she'd once dreamed of being herself.
Now it's…
No jealousy, though.
"So, what vibe?"
His low voice and chuckles made her heart race as she confessed.
"…Mature man vibe?"
Reliable, magnetic.
"Ah, no."
Embarrassed, she fidgeted her lips. "Forget I said that."
Carlyle burst out laughing. "That's a good thing, right?"
He could guess why. Dating Bianca had changed him. He'd always wanted to grow up fast, stand on his own. Dreaming of love and family like everyone else. But pessimism lingered—too used to being alone, walls up even in relationships. No close friends, maybe because of those barriers.
But she'd broken through, disarming him. Innocent, pure, outwardly bold but soft inside—she became precious. Suddenly, he could see that dreamed future.
So he was changing—more responsible, mature.
"Good change, right, Bianca?"
He asked again. He just wanted endless happiness with his precious partner.
She nodded, thinking, As if it could be bad…
It was the opposite—troubling how much more she liked him daily.
Then, unexpectedly: "You've changed a ton too."
"Me…?"
Carlyle nodded. "We're both different since dating. People change."
Nearly two months in, Bianca's shifts were obvious.
"Bianca, you're… way more feminine now."
Speech, actions, even underwear. He knew why and loved it.
"More honest, tons of aegyo…"
She couldn't deny it. Her face burned hotter.
Why's he so chatty today?
Forgetting she'd started it. "O-okay, got it…!"
Around them was quiet—only their voices stood out. She caught eyes with the elderly couple next to them; their kind smiles made her flush deeper.
"We were the loud ones…"
Intimate stuff too. Even shameless Carlyle blushed faintly.
"…Talk softer?"
"…Yeah."
The silly couple lowered their voices, adjusting their intertwined hands, chatting until arrival.
The Shama estate sat in a prime spot. With no monarchy anymore, "family" felt old-fashioned, but Vita always remembered her father's words.
Listen, son. Our house is an old, storied family.
Back when royalty existed, her great-grandfather was a high official. Vita had never wanted for anything. Local gentry fit perfectly. The manicured garden basked in sunlight year-round, tended by gardeners.
Vita's father, Maximilian Shama, was "Old Max" to locals—stern personality plus successful businessman earning respect.
Huge white gates, three stories tall. Undeniably wealthy.
"Ah, there it is."
Holding Bianca Shama's small, soft hand, Carlyle took in the sight and froze. He'd expected money, but this exceeded it.
Still, he wouldn't gawk. No way he'd look intimidated in front of his girl.
His face stiffened anyway. Inevitable tension.
Heading to ask a rich family for their pampered daughter.
Bianca always noticed—frowns, moods. She'd startled him before.
"What're you doing, Carlyle?"
She crossed her arms, a hint of pout, but it vanished into worry.
"Nervous, huh…?"
He shook his head, then nodded honestly. No hiding now.
"Yeah."
Deep breath. He chuckled, re-lacing their fingers casually.
"Going to ask your parents for permission? Gotta be nervous."
Her cheeks flushed; she cleared her throat. "Just be yourself. I told you on the train, right?"
She'd repeated it: Dad's strict, but show sincerity—he'd relent. Not closed-minded.
But… a kid calling parents "not closed-minded"?
This won't be easy…
Now he was more tense. Bianca pulled her hand free, cupping his cheeks.
"Look at me, Carlyle."
Amethyst eyes met his. "I'm right here. Act normal. Don't chicken out!"
He laughed. "Got it."
His heart eased. With this cute girlfriend cheering him, no room for nerves. His lifelong partner.
Yeah, I'm good.
They held hands and approached. Then, the expected hurdle.
As they entered gates hand-in-hand, Carlyle steadied his breath. Footsteps approached—like they'd been waited for.
"You the Carlyle punk?"
Maximilian Shama eyed him like a thief, glaring fiercely.
"…Hello, sir."
"Who said I'm your sir?"
"D-Dad…?"
Vita had told Carlyle not to fear, but now she fidgeted between the men.
But if I do this…
No—she had to be strong. She'd always feared her strict dad, but not now. For Carlyle, she mustered courage.
"D-Dad…! No need to say it like that…"
Tearfully, she sidled to Carlyle, naturally linking arms—like leaning on him.
Ah, no…!
Instinctive, unaware of her father's shock, despair.
How dare he take my daughter…!
His mustache quivered. Then, house rank one—his wife Emma—smacked his back.
"You old fool! Can't even welcome him?"
"Dear, what'd I do wrong…?"
Maximilian felt wronged. Last resort: ahem, firm tone.
"I won't approve—!"
To his daughter too. "Send him packing. No need to see more."
"Dad…!"
Too much. Saying that in front of him? Vita hurt deeply. Glancing, Carlyle's face was stiff—worse.
Sorry. This isn't right, Dad. No way.
She bit her lip, recalling Mom's advice.
If your strict dad acts rash, try this.
Would it work? Doubtful. Childish. But Mom suggested it.
Still, Dad irked her now. Worth a shot.
Vita had never called him "Daddy." Always "Father." This might be first.
"Daddy, I hate you…!"
Maximilian Shama, 68, froze like stone.
D-Daddy…?
Daughter's "Daddy." Long life's wish—both at once! But she hated him.
"Wh-what…?"
The effect was tremendous.