'He kissed her'
That would be nice if it was true, but all that was in her head.
June stormed out of the restaurant, her steps quick and sharp against the pavement.
She could still feel the weight of Dave's gaze burning into her back, could still hear Rolland's amused chuckle and Stella's awkward goodbye.
She yanked open the cab door, throwing herself into the seat and slamming it shut.
"Where to, miss?" the driver asked.
"Home. Just drive."
The moment the car pulled away, June let out a long, frustrated sigh, slumping against the window.
Why was she like this?
Why did he make her like this?
Her mind replayed the scene over and over, his smirk, his challenge, his threat to kiss that woman right in front of her.
And then, her imagination took over.
She saw herself grabbing her glass and splashing the water all over him. She saw his stunned expression, Rolland's laughter, Stella's horrified exit.
She saw herself walking out with her head high, only for Dave to chase after her.
She saw the confrontation, the heat in his eyes, the moment she admitted, even if indirectly, that she cared.
And then… the kiss.
The way he'd grab her wrist, pull her close, and crush his lips against hers with all the frustration, all the tension, all the feelings they both refused to acknowledge.
June's heart pounded in her chest.
Then reality hit.
She blinked, snapping out of her ridiculous fantasy.
Ugh.
She groaned, rubbing her temples. Seriously? She was imagining things now? Was she that far gone?
No. Nope. She refused to let herself sink into whatever pathetic feelings were trying to claw their way out of her chest.
Dave wasn't thinking about her. He was still at that table with Stella, probably flirting, probably smirking in that insufferable way of his.
And she was going home, irritated, annoyed, and absolutely not in love with him.
Absolutely not.
Right home, she couldn't help but storm her way in Dave's apartment.
"I'm jealous, okay?" she yelled, shoving his hands away as if his touch burned her.
Her voice wavered, but the fire in her eyes was undeniable. "I admit it, I got jealous seeing her so close to you, seeing you smile at her. I don't want you to go. I need you. And it hurts… it hurts to see you with another woman who isn't me."
Her words were like music to his ears, a melody he had longed to hear. A slow smile curved his lips as he reached for her, pulling her into his embrace. His arms locked around her as if she might vanish if he let go.
"Why didn't you say so earlier?" His voice was gentle, his fingers cradling her burning cheeks, brushing against her flushed skin.
She turned her face away, her breath uneven, her heart pounding.
"You tricked me," she muttered, mortified as the realization hit her.
He chuckled, the deep rumble of his laughter vibrating against her. "No more blind dates," he promised. "I just wanted you to admit how you feel."
Her response came in a series of small fists pounding against his chest, but it only made his grin widen.
"You're an idiot," she huffed, cheeks flaming brighter.
"Maybe," he said, tilting his head, "but at least now I know how much you want me."
Humiliation twisted in her stomach, making her want to crawl into a hole. No man had ever made her feel so exposed, so stupidly vulnerable.
"I'm leaving," she announced, turning swiftly to go—only for his firm grip to catch her wrist, twirling her right back into him.
Before she could protest, his lips crashed onto hers, stealing the very breath from her lungs. His kiss was possessive, branding, yet unbearably tender all at once. The warmth of his breath, the way his fingers splayed against her back, sent a shiver down her spine.
For a second, she resisted. But her body betrayed her, melting into him as though she had been waiting for this all along.
He broke the kiss just enough to murmur, "I'm sorry," against her lips, his forehead resting against hers. But the space between them was too much.
Her hands lifted on instinct, wrapping around his neck as she pulled him back down, her legs locking around his waist. He groaned against her mouth, his hands sliding to her thighs to support her weight as she deepened the kiss, her tongue sweeping over his.
There was something intoxicating about him, the way he let her take control yet guided her movements, as if silently teaching her how he wanted to be loved.
She wasn't perfect, but neither was he. And yet, the way he responded to her, the way he surrendered only to her, made her feel powerful, cherished. She was possessive, fearless, and unapologetically his.
With a gasp, she found herself pressed onto the bed, her fingers tangled in his hair as his lips moved to her neck, teeth grazing against her sensitive skin.
A soft moan escaped her lips, her back arching as his mouth trailed lower, setting fire to every inch of her skin. Her nails dug into his back, her grip tightening as his warmth enveloped her.
For a brief moment, he pulled back, his gaze sweeping over her as if memorizing every curve, every detail of her.
"You're mine," he murmured, voice husky with possession.
She met his eyes, breathless, her body humming in anticipation.
"Then prove it," she whispered, pulling him down once more.
And he did.
"Morning."
Her voice was soft, groggy, as if she was still lost in the haze of sleep. One hand covered her eyes while the other rested on her bare stomach, her fingers slightly curling as she took a deep breath.
Silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable.
He lay beside her, propped up on one elbow, watching the way she slowly came back to her senses. He could tell she was feeling awkward the way her brows knitted together, the way she hesitated before stealing a glance at him.
She was always bold, always confident. But now, wrapped in nothing but the lingering warmth of last night, she looked undeniably cute in her moment of hesitation.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice deep and still laced with sleep.
She blinked at him, processing the question before quickly sitting up. "I'm late for work."
Her sudden movement sent the sheets slipping down her body, and she let out a small gasp before clutching them to her chest. She scanned the room in a hurry, looking for her clothes, only to release a sigh when last night's memories hit her.
Her dress, tossed somewhere in the living room. Her underwear, flung carelessly along the way. And him, holding her in his arms, murmuring sweet nothings while she drifted into exhaustion.
Damn it.
She turned to find him still watching her, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Can you get my clothes for me?" she asked, fidgeting with her fingers.
The smirk that spread across his lips sent heat crawling up her neck. She wasn't shy, never had been, but mornings had a way of making everything feel too real, too intimate. And the way he was soaking up her reactions like this? Unfair.
"I had them sent to the laundry," he said casually.
She froze. "You what?"
His smirk deepened. "You won't be needing them anytime soon, anyway."
Her face dropped into her hands as she exhaled, her shoulders slumping in defeat.
"You can wear my clothes," he offered.
Her head snapped up, her glare sharp. Hell no.
How was she supposed to explain to her friends, or worse, her neighbors why she was walking around in his shirt? It wasn't just about the clothes. It was about what it would mean.
Wearing his clothes meant something.
It meant claiming. It meant letting the world see the pace of whatever this thing between them was turning into.
And yet… she had no other choice.
She sighed, rubbing her temple. "Fine," she muttered, barely above a whisper.
His grin widened at her reluctant agreement, his eyes twinkling with satisfaction.
She groaned. "Wipe that look off your face."
But it was too late. He was already reaching for his drawer, pulling out a shirt, one that smelled just like him. As he handed it to her, she grabbed it quickly, avoiding his gaze.
And just as she was about to get up to change in the bathroom, he leaned in, his breath warm against her ear.
"You should wear my clothes more often," he murmured. "You'd look sexy in them."
She smacked his arm, her cheeks burning. "Shut up."
But as she slipped the shirt over her head, feeling the soft fabric against her skin, she couldn't deny the truth in his words.
And neither could he.
….
"You still ain't going to tell us how you ended up in those clothes? Or where you spent the night?"
Jane's persistent questioning had been nagging at June since morning. They were a minute away from hosting a show, yet she refused to let the matter rest.
And to make matters worse, Dora had joined in, ganging up on her for the truth, not just any truth, but the juicy, scandalous kind they were certain existed.
"Come on, who's he? Do I know him?" Dora's voice rose with excitement, her eyes sparkling as she nudged June's arm playfully. "Is it Rolland? Or… Mr. Deen?"
June barely spared her a glance, focusing instead on the script in her hands. She had no intention of feeding into their nonsense. But their relentless curiosity was as exhausting as it was inevitable.
"Dave."
Jane's eyes widened, and for a brief second, she looked as if she'd stopped breathing. Then, suddenly, she sucked in a sharp gasp and threw her hands over her mouth before squeezing out a disbelieving chuckle.
"No way! Grumpy Uncle?" she exclaimed, practically dancing in place.
June shot her a look. "Only I can call him that," she corrected possessively.
Jane burst into laughter. "Oh wow, that much possessive? I'm dying." She tilted her head dramatically to the side, sticking her tongue out like she was about to faint.
Dora smirked, crossing her arms. "I've never been happier that I'm not single," she teased.
Before June could respond, a voice cut through their banter.
"Who's Grumpy Uncle?"
They turned to see Rolland approaching from the other lane, his steps purposeful as he closed the distance between them.
"Hi," he greeted June with a casual wave.
June returned it with a flat, unenthusiastic smile.
"Are you ready for the reunion party tonight?" he asked.
Right. She had completely forgotten about the party. It had originally been scheduled weeks ago but got canceled. She never had a problem skipping these kinds of social events, always finding a way to excuse herself from the pointless show-off gatherings.
But this time… well, this time she had no reason to avoid it.
This time, she had every intention of making an entrance—with Dave by her side.
"We're attending," Dora answered for her, throwing a knowing wink in June's direction.
June gave her a sharp glare, but Dora, as usual, ignored it.
She had been on this Rolland-has-a-thing-for-you train for weeks, insisting that he had only come back for her. No matter how many times June shut it down, Dora refused to let it go.
"So, I assume you'll be attending too?" Dora pressed, feigning innocence before adding slyly, "But have you decided who you're bringing along?"
June clenched her jaw. Her glare darkened as she silently willed Dora to shut up.
Rolland, completely unaware of the silent battle between the two women, shifted his attention back to June. "That's actually why I came over. I was wondering if you'd go with me, if it's not a problem."
Dora let out a dramatic gasp. "Oh, June, did you hear that? He wants you to go with him!" Her voice was dripping with exaggerated mockery.
June shot her another sharp look before returning her attention to Rolland.
"I can't," she said simply. "I already have someone I'm going with."
His expression shifted slightly. "Is he the same guy from the restaurant?"
Her brows pulled together at his question.
It was one thing for him to be an investor in the company, but it was another for him to pry into her personal life. He had no right to dig into her matters. And more importantly, she didn't owe him any explanations.
"Sorry, but the show starts in five," she said, dismissing the conversation entirely. "I have to go."
With that, she turned on her heels and walked away, Jane and Dora following at her pace.
She had no interest in entertaining any further conversation with Rolland. Asking her to accompany him was already awkward enough, and she had no intention of dealing with any more unnecessary drama.
But Dora, of course, wasn't done.
"Again, why are you here?" Jane asked, raising a brow at her unexpected presence.
Dora flashed an innocent smile. "I'm here to observe my friends at their work."
June scoffed. "Liar. You're here to gather material for your book. And more specifically, you're here to spy on me."
Dora placed a hand on her chest in mock offense. "How dare you accuse me of such things?"
Jane rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, we all know you love writing about June's disasters."
Dora grinned. "And you love reading them."
June sighed, shaking her head. Today was going to be a long day.
….
It was far passed noon and was anxiously awaited the doctor's report on her father's condition.
"How's my dad doing?" Samantha asked, her voice laced with worry as she faced the man in a slim white coat that fit his lean frame perfectly.
Dr. Lewis. The name embroidered on his right pocket was the only form of acknowledgment she got before he spoke.
"He's under treatment. Hopefully, his body will respond well, but if not…" He trailed off, but Samantha understood the unspoken words. Fourth-stage brain cancer wasn't easy to fight. The odds had been stacked against them from the start.
Her throat tightened. "What about the surgery? When will it commence?"
For a moment, the doctor's gaze turned distant, his features unreadable, before he returned his focus to her.
"Miss, your father must consent to the surgery before we can proceed. Until then, I have other patients to attend to." His words were clipped, professional. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heels and strode toward the door, nurses following behind him.
Samantha sighed, pressing a hand to her forehead just as a sharp voice cut through the room.
"Sarah"
The name lashed against her ears like a slap.
She turned sharply, facing the familiar figure standing by the door. Those dark eyes, filled with years of anger, bore into her with unfiltered hostility. Arms crossed over her chest, the woman's expression remained cold and unwelcoming.
Samantha felt her stomach coil with unease. She swallowed and forced a small, stiff smile. "Hi, I"
"His illegitimate daughter," the woman spat. "You're the spitting image of your mother."
Her tone dripped with disgust as she stepped past Samantha, heading toward the hospital bed.
Samantha didn't need an introduction. She already knew who she was.
Esther.
The woman who once loved her father. The woman who now loathed him.
"You don't look like yourself," Esther remarked coolly, her eyes scanning over the frail man lying in the hospital bed. His once-strong presence had withered, leaving behind nothing but pale skin and deep shadows beneath his eyes.
With what little strength he had, he lifted his gaze toward her. Though weak, his steel-like demeanor hadn't completely faded.
"Esther," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper before he began to choke.
Samantha reacted instantly, grabbing the glass of water from the bedside table and guiding it to his lips.
He took small sips before attempting to speak again. "Why are you here?"
Esther arched a brow. "You look miserable," she mused, tilting her head. "I thought I'd come and see what's become of you. And I must say, I'm pleased to see that karma has done its job."
Her voice was cold, devoid of emotion. Yet, deep inside, something twisted in her chest at the sight of him like this. But she refused to acknowledge it.
His gaze remained steady, unaffected by her cruelty. "What happened to your happy ending?" he asked.
A smirk curled on Esther's lips. "You might not see it, but I already got it long ago."
His lips twitched as if amused, but the humor didn't reach his tired eyes.
Esther's smirk widened. "Guess you're happy," she said before leaning slightly closer. "But tell me… are you aware of the strain your dear daughter is under just to keep you here? The surgery, the hospital stay, your medical bills—she's crumbling under the weight of it all."
Samantha stiffened.
Esther's gaze flickered toward her. "She hasn't told you, has she?"
The man's expression darkened, his body struggling to sit up. His tired eyes found Samantha's guilty face, searching for answers.
"Samantha." His voice held authority despite his weak state. "Be honest. How did you get the money?"
Samantha clenched her fists at her sides, her heart hammering in her chest.
Because the truth?
The truth was something she wasn't ready to say out loud.
….
"Finally," June exclaimed, stretching out her arms as the familiar woman approached. She placed a light kiss on her friend's cheek, which was quickly returned with warmth.
"I'm so glad you showed up!" the woman cheered, squeezing June's hand. "I was beginning to think you were going to scrap this off like you usually do. But here you are."
Before June could respond, her friend's gaze flickered past her, landing on the man standing close behind. Her eyes widened with curiosity.
"Oh… who's he?" she asked, taking in Dave's tall frame and sharp features. Her lips curled into a teasing smirk. "He's hot. Is he your—?" She gasped dramatically, spinning toward the long table where their former classmates sat.
"Guys! June is here, and she's not alone. She brought a man!" she announced loudly, earning a wave of cheers and whistles from the group.
June rolled her eyes at their exaggerated reactions, but she couldn't deny that the attention felt good.
"I mean, I'm surprised," another classmate chimed in. "June, with a man? And not just any man, a handsome one at that."
Laughter erupted around the table, while June felt Dave's grip on her hand tighten slightly. She turned, only to find Rolland staring at Dave with an expression that was unreadable yet intense. Their silent exchange was brief, but she could feel the tension radiating off both men.
"Honestly, I thought June was going to end up with Rolland," another voice joked. "We all saw the chemistry between them."
June stiffened at the remark. If she had the power, she would have sewn that classmate's lips shut. She could feel Dave's silent reaction beside her, his hand slightly tensing around hers. And she definitely noticed the way his sharp gaze flickered toward Rolland, who, in return, met it head-on. It was as if an unspoken battle had begun.
"Hope I'm still on time," Dora's voice rang out, breaking the thick atmosphere as she entered.
"Of course not! You're right on time," the same friend who had welcomed June said, flashing a warm smile.
Dora barely had time to settle before another classmate, one in a red suit, spoke up. "Whoa, who's he?" he asked with a chuckle, nodding toward the man standing beside Dora.
Dora beamed, taking Edward's hand and intertwining their fingers. "He's my boyfriend."
For a second, everyone, including Edward—turned to stare at her in surprise. Sure, he had confessed his feelings to her, but their relationship had never been officially defined. Still, the unexpected title filled him with quiet satisfaction.
"Wow, seems like you two planned this," another woman teased. "But guess what? I planned it first!"
She dramatically lifted her left hand for all to see, causing a few people to gasp. The diamond ring on her finger sparkled under the dim restaurant lights.
"He proposed?" someone asked, eyes wide.
"Yes, he did," the woman confirmed, beaming. "We're getting married next month."
Excited chatter erupted as everyone congratulated her. It was expected, she and her fiancé had been together since their college days. Their relationship had been a fiery mix of passion and possessiveness, so much so that her fiancé had once beaten up a guy for stalking her. Their love story had been both toxic and intense, but in the end, they had endured.
"Girl, you better send me an invite. My heels are ready," someone joked.
"Of course! You're all invited," she said with a grin.
The conversation soon shifted when one of the guys near Rolland raised his glass. "Rolland, how have you been? Last I heard, you were in America. Why the sudden return?"
"Please," another man interjected with a smirk. "We all know the reason, he came back for June."
June's jaw clenched. She should have known bringing Dave to this event would stir up unnecessary drama.
"Yeah, do you all remember how he proposed to her? Publicly?" someone else added, causing the entire table to hum in agreement.
June fought the urge to groan. That incident had been one of the most mortifying moments of her life. It had happened during their last year in college, Rolland had gone wild with his confession, setting up an elaborate display in the middle of the campus field. With flowers of every color, he had boldly declared his feelings for her in front of everyone.
June had run.
Not just walked away, she had sprinted the moment he had gotten on one knee. She had thought it was a prank at first, considering how much they bickered. But the damage had already been done. The public spectacle had caused her to lose customers at her workplace, and she had faced several minor attacks from crazed admirers of Rolland. It had been hell.
"Right, and remember how he stalked her for days afterward?" someone added.
Rolland's expression darkened slightly. "Stalked is a strong word," he muttered. "I pursued her, yes. But I backed off when she rejected me."
Yet, despite that, he had chosen to leave the country afterward. He had pursued his studies abroad, not just to further his career but also to escape the rejection. However, when the opportunity to return arose, he had taken it.
For one reason.
Hope.
But as he glanced at June and the way she stood so closely to Dave, that hope felt thinner than ever.
"C'mon, guys, that's in the past," Dora cut in, once again coming to June's defense. "June has a boyfriend now. A man she loves."
June shot her a thankful look, but before she could relax, the conversation took another turn.
"Oh, don't think we've forgotten about you, Dora," the loud-mouthed woman from before chimed in. "We all remember how you used to drool over Rolland. And how you wrote him that love letter, which he read out loud."
A heavy silence fell over the table. Dora paled slightly but quickly regained composure.
Rolland sighed. "Dora, I truly am sorry for that," he said sincerely. "What I did was immature and cruel. Even if it was a dare, I should have never humiliated you like that."
Dora smiled, linking her fingers with Edward's. "I let it go a long time ago. Right now, I just want to focus on this," she said, squeezing Edward's hand.
The moment lightened again, until someone asked, "Rolland, has your love for June died?"
The table fell silent.
Rolland's gaze locked onto Dave's. "I don't think true love dies so easily."
Dave met his stare head-on.
"Plus, she has a boyfriend not a husband." Rolland added.
And just like that, the atmosphere thickened with unspoken tension.