Chapter Eighteen —Break fast

Morning light slipped softly through the large curtains, casting a pale gold glow across the room. The storm had passed, leaving behind a calm so gentle it felt unreal compared to the chaos of the previous night.

Dianne woke first.

For a moment, she didn’t move. She simply lay there, staring at the ceiling, aware of the steady, warm presence beside her. Roy was still asleep, turned slightly toward her but careful, even in rest, to keep a respectful space between them.

His breathing was slow, calm… peaceful in a way she hadn’t seen before. Without the tension of dinner and expectation weighing on him, he looked younger—softer, almost vulnerable.

Dianne studied him quietly.

He really tried for me, she thought.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before she rolled slowly onto her back again.

Roy stirred.

His lashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened—sleepy, unfocused, then widening slightly when he realized where he was and that she was awake.

“Oh.” He immediately shifted, giving her a bit more room. “Good morning. I—I didn’t crowd you, did I?”

She shook her head. “No. You were perfect.”

He relaxed a little, rubbing a hand over his face. “I was worried I’d roll over or something.”

“You didn’t,” she assured softly. “Thank you… for respecting the boundary.”

Roy nodded, sitting up slightly against the headboard. “I meant what I said, Dianne. I’m always going to respect you.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet felt different this time—gentle, intimate, unforced.

Dianne finally stretched, the events of last night tugging faintly at her chest. “We should probably get ready before your mum sends someone to knock.”

Roy let out a breath, half a laugh, half dread. “Oh, she’ll definitely have an agenda this morning.”

Dianne groaned lightly. “Great.”

But Roy turned to her, eyes steady.

“We face anything she throws at us. Together. You’re not alone in this.”

Something in her chest warmed.

Before she could respond, a sharp knock echoed through the door, startling them both.

“Roy?” Vanessa’s clipped voice sliced through the wood. “Mother wants all of us downstairs for breakfast. Everyone.”

Roy shot Dianne a sympathetic look.

“See?” he whispered. “Agenda.”

Dianne rolled her eyes but stood up, smoothing her hair and bracing herself for another round.

“Let’s go,” she said with a steady breath.

Roy opened the door, and Vanessa stood there with raised brows, eyes flicking from Roy… to Dianne… to the bed behind them.

Her expression tightened—slightly smug, slightly scandalized.

“Well,” she said coolly, “that didn’t take long.”

Dianne felt her stomach clench.

But Roy stepped forward, blocking Vanessa’s view with a calm but unmistakably firm expression.

“Vanessa,” he said, his voice low. “Not today.”

Vanessa blinked—caught off guard.

Dianne watched him, warmth blooming again.

They walked out together, side by side.

Whatever breakfast is held… at least they were walking into it together.

Breakfast was quiet—too quiet. No one argued, no one poked, no one compared achievements. Instead, they stole glances at each other over clinking cutlery. Not hostile, not warm—just a strained, uneasy calm, like everyone was pretending the previous night hadn’t happened.

Dianne kept her eyes mostly on her food, occasionally meeting Roy’s reassuring glance. Karen looked annoyingly serene, Vanessa had a knowing smirk that came and went, and Mrs. Sinclair’s gaze was sharp but unreadable.

It wasn’t intense… just uncomfortable. A silence carrying questions no one wanted to ask at the table.

When breakfast finally ended, Dianne excused herself and slipped upstairs, her chest tight, her mind replaying every stare, every comment, every suffocating silence. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, exhaling long and shaky.

Her phone buzzed.

MAYA.

Of course she would call now.

Dianne swallowed, wiped her eyes quickly, and answered.

The moment the line connected, Maya didn’t even say hello.

“Dianne. Don’t tell me it went badly,” she said sharply. Her tone was tight—the kind that came before a lecture.

Dianne hesitated.

That was all Maya needed.

“Oh my God! I knew it!” she burst out. “I told you to STAY BACK. I told you not to go to that house. I told you those people would treat you like trash. And you—you went anyway!”

“Maya—”

“No, Dianne. No. I warned you. I told you those Sinclairs were going to size you up like a charity project. And now you’re quiet—your quiet always means you’re hurt.”

Dianne sank onto the edge of the bed. Her throat tightened. “It wasn’t… it wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh really?” Maya shot back. “So why does your voice sound like you’re about to break? Hm?”

Silence.

Maya sighed—long, frustrated, and full of protective fire.

“Dianne, babe,” she said, softer this time, “you don’t deserve this.”

Dianne rubbed her palms together. “It was horrible. His mother practically interrogated me. Compared me to Karen. asked about ‘achievements’ like I came for a job interview. Karen kissed Roy—right in front of me. Vanessa kept stabbing little comments. It was awful.”

Maya went quiet for a few seconds.

Then her voice returned, low and dangerous. “I swear, if I was there…” She paused, trying to calm herself. “I’m sorry, Dee. I shouldn’t shout at you. I’m just… angry. Not at you. At them. Because you’re sitting there taking deep breaths just to exist in that space.”

Dianne closed her eyes. “I didn’t want to disappoint Roy.”

“You didn’t,” Maya said firmly. “He’s the one who should be disappointing them. Not you.”

Her sister’s voice softened, thick with empathy. “I know you wanted to show them you’re strong. And you did. You held your own. I’m proud of you.”

Dianne felt tears prick her eyes again—but this time, from relief.

Maya continued, gentler now. “Listen to me. Don’t let their coldness rewrite how you see yourself. You hear me? You’re enough. You’ve always been enough. They’re the ones with something to prove—not you.”

Dianne let out a shaky breath. “Thank you.”

“Good,” Maya said. “Now pick yourself up. Fix your makeup. Look so good tonight that even their ancestors question their judgment.”

A small laugh escaped Dianne. “I’ll try.”

“No,” Maya corrected. “You’ll deliver.”

After the call ended, Dianne stood before the mirror, inhaled deeply, and began getting ready—hands steadier now, heart calmer, Maya’s words grounding her.

Downstairs, Roy spoke quietly with Aaron, explaining everything—how his mother pushed, how Vanessa rolled her eyes, how Karen tried to slip herself into the story, how Dianne stood her ground, how he felt torn between blood and love.

Aaron clapped his shoulder. “Bro… that girl is gold. You need to protect her from all this nonsense.”

“I know,” Roy muttered. “And I will.”Roy repeated, his voice low and absolute.