In the girls' room, Viona, Theresia, and Sharone were lying on Theresia's big bed. They deliberately dimmed the room lights, leaving only a soft glow from the bedside lamp in the corner. Although their heads were still a little dizzy from the alcohol, the conversation flowed endlessly.
Theresia lay in the middle, while Viona was on the right and Sharone on the left. Occasionally, they chuckled softly or complained about their headaches, but no one really wanted to be the first to fall asleep.
"Frans is so sweet, right?" Sharone suddenly said, her voice soft yet clear.
Viona, who was about to close her eyes, turned to her. "Huh?"
Sharone smiled faintly, staring at the ceiling. "Earlier when we were playing games, he really seemed to care about you. Then during the BBQ, I also saw him secretly holding your hand under the table."
Viona bit her lip, feeling embarrassed but also happy to hear that. "He really is always like that..." she murmured softly.
Theresia giggled and gave Viona a pat on the arm. "Come on, don't be shy. We all saw it too."
Viona covered her face with a pillow, but her small laugh could still be heard.
Sharone sighed. "I'm envious," she said in a quieter tone.
Theresia and Viona turned to her at the same time.
"Envious of what?" Theresia asked.
Sharone bit her lip before finally speaking, "James seems to care about you a lot, Theresia. I saw how he always hugs you, holds your hand, and even kissed your cheek in front of all of us earlier."
Theresia smiled widely. "Of course, I'm his beloved girlfriend."
Viona laughed along. "Wow, so arrogant."
But Sharone didn't laugh. Instead, she sighed deeply. "But Steve isn't like that."
The atmosphere suddenly became a little more somber. Viona and Theresia exchanged glances before turning back to Sharone.
"What do you mean?" Theresia asked cautiously.
Sharone looked toward them. "Steve and I have been dating for a long time. But… it feels like our relationship isn't like yours. He's never as sweet as James or Frans. Sometimes I feel like he's close to me, but his heart is somewhere else."
Viona held her breath, trying not to show any expression.
Theresia furrowed her brow. "Maybe Steve just needs time?"
Sharone smiled faintly, but her eyes looked sad. "I don't know, Theresia. I just want to be loved like Frans loves Viona, or like James loves you."
Viona bit her lip, an uncomfortable feeling starting to stir in her chest.
Theresia tried to lighten the mood with a smile. "Well, let's not think about that right now. What's important is we get some sleep so we don't wake up feeling worse tomorrow."
Sharone nodded, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
Viona stared at the ceiling, her thoughts in disarray. That night, she realized one thing—Sharone loved Steve sincerely, but did Steve still feel the same way?
The next morning, sunlight began to creep in through the gaps in the curtains of Theresia's house. The air still felt fresh, with remnants of the night's coolness not yet fully dissipated.
Steve, the oldest among them, woke up first. His head was still a bit heavy from the drinks the night before, but his body was used to rising early. With a calm stride, he walked to the kitchen, seeing the dining table still cluttered with leftover plates and glasses from last night's BBQ party.
He sighed and raked his messy hair. "Wow, what a mess," he muttered to himself before starting to move.
Without further thought, Steve began tidying the table, gathering the dirty plates and carrying them to the sink. Water flowed from the tap, the sound of plates clinking against each other faint in the quiet morning. His hands skillfully washed each plate and glass, cleaning off leftover sauce and grease from their surfaces.
Meanwhile, the aroma of coffee began to waft through the kitchen. Steve had intentionally turned on the coffee machine to brew a few cups—just in case others woke up soon and needed something to warm them up.
After finishing the dishes, he wiped the dining table and began to think about preparing breakfast.
"An omelet and toast should be enough for them," he said softly.
Quickly, he grabbed eggs from the fridge, cracked them into a bowl, and began whisking them with a bit of salt and pepper. In the pan, butter started to melt, releasing a savory aroma that gradually filled the kitchen. Steve poured the beaten eggs into the pan, skillfully moving the spatula to create a soft and fluffy omelet.
At the same time, he also toasted several slices of bread, flipping them occasionally to prevent burning. Once everything was ready, he arranged breakfast on a plate—omelet, toast, some pieces of fruit, and of course, hot coffee.
As he was placing the plates on the dining table, footsteps could be heard coming from the stairs.
"Wow, you're busy early in the morning," James' voice sounded a bit hoarse from just waking up. He yawned widely while ruffling his still-messy hair.
Steve glanced over briefly and chuckled. "Someone has to clean up, right? Besides, if no one cooks, we might all go hungry."
James approached and inhaled the coffee aroma wafting from the cup. "Ah, this is what I need. I mean, what I really need," he said, immediately grabbing one of the cups and blowing on its surface before taking a sip.
Frans appeared shortly after, still in a t-shirt and pajamas. "Morning," he greeted while rubbing his sleepy eyes. "Wait, who cooked this?"
"Who else but Steve?" James replied, pointing at him.
Frans raised an eyebrow, looking a bit surprised. "Impressive. Usually, the oldest guy is the laziest to get up in the morning."
Steve just shook his head with a faint smile. "Nothing special. I'm just used to waking up early."
Not long after, lighter footsteps could be heard from the girls' room. Theresia and Viona appeared almost simultaneously, both still looking a bit drowsy, but the tempting aroma of breakfast energized them.
"Wow, who cooked?" Theresia asked, her eyes shining.
"Steve," James and Frans replied almost in unison.
Viona sat down at the table and looked at Steve in slight amazement. "I didn't expect you could cook too."
Steve shrugged. "Not often, but when I have to, I can."
Theresia smiled widely. "This is the best breakfast after a long night. Thank you, Steve!"
They all began to serve themselves and enjoy breakfast together. A moment of silence hung in the air as they busily chewed, savoring the rich taste of the omelet and crunchy toast.
However, as the atmosphere began to feel warm and relaxed, the last set of footsteps could be heard.
Sharone appeared from the direction of her room, her hair a bit messy but her face still looked naturally beautiful. She surveyed the scene in the kitchen and frowned slightly.
"You all had breakfast without me?" she asked half-jokingly.
James laughed. "Well, whose fault is it for waking up last?"
Sharone sat in an empty chair and looked at the breakfast that had already been served. "Steve, did you cook?"
Steve just nodded while sipping his coffee.
Sharone smiled faintly. "You really do have a way of making people feel comfortable."
Viona, who was chewing her toast, suddenly felt something odd in her chest upon hearing that statement. But she quickly brushed it aside and refocused on her breakfast.
No one noticed the small tension that suddenly emerged, except for Frans, who quietly observed Viona's expression.
Viona sipped her coffee slowly, letting its bitter taste sink into her tongue. Her eyes stared at the plate in front of her, but her thoughts wandered elsewhere. To a night when she and Steve sat alone in her kitchen, talking about music, dreams, and past memories while enjoying a dish cooked by Steve.
When she pretended to be surprised to find out Steve's cooking skills, it wasn't just a little lie. It was an attempt to cover up something bigger—something even she was afraid to admit. If she showed that she already knew, maybe questions would arise, perhaps there would be stares that were too sharp from Frans, maybe unnecessary anxiety among them all.
"Viona?" Theresia's voice broke her reverie.
"Hmm?" She quickly lifted her face and smiled faintly.
"Why are you daydreaming?" Theresia asked while chewing her toast. "Not enough sleep?"
Viona shook her head quickly. "No, I'm fine. The breakfast is delicious," she said, looking for a safe reason.
However, Frans, seated beside her, still watched her. The man's gaze had never strayed from Viona, especially since the incident when their relationship had briefly become strained. He wasn't stupid—he knew there was something Viona was hiding, but he chose not to ask her about it right now.
Across the table, Steve occasionally glanced at Viona. He wasn't sure, but there was something familiar in her expression. It was as if they were sharing a secret that only they knew. For a moment, he wanted to say something, to pull Viona to a corner and ask if she missed their conversations like he did.
But Sharone gently nudged his hand. "Eat, Steve. You cooked, don't go hungry yourself."
Steve smiled faintly and nodded, picking up his fork and starting to eat his breakfast. But inside his heart, something felt off.
And on the other side of the table, Viona gripped her spoon tighter, trying to ignore her deepest desire to have a one-on-one conversation with Steve—just once, like that time.