"You're home late," Victor asked.
His voice was calm, but there was something beneath it. Something tight.
"Yes," I replied almost immediately. "Out with a friend."
I tried to sound casual. Normal.
My eyes moved around the mansion, scanning for any sign of Elena. A light upstairs. A shadow in the hallway. Anything.
Nothing.
Victor's gaze didn't leave my face.
"You seem happy these days," he said as he slowly walked toward me.
Each step felt deliberate.
I swallowed.
I was a nervous wreck.
Victor was normally the careful one. Calculated. Always aware of who might see, who might hear. He never crossed invisible lines.
But tonight… something was different.
He didn't look wary of his environment.
He didn't glance toward the stairs to check if Elena was around.
He didn't even lower his voice.
For a second, I wondered if he had been drinking.
My thoughts raced.
What is wrong with him?
He stopped a few feet away from me.
Close enough for me to smell his cologne. Close enough for me to feel the warmth coming off his body.
"I love that you're happy, Lys," he said quietly. "Honestly."
My breath caught.
Victor was not the outspoken type.
Not with feelings.
Not with softness.
He studied my face like he was memorizing it. His jaw tightened slightly.
"You laugh more now," he continued. "You come home glowing." His eyes darkened. "I notice."
The way he said it made my stomach twist.
Not casual observation.
Not distant politeness.
"I just… I want you to be careful," he added, his voice lowering. "You don't give pieces of yourself to people who don't deserve them."
My pulse thudded in my ears.
"It matters to me that you're okay," he said, and for a second it almost sounded vulnerable. "More than you think."
But there was heat in his eyes.
Not softness.
He sounded like he owned me.
The kind that didn't ask for permission.
"You don't owe anyone that smile," he murmured. "Not unless they earn it."
The air between us felt charged.
Was this concern?
Or control?
Was he worried?
Or jealous?
I couldn't tell.
And that scared me.
I cleared my throat nervously and started walking toward the stairs.
"Goodnight," I said quickly.
I didn't dare look back.
My heart was racing as I climbed each step. Why was he still up this late? His wife was probably upstairs sleeping peacefully, unaware that her husband was standing downstairs telling her sister that her happiness mattered to him.
I heard him sigh heavily behind me.
A long, troubled sound.
Then the soft creak of the couch as he sat back down.
Like a man carrying something heavy.
I ran up to my room, shut the door behind me, and leaned against it for a moment.
My chest rose and fell quickly.
What was that?
I pushed myself off the door and lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling.
The mansion felt too quiet.
Too big.
Too full of unsaid things.
But slowly, my thoughts drifted away from Victor… and back to Aaron.
I giggled shamelessly as I remembered every word he whispered at the bar.
"You make me happy."
"You don't even know what you do to me."
The way he had blushed when he asked me to be his girlfriend.
The way he held my waist on the dance floor like I was something precious.
Warmth spread through me.
Maybe this new life wasn't so bad.
Maybe I deserved to feel light.
The next morning, my alarm dragged me out of sleep.
Same routine.
But this time, I didn't dread it.
This new life.
This busy schedule.
This happy version of Alyssa.
I got ready quickly and arrived at the office early, as usual.
The building was still quiet when I stepped in. The air smelled faintly of coffee and fresh paper.
I walked straight to my desk.
And there it was.
A neat, intimidating pile of documents already waiting for me.
Loretta.
Of course.
I let out a small breath through my nose.
It was almost impressive how relaxed she always looked while casually torturing me with tasks clearly meant for her. She would sit there, sipping her coffee, scrolling through her phone, while I drowned in paperwork.
But I didn't care as much anymore.
Elena had once told me to ignore her.
"Loretta feeds on reaction," she had said.
So I gave her none.
I sat down and began going through the files carefully.
Numbers.
Contracts.
Signatures.
My pen moved steadily.
That was when my phone buzzed.
Cynthia.
I almost smiled.
She had asked to meet up and catch up last week, but I hadn't had the time. Work had swallowed me whole. And Aaron… well.
I had definitely earned the official "bad friend" title at this point.
I picked up immediately, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continued signing.
"Finally!" she exclaimed dramatically.
I laughed softly. "Don't start."
"You've been missing in action."
"I know, I know," I said. "Work has been crazy."
"And my cousin?" she asked suspiciously.
I felt heat creep into my cheeks.
"He… asked me out."
There was a dramatic gasp on the other end.
"What? Officially?"
"Yes. Officially."
I couldn't stop the smile from forming.
I continued signing documents handed to me by one of the office workers standing patiently beside my desk. I scribbled my signature and flipped the pages without losing focus on Cynthia's excited squeals.
"He asked me to be his girlfriend," I continued quietly. "But I told him we should go on an official date first and see how it goes."
"Look at you acting expensive," Cynthia teased.
I laughed.
The worker beside me shifted slightly, glancing at my phone with a faint frown.
I signed the last page and handed the files back.
"Thank you," I said politely.
She left reluctantly, probably judging me for being on a call.
I didn't care.
For once, I felt light.
I continued chatting with Cynthia, telling her about the bar, about how Aaron blushed, about how he held me on the dance floor.
"You sound different," she said after a moment.
"Different how?"
"Happy."
The word made me pause.
Happy.
Before I could respond, the office door opened sharply.
Loretta stepped in.
Her heels clicked against the floor like a warning.
Her eyes moved from me… to the phone at my ear.
The smile dropped from my face immediately.
"I'll call you back," I whispered quickly and ended the call.
Loretta didn't say anything at first.
She just stared.
Cold.
Unimpressed.
Judging.
Her gaze slowly moved to the empty coffee cup on my desk, then to the stack of files I had already completed
.
"Well," she said finally, her voice smooth but edged with irritation, "I hope your personal life doesn't interfere with your performance here."
Her lips curved slightly.
It wasn't a smile.
It was a challenge.
And suddenly, the lightness I carried from last night felt fragile again.