bChapter /bb82 /b

    bOlivia /b

    bI /bpadded to the bathroom, avoiding my reflection as I sshed cold water on my face. After using the toilet and brushing my teeth, I finally forced myself to look in the mirror.

    “It was just a dream.” I told my reflection firmly. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

    My reflection didn’t look convinced.

    I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, trying to make myself somewhat presentable before facing Alexander. The silk pajamas had twisted around my body during the night, bthe /btop unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of cleavage. I quickly fixed it, buttoning it all the bway /bup to my neck.

    The smell of coffee lured me out of the bedroom. I followed it to the kitchen, where I found Alexander standing at the counter, already dressed in jeans and ba /bcasual button–up shirt, his hair still damp from a shower.

    “Morning,” he said, ncing up from his phone. “Coffee?”

    “Please,” I replied, my voice still rough with sleep.

    He poured a mug and slid it across the counter to me. Our fingers brushed during the exchange, and I nearly jumped at the contact, my dream still too fresh in my mind.

    “Sleep well?” he askedi, /ia knowing smirk ying at his lips.

    “Fine,” I lied, taking arge gulp of coffee to hide my face. “You?”

    “Very well. His beyes /btraveled over me, lingering on the silk pajamas. “You look good in blue.”

    1 shifted ufortably under his gazeb. /b“Thanks.”

    “Hungry?” Alexander asked, moving to the kitchen with casual confidence. “I can make eggs. Or we could order something.”

    “Eggs are fine,” I replied, following him. “I should probably head home after breakfast. I need to check on my dad.”

    Alexander nodded, pulling ingredients from the refrigerator. “How is he doing?”

    “Better. The doctor says he’s recovering wellb./b” bI /bleaned against the counter, watching Alexander crack eggs into a bowl with practiced ease.

    “Good” He nced up at me. “I’m d to hear it.”

    The domesticity of the moment struck me. Standing in his kitchen, discussing my father’s health while he made breakfast felt strangely normal.

    The next few weeks passed in a blur of work, family visits, and carefully orchestrated public appearances with Alexander.

    Our “rtionship” became front–page news after we were spotted having dinner. The photos showed Alexander whispering something in my earb, /bmy face flushed withughter.

    My routine settled into a bstrange /bnew pattern. Weekdays were filled with intense work. We often spent evenings at Alexander’s penthouse, reviewing our “rtionship timeline” and preparing for uing events. Weekends bwere /bsplit bbetween /bfamily visits and public dates with Alexander.

    b1/3 /b

    8:07 pm

    Chapter b82 /b

    bThrough /bbit /bball/bb, /bbwe /bmaintained a careful physical distance. No more waking bup /btangled together. No more bsitting /bon his bp/b. Just the asional touch for the benefit of photographers or family members.

    b23 /b

    bMy /bparents‘ house looked the same as always: white picket fence, well–tended garden, and the wee mat Dad insisted on keeping despite Mom’s protests. Alexander parked his sleek Aston Martin at the curb, looking distinctly out of ce in the neighborhood.

    “Ready?” Alexander asked, his hand finding the small of my back as we walked up the path.

    b“/bbAs /bI’ll ever be.” I muttered. “Just remember, my dad’s still recovering. No stressing him out.”

    Alexander raised an eyebrow. “I’m charming, remember?”

    “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

    The door swung open before we could knockb, /brevealing my mother in her favorite apron. Her face lit up at the sight of us.

    “Olivia! Alexander! Come in,e in.” She pulled me into a hug before turning to Alexander. “So good to see you again. David’s in the living room, feeling much betterb.” /b

    Alexander handed her a bouquet of bflowers /band a bottle of wine. “Thank you for having us, Eleanor.”

    Oh, these are beautiful!” Mom eximed, examining the expensive wine with wide eyesb. /b“You didn’t need to bring anything.”

    “Of course I did,” Alexander replied smoothly. “My mother raised me right.”

    I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as we followed Mom inside. Dad was sitting in his recliner, looking much better than he had in the hospital.

    There’s my girl,” Dad said, his face crinkling into a smile as I leaned down to hug him carefully.

    “How are you feeling, Dad?”

    “Like a new man,” he replied, patting his chest. “Dr. Weaver says I’m recovering faster than expected.”

    Alexander stepped forward, extending his hand. “Good to see you looking well.”

    Dad shook Alexander’s hand, studying him with the intensity only fathers can manage. “Alexander. Thank you for arranging with Dr. Weaveri. /iMan’s a miracle worker.”

    “Happy to help,” Alexander said, taking a seat on the couch. I joined him, noticing how he casually draped his arm across the back, not quite touching me but making it clear we were together.

    “Nichs and Amelia should be here soon,” Mom called from the kitchen. “Ethan’s runningte, something about a project

    deadline

    “Typical Ethan,” I said, rxing slightly.

    Mom bustled around, refusing my offers to help, while Dad peppered Alexander with questions about business. Alexander answered each one thoughtfully, somehow making corporate finance sound interesting enough that Dad was genuinely engaged.

    The doorbell rang, announcing Nick and Amelia’s arrival. More hugs, more introductions, and soon we were all seated around the dining table, tes piled high with Mom’s famous pot roast.

    “This is deliciousb,/bb” /bAlexander said after his first bite.

    b2/3 /b

    Thank you. It’s David’s favorite, Mom beamed.

    We ate silently for a while, the clinking of silverware against tes filling the room with a rhythmic, almost meditative sound.

    “So. Mom said, refilling Alexander’s wine ss, “how are things progressing with you two? You seem very happy together.”

    Alexander’s hand found mine on the table. “Very well. In fact, we have some news.b” /b

    My heart skipped a beat. We hadn’t discussed making any announcements tonight. What was he doing?

    “We’re nning to get married next month,” Alexander said, his voice calm and assured.

    The table fell silent. I forced ba /bsmile, squeezing Alexander’s hand hard enough to hurt.

    b3/3 /b

    AD