Iris POV:

I stab my spoon into a sad-looking carrot, chewing aggressively as if that'll somehow make this whole situation less annoying.

Here I am, just trying to enjoy my peaceful lunch in the tiny corner of the restaurant where the staff takes their breaks, and yet, I can feel them watching me.

Jeremy and his little group of nosy idiots are still watching me from across the room, probably expecting me to burst into tears, throw myself onto the floor, and beg him to take me back.

As if.

The air is heavy, thick with expectation. I don't have to look up to know exactly what's happening.

Jeremy's probably leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, trying to look brooding and mysterious when in reality, he just looks constipated.

His friends? Whispering, probably betting on whether I'll break down and run back to him.

Pathetic.

I sigh, forcing my attention back to my plate.

The rice is too dry, the chicken looks like it's seen better days, and honestly, I'd rather be eating dirt than sitting here pretending I don't notice them staring.

God, can't I just work one job without being publicly embarrassed?

Is that too much to ask?

It's like I'm living inside a reality show, except I'm not getting paid for my suffering.

I pull out my phone and immediately regret it.

A message from Quinn:

"Buy eggs."

Before I can reply, another message pops up.

"And don't get the cheap ones. Last time you got eggs, they smelled weird."

I choke on my food. The eggs smelled weird?

Excuse me, was I out here buying rotten eggs like some kind of villain?

I was on a budget!

Before I can take another bite, Caleb suddenly materializes out of nowhere, like a ghost—but worse, because ghosts don't smirk at you like they know something you don't.

"Iris," he says, his voice carrying that annoyingly effortless confidence that makes my stomach twist tighter.

My eyes flick to him for half a second before darting down to my plate, suddenly finding my food incredibly fascinating.

The air shifts, growing heavier, colder as I silently beg the universe to make him go away.

"Are you afraid of me, Iris?" Caleb asks, his tone light, almost teasing, but there's something underneath it. Something too curious.

I shake my head boredly and take an exaggeratedly slow bite of my food, as if I haven't heard him.

Maybe if I chew aggressively enough, he'll take the hint.

Spoiler alert: he does not.

Instead, he extends his hand toward me, palm up, offering friendship like it's a stick of gum.

"Friends," he says, as if he's already decided for both of us.

Gosh, it must be nice for him to walk around throwing out social contracts like confetti. Not for me.

Before I even approach anyone, I have to write a mental script, re-read it a thousand times, rehearse in my head, and then, maybe, I say hello.

I hesitate, my mind racing. I don't want to be his friend.

I don't want to be anyone's friend.

But... what if he tells Jeremy about my little post-breakup celebration? That I was practically skipping through the streets like I just won the lottery?

Men shouldn't be trusted. Ever.

Finally, with the enthusiasm of a prisoner signing a confession, I extend my hand and shake his.

His palm is warm, his grip firm—too firm. Like he knows this makes me uncomfortable.

He just laughs, completely unfazed by my blatant suspicion. His eyes twinkle with amusement.

"What?" I snap, frowning, trying to smother my insecurity with irritation.

He leans in slightly, a smug little smile creeping across his face.

"You're cute," he says, his voice dropping just enough to make it sound more intimate than necessary.

My face heats up instantly, and I whip my head away, scowling.

And then—like a curse summoned from the depths of my nightmares—his words echo in my mind.

"You're so cute, Mini Bear."

My breath catches. My pulse jumps.

The nickname slams into me like a brick to the face, yanking memories I've tried so hard to bury right back to the surface.

No, no, no. We are NOT going there.

"You don't want to know what the bet was about?" Caleb asks, his curiosity evident, cutting through the tension with surprising ease.

I stab at my food, rolling a grain of rice under my spoon.

"I was the only girl minding her business, and Jeremy just wanted to play. What a kid," I reply, my voice steady as I meet Caleb's gaze.

His expression shifts slightly, like he wasn't expecting that response.

What?

"Clever girl," he says after a moment, nodding.

Yeah, meh.

The silence lingers for a second too long, and before I can think better of it, my mouth betrays me. "Are you new here?"

The words slip out before I can stop them.

I immediately regret it.

His lips twitch, and he lets out a chuckle, shaking his head.

"No, you just didn't notice me all this time," he says, his tone light, amused.

I freeze.

Oh.

A fresh wave of embarrassment washes over me, hot and suffocating.

My mind rewinds, scrambling through the past weeks, months— how long has he been here? How had I just completely missed him? Have I been that oblivious?

"Oh," I respond awkwardly, my brain short-circuiting.

That's it.

That's all I manage to say. Just oh.

Great!

Then, out of nowhere, he asks, "Do you love someone?"

"What?" I finally say, staring at him, disgustingly.

He smirks, leaning back lazily in his chair. "Don't look at me like I asked you to kiss me."

Oh, ew.

"Gross," I mutter, shoving another bite into my mouth for extra emphasis.

"I'm just saying," he continues, clearly enjoying himself, "You weren't even a little sad about the breakup. So, you know..." He shrugs. "Just curious."

I resist the urge to hurl my spoon at his face.

He watches me closely, waiting, but I refuse to give him any more of my thoughts.

Then, without thinking, I mumble, "I don't know."

"...What?" Caleb leans forward, his smirk vanishing, curiosity turning into genuine confusion.

"No one." I snap my gaze up to meet his, my voice suddenly way too firm.

He doesn't look convinced, but before he can press me any further, a girl's voice calls out from across the room.

"Caleb, come here!"

I glance over to see some girl patting the seat next to her, all flirty and annoyingly perky.

Caleb sighs dramatically. "Duty calls."

Yeah, go be annoying somewhere else.

I exhale, relieved that the weird conversation is over, and pull out my phone to reply to Quinn.

Lunch break is almost over, and I need to finish eating before—

Swipe.

My phone is gone.

Caleb is standing there, my phone in his hand, fingers moving suspiciously fast over the keypad.

"Caleb!" I shouted, lurching forward. "What the hell are you doing?!"

He glances at me, completely unbothered. "Wow, This thing belongs in a museum."

"GIVE IT BACK!" I try to grab it, but he dodges effortlessly, grinning like a menace.

"You really have an ancestral kind of phone," he continues, amused. "Does it have snake game? Or do you have to crank it before making a call?"

I gape at him.

Does this boy think I make a thousand dollars a month?

Does he think I'm out here rolling in cash, buying the latest model to keep up with trends?!

"Give it back before I end your bloodline," I said, calmly. Tried.

Caleb chuckles, finally handing it over. I snatch it from his grip, glaring.

"Relax." He smirks. "Call me."

I narrow my eyes at him.

Why would I ever—

I look down at my phone.

And then—

What the hell!!

He saved his number.

Under the name:

'SEXY CALEB'

All caps. Like he's screaming at me through my own contacts.

I inhale sharply, scanning my surroundings like I've just been caught with something criminal.

Before anyone can see, I quickly edit the contact name.

'Caleb – Café Colleague.'

Decent. Logical. Appropriate.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for a second.

And why do I have this sinking feeling that things are about to get a whole lot more complicated?

Author POV:

The hall was dimly lit, the lamp casting long, shifting shadows against the walls.

The air smelled faintly of eucalyptus and citrus—evidence of Susan's relentless insistence on self-care nights.

It was a rare evening of forced relaxation, and despite their grumbling, everyone—except Liam—had surrendered to Susan's demands.

Their faces were plastered in a thick green face mask, the supposed skin rejuvenation magic making them look more like a gang of swamp creatures than feared men of the underground.

Liam, the sole escapee, sat in the corner with a book, flipping pages with the exaggerated air of a man who wanted to be anywhere but here.

Meanwhile, Alex—eternally hopeful, ever the optimist in denial—leaned forward, phone in hand, his voice brimming with an air of certainty.

"Guys, how about her?" He turned the screen for the group to see.

A picture of a woman filled the screen— elegant, poised, independent.

"She's modern, successful, doesn't take bullshit. Ace needs a woman like that." He nodded as if his logic were unquestionable.

A murmur of approval rippled through the group.

Hudson squinted at the screen. "She does look like she could handle him."

Leo tilted his head. "Yeah, she has that 'I won't put up with your attitude' kind of look. Maybe it'll shake him up a bit."

Felix shrugged. "She's hot. That's gotta count for something."

For a moment, there was an illusion of agreement.

Then—

Leo's gaze flickered to the one person who hadn't said a word.

"Liam, what do you think?"

Liam didn't even look up from his book.

He sighed—long and drawn out, the kind of sigh that suggested he was already exhausted by their stupidity.

"Are you all blind, or just pretending?"

The room went silent.

Liam finally shut his book with a sharp thud and leveled them with a stare so cutting it could split bone.

His patience had been wearing thin, but now it was gone.

"No matter how many dates you set up for him, Ace will never love any other girl except Iris."

Tension coiled in the air like a noose.

No one spoke. No one dared.

Because they all knew.

Ace didn't just love Iris.

His love was not normal. It was not something soft, not something that could be replaced or diluted.

Hudson rubbed at his face, only to curse when he smeared the green mask further. "That's depressing."

Alex frowned. "She's not coming back. He needs to get over it."

Liam scoffed. "You think it's a choice?" His eyes darkened, his voice dipping into something eerily calm. "Ace doesn't 'get over' things. He fixates."

Felix scoffed. "Still, he's Ace. He's not gonna waste away over some girl."

Liam's lips curled into something resembling a smirk, but without any humor.

"You think so?"

The silence stretched again, but this time, it was different.

Because now, unspoken memories lingered in the air.

They had seen it.

They had seen how Iris's absence had started to change him.

His violence had grown colder.

His temper had become sharper.

His eyes—darker.

Like something inside him was rotting.

Liam exhaled sharply. "All these months, he's looked pathetic and violent," he muttered, voice carrying a weight that silenced the easygoing chatter.

"You're all just thinking about how to cover his injuries instead of healing them." His words cut through the room like a blade.

Susan, who had been absently combing through her hair, stilled, her fingers hovered mid-motion.

"Ace was the one who told her to go away," she said, but there was something cautious about the way she spoke—like she knew her words held little weight.

Liam scoffed, shaking his head. "But did you ask him why? No."

His voice rose, irritation spilling over.

He forced himself to inhale, his grip on his book tightening before he finally threw it down.

"If you're still going to set up another girl, then don't ask my opinion," he finished, his voice sharp, final.

And then—

THUD.

The door slammed open with a force that made Susan flinch.

A gust of cold air from the hallway rushed in.

And in the middle of it, Ace stood.

The room stilled.

Ace's posture was relaxed. Too relaxed.

His movements, usually precise and controlled, were slightly off—a sway, a sluggish blink, a brief hesitation in his stance.

He had been drinking. A lot.

But it wasn't the alcohol that unsettled them.

It was his shirt.

Blood.

The deep red stains bled into the white fabric, some patches dark and dried, others still wet, sticking to his skin.

The smell clung to him— coppery, raw.

Felix, the only one who dared to break the silence, barely looked up from his phone as he muttered, "Who did you kill this time?"

Ace's gaze was distant, his voice devoid of warmth, of thought, of anything resembling a conscience.

"A random man."

Simple. Uncaring. Dismissive.

Like he had stepped in a puddle and not ended a life.

With that, he turned and walked away, the heavy weight of his presence dragging behind him as he disappeared into the nearest bathroom.

The sound of running water followed soon after.

But the silence lingered.

Not one of them reacted.

Because this was normal, now.

The clock ticked closer to 10 PM.

The air remained thick, but the conversation had shifted.

Shipments. Deals. Business.

It was easier to focus on numbers and logistics than the fact that Ace had walked in wearing someone else's blood.

Hudson leaned against the back of the couch, rubbing his temple. His voice was casual, but his eyes weren't.

"Ace, did you kill any of the girls you went on a date with?"

Silence stretched, but Ace—now emerging from the hallway, damp from the bathroom, droplets of water clinging to his face, his neck, his still blood-stained shirt—didn't hesitate.

He met Hudson's gaze, unreadable, unshaken.

"No." A pause. Then, with chilling indifference— "Not yet."

Felix exhaled sharply, muttering, "Good gracious."

But Ace didn't linger.

He disappeared into his room, swallowed by the cold, empty space waiting for him.

And just like that—

The tension remained.

Because deep down, none of them knew how much longer they had before "Not yet" became "Yes."

The room was cold.

The sheets beneath Ace felt like ice, stiff and untouched for too long, carrying a faint, impersonal scent of detergent.

But it wasn't just the sheets.

The walls, bare and looming, seemed to close in around him, their lifeless presence a reflection of the emptiness that had settled into his chest, deeper and heavier than anything he could drown in alcohol or wash off in a sink.

And in that silence, his mind drifted.

To her.

Her name wasn't spoken, but it echoed inside him, carved into the hollow places where warmth used to be.

"Thinking about her?"

Ace's eyes snapped open.

The voice cut through the quiet, low and casual but sharp enough to startle him—something that didn't happen often.

He turned his head, irritation already rising, only to find Liam leaning against the doorframe, watching him with that annoyingly perceptive stare.

Ace exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening.

"What do you want now?" His voice came out clipped, edged with impatience.

But Liam, unbothered as always, tilted his head slightly, smirking.

"Relax. I'm not here to set you up with another girl."

Ace huffed out a short, humorless chuckle, but the tension in the air thinned just a little.

His gaze, dark and unreadable, met Liam's—but there was something else there now. Something tired. Something resigned.

Liam caught it immediately.

And he smiled.

"She really fucked you up."

Ace's lips curled.

It wasn't a smile of amusement.

It was the kind that hurt.

The kind that tasted like blood and regret and the sharp bite of whiskey after too many nights trying to forget someone who could never be forgotten.

Because Liam was right.

Iris had dug her nails into his skin and never let go.

And despite everything, despite what he had done to her, despite pushing her away, despite hurting her in ways no one else ever could—

She was still there.

Still haunting him.

Liam's voice was quieter when he spoke next, but the weight of it crashed down like an avalanche.

"When you were in the hospital, Iris asked us not to leave you again."

Ace's body stiffened.

His fingers twitched against the sheet.

Liam continued, unrelenting. "She thinks you're not happy in the mansion without us. Naïve, dumb girl she is."

Ace swallowed, his throat tight.

And then—

"Of course she is." His voice was quieter now, but steady. "Otherwise, she wouldn't have fallen in love with me."

Liam's smirk widened. "Ah, so you're also delusional."

Ace let out a short laugh, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Liam walked further into the room, he sat on the edge of the bed, his posture relaxed but his gaze still razor-sharp.

And then he said it.

"That's not love. That's possession."

The words should have angered Ace.

Should have made him sneer, push back, deny it with a cruel remark or a cutting glare.

But he didn't.

Because deep down, beneath all the pride, all the control, all the violence that made him who he was—

He knew.

"Go and talk to her."

Ace didn't respond.

His fingers curled into the sheets, his knuckles white, his breath steady—but inside, his thoughts were a maelstrom, a battlefield where no one ever won.

Part of him wanted to laugh in Liam's face.

The other part?

The part that had forgotten how to feel anything but anger and bloodlust?

That part listened.

Liam stepped closer, his voice losing its usual sharpness, taking on something that almost sounded like pity.

"You've spent your life wrapped up in blood and revenge," he said, quiet now, like he was speaking to a wounded animal that might lash out if pushed too hard.

"But as you grow older, you'll need someone by your side."

A muscle in Ace's jaw twitched.

Something about those words sent a cold sliver of unease down his spine.

Need?

He didn't need anyone.

Not when the only thing people were good at was dying.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, unsteady—like a blade that had dulled from too much use.

"She hates me with all her heart." His lips twisted into something bitter. "And don't give me an emotional speech."

Liam's expression didn't change. He just watched, waiting, knowing that Ace wasn't done.

Ace exhaled harshly, his chest tight. "The man she loved is dead. I'm a disgrace to him."

There.

The truth.

The room was too quiet.

For a second, Liam didn't say anything.

And Ace hated that.

Because Liam wasn't the type to be at a loss for words.

When he finally spoke, it was slow, careful, but not hesitant.

"Why did you do it, even when you know you need her?"

Ace's throat felt tight.

He didn't want to say it.

Didn't want to admit it.

But the words came anyway, dragged out like something being ripped from him.

"I can't protect her all the time."

His voice was barely above a whisper now, his breaths shallow.

"If something happens to her because of me... I'm responsible for that. I will kill her, I—"

He stopped.

Liam's gaze was sharp.

Like he had caught onto something Ace didn't mean to let slip.

Kill her.

The words sat between them, heavier than the bloodstains on Ace's hands, heavier than the weight pressing down on his chest for months.

Because wasn't that the truth?

Iris being near him meant one thing.

She would die.

And not in the way that was quick and clean.

She would die in a way that would leave him ruined.

That thought alone was worse than anything else.

Liam sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, frustration bleeding into his tone. "But you're being a pain in the ass here too. Even if you're an asshole, you need her."

Ace stilled.

He despised that word.

Need.

It made him feel weak.

Like something helpless.

Like something he used to be.

Liam leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought. "All your life, Mila gave you love and cared for you for some years."

Ace's stomach twisted.

He didn't like talking about Mila.

Didn't like remembering.

But Liam didn't stop.

"And I've never seen a woman love you as selflessly as Mila except her."

Ace's vision blurred for a second.

Not with tears.

With something worse.

A faint memory.

"She gave me something even my mother couldn't give me," Ace murmured before he could stop himself.

Liam frowned but didn't press.

Didn't ask.

Because he already knew.

Ace's mother hadn't loved him.

Not in the way a mother was supposed to.

Liam exhaled, pushing himself to his feet.

His movements were slow. Deliberate.

Like he was trying to choose his words carefully.

"Everything comes with a price, Ace." His tone was lighter, but there was something underneath.

Liam reached out, resting a hand on Ace's shoulder.

It wasn't comforting.

It was a warning.

"Don't let your trust issues destroy something again."

And then he was gone.

The door shut softly behind him.

Ace let his head fall back against the pillow, staring at the ceiling.

The silence was back.

But now?

Now it was worse.

Because this time, it was screaming.

Iris POV:

"What?! Are you joking?" My voice erupted in frustration, the disbelief surging through me like a tidal wave.

"Shhh!" Caleb hissed, throwing a quick glance at the door like a paranoid spy. "He's sitting outside."

Outside? OUTSIDE?

As in, right there? As in, within punching range?

I inhaled deeply, trying—really, really trying—to keep my composure, but my brain was running in panicked circles.

My heart raced in protest, not just from rage but from the sheer absurdity of it all.

"You mean to tell me..." I started, voice dangerously low, "that he lives in this apartment building? That he's been here this whole time? And no one thought to mention it to me?!"

Quinn let out an exaggerated sigh before reaching over and smacking me lightly on the forehead.

"Ow," I yelped, rubbing the spot with a dramatic scowl.

"Girl, I told you," Quinn said, tilting her head like I was the dumbest person alive. "Remember when I said there's a hot guy on the first floor? Jeremy's friend? The one who stared at you all the time?"

I blinked. Processing.

Quinn shot me a look. "That's Caleb."

Silence.

"Wait—you mean to tell me that he's been living downstairs this entire time, and I just—what?—never noticed?"

Quinn folded her arms. "Exactly."

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

"It's not my fault that you don't see your surroundings," she added, her voice tinged with exasperation.

I glanced toward the hall, where I knew he was sitting.

He was smugly lounging in our hall, making my blood boil.

I clenched my fists at my sides and exhaled through my nose.

Like a bull. A very, very pissed-off bull.

"Why is he here?" I muttered under my breath, as I turned on my heel and retreated to the bathroom.

Cool water splashed against my face, but it did nothing—nothing—to calm the storm raging inside me.

If anything, it just made me more irritated because now my hairline was wet, and I looked like a stressed-out, damp cat.

Quinn's voice floated through the running shower. "Well, we jogged together today, so you know..."

Jogged together today?!

I exhaled sharply, yanking on my clothes with enough aggression to qualify as a workout.

My shirt ended up lopsided, but I refused to care. If my life was falling apart, I might as well look the part.

"Go and talk to him," Quinn's voice echoed through the sound of the running water.

Yeah, sure. Let me just go have a nice, friendly chat with the man I actively want to punch in the face.

I swung the bedroom door open—maybe a little too hard because it creaked like I had just unleashed an ancient curse.

I grabbed a glass of water and took a slow sip, trying to calm the dryness in my throat and definitely not stalling.

And then—

A throat cleared.

I froze mid-sip.

Turning slowly, I found Caleb standing there, leaning against the counter like he belonged in a bad romance novel.

"What, Caleb?" I deadpanned, my voice as flat and unbothered as possible.

Caleb tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with something annoyingly smug.

Here we go.

"I heard you're a sweet girl," he said, like it was some great revelation. "But you always behave rudely with me."

Huh?

My brows furrowed, caught between confusion and irritation.

"What? No, it's not like that," I blurted, immediately going into damage control.

I just don't like people I meet at first glance.

Caleb let out a low chuckle, slowly turning on his heel.

"It's okay if you don't like me," he said, already walking away before I could even form a response.

I just stood there. Staring. Processing.

Wait.

WAIT.

Did I just—Did I just come off as a horrible person?!

Guilt gnawed at me, small but persistent. I wasn't that bad, right? I mean, I had manners.

I just— Ugh.

Before I could stop myself, I found my feet moving. And suddenly, I was standing in front of him.

"It's not like that, Caleb," I said quickly. "I like you, it's just—"

His smirk widened before I could finish.

"You like me," he repeated, like I had just confessed my deepest, darkest secret.

I blinked, my brain struggling to catch up to whatever nonsense he was implying.

"...Yeah?" I said, brows furrowing.

"Of course, you like me," Caleb continued smoothly, as if this was obvious. "I mean, who wouldn't?"

Oh.

Oh..

I got it now.

I GOT IT.

"Ew," I said immediately. "I don't like you like that, Caleb."

He stared at me. Deadpan.

And then, with the most infuriatingly casual shrug, he said, "You like me."

And walked out of the apartment.

With the smirk still on his face.

WHAT KIND OF WEIRD HUMAN BEING—?!

The shower was quick, but not quick enough to stop my mind from wandering.

I groaned internally, yanking my hair into a very questionable bun as I hastily got dressed.

Some rebellious strands refused to stay put, and I took it as a personal attack.

As I slung my bag over my shoulder, Quinn's voice rang out from behind me, suspiciously too cheerful for this hour.

"You're looking different today," she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

I shot her a cold, unimpressed stare, the universal sign for shut up, before stuffing my bag with unnecessary aggression.

But, of course, Quinn had the attention span of a puppy and the boldness of a drunk old man.

"So, your birthday is coming up, and you'll finally be 18," she declared, her excitement bubbling over. "You can drink and have sex!"

"........"

I froze, mid-zip, before slowly turning my head to look at her, concernedly.

What the stupidity?

"...So that's what people do after turning 18?" I asked, my voice dripping with perplexedness. "Get drunk and do the 'S' word?'"

Quinn shrugged, completely unfazed. "I mean, yeah? That's what freedom looks like."

Ah yes.

The peak of adulthood— alcohol and bad decisions.

I exhaled slowly.

Why couldn't I have normal, decent friends?

Caleb was talking.

I was not listening.

Instead, my mind had once again descended into whatever weird, dark place it liked to visit when I wasn't paying attention.

For some reason, I was picturing chickens in baby shoes.

Then puppies wearing diapers.

And, for absolutely no logical reason, my brain conjured Ace... with two ponytails.

.....

What was wrong with me?

Was I getting stupider day by day?

"So, what do you want to do?" Caleb's voice sliced through my absurd spiral of nonsense, yanking me back to reality.

I blinked at him. Processing.

"You didn't listen, did you?" Caleb sighed, clearly recognizing the look of absolute vacancy on my face.

I looked down, a hot flush of shame creeping up my neck. Maybe if I stared at my rice long enough, I could merge with it.

He sighed again but didn't sound mad—just annoyed in a vague way.

Then, without warning, he stood up and sat beside me.

His voice was more serious now. "I said, what do you want to do after hitting 30?"

I paused. That... was actually a good question.

Without thinking, I blurted out, "I want to be a wife."

Caleb blinked.

"Hmm," he mused, tilting his head. "Most people say they want to settle down and stay single with a pet."

"Well," I said, swallowing another bite of rice, "I want to get married in my 20s and have a lovely husband whom I can love as much as I want without caring about anyone's opinion and have kids."

Caleb studied me for a moment, like he was trying to figure out if I was being serious or just insane.

Then, to my surprise, he let out a soft chuckle.

"You're different," he said, shaking his head. "And kinda simple."

I hummed in response, too focused on my thoughts to offer anything more.

A group of boys and girls suddenly plopped down at our table, their voices rising in an annoying chorus of chatter and laughter.

They greeted me, sure, but it was a formality—their attention was laser-focused on Caleb.

Because, of course.

Why else would they sit with me?

My foot started tapping under the table. The longer I sat there, the more agitated I felt.

After a few minutes of pointless nodding and pretending to listen, I abruptly stood up.

The chair scraped against the floor loudly, making a few people glance at me. Not that they cared.

"Excuse me," I muttered, though no one was really paying attention, and I walked away before I could let my frustration boil over.

I headed straight to the sink, grabbing a sponge and attacking the dishes like they had personally wronged me.

The ceramic clattered against the metal sink, a harsh, jarring noise that only fueled my anger.

Why was I even upset?

It's not like I wanted to be friends with those people. But it stung.

It stung to be reminded that I was only acknowledged because of someone else.

The bristles of the sponge scraped against the plates with more force than necessary, and I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn't notice Caleb stepping beside me.

I ignored him.

But he didn't leave.

"Iris."

His voice was gentle, but there was a note of concern in it that made my grip on the dish tighten.

I hummed, refusing to look at him. The dish in my hands was far more interesting.

"Why did you come here? Lunch isn't over yet," he asked, his tone light, too casual for my liking.

I shrugged, rinsing the soap off aggressively. "I'm not hungry anymore, so I came here to work."

"So what? You could've stayed and talked to the others."

The casual smile in his voice made something snap inside me.

I slammed the dish down—not hard enough to break, but enough to make a point—and finally turned to face him.

"Caleb."

The way I said his name made his smile falter.

"I've worked here for almost ten months." My voice was strained, barely holding back the frustration coiling inside me.

"And in those ten months, not a single one of them has spoken to me casually. Today, suddenly, they're all greeting me. Casually." I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head as I looked away.

"They sat there because of you, Caleb. They're your friends, not mine."

I turned back to the sink, resuming my aggressive scrubbing, hoping he'd just let it go.

But Caleb was silent for a moment. And when he spoke again, his voice was different.

"Then why do you think I talk to you?"

I hesitated, my hands stilling under the cool flow of water.

Why did he talk to me?

"I don't know," I muttered. "Maybe you want me to do something for you."

I turned off the tap abruptly, the tension in the air suffocating, and walked away before he could press the issue any further.

Heading to the dough station, I started cleaning the counter, preparing to knead again—needing something, anything, to distract me.

I could still feel his gaze on me, but I refused to turn around.

But just as I was beginning to lose myself in the task, my phone buzzed loudly on the counter, breaking the fragile peace.

With a sigh, I wiped my hands on my apron before glancing at the screen.

Unknown Number.

A cold dread crept up my spine.

I hesitated for a moment before reluctantly picking up.

"Hello?" My voice barely above a whisper.

For a second, there was nothing. Just the sound of my own breathing—

"Iris, it's me, Liam."

My stomach dropped.

A shock ran through me, jolting my already frazzled nerves.

My heart pounded violently against my ribs, my throat suddenly dry.

I fumbled for words like an idiot before finally managing, "Oh, um... how are you, Liam?"

Really, Iris? That's what you're going with? After all this time?

"I'm fine. How about you?"

His voice was calm, easy, unchanged.

As if it hadn't been—what? Months? Years? A lifetime?

"Yeah, everything is good."

A bald-faced lie.

I bit my lip, gripping the counter as if it could physically hold me together.

Because nothing was good.

My life was a mess. I was barely holding it together.

The silence stretched too long.

Then Liam spoke again. "Iris, can you visit here one time? You know, just a casual meeting."

A casual meeting?

My pulse spiked.

"I have work to do, you know. Kind of busy."

The lie came out way too fast.

I winced.

Real subtle, Iris. Real convincing.

Liam sighed, clearly not buying it. "Just one day, Iris. Just for one day."

I felt something tighten in my chest.

I couldn't. I couldn't go back.

Then—

"Everyone will be here."

I swallowed.

"Even Aiden and Hudson."

A small, involuntary smile twitched at my lips at the mention of Aiden and Hudson.

But the smile didn't last.

Liam must have heard my hesitation because, on the other end, he let out a frustrated groan.

"Please."

The raw plea in his voice made me freeze.

My chest tightened painfully.

"Liam, please, don't say that."

My voice wavered, the guilt creeping in like an uninvited guest.

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

He didn't answer.

Because we both knew he was.

And damn it— it was working.

"Then come here just for one day," he repeated, unrelenting.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

The familiar conflict crashed over me, threatening to pull me under.

"I-I... Is Ace going to be there?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

A stupid, reckless question.

Too late now.

The silence on the other end felt heavy, like Liam was debating whether or not to tell me the truth.

"No, he's out of town."

My eyes snapped open.

A strange mix of relief and... something else settled in my chest.

Something I couldn't quite name.

I wanted to see him.

I wanted to be near him.

But the thought of actually facing him again?

A sharp, sickening dread twisted inside me.

Ace had made it clear how he felt about me.

Or rather—how little he felt.

I was just an inconvenience.

I was just a bed warmer.

Just a bed warmer.

The thought sank deep, settling like lead in my stomach.

"Iris." Liam's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.

I exhaled sharply, blinking myself back to reality.

I hesitated.

A part of me wanted to say no.

To stay far away.

But then—

"Okay." The word tumbled from my lips before I could second-guess myself.

"Okay then, next Sunday."

His tone had shifted—lighter, satisfied.

As if he'd won some small victory.

"Come to Hudson's house."

I frowned.

Hudson's house?

"I don't know where Hudson's house is."

"Well, you're staying in Newark, right?"

I stiffened.

That wasn't a question.

He knew.

"Wait at the subway station in New York. Aiden will pick you up."

I hummed in response, still processing everything.

"How do you know my location?"

"Well, I asked dogs and cats about your location. It's not like I'm a hacker or something," he deadpanned.

A small, unexpected chuckle escaped me.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. "I made a new friend here."

It wasn't something I had meant to admit, but the words left my mouth before I could reconsider, proudly.

Liam hummed in mild amusement. "Hmm, interesting. Why don't you take her too?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "Wouldn't that be bad manners? Bringing someone without asking permission?"

"No," Liam said without hesitation. "And try to come early in the morning because you're going to stay for the whole day."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of those words.

The whole day.

The entire, suffocating, nerve-wracking day.

Still—

"Okay."

I said it before I could talk myself out of it.

And just like that, the call ended, leaving me staring at the screen with a growing sense of unease.

Now came the hard part.

Convincing Quinn.

That woman rarely let me out of her sight.

And more importantly—

Who the hell was going to make food for her?

______________________________________

Quinn's outrage filled the small room, her disbelief hitting me like a brick to the chest.

I winced, regretting every decision that had led to this moment.

She wasn't going to let this go. Not easily.

"You had a boyfriend, and you broke up because he thinks you're ugly?"

Her voice rose in horror, her wide eyes locked onto mine as if trying to decode my lies.

I nodded. Again. Desperately.

Hoping she'd buy it.

Because the truth?

The truth was so much worse.

Quinn leaned back on the couch, arms crossed, face set in deep thought.

Then—

"What a jerk!"

The force of her anger startled me.

"I mean, you've got a sexy body, even if you hide it in those hideous clothes."

I froze.

Heat crawled up my neck, my stomach twisting into knots.

Why did she have to say it like that?

I cleared my throat, glaring at her. "Quinn, please..."

She waved me off, completely unfazed. "I'm just saying, Iris. You should flaunt what you've got instead of hiding it away. If I had your figure, I'd be showing it off all the time."

I shifted uncomfortably, my oversized sweater practically swallowing me whole, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips like I was a child wearing her older brother's clothes.

That was the point.

The more fabric, the less of me that existed to the outside world.

The idea of dressing like Quinn—tight jeans, low-cut tops, clothes that actually fit—made my skin itch.

I didn't want people looking at me.

I didn't want to be noticed.

I liked being alone.

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

Her sharp eyes narrowed, scrutinizing me like I was a suspect in a crime thriller.

I half-expected her to whip out a magnifying glass and start analyzing my facial expressions for signs of deception.

I shrugged. There was no good answer. There wasn't even a bad answer.

Quinn exhaled loudly, shaking her head.

"I mean, I assumed you'd have an ex-boyfriend, but... but—" She trailed off, looking thoroughly disappointed.

Not in me. No, her disappointment was reserved for the imaginary ex I had just conjured up in a moment of sheer panic.

I braced myself for more questions. Surely she'd start grilling me. Ask for details. How we met. Why we broke up. Why he thought I was ugly.

Instead—

"Okay, I will come."

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"What?"

Quinn stood up from the couch, nodding as if she had just made a life-changing decision.

"Come on. You said there are six guys, and do you think I'll stay here? Who knows? I might even fall in love. Life is full of opportunities."

She winked. She actually winked.

I stared at her, my stomach dropping.

Ugh... Erm...

This was not how this conversation was supposed to go.

I had hoped to dissuade her. Maybe make her rethink coming along.

But somehow, I had made it more appealing to her.

I inhaled sharply, trying to remain calm. "Quinn, they're my friends. If you act like that, they'll think poorly of me because you're my friend."

She let out a dramatic huff, rolling her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. "Fine, I won't behave like a whore."

I choked on my own breath. "Quinn!"

She burst out laughing, the sound light and carefree, while I sat there, horrified.

"Relax, Iris. I'm just messing with you. Geez. But really, don't worry. I'll be on my best behavior. Besides, if anyone should be worried, it's you. You never know— I might just steal one of your friends' hearts."

I let out a long, exhausted sigh. There was no point in arguing.

Once Quinn had made up her mind, there was no changing it.

I just had to hope she wouldn't create any unnecessary drama.

This was just a casual meeting between friends.

That was all.

That was all.

To Ace, I was nothing more than a fleeting distraction. A temporary comfort.

Just a bed warmer.