[LINA]
"It's your fault for being a jerk, Fernand," I snapped, grabbing Daniel's arm and pulling him to his feet. "Let's go."
I didn't look back as we left Fernand sitting there, still too shocked to respond. My patience had limits, and Fernand had just found the edge of mine.
I usually don't throw things at people, but Fernand wasn't a human—he was a walking embodiment of egotism, arrogance, and self-absorption creature.
As we stepped outside, Daniel glanced down at his wet shirt and shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Well, that was . . . something."
"Sorry about that jerk, and sorry that you have to see that," I said, feeling a mix of guilt and satisfaction. "But I think we both know you handled that way better than I did."
"I don't mind," he replied, his voice warm. "Honestly, it felt good to put him in his place—even if it was you who threw the drink."
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn't dealing with things alone. Maybe this fake relationship wouldn't be so bad after all.
"But aren't you going to get in trouble with that guy?" Daniel asked cautiously.
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. "You mean the other way around, right? He's not that important, so don't worry about him."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"Well, that guy is . . . something."
"You don't have to be polite—just say arrogant and crazy," I replied with a smirk.
Daniel chuckled softly. "Are all your suitors like that?"
"Now you see what I have to deal with," I said with an exaggerated sigh.
His smile faded as his expression grew serious. "Well . . . I'll think about what you said."
I brightened, flashing him a grateful smile. "Thanks. There's no rush—take your time." Your next read is at My Virtual Library Empire
We parted ways shortly after, and I slipped into the car where Dylan was waiting. As soon as I settled in, his dry remark broke the silence.
"Looks like you and that guy are getting close."
My smile faded, and I glanced briefly at him through the rearview mirror. "Yeah. Daniel's a decent guy," I replied evenly.
The air in the car felt colder, and I frowned, checking the temperature controls. "Can you turn up the heat a little? It's freezing in here."
Without a word, Dylan adjusted the settings. His silence was unnerving, and I couldn't read his expression—hidden behind his signature black shades, his face was as stoic and unreadable as ever.
The atmosphere grew heavier as we drove, a tension lingering in the air that I couldn't quite pinpoint. Was it awkwardness? Annoyance? Frustration? I couldn't be sure, and knowing Dylan, asking outright wouldn't get me an answer.
He wasn't the type to wear his emotions on his sleeve, let alone admit to anything as absurd as jealousy.
But something about his mood unsettled me, and I found myself sneaking another glance at him. His hands were steady on the wheel, his posture relaxed, yet the silence between us seemed to pulse with unspoken words.
I turned my gaze to the window, deciding to let it go. Dylan was an enigma, and trying to decode him was an exercise in futility.
Whatever was bothering him, he'd either share it in his own time or keep it locked away behind that impassive exterior of his. Either way, I had more than enough on my plate without trying to unravel the mystery that was Dylan.
=== 🤍 ===
[IRAYA]
The holiday break had officially begun, but somehow, I still felt trapped in the suffocating routine of school. Except, this time, it wasn't textbooks and exams chaining me—it was Leander.
I had missed both Cole and Lina's birthdays, an unforgivable sin in their eyes. All thanks to Leander, who had apparently decided that my life's sole purpose was to cater to his endless list of bizarre errands.
Every hour, my phone would buzz with another command.
"Woman, fetch me that special blend coffee from the shop three streets down. Not the regular one—make sure it's the one with cinnamon swirls. Oh, and check if they have oat milk. No oat milk, no deal."
Only to end up me drinking it because he was allergic to all milks. Why order milk if you don't want it in the first place?!
Barely an hour later, another call.
"I need you to pick up my dry cleaning. Don't look at me like that—it's the red jacket with the silver buttons. You'll know it when you see it. Just tell them it's for me."
If I thought I was done for the day, I was wrong. The grand finale?
"Woman! Emergency! I need a pair of socks. Not just any socks—striped ones, green and blue. And make sure they match my mood. You can tell what my mood is, right?"
His mood? Who even says stuff like that? At one point, I was half-convinced he was making up errands just to mess with me, laughing maniacally behind his perfect smile as I ran across town like a glorified errand girl.
By the time I collapsed into bed each night, I didn't feel like I was on a holiday break. I felt like I'd been roped into some twisted scavenger hunt orchestrated by a madman.
And the worst part? I couldn't refuse. Not because I respected him, but because, deep down, I was genuinely scared of him. Leander had this way of making you feel like your entire existence was hanging by a thread he could snip with a single word.
R
The sharp trill of my phone sliced through the room again, and seeing his name flash on the screen made me groan into my pillow.
"What now?!" I snapped, my frustration finally bubbling over as I answered.
There was a brief pause on the other end, and then his low, threatening tone came through. "What kind of tone is that, woman? Do you want to disappear like the others?"
I froze. My irritation instantly morphed into nervous laughter as I cleared my throat and changed my tone faster than a chameleon changes color. "Ah, no! Of course not! I'm just . . . you know . . . a little tired. It's past eight, after all."