Chapter 5 - What If I Bought You The Moon?

What the...” 

Jason was lounging in her chair like he owned it, legs spread wide, his Rolex catching the light.

Her blood went cold. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, her bag sliding off her shoulder.

“Nice to see you too, babe.” He put down the water he’d been drinking out of one of her cups, like he’d lived here all his life.

The apartment buzzed like a construction site. Strangers in uniforms moved in and out, hauling in boxes, carrying out her broken study table, rolling in a flat-screen TV larger than the wall itself. Someone was hammering something in her kitchen, a new set of cabinets.

For a second she thought maybe she was dreaming, so she rubbed her eyes. No, he was still there, larger than life, wearing the most expensive-looking suit she’d ever seen, his hair slicked back, smiling that handsome, maddening smile that had once charmed her and now boiled her blood.

 It’d been five years, and he hadn’t aged a day; if anything, he looked healthier, more polished and sophisticated. Meanwhile, she looked like death, with dark eye bags and matted hair that streaked with grey hairs due to stress. Life was so unfair.

She took one staggering step into the room, nearly colliding with a man carrying her entire wardrobe door away. “What the hell is going on? Why are there people in my apartment?”

Jason started to laugh. She nearly joined him, except it wasn’t funny. Not after everything. “Get out. Right now.”

He stood, spreading his arms like he was unveiling a masterpiece. “Can’t you see? I’m fixing things around here. Look around, Sam. New furniture, new TV, hell, I even got them to fix the wiring in this dump. You deserve better than this place.”

Samantha’s fists clenched. “Get them out now, or I'll call the cops.”

“Relax. No need for theatrics. I’m here to make things right. All of this...” he gestured at the workers laying a plush rug across her living room floor. “...is for you.”

“For me?" She laughed bitterly, "Jason, I don’t want anything from you. I wouldn’t take your help if I was starving in a ditch.”

He tilted his head to the side, amused. “Funny you should say that. Because the way I hear it, things haven’t been going so great for you.” His tone wasn’t cruel, but Smantha could hear the implication all the same.

A few of the workers glanced over, exchanging awkward smirks before hurrying out with another piece of her old furniture. She recognised one of them, he'd been at the coffee shop when that girl threw her drink at her.

Her hands shook as she began to grow even more annoyed. “You think buying me this stuff is going to erase what you did? Are you out of your mind? You humiliated me. You put me through hell, and now you break into my house with a bunch of strangers to build me shit I don’t even want!”

Jason leaned in, lowering his whisky-smooth voice. “Yeah, I made mistakes. I messed up, I’m not denying that. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere until you hear me out.”

She turned toward the workers. “Get out. All of you.”

They glanced at Jason. He nodded once, and they shuffled out, leaving her alone with him.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between them. She could smell his faint but familiar cologne, the intoxicating smell dragging her back to nights that she’d buried deep in her memory, nights she never wanted to remember. Her chest rose and fell too fast, her body betraying her anger with a traitorous shiver.

 Jason spoke, his voice smoother than whiskey. “We were kids back then, babe. Don’t act like you don’t miss me. Don’t act like you haven’t thought about us.”

She dug her nails into her palms until they hurt. “You’re unbelievable.”

“No.” He said, “I’m rich.”

Jason slipped his hands confidently into his pockets, but his eyes searched hers like a man starving. “My father died, Sam.”

Her heart stuttered. She hadn’t even known.

Jason reached down for his sleek black suitcase and pulled out a crisp, official-looking sheaf of papers. “I inherited everything. And when I say everything, I mean an unfathomable amount of money. I could fund entire countries if I wanted to."

He paused, waiting for the news to sink in, then he continued. "You know what that means? It means I can give you what you deserve. A real job, real money, security. No more coffee shop bullshit, slaving behind a counter for tips. No more wondering how to pay rent.”

“I don’t need your pity paycheck or your charity. Fuck off.” The words tore out of her throat. “Fuck off and don’t come back.”

He smirked, tilting his head. “I forgot how stubborn you usually are. What about something bigger?”

“I don’t care if you buy me the city skyline, Jason. I’d still tell you to fuck off.”

His smile changed into something more smug, more dangerous. He leaned in close, so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek.

“What if I bought you the moon?”

Samantha blinked, then she laughed in disbelief. “What kind of line is that? You’re insane.”

“I mean it.” He dropped the papers onto her coffee table, the brand-new one his men had just assembled. The header blared in black ink: TRANSFER OF LUNAR PROPERTY RIGHTS.

Her hands reached forward for the papers without realising, but she caught herself and pulled back.

Her throat went dry. “You’re joking.”

Jason shook his head. “I know you. I know how you used to light up whenever you talked about moon rocks, lunar geology, you loved all that space shit that made me feel like the dumb one in the room. I listened, Sam, even when you thought I didn’t.” His smile softened, just for a second.

 “So I bought it. The documents have your name on them already; all you have to do is sign. And I’ll make sure you get on the next expedition if you're interested in that, so that’s already set up for you.”

He continued, “You’ll have it all, Sam. Everything you've ever wanted. Your dream research grant, a six-figure salary, and your parents taken care of. A life you never thought was possible. All you have to do is say yes. Come back to me.”

Her legs weakened, and she nearly stumbled into a chair. The papers stared back at her. Ownership contracts, sponsorship deals, and even exclusive sample permits with her name typed nearly in bold font. This couldn’t be real. And yet, Jason’s eyes burning with certainty told her it was.

“Why?” she whispered.

He took a step closer. “Because I still want you. And if it takes the moon to get you back, then the moon is yours.”

Her chest tightened as flashes of images collided in her head; her brother’s voice begging her over the phone, her parents' tired eyes, her own exhausted reflection after double shifts at the café. And the moon shining in the night sky, forever out of reach. Until now.

She briefly imagined standing on Lunar soil. Her hands would brush stone that had never known human touch. A research career like that would set her and her family up for life.

Jason’s gaze pinned her. “So tell me, Sam. Can you really look me in the eye and say no?”

Her mouth opened and she’d begun to speak, when someone knocked on the door.

“Ma’am?” a worker’s voice cut in. He stood awkwardly in the doorway, holding a crystal vase. “Where do you want this?”