A/N: I intended this to be a one-shot, but seems like this is going to be three-chaptered. Enjoy.
Maya counted the number of suitors the year before (none), and it was pleasant. It helped that she gained weight around the bust area and would call herself "a tremendous success" rather than "flat-chested". She was still nowhere near the slender epitome of womanhood that is brimming with confidence and maturity, but at least she had improved enough to deserve the purchase of a completely new wardrobe.
And once again, her persistent little cousin insisted that she wear the heavy robes of Kurain. It was purple, black, and splattered with awful pink. This time, she attracted the same number of the suitors the year before – and it wasn't pleasant.
Paparazzi wrote: Maya Fey looked stunning… but this event isn't a funeral.
But Maya wasn't the only one chosen by the unkind paparazzi. They criticized a certain prosecutor's cravat, and this certain prosecutor went on to marry his child prodigy "sort-of sister" with Phoenix Wright as their best man!
As she entered the giant ballroom, Maya held out hope.
No, not really. She realized that Phoenix – or Nick, as she would affectionately call him—will never ever marry her, but at least he was kind enough to call her every once in a while… and she strongly believed that that would have to be enough.
She found it unfair that her friends were getting married, and here she is, turning twenty-seven, attacking the buffet table. Pearl, the persistent little cousin earlier believed that Maya might still have a chance with Phoenix Wright because he is her special someone.
Besides, she learned in a romance novel that it wouldn't be fair to marry someone when she was still desperately in love with Nick.
Perhaps, in the far reaches of her mind—in the innermost corner, hidden behind the Steel Samurai and Pink Princess trivia she memorized—she still believed that dear Pearly was right.
Until…
The bride looked glamorous, greeting her friends while showcasing her glittered satin dress around the room. For a day she didn't look threatening, angry, and irritated. She had this youthful glow, and her smile was genuine– and happy.
She was beautiful.
Maya walked away. She didn't feel like wishing the bride well yet.
She walked across the ballroom, softly tapping along the wooden floorboards as she approached the bar. Her robe felt heavy like drapes being pulled down. It felt better as soon as she sat down.
"Cola, please." she told the bartender.
As the bartender left, she heard familiar voices. Male voices.
It was the legendary three: Edgeworth, Larry and Nick. They were obviously drinking– judging from the half-empty beer mugs on their hands.
Maya could see them poking fun at each other's neckties, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. The loud music blared through the speakers, and they seated quite far from her. She waited for her cola to arrive before approaching the three.
Hey Nick! It's been a long time! Wanna ditch this place and get some burgers?– No, that's sounds too desperate. Besides, why would she pry him away from his best friend's wedding?
While she was in the middle of contemplating what the perfect greeting would be, the bartender interrupted her thoughts by handing her a fizzy bottle of cola.
She nervously made her way to the three men.
Butterflies invaded her stomach as she took the third step closer.
There he was, giving Larry a light jab on the ribs. Edgeworth had his brow raised at him– it's as if he was skeptical about something.
And, it was often said that she had bad timing. That she always attracted or encountered bad situations. The first voice she heard was Nick's, and the words shattered her heart.
"…I can't marry Maya!"