Chapter 4 CHAPTER FOUR
The sun had been cruel that summer, beating down on cracked sidewalks and rusted bleachers. Yet, on that day, it wasn’t the heat of the weather that scorched Noah's memory. It was Ava, twelve years old, wild curls bouncing under a cap too big for her head, holding a worn basketball like it was her destiny.
"You’re holding it wrong", she’d said, all attitude and certainty.
Noah, ten and slightly terrified of her confidence, had blinked at the ball in his hands and then at her.
"I’m holding it like Coach said."
"Well, Coach is wrong. You’ve gotta feel it. Like this", she’d taken the ball, bounced once, then sank a shot that swished clean through the makeshift hoop in her backyard.
From that moment, Ava Monroe had owned the court and a piece of Noah's heart. Now, over a decade later, she was struggling to reclaim one.
---
The private court echoed with the rhythmic pounding of a basketball, Ava’s sneakers squeaking across the polished floor as she drove hard toward the hoop. Sweat clung to her skin, her breaths coming in sharp, frustrated bursts. She missed, again.
"Damn it", she muttered, grabbing the rebound and forcing herself back into drills.
She was a shadow of the player she’d been just two months ago. The scandal had tarnished more than her image, it had chipped away at her confidence, her rhythm, her instincts. The media had backed off slightly since Noah’s appearance but the whispers remained. And now, with her future contracts still on hold, she knew she had to earn her comeback on and off the court.
From the side of the gym, Noah watched her silently. He’d shown up unannounced, a smoothie in one hand, his laptop bag in the other. He rarely said much when she trained, just sat and watched, sometimes wincing when she pushed herself too hard. Today was no different.
"You’re limping", he finally said, voice quiet but clear.
"I’m fine", she waved him off.
"You’re favoring your right knee", he pressed.
Ava stopped, turned to face him, hair clinging to her face.
"I said I’m fine, Noah."
He didn’t flinch, just walked over and handed her the smoothie.
"Then at least hydrate and don’t snap at the guy pretending to be your fiancé."
She took the smoothie without thanks and sat on the bench, dragging a towel over her face.
"Sorry. I’m just… I need to get back in shape. I can’t afford to be soft right now."
"You’re not soft", he said gently.
"You’re human."
That made her look up. His eyes were kind, too kind and she couldn’t stand the way they made her feel, seen, vulnerable. She quickly looked away.
"You should get going", she said.
"We’ve got the proposal shoot tonight", she reminded him.
---
The rooftop of the downtown hotel had been transformed into a fairytale: twinkling lights wrapped around archways, petals scattered like confetti across the floor. A string quartet played in the corner while a private camera crew filmed discreetly from several angles. Noah stood in a sharp burgundy suit, trying not to tug at his collar. The attention made him twitchy. All eyes were on him and Ava, including a few paparazzi drones hovering at a legal distance. The whole thing was orchestrated to go viral, the perfect image of redemption and romance. Ava emerged from behind the curtained arch in a sleek red dress that clung to her like liquid fire. Her makeup was flawless, smile professionally polished. But Noah could tell, this wasn’t her, not really. They reached center stage and the hush that followed was dramatic enough to make a screenwriter weep.
Noah knelt. The gasp from the crowd was real, even though the proposal wasn’t.
"Ava Monroe", he said, holding out the ring box with a custom designed diamond band.
"You’ve always been the strongest person I know. You fight harder than anyone and you inspire me every day. Will you make me the luckiest man alive and marry me?", he asked. It was almost too much, too sweet, too polished but it threaded the thin line perfectly. She smiled like a queen and nodded.
"Yes", she said simply, her voice clear, the ring slipping onto her finger as the cameras snapped away. The crowd applauded. The world, for a moment, believed.
---
Back in the limo, the air was tense.
"Well", Ava began, staring out the tinted window, "that should keep the wolves at bay", she finished.
Noah didn’t respond immediately. He sat opposite her, jacket unbuttoned, tie slightly loosened, looking not like the gleaming Prince Charming from the rooftop but like a man drained by the weight of pretense.
"That was a lot", he said finally.
She chuckled.
"Well, that was the job", she replied.
He looked at her then, searching her face for a trace of the girl who used to toss basketballs at his head and laugh when he flinched.
"Is that all this is to you? A job?", he asked.
She hesitated.
"You know it is", she answered finally.
His jaw tightened.
"Right."
A beat of silence passed between them, thick and uncomfortable. Ava sighed.
"I didn’t mean it like that", she said, softer now.
"It’s just… This is the only way I can get everything back."
"And what do I get?", he asked, almost to himself.
She looked at him, surprised.
"What do you mean?", she asked him.
He smiled bitterly.
"Never mind", and shook his head.
The limo slowed as they reached her apartment building. The door opened and a valet waited. Noah stepped out, then Ava, turning slightly before closing the door behind her. "Thanks for tonight, Noah. You played the part well."
Before he could respond, she was through the door and she was gone.
---
Online, the internet was already ablaze.
*“*Ava Monroe's Stunning Rooftop Proposal: Who is Mystery Fiancé Noah Lark?”
#AvaNoahForever
#ProposalGoals
#BasketballQueenAndHerKing
Clips of the moment he knelt flooded every platform. His speech was quoted, remixed, stitched into fan edits. One short video of him catching Ava’s hand and whispering something to make her laugh, completely unscripted, became the most shared content of the night. And just like that, Noah Lark became a household name. He stared at his phone hours later in his dark apartment, overwhelmed. He wasn’t built for this, he wasn’t built for fame, or for headlines, or for a lie that had started feeling too close to truth.
Because every time he looked at Ava, flashing her fake smiles and giving her rehearsed answers, he couldn’t stop the ache in his chest.
He wasn’t so sure how much was pretending anymore.
