The sweet jelly soup was bland in the girls' mouths as they exchanged a glance, noting the dreamy expressions on their boyfriends' faces. Both men seemed completely lost in their own thoughts, hooked on cloud nine.
June cleared her throat in an attempt to draw Dave's attention. It worked. He lifted his gaze with an arched brow, and she tilted her head toward the full plate of food sitting untouched in front of him.
She knew his mood had been ruined. The endless mentions of Rolland and the past between them had undoubtedly unsettled him. And honestly, who wouldn't be? No man wanted to sit through jokes about his woman and another guy.
At the other end of the table, Dora was subtly trying to stop Edward from stuffing himself. She nudged him under the table with her knee every time he lifted another spoonful to his mouth, but he barely paid attention. His focus was locked on Rolland, who, in return, seemed unconcerned by the tension radiating from him. Rolland's eyes, however, were fixated on June.
Dave suddenly pushed back his chair.
"Excuse me," he whispered near June's ear before rising to his feet. She watched him stride toward the door, his shoulders tense, his posture rigid. Within seconds, Edward followed his lead.
The air outside was cooler, less suffocating than the charged atmosphere inside the reunion hall. Dave leaned against the wall, arms folded as Edward joined him.
"Does she know who you are?" Dave asked, his voice calm but firm.
Edward smirked and mirrored his stance, leaning his back against the opposite wall.
"And have you told her about your special needs?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.
"There's no secret between us. She knows." Dave's response was immediate, unwavering. June had been the first to know about his obsessive need for cleanliness. There was nothing to hide.
Edward, however, exhaled through his nose, his smirk fading slightly. "She doesn't know. I'll tell her when the time comes."
Dave scoffed. "So you're waiting for the right time?"
Edward nodded, crossing his legs casually. "I'm doing it for her good."
Dave observed him for a moment before shaking his head. "Is that what you tell yourself?"
Edward only chuckled at the remark.
"You're full of surprises, you know?" Edward mused, his gaze lingering on Dave. "Your girl—she's beautiful. But I have to say, I'm surprised. I always thought you preferred the shy, quiet type. Seems like your taste has changed."
Dave didn't respond. He simply gave him a pointed look, his expression unreadable. It was true, he used to go for reserved women, but June was different. She was bold, sharp-tongued, and full of life, exactly what he needed.
Edward shifted slightly. It was rare for them to find themselves in a situation like this, dating two best friends. But then again, their relationship had never been obvious to the world. Their families had chosen separate paths, and very few knew the truth.
Dave's father and Edward's mother were siblings.
"I'll tell her when the time comes," Edward said again. "Until then, she doesn't need to know that I'm her fiancé or that we're cousins."
"You're cousins?!"
The sharp voice startled them both.
They turned at once to find June standing a few steps away, one hand resting on her hip, her eyes filled with disbelief.
"You're cousins and he's her fiancé—the 'monster' she's been running from?" she accused, her gaze shifting between them.
Edward huffed at the term. "I am not a monster."
June's lips curled in amusement. "That's not what she thinks."
Edward's expression darkened. "She doesn't see me that way, does she?"
June took a little too much delight in answering. "Oh, she does."
Edward exhaled sharply. He had heard plenty of rumors about himself. His reputation as a ruthless, no-nonsense director had made him a feared figure in the business world. But misunderstood or not, he had never imagined that she would see him that way.
June shrugged, clearly enjoying his discomfort. "If she ever finds out who you really are, damn, you're dead."
He didn't doubt it. The thought of losing her sent a cold wave of fear through him.
"Then no one tells her the truth," he declared firmly, his voice dropping a notch.
"What truth aren't they supposed to tell me?"
The three of them turned in sync, their faces freezing into artificial smiles.
Dora had just appeared, watching them with narrowed eyes.
"Nothing," Dave answered smoothly.
Dora didn't seem convinced, but she let it slide. She turned her attention to Edward, her fingers brushing against his sleeve. "Should we get going? I'm getting sick of this reunion."
But before they could move, a familiar voice called out.
"June."
A tense silence followed.
Even before turning, she knew who it was.
The voice belonged to someone she had desperately tried to forget. Someone who had once humiliated her, made her life complicated in ways she never wanted to revisit.
Rolland.
He stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable, but his eyes burned with something she didn't want to acknowledge.
"Can we talk?" he asked.
June didn't answer immediately. She could feel Dave's gaze boring into her, his grip tightening at his sides. She knew what he was thinking, what he wanted to say, but instead, he surprised her.
"You can go," Dave said, his voice controlled.
June blinked up at him, a little thrown off. His expression was unreadable, but his body language said it all. His fingers had twitched. His head had tilted slightly. He was restraining himself, but he was trusting her.
For some reason, that made her chest warm.
She turned back to Rolland, inhaling deeply.
"Okay," she said, lifting her chin. "Five minutes."
….
Lizzy's voice cracked as she spoke, her emotions bubbling over despite her best efforts to keep them in check.
"Is it too much to ask, Thomas? We've been in this relationship for two years, and yet I feel like it's going nowhere."
Her words trembled with raw pain, but nothing hurt as much as the sight before her—the image of his ex-wife in his arms, a vision she couldn't erase no matter how much she blinked.
The day had already been merciless. At work, her position had been stripped from her, handed over to someone younger and brilliant, as her boss had so carelessly put it. She had swallowed that humiliation, convinced herself that she could find solace in the arms of the man she loved. But instead, she walked in on this, them.
Linda. Again.
She inhaled sharply, her fingers curling into her palms, nails biting into her skin.
"I get it. Your daughter is unwell, and she needs a stable environment." Lizzy's voice wavered, but her glare remained sharp. "But this? This I won't accept. It's bad enough that she lives here, but now I have to watch her mother clinging to my boyfriend, too?"
Linda, who had been silent, finally spoke. "There's nothing going on between us."
Lizzy let out a hollow laugh. "Did I ask you for verification?"
The mask of patience she had been wearing for months shattered completely. She had tried to be understanding, had tried to ignore the obvious signs that his daughter was pulling every string to reunite her parents. She had told herself that love was about sacrifice. But at what cost?
Thomas stepped between them, raising a hand in silent warning. "The reason Linda was in my arms is because I was trying to save her from a fall."
The explanation came swiftly, but it did nothing to soothe Lizzy. In fact, it made her chest tighten with a different kind of pain.
A smirk ghosted across her lips, bitter and sharp. So that's how it is, huh?
"To save your ex, you jump to shield her." Her voice was soft, but the accusation was heavy.
He had never done that for her.
Not once.
Whenever they fought, he would either walk away or dismiss her anger as overreacting. But for Linda, he stood his ground. He shielded her.
And in that moment, Lizzy knew.
She was not the woman in his heart.
She let out a cold laugh, shaking her head. "And what should this be? A soap opera drama?" Her scorn was laced with an exhaustion she could no longer mask.
Thomas sighed, rubbing his temples. "You're taking this out of context."
Out of context?
Her laughter turned hollow as her body trembled from the weight of realization.
For two years, she had fought to be the woman he wanted. She had tried to fit into his world, to accept the baggage that came with dating a man with a child and an ex-wife still too present in his life. She had convinced herself that love was enough.
But it wasn't.
She had only been a replacement.
No one could ever take Linda's place in his heart.
The truth was undeniable now.
Her legs felt weak as she bent forward, pressing her hands to her face, willing herself not to break.
She had given him everything.
And he had never truly chosen her.
Straightening, she inhaled deeply, forcing the tears to retreat.
"Let's go our separate ways."
Thomas's head snapped up, his eyes widening slightly. "Lizzy"
She lifted a hand, stopping whatever words he planned to throw at her.
"I think you two want to reconcile," she said, her voice steady now. "And I'm not going to stand in your way."
Without another word, she turned and walked out the door, leaving behind the man who had never been hers to begin with.
After an hour drive, Lizzy was at her apartment door. She snarling pulled out her keys which slipped of her finger on her first attempt to unlock the door.
With, she sat curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over her legs, but no warmth could reach her. The TV flickered with scenes from a drama she wasn't really watching. The muffled sounds filled the silence of the empty apartment, a silence she once craved but now loathed.
Her phone buzzed.
Thomas.
She ignored it.
Her chest ached in a way she couldn't put into words. She should feel free. Relieved. She had walked away from a relationship that had been draining her, from a man who was never truly hers.
But then why did she feel so left out?
She had been a part of his life for two years. Two whole years of compromising, of late nights comforting him about his struggles with fatherhood, of holding onto the hope that they were building something real.
And yet, at the end of it all, she had been so easily discarded.
She thought about his daughter, how the girl had never truly warmed up to her. How she had always favored Linda.
Had she been the only one living in denial?
Her grip tightened around the blanket as insecurity clawed at her chest.
Was she just not enough?
The thought twisted inside her, suffocating.
Her phone buzzed again.
This time, it was a message.
Thomas: Lizzy, please. Just talk to me.
She swallowed hard, her thumb hovering over the screen.
She wanted to scream at him. To ask him why he had wasted her time if he always knew Linda was irreplaceable. To tell him that she had loved him, and he had never loved her back the same way.
But what would be the point?
With trembling hands, she shut off her phone and tossed it aside.
She didn't need to hear his excuses.
She just needed to find a way to move on.
….
The morning breeze wove its way through the bustling set, where hurried footsteps and the constant chatter of production crews filled the air. Heels clicked against the polished floors as assistants scrambled to adjust the schedule for the live show. Amidst the chaos, June sat in the dressing room, her eyes scanning the script Liam had written.
She let out a bitter groan. The lines were too perfect, too polished, soaked in artificial emotion.
Too good to be true.
June despised scripts that forced her to play along with unrealistic narratives, and this was no different. A mother abandoning her daughter, only to return years later expecting forgiveness. A wife forced into playing the saint, taking in a woman who had once cast her away. She hated it. It rubbed against her moral compass in all the wrong ways.
How am I supposed to act like the mother's right?
Just as she was about to call Liam for an explanation, her phone vibrated across the glass table, cutting her off. She glanced at the screen.
Grumpy Uncle
A small smile crept onto her lips as she tossed the script aside and answered.
"Good morning," she greeted, her voice instantly lighter.
"Good morning, grumpy uncle," she teased before he could even respond, grinning at the displeased grunt that followed.
"Have you eaten?" Dave asked, his voice firm.
June leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs in delight. "Nope. Would you bring me breakfast?"
"You know I will," he said without hesitation. "What do you want?"
She chuckled. "Relax, I was just kidding. I already ate."
"June, June!"
The interruption snapped her attention to the door, where Jane stood with a serious expression.
June sighed. So much for a sweet moment.
"What?"
"A woman by the name of Mrs. Deen is here to see you, and by the looks of it, she's not here for a friendly chat."
June frowned. "Mrs. Deen?" She murmured, the name unfamiliar.
"I'll call you back, Grumpy Uncle," she said quickly before ending the call.
She stood up, smoothing her dress as she followed Jane out of the dressing room and toward the cafeteria. A tinge of unease settled in her stomach. She wasn't expecting a guest, let alone one that carried an air of confrontation.
The moment she stepped into the cafeteria, her eyes fell on the woman sitting at the far end of the room. Mrs. Deen.
June didn't need an introduction to recognize the way the woman held herself, the sharp elegance, the poised posture, and the air of superiority that lingered around her like expensive perfume.
She was exactly the kind of woman June had dealt with before.
Taking a slow breath, June walked forward and stopped directly in front of her.
"You are?" she asked, her tone even.
Mrs. Deen lifted her chin slightly, offering a tight smile as she gestured to the seat opposite her. "Mrs. Deen. Dr. Dave Deen's mother."
June's eyebrows raised slightly at the introduction.
"I heard you were dating my son," Mrs. Deen continued, though the words weren't phrased as a question.
June didn't hesitate. "We're not just dating. I'm his girlfriend." She made sure to say it clearly, emphasizing the distinction.
She had been through this dance before—the disapproving mother, the skeptical glares, the implied insults disguised as concern. If Mrs. Deen thought she was going to intimidate her into backing down, she was sorely mistaken.
The older woman studied her carefully, as if assessing her worth, before speaking again.
"Do you think you're worthy of him?"
June almost laughed. There it is.
They always said the same thing. As if their sons were royalty and she was some unworthy peasant.
She tilted her head, amusement glinting in her eyes. "Don't I look worthy?"
Mrs. Deen's expression remained unreadable, but her fingers drummed against the table before she slowly pulled out a checkbook. She opened it, poised to write.
"I'm not going to stall," she said, tapping the checkbook with her manicured nails. "I want you to do me a favor. In return, I'll give you any amount of your choice."
June's gaze flickered to the checkbook before returning to Mrs. Deen's unwavering stare.
"Go on, name your price."
Silence hung between them.
Then June leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, a smirk playing on her lips.
"Honey, I wish I could be of help," she said sweetly, "but I can't." She sat back, crossing her arms. "Your son is mine, and not even you can take him away from me."
She reached for her coffee, taking a slow sip as she eyed Mrs. Deen over the rim of the cup. "So, your checkbook? Yeah, it's not needed."
The older woman's lips parted slightly, perhaps in shock, perhaps in frustration.
"Mom!"
A voice broke through the tension, accompanied by hurried footsteps.
June turned her head just in time to see Dave jogging toward them, his chest rising and falling with the effort of getting there in a rush.
He stopped beside the table, his eyes flickering between his mother and June, piecing together the situation in an instant.
"Dave?" Mrs. Deen said, startled.
June took another sip of her coffee before setting it down, giving him a lazy smile.
"Hey, babe. Your mom was just about to pay me to leave you."