CHAPTER 382: TEAR IN HIS EYES

[Last Night...]

"Wait..."

Amala sighed, still half-asleep as she wrapped herself in a red silk robe and shuffled toward the door. She stopped by the wall monitor to check who it was.

The moment she saw the visitor, her brows knit together and she glanced at the time.

"Why is he here at this hour?" she muttered. "Did something happen to Lola?"

Part of her almost wanted to assume Lola had kicked Atlas out of his own home in the middle of the night after an argument. But knowing Lola, she wouldn’t—certainly not to him. That woman was head over heels for the guy.

Curious, Amala opened the door and stepped aside to let Atlas in.

"It’s late, so I don’t have anything prepared," she said as she sat gracefully on the couch. "Still, do you want some tea? Coffee? Juice?"

"Don’t trouble yourself more than you already have." His tone was calm to the point of being flat, his expression as unreadable as ever. "And I apologize for coming at this hour."

Amala smiled faintly. "It’s alright," she hummed. "Though I’d appreciate knowing why you’re here. Did something happen to Lola?"

Concern flickered in her voice, but she hid it behind her usual poised smile.

"Nothing has happened—yet," he replied. "To save you time, I’m planning to propose."

A brief silence fell between them as Amala’s brows rose slowly.

"Propose?" she repeated, almost certain she’d misheard. "As in... go down on one knee with a ring in hand?"

"Yes, exactly." He nodded. "That’s what I mean."

"Oh." Amala blinked, her mouth opening and closing as she processed his words.

That wasn’t at all what she’d expected when she saw Atlas on her doorstep. She’d had guesses, but not this.

"And...?" she asked carefully. "How do I help?"

"Lola speaks highly of you," Atlas said simply. "Since she trusts you, I trust your judgment. I have three proposal themes prepared for the night, but everyone around me keeps giving opinions that only cloud my decision."

He placed a folder on the table.

"So I decided to ask someone who truly knows her," he continued, meeting her gaze. "I want that night to be one she’ll never forget, and I want to make sure she says yes."

Because, at the end of the day, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Not by force, but by certainty.

For several seconds, Amala just stared at the man who, despite showing no emotion, somehow made his sincerity felt.

"I see." Slowly, a smile curled her lips. She reached for the folder and chuckled softly. "What a lucky girl... or rather, I’m glad someone finally wants to take her hand and protect her. That woman’s been through a lot. She deserves to be prioritized for once."

Atlas didn’t respond. His gaze followed her as she examined the documents—three detailed proposal plans, each more extravagant than the last.

He’d seen Amala before, but never this closely. Her fashion sense was far more feminine and polished than Lola’s, yet her appearance was strikingly unique.

Her legs, crossed elegantly, were covered with soft, well-groomed curls—hair that somehow looked intentional, almost stylish. Her voluminous curls gleamed under the warm light, while the neatly trimmed beard around her jaw added contrast to her otherwise refined look.

Atlas blinked, studying her with quiet curiosity.

"If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask something you may find offensive," he said finally. "Are you... confused?"

"Hmm?"

"You dress elegantly and carry yourself with such poise," he said plainly. "Yet you keep your beard. Why?"

Amala chuckled, unsurprised. "I should’ve expected that you’d ask instead of ignoring it. Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"Not at all," he replied calmly. "Just curious."

Amala didn’t answer right away. She simply smiled, and in that moment, she could tell his curiosity was genuine, not laced with judgment.

"Because I like it," she said simply, shrugging. "I like my hair like this, just as I like my beard. I dress elegantly because it makes me confident, but I keep my body hair because it makes me comfortable. It’s how I feel at home in my own skin."

Her smile deepened. "I love every bit of myself, Mr. Bennet. Believe it or not."

"I see." He nodded once. "Good for you."

"Good for you, too," she teased lightly, returning her attention to the folder. "These plans are all stunning."

No wonder the people he’d asked couldn’t decide. Each proposal had its own merits—no flaws, just differences in taste.

She smiled to herself. Whoever crafted these plans was an elite professional, but what impressed her more was that Atlas wasn’t throwing money for the sake of extravagance. He genuinely wanted perfection—not for show, but for her.

All for Lola.

Leaning back, she exhaled softly.

"None of these impressed you?" he asked, catching her gaze. "Did you find them too simple?"

"Simple?" Amala smiled. "I wouldn’t call any of this simple, Mr. Bennet. If anything, they’re too grand—exactly what Lola deserves. But the truth is... she doesn’t need grand proposals."

"I know," he replied immediately, with quiet confidence.

Amala’s brows rose.

"She’s crazy about me," he said matter-of-factly.

"..."

"But that doesn’t mean I don’t want her to have a moment where everything revolves around her," Atlas added, his tone softening just slightly. "You said it yourself, she deserves it. And if I’m going to ask for her hand, I want to do it properly."

"She deserves that much... and more." He raised his brows briefly. "Don’t you think?"

Amala’s expression softened. For some reason, her chest tightened—not from sadness, but from the weight of the emotion she felt in Lola’s stead.

"And here I thought she was the one who was head over heels. It seems I was wrong. Alright then," she said with a small smile. "I can’t pick between these three, but I can tell you a few things about her you might not know. Maybe that’ll help you decide."

And so, Amala shared what she knew—small details, stories, and quirks that only someone close to Lola could know. Before Atlas left, he asked her for one final favor: to keep Lola busy until his preparations were complete.

What Amala didn’t know that night was that Atlas hadn’t just come to her.

He visited everyone who mattered to Lola, one by one, gathering their input. He’d even been tempted to visit the Young family—not for their opinions, but to show them exactly how they should have treated her. And to Vito, just to brag.

Thankfully, Baby stopped him... with tears in his eyes.