Fate.

If someone had said that word to him before, Luke would’ve scoffed at the notion of a villain and a protagonist being bound by destiny. But now, it was different. His stomach churned, and his skin flushed, just like that time he’d overindulged in drinks thanks to Woods.

“Luke?”

When Luke stayed silent, his head bowed low, Theo studied him, concern flickering in his gaze.@@novelbin@@

“You, of all people, told me not to mess with your emotions. So, what’s this all about?” Theo asked, tilting his head slightly.

Luke vividly recalled Theo’s words from their conversation in the study, every syllable etched into his memory. That trembling voice admitting uncertainty about how to act, the firm arms that had wrapped around his waist, the mere inches separating them, and the warm breath so close to his skin. That night, Luke had barely slept.

And since their reunion after his retirement, it had been a barrage of “cute,” “you look good,” and even head pats. One or two odd moments could have been dismissed as Theo acting strangely. But now that Theo had uttered something as direct as “fate,” all those previous gestures suddenly carried a weight he couldn’t ignore.

Once he started noticing, everything felt off. Theo’s changed gaze, that voice claiming fate—it all felt too much like a confession, no matter how impossible it seemed.

“Hmm?”

Theo’s curious voice broke through Luke’s thoughts. His tone wasn’t mocking, but it wasn’t neutral either, and it only served to irritate Luke further.

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