CHAPTER FOUR—THE SMILE THAT HIDE

“You can't be serious, Faith. Don't you see Lydia is almost dead, and you want me to choose? You both are important to me.”

He carried her up. 

Cross that door now and cease to be my fiance. 

“Who is he going to choose?”

“Don't you think Faith is doing too much?”

“He is in a tight spot now; who will he choose?”

The room had gone very still.

“When I'm back, we talk things out; Lydia needs to be safe first.”

Her lip trembled. Just enough. “So you chose her over me, huh?”

“Stop being childish." He didn't look back.

Warren said nothing. But he watched her face the whole time.

Faith left the hall; she stood on the rooftop, glancing at the sky, the cold breeze on her skin. 

The whole place was dead silent until footsteps echoed. 

She turned; it was Warren. He came closer to her. 

None of them said a word to each other for up to thirty seconds before Warren finally threw the question. 

“Why did you choose me?”

“Act like you don't like it. Don't you love me?”

"I—I

“You don't have to say it; I know.”

Huh? 

“Ok, if you are not interested, why not act with me, like real couples?”

Something shifted behind his eyes; his expression gave nothing away. 

“But we are still in college; we aren’t done with school yet?”

“We are graduating this month, right, so it’s normal for us to hold our engagement party.”

“Although our families are connected with a marriage alliance, since you don't love me, you can—

Faith didn't wait for him to finish speaking. 

She rose on her toes, fingers clutching his collar, and pressed her lips to his.

For a second, Warren forgot how to breathe.

The world tilted—cold air, a racing heart, and the taste of her lingering like a question he wasn’t ready to answer. 

He froze, shock rooting him in place, before instinct betrayed him and his hand tightened around her waist.

Faith pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, her breath uneven, her gaze daring.

“This,” she whispered, “is the act.”

Warren swallowed hard, jaw tightening.

“And if I don’t want it to be fake?”

Warren’s grip tightened as if letting go would shatter whatever fragile thing had just been born between them. 

His gaze searched her face—confusion, hunger, and disbelief colliding all at once.

Faith stepped back, forcing a careless smile she didn’t quite feel. “Relax. You needed proof, didn’t you?”

“Proof?” he echoed hoarsely. “You don’t kiss someone like that for proof.”

“You stole my first kiss; is that enough?”

“I didn't force you, though; you kissed me of your own will.”

Silence stretched again, heavier this time. The wind tugged at her hair, exposing the faint tremble she tried to hide.

“You started this,” he said softly. “If we’re going to pretend, we do it convincingly.”

Warren leaned closer, voice low. “Careful, Faith. I don’t know how to pretend with you anymore.”

And for the first time, she wasn’t sure she wanted him to.

“How about Cassius? Don't you want him anymore?”

Her shoulders tensed at his name.

“Do you hate him that much?” 

"Her teeth pressed together hard.”

She said nothing for a long moment. That was enough to answer.

“Enough of his talk, so will you act with me or not? 

“If I say I want to make you mine forever, will you accept?”

Faith smiled. "Her past self would have mocked him."

“You've not answered my question?”

His tears surfaced behind her eyes.”

“What if I refuse then?”

"I understand; you don't love me, you only want to make your boyfriend jealous, right?”

“Jealous, my foot. He isn’t worth it. Didn’t you see? He chose Lydia over me.”

A sound behind them. They turned at the same time.

He emerged from the shadows slowly.

Their eyes met. Neither spoke.

His smile never reached his eyes.

“Kids,” he finally said. 

“Uncle Marcus." His name left her lips quietly.”

He smiled gently, unhurried, the smile of a man who had all the time in the world because he had already arranged for things to go his way.

"Faith, my love." He opened his arms slightly, a gesture that offered an embrace without requiring one.

"I didn't mean to interrupt. I came up for some air." His gaze drifted to Warren, smooth and measuring. "Though it seems the air up here has become rather... eventful."

"How long have you been standing there?" Warren asked.

"Oh, not long." The words came too smoothly.

His eyes moved between them once, slowly like a man cataloguing what he had found. 

"Congratulations on the engagement, my darling. It's wonderful news. Your father would be so pleased."

He said the last sentence slowly, deliberately, letting the weight of it settle like sediment.

She steadied herself. In her past life she would have never questioned his kindness. Now she heard everything underneath it. 

"Thank you, Uncle," she said.

Marcus smiled again, wider this time. He reached into his breast pocket, produced a phone, glanced at it as though checking the time, and slid it away. 

Then he turned toward the stairwell door as if the whole encounter had been nothing—a pleasant coincidence, a small detour on his way to somewhere else entirely.

"We should all get back to the party," he said, pausing with one hand on the door. "People will talk if the guest of honor stays hidden too long." His eyes flicked to Warren—briefly. "Both of them."

And then he was gone, the door sighing shut behind him.

Warren didn't move for a moment. Then, quietly:

"Who is he, really?"

Faith stared at the door long after it had closed. In the yellow light of the city, she looked like someone running very fast while standing perfectly still.

"Trouble," she said. "The kind that smiles while it's happening