Chapter 3

Paul's POV

Emily's steps faltered. "I didn't mean to. I was just—"

She instinctively recoiled half a step behind me.

"Just what?" Alisha snapped, cutting her off.

"You've got a boyfriend now, so you think you're all grown up? You won't even listen to me anymore?"

Alisha finally turned her gaze toward me. Catching the whiff of alcohol and detergent clinging to my clothes, she pinched her nose in disgust. "Paul, what happened to you? You look so unkempt and filthy."

Emily tugged on the hem of my shirt, keeping her voice low. "Mom, he worked all night. It's not what you think."

"Oh, listen to you rushing to his defense before I even say anything!"

Alisha let out a cold sneer. "Emily, you never learn. You haven't remembered a single lesson from the misery I went through."

Stepping inside, Alisha scanned the place, then frowned. "Isn't your new place fully renovated? Why are you two still staying here? You already have a house, so it's high time you get married. Six years without a ring? What are you even doing?"

Alisha took a sip of water. As if suddenly remembering something, she said, "It's perfect, actually. Your Aunt Freya is coming from out of town tomorrow. Clean up the new place. You two can host dinner for everyone there tomorrow and let the elders take a look."

Emily snapped her head up. "Tomorrow?"

"Why not?" Alisha frowned. "The place is ready. Is there something you're hiding?"

Emily opened her mouth, completely lost for words.

Failing to notice her panic, Alisha continued, "Your grandma always says you inherited my poor taste in men. This is my chance to show them whether Paul is actually dependable or not."

The second Alisha excused herself to the restroom, Emily dragged me out to the balcony. "Can we get the mattress replaced today? Can you hire someone to touch up the walls?"

She talked at a frantic pace, as if she had completely forgotten who let Dante wreck the house in the first place.

I stared at her. "Didn't Dante say he'd handle it?"

Emily froze, then lowered her head and called Dante.

On the other end of the line, Dante chuckled lazily into the speaker. "Good. Let's see if he's willing to clean up your mess. Come downstairs and wait for me. I'll take you out for a drive."

Hanging up, she went quiet for a few seconds before muttering softly, "I'm heading out for a bit. Keep my mom company while I'm gone."

Then, as if still uneasy, she turned back with one last warning. "Paul, don't embarrass me in front of my mom."

The moment the door closed, Alisha came out of the restroom. Seeing Emily gone, she couldn't help but snap, "Where the hell did she run off to now?"

"She had something to take care of," I replied.

"I'm right here! What could possibly be so important that she had to run out right now?"

I didn't answer.

She pressed on, "Is everything set for tomorrow's dinner at the new place?"

"The place is under repair. I'm afraid we can't host people tomorrow."

Alisha's face fell instantly. "Paul, are you kidding me?"

I stood my ground, staying silent.

She narrowed her eyes, sizing me up from head to toe. "A house in shambles, and you can't even host our family. If you two actually get married, is Emily supposed to baby you through everything?

"Paul, don't think doing a few small favors for us means you get to waltz in and marry Emily without making any effort. A real man takes care of his wife's family instead of giving them headaches."

I suddenly found the whole thing absurdly funny.

When Emily's uncle, Leonel Marsh, crashed his car while driving drunk, Alisha called me at 3:00 am to rush to the police station and pick him up.

When Leonel got into a feud with a customer at his store, she forced me to take time off work to apologize on his behalf and clean up his mess.

Every single time, she played it off so casually. "You're marrying Em soon, which makes you part of the family. How can you sit idly by when her uncle is in trouble?"

And she'd always tack on a parting note. "Don't tell Em. A real man steps up so his woman doesn't have to worry."

Looking at the overbearing woman in front of me, I realized just how alike the mother and daughter truly were.

Alisha saw me as the son-in-law who was bound to join their family sooner or later, while Emily saw me as the boyfriend who would never walk away.

Both of them were used to running to me whenever trouble hit. Yet neither of them ever bothered to ask if I was actually willing to help.

Alisha's expression darkened with every passing second of my silence.

Snatching up her thermal bag, she said, "Tell Emily to think long and hard about this."

With that, she stormed out.

I escorted her to the elevator and returned to the empty apartment.

The bowl of chicken soup on the table had gone cold.

I called Emily, but no one answered.

When I called again, her phone was switched off.

From dusk till midnight, I sat alone in the living room waiting for her, leaving a message asking to talk things through.

But no reply ever came.

Around 1:00 am, an Instagram notification popped up.

It was Emily.

The photo showed a dark beach beneath the night sky, with two coffee cups resting on a rock by the shore. At the edge of the frame, a corner of Dante's white sleeve was visible.

Her caption read, "Enjoying a slice of peace with my best friend."

I locked the screen and went back to the bedroom to pack my things—my clothes, laptop, documents, and the ring I never got to give Emily.

I had originally wanted to wait for her to return so we could end things face-to-face.

Now, I realized there was no point.

I placed the keys on the entryway table, pulled my suitcase behind me, and walked out.