"Come on, Roseanne, I know you''re in there. Open up. Let''s talk."


    "Roseanne! Can you hear me?"


    ...


    "Way to go, Roseanne, way to go! Locked the door, huh? You think that will stop me?"


    From pleading to calm and gradually raging, Murray''s patience was thinning by the moment.


    As he was about to give up and turn away, he was caught off-guard by a pair of stern eyes. Frozen, Murray frowned deeply.


    Owen stood on the steps in the dimly lit, narrow stairwell, seemingly having just climbed up to this floor.


    Given the time, it was clear why he was there.


    After the fiasco with Corley and Owen''s showing up, Murray was infuriated yet realized that the guys around Roseanne weren''t so nobodies.


    So, after calming down, Murray immediately had someone dig into Owen''s background. It turned out Owen was the youngest of the Reynolds family. No wonder even Corley stepped back. Murray broke the silence. "Here for Roseanne?"


    Owen spoke indifferently, "What if I am? What if I''m not?"


    Murray cut to the chase. "You should know what she means to me."


    Owen challenged, "And?"


    Murray''s eyes narrowed slightly. "If you were smart, you''d stay away from her."


    "Sorry, I''m famously not the smart type."


    Murray lost his temper. "Roseanne is mine! She was. She''s throwing a tantrum now but will always be mine alone."


    Owen frowned. "She''s a person, not an object. She doesn''t belong to anyone. If she did, it would be to herself."


    Murray scoffed, "Mr. Reynolds, you''re well-read but know little about women. What''s that saying? The depth of love breeds the fierceness of hate. Roseanne''s acting out because she loves me too much." "Don''t believe me? Knock on her door yourself. She won''t open it for you, either. So, stop pining for what''s not yours. It''s a waste."


    With that, Murray walked past him, striding down the stairs.


    Owen watched him leave and nced at Roseanne''s door, furrowing his brows in confusion. He knew Roseanne wouldn''t open the door for him. To be precise, she wouldn''t open it for anyone because she wasn''t even home.


    ...


    On Maldor Beach, under a clear blue sky, the sound of waves was constant. The turquoise waters allowed a clear view of the fish swimming below. The sun was warm, the breeze gentle, the wavespping.


    Three days ago, Roseanne received


    a call from Leda. Leda had finally delivered the projects, and with her handsome boyfriend gone home for the holidays, she''d been sleeping in out of sheer boredom. On a whim, she suggested a spontaneous trip to Roseanne.


    "As for the destination," Leda mused, chin in hand, "how about the Maldor Beach?"


    Roseanne thought for a moment, then agreed, "Sure."


    On the one hand, she wanted to


    escape the mess Corley and Murray had made. On the other, she needed to rx. Though Roseanne cherished her books and studies, she knew better than to stretch herself too thin. Bnce and


    moderation were essential for aAll text ? N?velD(r)a''ma.Org.


    steady, long-term sess.


    Gazing at the azure sea and the cloudless sky, lying on a beach chair, listening to the waves crash against the rocks, and sunbathing in the warm sunlight, Roseanne felt more convinced than ever that she''d made the right choice.


    She picked up her mango smoothie and took a sip. It was perfectly bnced, not too sweet, not too nd.


    Looking stunning in her swimsuit, Leda walked over the sand toward her. Seeing Roseanne in such azy state, shey on another chair beside her, sighing, "Ah, this is the life. You know how to enjoy yourself."