Unrequited Love: Fate Worst Then Death

 Feelings

. . . . . 4 years back. . . . .

"This year has been incredibly profitable for Ken Enterprises. At such a young age, I prioritize honesty, loyalty, determination, and hard work. My aspiration is to make this company the best in the business," a rich, captivating voice drew my attention from the TV.

I lifted my gaze toward the screen, and my breath caught in my throat. Dark, intense eyes stared back at me—charcoal black, brimming with confidence and authority. His posture exuded power, and his presence was magnetic.

His features were unreal: a sharp, chiseled jawline, a pointed nose, and a light stubble that perfectly complemented his angular face. His hair was short, neatly trimmed, and gelled to perfection. Was this man even real? A Greek god incarnate, perhaps just missing the wings.

I was utterly spellbound, captivated by the striking figure before me. The world around me faded into nothingness, the sound of his voice turning into a melody I couldn't decipher. My eyes traced the way his lips moved in perfect sync, as if every word he spoke held profound meaning.

"Why are deliveries coming in so late at night? They've ruined my whole mood!" Dad's voice snapped me out of the daze.

Startled, I blinked and tried to refocus, my gaze still glued to the TV.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? You look like you've just seen a ghost," Dad said, concern lacing his tone.

Not a ghost, Dad. An angel, I wanted to say, but I stopped myself.

I shrugged, hoping to play it off as nonchalance, but I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

"Oh, seems like they're introducing the new heir of Ken Enterprises to the world," Dad continued, his eyes shifting toward the screen.

Heir? My heart skipped a beat. That mesmerizing figure—he's the heir?

The TV broadcast continued to roll clips of his interview, showcasing his confident demeanor and poised answers. But I couldn't process much of it. My thoughts were consumed by those piercing eyes and the aura of power surrounding him.

"Impressive, don't you think?" Dad asked as he settled onto the couch, taking a sip from his tea.

"Impressive?" I echoed

"Pops, who's that?" I asked, pointing at the TV screen, my voice tinged with excitement. "Just curious," I added quickly when Dad shot me a surprised look. He knew I had never shown the slightest interest in business or corporate affairs before, but the curiosity in my eyes was hard for him to miss.

"Well," Dad began, clearly amused, "he's the new heir of Ken Enterprises. Smart, incredibly intelligent, with an exceptional IQ. He's won numerous championships and worked hard to make his name. That's how he earned the right to take over the family company at such a young age."

To say I was impressed would be a huge understatement. He didn't look a day over 22 (and I was only 19 at the time). Acquiring that kind of fame and responsibility so young? That's no small feat. It takes maturity, relentless dedication, and a work ethic most people could only dream of.

But despite everything Dad was saying, there was one thing I desperately wanted to know—his name.

Dad seemed to pick up on my eagerness and intentionally delayed saying it, much to my growing frustration. Every second felt like an eternity until, finally, he spoke.

"Revan Alistair Ken," he announced with an air of finality. "twenty two years old, and the first son of the Ken legacy."

Revan. What a beautiful name. But what is this strange sensation? Butterflies? My stomach felt as if it was hosting an entire swarm of them. My heart seemed to be doing somersault, beating faster and harder by the second.

Before I could process my reaction, the TV caught my attention again.

"Okay, Mr. Ken, this isn't part of the interview, but a personal question: any girlfriends?" asked a blonde reporter with a flirty smile.

I frowned. Why did she care? And more importantly, why did I care? My heart suddenly started racing, pounding against my ribcage as I leaned closer to the screen, desperate to hear his answer.

Revan's expression remained calm, almost amused. "Do you mean 'grandfather'? Oh yes, I had one, but he's no longer with us," he replied with a sly grin.

I let out a breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding. Smart move, Mr. Ken. GF for 'grandfather'? By the time he finished his answer, Dad and I were both doubled over with laughter.

After another brief speech, Revan made his exit, stepping into a sleek black Mercedes. Dad clicked off the TV. "Goodnight, sweetheart," he said, ruffling my hair. "It's time to sleep."

"Goodnight, Pops," I replied.

As I made my way to the kitchen for a bottle of water, I said my goodnights to Mom and Alice, too. Normally, sleep would claim me the moment my head hit the pillow, but tonight was different.

My thoughts kept drifting back to him—Revan Alistair Ken, with those charcoal-black eyes and that enigmatic smile. I tossed and turned, trying to dismiss the image of his face flashing in my mind. I even resorted to counting sheep, but nothing worked.

Why couldn't I stop thinking about him? Why did my chest feel tight, and why was I so restless? Could I be... falling for him? No, that was impossible.

Maybe I was just curious—curious about how he achieved so much so young. Yes, that had to be it.

But even that explanation didn't bring me peace. My thoughts gave me a pounding headache, and after another hour of debating with myself, curiosity got the better of me.

I reached for my phone and typed his name into the search bar. The first thing I found myself searching was 'Revan Alistair Ken girlfriend.'

Why on earth did I do that?

To my relief, there were no signs of him being romantically involved with anyone. An article even stated that Revan was perfectly content with being single and that relationships were the last thing on his mind.

But the piece also pointed out that these claims were purely speculative since Revan kept his personal life tightly guarded.

Why does he have to be so complicated? I thought in frustration. Couldn't he just clarify whether or not he likes someone? How hard could it be to give a straight answer? But no—Revan Alistair Ken had apparently made "keeping things low" his personal brand.

The entire night flew by in a blur. I couldn't stop myself from diving deep into his social media, news articles, interviews, and photos. I even saved a few adorable pictures to my gallery.

There was one in particular—a snapshot of Revan holding a chubby-cheeked baby while both of them pouted at the camera. It turned out she was his niece. My heart melted instantly.

By the time dawn approached, I had enough information to write an entire blog on Revan Ken. He wasn't an only child like me; he had the privilege of growing up with siblings—six, to be exact. He had two older brothers, one younger brother, and three sisters. The articles didn't mention the sisters' ages, but I learned that Revan was especially close to his younger brother, Zack, who was around my age and still in school.

As for the older brothers, they had chosen their own paths, running their individual businesses. None of them were interested in taking over Ken Enterprises, which left Revan with no choice but to step up and shoulder the responsibility.

It wasn't until later that I realized what I'd been doing all night was, in fact, stalking. Great, I thought. What have I turned into—a full-blown stalker, Selena? And for a guy I don't even know!

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of scrolling, exhaustion won out, and I fell asleep—if you could even call three measly hours "sleep."

The next morning, I was rudely awakened by my mom.

"Selena, just because it's the weekend doesn't mean you get to spend the whole day in bed. Get up and do some grocery shopping for me. I've already sent you the list," she said firmly. "And take Alice with you; she wants to stop by the church on the way back."

Groaning, I sat up. Strangely, I felt a renewed sense of energy—like I had found a reason to push through the day, unlike my usual wish to sleep forever.

After getting dressed, I called for Alice.

"Alice! Come on, old lady, we're going to be late. You want to visit your dear God, right? If not, I'd be the happiest person alive."

She rolled her eyes at me but said nothing. One more thing to note: with all the chaos my life has thrown at me, I've pretty much stopped believing in the existence of God.

Once we were done shopping, we headed back to the car, where Brad, our driver, was waiting. He immediately stepped out to help us load the grocery bags.

As we neared the exit, Alice suddenly pointed toward a commotion near the store's entrance. "What's going on over there? Why is there such a crowd?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

I shrugged. "Let's check it out." Before she could protest, I grabbed her arm and started pulling her toward the crowd.

"Selena, no! It's probably nothing—just some random scene," Alice said, trying to resist.

"Come on! What's the harm in taking a look?"

Reluctantly, she followed me as I pushed through the sea of people. The closer we got to the center, the louder the murmurs grew. Finally, we reached the source of the commotion.

And that's when I saw him.

My breath hitched. My heart skipped a beat. Is this really happening?

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