The Taste of Two

Was this the right thing to do?

“Why did you stop?”

The woman in front of me smiled so sweetly. She slipped her arm through mine, took the worn bag from my hand, and said, “Come on, Leah, darling. Don’t feel burdened. Your aunt is truly grateful to have met you again. This is the least I can do for you right now.”

I looked at her closely. “Aunt Margaret… are you sure no one minds your decision?”

She laughed. “Of course not. Even Adrian agreed without much protest.”

I hadn’t been able to refuse when we met—purely by chance. It happened at the small convenience store where I worked part-time on weekends. I’d been pushing myself harder than I should have, not only to cover my living expenses but also to pay off the hospital debt left after my parents’ accident.

My efforts, however, weren’t enough to save them. They died two years ago from their injuries, leaving behind a hollow ache in my chest—and a tangle of unfinished responsibilities I’ve had to face on my own, one by one. Including my tuition fees.

And then… she appeared.

So suddenly, so out of place—wearing a long gray coat, the faint trace of her perfume trailing every time she moved. I nearly dropped a bottle of water when I realized who she was.

Margaret Hale.

The name had come up before—mentioned by my mother once, long ago. A dear friend who had helped her in the early years of her marriage, before time and distance pulled them apart.

I never imagined I’d meet her again—let alone at the lowest point of my life.

She gave me no room to refuse.

“Stay with me. There are plenty of spare rooms in our house. And I’m sure your mother wouldn’t rest easy knowing her daughter is working herself to exhaustion just to eat properly.”

I wanted to say no. But her smile, and the warmth behind her voice, made it feel like turning her down would be a sin.

And now here I am—standing in front of their house. The Hale residence.

The chandelier light spilling through the front window made the place gleam, every inch of it radiating quiet perfection. I tightened my grip on my bag strap.

Margaret glanced at me, her smile calm and reassuring. “Come in. They’re waiting in the dining room.”

“They?” I asked softly, but she didn’t answer. She just walked ahead, and I followed.

A few servants greeted her politely as we passed, their eyes flicking toward me with subtle curiosity—as if wondering who this disheveled girl was, brought home by their elegant mistress.

The moment I stepped into the dining room, my feet froze.

At the far end of the long marble-topped table saw a man.

Handsome. Commanding. Cold. Untouchable. Yet composed in a way that made him seem even more powerful. There was something darkly magnetic in the lines of his face. His eyes—blue and sharp—seemed capable of seeing through anything they touched. And when his gaze finally met mine, my whole body went rigid.

“Leah, this is Adrian,” Margaret said brightly. “My husband.”

He looked at me, and in that fleeting silence, my heart seemed to forget how to beat.

“G-good evening, Mr. Hale,” I stammered, lowering my head slightly, too nervous to meet his eyes for long.

“You must be Leah?” he asked.

“Yes, Mr. Hale.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“Just call me Adrian,” he said easily.

My head snapped up before I could stop myself. He’d already turned back to his dinner, as though my presence meant nothing at all.

Adrian? Just like that? There’s no way I can call him that so simply!

Margaret beamed, clearly pleased. “See? He doesn’t mind. Now, come, Leah—let’s eat before Ethan gets home.”

I sat at the far end of the table, doing my best not to look at him. But it was hard—something about the way he held his wine glass, or the quiet gravity he carried, made the air between us feel impossibly dense.

“Margaret mentioned you work at a convenience store?” Adrian asked, setting down his utensils.

“Yes.”

“You’re not in college?”

“She is, darling,” Margaret interjected brightly before I could answer. Her eyes sparkled with delight. “You mentioned where you study, didn’t you?”

“At… Saint Ca—”

“Sorry I’m late! Traffic was awful this even—”

The voice stopped short.

“Leah?”

I turned instinctively. “Ethan?”

The room froze.

Adrian’s brows lifted slightly, while Margaret glanced between the two of us in confusion. “You know each other?”

Ethan ignored the question; his eyes locked on mine. “What are you doing here?”

“You know Leah, Ethan?”

Ethan Hale.

God. How could I not have seen this coming? He was the Ethan Hale—the only son Margaret had proudly mentioned again and again during our drive here. My classmate. Well, not exactly—same university, different department.

Who didn’t know him? The charming golden boy of Saint Ca. Smart, athletic, and infamously flirtatious.

“Of course I know her.” Ethan’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “So, mind telling me why she’s here, Mom?”

“Leah is the daughter of an old friend,” Margaret said warmly. “Her situation’s been difficult lately, and I couldn’t bear the thought of her being alone. So… I brought her here. Your father didn’t mind, and I hope you won’t either. You can think of her as your sister—she’s two years younger than you, Ethan. Be kind.”

“You decided that without telling me first?” Ethan’s tone sharpened, tension lacing every word. I shrank in my seat, guilt pressing at my chest even though I’d done nothing wrong.

It was clear—I wasn’t welcome here.

“I don’t want her in this house,” he snapped, glaring at his mother before his eyes slid back to me, colder this time. “And you… don’t think I’ll be treating you the way she just asked me to.”