The neon glow of streetlights flickered against the pavement as Dave parked his car and stepped out, scanning the rows of food stalls. The scent of sizzling oil and spices mixed with the crisp night air, but none of it was as overwhelming as the worry gnawing at his chest.
She had called him out of nowhere, late, her voice tight with an emotion she hadn't named. He didn't ask questions, didn't hesitate. He just came.
And there she was.
June sat hunched over a tiny metal table, her hands full of food, her mouth stuffed with steaming hot peppered chicken thighs. Grease glistened on her lips, her eyes puffy from what he suspected were tears.
Dave strode over and knelt beside her.
"Are you alright?" he asked softly, brushing his thumb across her cheek, wiping away the pepper oil that clung to the corner of her lips.
June didn't answer, just grabbed another piece of chicken, shoving it into her mouth with reckless urgency. She chewed too fast, her throat struggling to keep up.
The moment her breath hitched, Dave reacted.
"Hey, slow down," he said, quickly prying the food from her grip. As soon as she started coughing, he grabbed the water bottle on the table, uncapping it in one swift move before pressing it into her hands. "Drink."
June took a long gulp, the burn in her throat fading slightly.
Dave watched her carefully, his brows knitted in concern. "June, what happened?"
She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the half-eaten food before her. "He finally said it," she whispered.
Dave frowned. "Said what?"
"The words I've been waiting to hear for years…" She exhaled sharply, blinking back fresh tears. "He apologized. But" Her voice cracked as her hands clenched into fists. "I'm still not happy, Dave. Why? Why am I still hurting?"
Dave sighed, reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"It's okay to still feel hurt," he murmured. "An apology doesn't erase years of pain overnight. You don't have to feel right about it. Just… take it slow. Let it all out, and when you're ready, start fresh."
June sniffed, rubbing her sleeve over her damp eyes.
"Now," Dave continued, his lips quirking into a small smirk, "no more stuffing your face like a maniac."
"But I'm not full yet," she whined, pouting like a child.
Dave rolled his eyes. "No more."
"But"
"No more," he repeated, effortlessly lifting her into his arms before she could protest further.
"Grumpy uncle, please," she whined again, clinging to him. "Just one more bite."
He ignored her, carrying her to his car and setting her inside. Strapping her seatbelt, he shot her a look. "Behave."
June huffed dramatically, crossing her arms.
As they drove through the quiet city, her exhaustion finally caught up to her, her head resting against the window.
By the time they reached his apartment, she was barely awake.
Dave didn't let her move a muscle. He scooped her up once again, carrying her inside like she weighed nothing. Setting her down on the couch, he disappeared into his room, returning with one of his oversized t-shirts.
"Here," he said, handing it to her. "Get changed."
June mumbled something incoherent but obeyed, swapping her clothes for the comfort of his shirt.
When she emerged from the bathroom, her face was still greasy from the food.
Dave chuckled, shaking his head. "Come here."
He gently pulled her closer, taking a warm cloth and wiping her face clean. His fingers moved with a tenderness that made her chest ache.
Then, guiding her to the bed, he tucked her in.
June sighed as her body melted into the mattress. She should have felt ridiculous, she was an independent woman, perfectly capable of taking care of herself.
But with Dave, she didn't have to be.
As she drifted off, she felt the warmth of his hand smoothing her hair.
And for the first time that day, she felt safe.
The morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. It was warm, soft, almost lazy in its embrace.
Dave, however, hadn't gotten a wink of sleep.
He had spent the entire night watching her.
June lay curled up beside him, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, her lips slightly parted in slumber. Peaceful. Vulnerable. His tigress, usually so fierce, looked impossibly soft in the quiet of dawn.
But the price of his admiration was evident, his dark circles sat heavy under his eyes, his body sluggish from the lack of rest. With a sigh, he rubbed his face and ran a hand through his disheveled hair before forcing himself to get up.
He walked to the closet, pulling out a shirt for work. The scent of mint filled the air as he finished freshening up, the sound of his movements stirring June awake.
She blinked, her eyes still heavy with sleep, but the moment her vision cleared, they widened, sharp and alert.
Dave stood by the dresser, wearing nothing but a towel slung loosely around his waist. His damp skin gleamed under the morning light, the defined lines of his muscles flexing as he reached for his shirt.
June gulped.
Her lips parted slightly as her gaze traced his sharp side bones, her thoughts turning… unholy.
She inhaled deeply, trying to shake them away. Not the time, not the time, not the
"Morning," she greeted weakly, forcing her eyes to his face.
Dave, still groggy but aware of her stare, smirked. But before he could tease her, his gaze dropped to her lips, and immediately, his expression shifted.
His entire body tensed. His smirk disappeared.
It was subtle, but June caught it.
He was looking at her mouth like it was a breeding ground for a deadly virus.
She knew that look.
Her eyes narrowed.
"What are you waiting for?" she asked, tilting her chin up. "Kiss me."
She puckered her lips slightly, leaning toward him expectantly.
Dave stiffened.
A war visibly played out in his head as he stared at her, lips parted but words failing him.
Then, hesitantly, he muttered, "Go brush your teeth."
Silence.
Dead. Silence.
The atmosphere, once tinged with playful warmth, came crashing down with a loud, metaphorical shatter.
June's expression twisted into pure horror.
"What?" she breathed, her voice flat.
Dave cleared his throat. "I mean, just a quick rinse wouldn't"
Bam!
A pillow smacked him right in the face.
"You jerk!" June shot up from the bed, her fists clenching. "Kiss me, or I swear I'll punch you!"
Dave held up his hands. "June, it's just, there are millions of bacteria in a morning mouth, and"
"Oh my God," she cut him off, throwing another pillow at him. "Why am I dating you?!"
She folded her arms tightly, scowling. Other women had romantic boyfriends who would melt at the thought of morning kisses, who would pull their girls into lazy, sleepy kisses without a second thought.
But her fate?
She had to fall for a mysophobic Doctor who thought her mouth was a biohazard before noon.
Disappointment crashed over her like a wave, frustration prickling her skin.
With a sharp inhale, she swung her legs over the bed, standing up.
"That's it," she muttered, more to herself than him. "I'm out."
Dave blinked.
"Wait"
Before she could take a single step, his arms shot out, caging her in an instant.
June gasped as her back hit the wall, his presence towering over her.
Her heart hammered as he tipped her chin up, forcing her gaze to meet his.
"Dave, what are you"
And then, before she could utter another word
He kissed her.
Hard.
There was no hesitation this time. No second thoughts, no phobia, no bacteria statistics running through his head.
Just her.
His lips moved against hers with a hunger that melted her resistance instantly. He tasted of mint and something entirely him, something addicting, something dangerous. His hands found her waist, pulling her flush against him, erasing the small space between them.
June barely had time to process before she felt herself being twirled, the world spinning around her for a brief moment before he pressed her against the bed.
His weight caged her in. His lips never left hers.
The morning breath he had been so paranoid about?
Didn't matter.
Not anymore.
When he finally pulled back, June was breathless, her lips tingling, her eyes wide in surprise.
Dave smirked down at her, breath heavy.
"I think I just cured my mysophobia," he murmured.
June stared at him for a long second before a grin crept onto her face.
"Good," she whispered, hooking her
"Now do it again."
….
The office buzzed with the usual hum of morning productivity, fingers clicking away at keyboards, printers whirring, hushed conversations weaving through the air. But amid the routine sounds, one voice broke through the quiet, raw with desperation.
"Jane, I can explain, please, just hear me out!"
James' voice rang loud enough to make heads turn, curiosity flickering in the eyes of passing coworkers.
For the past two hours, he had been standing outside the office doors, pacing against the cruel morning breeze, his throat hoarse from repeated calls. He was relentless, desperate, willing to stand out in the cold if it meant a sliver of a chance with her.
"Jane, please, I'm sorry, just give me a chance to talk," he tried again, his voice strained.
Liam, seated closest to Jane, sighed dramatically and shot her a deadpan look. "Alright, that's enough. Go hear him out."
Jane didn't flinch, her eyes locked on her computer screen as if she hadn't noticed the scene unfolding just outside their glass doors.
Liam leaned forward. "Seriously, have some heart. The guy looks like he's been dragged through hell. And frankly, you'll be doing all of us a favor by shutting him up."
Around them, coworkers exchanged silent glances, pretending to work but clearly eavesdropping.
With an exasperated sigh, Jane pushed back her chair and stood. She wasn't doing this for James. She was doing it for herself, to shut his voice out of her head, out of her space.
Stepping outside, she crossed her arms, her expression blank as she faced him.
"Jane."
Her name left his lips in a breath of relief, as if her mere presence was the answer to his prayers. He looked… disheveled. His hair, usually neat, was an unruly mess, and his shirt hung loosely over his jeans, as though he had been too distracted to dress properly.
"Thank you for coming," he said, eyes searching hers. "I thought you wouldn't."
Jane's voice was as cool as the wind. "I'm not here to listen to whatever excuse you have."
James tensed.
She tilted her head slightly. "I came to tell you to leave. You're disrupting the workplace."
By workplace, she meant herself. She didn't need his voice clinging to her thoughts. She didn't need his presence stirring up the past.
James swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing. His fingers twitched, but he clenched them into fists.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice quieter now, steadier. "Jane, I swear, I gave up that life because of you."
She didn't blink.
He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. "That was the old me. I'll be honest—I used to enjoy that life. I used to live for the thrill of being spoiled by older women, women twice my age." His lips pressed into a tight line, guilt weighing on his features. "But then I met you, and everything changed."
Jane remained unmoved.
He took a shaky breath. "You're the only person I ever wanted to change for."
Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.
Then, she blinked, and her expression didn't soften. It didn't crack.
"Are you done?"
His stomach twisted at how impassive she sounded.
"If you are, then leave."
Without another word, she turned on her heel, heading back inside, leaving James standing in the cold, exactly where he belonged.
Right at it, June steps out of her car sighting James just about the door stranded for attention.
"Hey , what's James doing here?, I saw him outside" June asked catching up with Jane.
But she seemed unwilling to have a conversation about him, he wasn't worth her time nor her energy. Best at hand was focusing on her tasks that were piling.
"Forget him, Linda wanted to see you." Jane said, a weak smile on her lips as she further " she request you meet her in her office the second you show up".
June's steps came to a halt at the sound of her boss's cold yet oddly soothing voice. Linda's tone had a way of settling in the air like a warm breeze against rough skin, firm, yet oddly comforting.
With a slight tilt of her head, Linda motioned for June to follow her into the office. Without hesitation, June obeyed, her heels clicking softly against the floor as she entered the familiar space.
Once inside, Linda slid a file across the desk toward her.
June hesitated. "What's this?"
Linda offered no immediate explanation. "Open it."
A silent command.
Reluctantly, June reached for the folder, flipping it open with careful fingers. Her eyes scanned the pages, and within seconds, her breath hitched.
"The M Project?" she whispered in disbelief.
Linda nodded.
"But.."
"You thought he wouldn't sponsor the project after your rejection?" Linda's words cut straight through her confusion.
June's gaze snapped up, her expression a mix of shock and uncertainty.
A smirk tugged at Linda's lips. "Darling, I know everything that happens in my company. Even with my absence, I don't miss a thing."
June swallowed, still processing the unexpected revelation.
Linda leaned back, watching her with something almost close to amusement. "He still believes in you, you know. And he wishes you the best. If he couldn't win you over, at the very least, he wanted to help push your dreams forward. That way, you'll always remember him."
June blinked, trying to make sense of it all. Who helps the woman that rejected him—multiple times—with such a huge investment? It didn't make sense. And yet, as confusing as it was, she couldn't deny the gratitude swelling in her chest.
Her dream project was back on track.
As she turned toward the door, Linda called out, amusement laced in her voice, "And June? Try not to get involved with my next investor."
June rolled her eyes but said nothing as she stepped out.
Her thoughts were still tangled when she heard an all-too-familiar voice.
"I was actually waiting for you."
The unexpected presence of Samantha made June flinch. Turning swiftly, she found herself face-to-face with her sister, who stood with arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face.
June's first thought came out bluntly, her voice tinged with suspicion. "He isn't dead, is he?"
Samantha's brows lifted at the question. "Umm… no?"
A pause. Then a slow, wary shake of her head. What's going on in that head of yours, June?
June exhaled, her fingers tightening around the file in her grip. "Then why are you here?"
Samantha's stance shifted slightly. "He wants to see you."
June stilled.
"That's the condition," Samantha continued, watching her carefully. "The only way he agreed to the surgery. And he needs it. Urgently."
A sharp, cold weight settled in June's stomach.
So that's why.