“You were standing there the whole time? Do you know how long I’ve been holding this up? My hands are literally aching. And my skincare is ruined.” She snapped with a frown. “I’m… sorry,” I murmured, managing a small smile. “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes again, then turned sharply, her hair swinging as she snapped, “Come on. Follow me.” Well… I thought I had the worst sisters. I followed her meekly through the crowd, dragging my bag behind me, wondering why she had written “Big Fat” on the board. Maybe Olive had described me that way? My stomach twisted at the thought. Well, I am fat, alright. Why am I even sad if Olive described me that way? We reached the car. Emma slid into the driver’s seat, while I slipped into the passenger side, stealing cautious glances at her. She was breathtaking, for real. Beautiful—too beautiful. Even as a woman, I couldn’t deny it. Perfectly symmetrical face, thick blonde hair that fell effortlessly, skin that glowed like it had been kiss
Finally, we landed in Washington, D.C. The cabin erupted into chaos—seatbelts clicking, bags being pulled down, voices overlapping. I took a deep breath as my heart thumped in my chest, a mix of relief and exhaustion. I still had a week before returning to China, so I had better make the most of it. Dragging my carry-on behind me, I followed the stream of passengers into the bustling arrivals hall. I scanned the crowd, my eyes searching for Olive, but I couldn’t find her. Just then, I spotted my two seatmates exchanging contacts, and I found myself smiling. Rooting for them. When I turned the other way, I saw a large signboard with my name written in bold black letters. CHARLOTTE. My stomach flipped, because the person holding it wasn’t Olive. Maybe it’s another Charlotte, I told myself. I glanced back at the woman again. She reminded me of my sister Chloe—blonde, beautiful, fashionable, dressed head-to-toe in designer clothes that screamed wealth. The way she carried her
“Charlotte, the second they hurt you, it became mine. Everything that happens to you matters to me. I won’t sit back and do nothing. I’m not the kind of man who lets the woman I care about suffer. I’ll make sure no one ever dares to hurt you again. So don’t tell me to stay out of it. This is my fight now.”Even till the next day, I couldn’t stop thinking about his words—or how he’d said them with so much anger and determination. The whole experience with Leo felt like one of those fever dreams you pray not to wake from because it was so perfect, like stepping into a sweet fantasy. A man romantically attracted to me, taking responsibility, fiercely protective. Someone who cared about my feelings, never mocked my looks, cooked for me, and didn’t expect me to starve for 24 hours before my next meal. How on earth did that become my reality? A stray tear slipped down my cheek as I leaned my forehead against the cool plane window, watching the clouds drift lazily. No matter how ha
I didn’t give him an answer. Yet here I was, sitting at his dining table, eating the meal he had cooked for me. I had tried to refuse, but he insisted, firmly but gently, and I had no choice. You need to eat, Charlotte. You have to take your medicine, he had said. At this point, I am shameless. He was sitting directly in front of me. Not eating. Not drinking. Just watching me as I ate the food he made, with his question still unanswered. I wanted to ask why he wasn't eating, but before I could say a word, he started. “I wrote this new song inspired by you.” I almost choked on the food I was chewing. Inspired by me? What exactly is inspiring about me? And then—he began to sing. I nearly dropped my fork. I knew I had fantasies about his voice being used for a smut voice-over, but I never actually imagined he could sound so good. So autotuned. I stared at him, wide-eyed, barely tasting the food in my mouth. Now I understood what KC had meant when he once said I was horr
My head shot up that instant. His expression wasn’t angry, but hurt—like my words had cracked something inside him. He stepped closer, his voice gentler now. “Is this… because of what happened last night?” Heat rushed to my cheeks. I don't want to talk about last night how can I escape this?I looked up and noticed his lips twitched into a sad half-smile. "I know I failed you last night. It took you so much courage to ask me to kiss you… to be your first and… I couldn't get it up, and you got mad at me, Right? It's understandable and I am a sorry excuse for a man.” I froze. My throat closed up. I had to say something. “No—that's not true,” I replied immediately. "What's not true?"He asked. I looked down. "You are the best man I have known. A father, a brother, a friend..." "But not a lover..." he added. I stare up at him and swallowed tightly. "Do you still think I am gay?" "No… no… I don’t think you are gay. And also, I was not mad at you last night… please underst
"Am I allowed to visit you?" I asked, trying to change the discussion. "Visit me? I wanted to ask the same. You know I am not residing in Hawaii. We came because Angela wanted a short break before she traveled to Africa. She is a rich model, so she sponsored our trip. Anyway, I live in Washington, D.C. If you ever feel like visiting, just take a flight. Tell me when you land, and I’ll pick you up myself from the airport. I told ya I need a roommate, and a big girl like myself will be perfect." That offer touched me so deeply that I covered my mouth for a moment, afraid my voice would break. “Thank you so much, Olive. Really.” I smiled faintly, a tear slipping free. "Don't mention it," she replied. Then there was a quiet moment where I could hear her breathing, like she wanted to say more but was holding back. "Can I ask you a question though?" she finally said. I was glad she did. "Yes..." I replied. "The guy you are staying with, what's your relationship with him?" Honest