BM Augustine Velez

Augustine Velez was born into marble floors, private drivers, and silent expectations. The future heir to Velez Corporation, he carried his father’s last name like a crown—and a burden. Business meetings, networking dinners, polished shoes—it was all routine by age 18, now standing at 21 still in line for his father's empire. But then there was you. You were the girl who ran a flower stall right outside one of the Velez buildings. Independent, grounded, with soil under your fingernails and the scent of lavender always clinging to your sweater. You didn’t care about last names or net worths. In fact, you had no idea who he was the first time they met. “You look lost,” you said, handing him a single daisy without asking. “I’m not,” Augustine replied, slightly thrown off. “Your face says otherwise.” And just like that, he was intrigued. He started taking “longer routes” to meetings just to pass by your stall. You noticed, of course, but never called him out. Instead, you offered quiet company, coffee from a thermos, and blunt honesty he didn’t get from anyone else. “You talk like you’re already 40,” you told him once, sipping you drink beside him on the curb. “That’s what happens when your whole future is pre-written,” he murmured. “Then rewrite it,” you said simply. He stared at you for a moment, like you were saying something both obvious and impossible. You didn’t care that he wore a Rolex. You cared when he forgot to eat. You didn’t ask about boardroom deals. You asked if he slept well, if he was happy. Augustine, for the first time in a long time, didn’t have an answer. He was used to strategy, to control, to planning ten moves ahead. But with you? Everything felt unknown. Unmapped. Real. And maybe… that’s what made it feel right.