Chapter 3
Rebecca, clearly mistaking my silence for surrender, shoved past me with a smug nudge to my shoulder and swept inside like she owned the place.
Dylan opened his mouth as if to say something to me, then thought better of it.
"Go ahead and have fun," I announced. "I'm going out for a bit on my own. Just need some air."
Everyone stared at me in stunned silence as I turned and walked away. It wasn't long before another wave of loud, careless laughter erupted behind me.
Out on the pitch-black street, with nowhere to go, I pulled out those men's slippers. Engraved on the bottom were my own initials.
Dylan's parents had already gone to bed by then.
My own parents, ever since I got married, had deliberately kept their distance, always saying they were too busy, too afraid of becoming a burden to me.
What Dylan would never know was that on the night I wrecked the bar, I never went to the hospital. Instead, I waited for him outside the door, alone.
It wasn't until two in the morning that Rebecca finally walked him out, clinging to his arm and refusing to let him leave. He hesitated for a few minutes, and then he went home.
He never even realized I hadn't come back.
A pair of slippers came my way after I twisted my ankle.
As I stared at the initials carved into the soles, I pulled up the map on my phone.
My finger paused for a moment before I entered the address.
It was a private club I had never visited before and the one place Dylan knew better than to stir up any trouble.
The car came to a stop at the entrance, and a familiar figure was leaning against his motorcycle by the curb.
He took the slippers from my hands, and the moment his fingertips brushed my palm, a gentle warmth spread all the way through my body.
He spoke up. "So you're finally willing to see me?"
I looked up into his eyes, which were already smiling, and let myself smile back. "Yes."
"Happy Valentine's Day," we said in unison.
And then my stomach let out a loud growl.
"Hungry?" He glanced at his watch before unfastening my helmet with smooth, practiced movements. "Careful. Watch your head."
The black motorcycle carried us away from the glittering high-rises and down to a humble street-side food stall.
The wind blew through my loose hair as Dylan's calls came in one after another, all of which I calmly rejected.
The man in front of me was Lucas Grant, the most unpredictable youngest son of the Grant family, and he was my age.
We used to be classmates back in the day, and I had heard from mutual friends that he once had a crush on me. But after I got married, he went abroad to continue his studies.
The snack stall owner flashed Lucas a grin. "Hey, Lucas, what brings you here so late? And who's this lovely lady with you?"
I froze, embarrassment washing over me.
Almost immediately, the people nearby turned to stare. Their eyes lingered on my makeup, now smudged from the drink that had been spilled on me, and I could hear them murmuring among themselves.
Lucas took the lemonade the owner handed him and poured me a glass with practiced ease.
His voice was low, just loud enough for me to catch every word. "She's my girlfriend. Of course I'm spending Valentine's Day with her. She's gorgeous. Don't you think?"
The owner broke into a wide grin. "Absolutely gorgeous! Well, you finally found yourself a girlfriend!"
My heart seemed to skip a beat, a flutter of excitement and nervousness I had never experienced before.
Dylan kept calling, one after another, until I finally turned my head and answered. "What... what do you want?"
For half a second, I forgot how to breathe, though not because of him.
Once I had steadied myself, I ended the call.
Dylan didn't matter anymore. As far as I was concerned, he might as well have ceased to exist.