Chapter Thirty Eight

The moment Grandma was out of earshot, Alice let out a soft, private sigh—half relief, half giddy panic.

Her phone vibrated again.

Heart skipping, she opened the message to see a single laughing emoji from Daniel. He’d seen her flustered. Alice shook her head, biting back a laugh of her own. She looked up and caught Daniel still watching her with that infuriatingly amused, yet quietly intense look on his face.

She typed back.

Alice: "It's not funny, Daniel. And stop looking at me like that. People will start to suspect something."

Seconds later, his reply came.

Daniel: "Let them. You’re the only beautiful thing in this whole event worth watching."

Her blush returned, fierce and hot. She pressed a hand to her cheek, trying to cool the fire building there, trying not to smile too much, trying not to fall just a little harder. But it was already happening.

Then his message came again, the familiar vibration drawing Alice’s attention back to her phone.

Daniel: “What would you have told Grandma if she had asked what was making you blush?”

Alice bit her lip, her fingers hovering over the screen as her mind raced. She could practically hear the teasing tone in his voice, could almost see the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Alice: “I don't know. I would probably have come up with something.”

Almost instantly, another message followed.

Daniel: “And that part would be very amusing to watch.”

A quiet laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. She glanced up again—there he was, leaning casually in his chair, watching her like she was the only person in the entire event. That look did something to her.

Alice: “I hate you.”

She didn’t mean it, of course. And he knew that.

Daniel: “And I love you so much.”

Her breath caught in her throat. The words weren’t new. He’d said them before. But here, in the middle of a public event, with laughter and music floating in the air and her heart pounding in her ears—it felt new. Deeper. More dangerous.

Alice slowly lifted her eyes from the screen. And when her eyes met with his, something warm and undeniable passed between them. The crowd, the noise, the elegant tables, and the twinkling fairy lights all faded. In that single moment, it was just the two of them.

Their eyes held each other from across the distance, unspoken words threading between them like an invisible tether — fragile, powerful, real. She didn’t smile, and neither did he. But the longing, the ache, the pull... it was all there..

The sun had already dipped low into the horizon, but the event glowed on, illuminated by soft golden lights strung like constellations across the venue. Fairy lights sparkled against the warm hues of the evening, casting long shadows beneath the tents and tall floral arrangements. Everything felt ethereal — almost like a dream.

Alice stood quietly, still wrapped in the lingering weight of her silent exchange with Daniel. Her heartbeat hadn't settled since. She didn’t even realize how long she’d been standing there, gazing toward the lawn, until someone gently tapped her shoulder.

“Ma’am?”

Alice blinked and turned to find one of the event coordinators, her clipboard in hand and a polite but hurried smile on her face.

“Could you please help us sort out some items? Madame Janet is currently engaged with some important guests.”

Still half-lost in thought, Alice hesitated for a beat, then nodded. “Sure.” She followed the woman across the event space.

After a while, Alice found herself heading to the far end of the park — behind a hedge of tall, fragrant blooms where the noise of the gathering dulled to a murmur. A white mobile supply van was parked there, tucked neatly out of sight. She had volunteered to get a labeled box, containing some light decorations, which was in the supply van.

Alice stepped inside the van. The interior was dimly lit, stacked with supplies and small boxes. She left the door ajar as she moved toward the shelves at the back.

She had just spotted the box in question when a gust of wind — or maybe it was just an unlucky draft — slammed the van’s door shut behind her with a loud thud.

She flinched, the sound echoing sharply in the closed space. Quickly, she turned and grabbed the handle. It rattled in her grip but wouldn’t budge.

Panic fluttered in her chest. The laughter and music from the event sounded so far away now, muffled and unreachable. She pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly, and did the only thing that made sense in the moment.

She messaged Daniel.

Alice: “I’m stuck in the supply van behind the tall flowers. Please… help.”

She didn’t have to wait long.

Within moments, the door creaked open with a metallic groan, and there he was — Daniel — silhouetted in the fading light, concern etched across his face.

“Hey there, princess,” he said softly, his voice melting the tension in her spine.

Relief rushed through her. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a breath.

She turned back into the van, picked up the small box, and made her way to the door where he stood holding it open. But as she stepped down the small metal stairs, her heel caught the edge of one.

She stumbled.

Before the fall could even complete, Daniel’s arms were around her — steady, sure, and warm. He caught her easily, pulling her against him.

Time seemed to freeze.

Alice’s breath caught in her throat. Her hands were pressed lightly against his chest, her heart beating so hard she was sure he could feel it. She looked up at him — and found his eyes already locked on hers.

There was something in his gaze. Something raw. Tender. Undeniable.

Their faces were so close now. Too close.

Neither moved away.

Instead, as if guided by an invisible thread, their faces inched nearer until their lips met.

It wasn’t urgent or planned. Just a soft, delicate brush — a kiss born from silence and gravity and the electric pull of two hearts too full to hold back.

And then, just as gently, it ended.

Daniel pulled back slightly, a flush creeping up his neck. His eyes searched hers with uncertainty. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to—”

Alice, still caught in the moment, shook her head faintly. “It’s… okay,” she whispered. Her voice was breathless, trembling — not from fear, but from the weight of her feelings blooming in her chest.

Daniel helped her down the van’s cold metal steps, his hands gently clasping hers. But as soon as her feet touched the grass again, Alice let go, her fingers lingering a second too long before she stepped back — creating space where moments ago, there had been none.

The silence between them was thick, almost suffocating.

Daniel’s voice broke it first, low and heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry I went back on my promise to you. I didn’t mean to, Alice.”

Even as he said the words, his heart ached with the desire to hold her again, to relive that accidental kiss just once more — but the remorse in his tone was real.

Alice looked away, cheeks flushed with color that had nothing to do with the chilly air. “I know you didn’t mean to,” she whispered. “It was an accident.”

But deep down, they both knew it wasn’t just that. It was desire — long-suppressed — finally slipping through a crack in their restraint.

Daniel exhaled slowly and said what needed to be said, even though it felt like pressing a blade to his own chest.

“We need to be more careful,” he said firmly. “Maybe we should stop… meeting each other. At least for now.”

His voice wavered slightly at the end, betraying the pain behind his resolution.

Alice’s eyes snapped to his face, stunned. Her expression twisted into something raw — a mixture of confusion, heartbreak, and disbelief. Her lips parted as if to protest, but the words were swallowed by the lump forming in her throat.

Her gaze pleaded with him without a sound. 'Why? Why take this away from me too? You’re the only thing I have left that feels real… that feels like mine.'

Daniel saw it in her eyes and it nearly broke him.

But he had to explain.

“Only until you and Kelvin are legally separated,” he added gently, trying to cushion the blow. “Alice, I can’t risk us being caught in a moment like that again — not when Kelvin still has the power to use it against you. And he will. You know he will.”

Alice turned her face, hiding the tears that now brimmed in her lashes. His words made sense — painfully so — but they still left a hollow ache in her chest.

Her voice came out in a near-whisper. “I understand…”

Daniel stepped forward, instinctively reaching for her hand again, but she took a step back — not in anger, but in self-protection. She couldn’t afford one more second of closeness. Not now.

So she turned, swiftly, holding the box firmly in her hand, and began to walk away before her emotions betrayed her. The tears that stung her eyes began to spill the moment her back was to him. She didn’t dare look back. If she did, she knew she’d crumble.

Daniel stood there, watching her retreat, a storm brewing in his chest.

He had done the right thing. But why did doing the right thing hurt him that much?

The dazzling lights and gentle music of the event no longer stirred any warmth in Alice’s chest. The laughter around her now felt like a distant echo, foreign and far away. Everything had become heavy, hollow — as if the air itself had thickened.

Daniel’s words circled endlessly in her mind.

“We need to be more careful… Maybe we should stop meeting each other.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t understand. She did — far too well. Daniel was protecting her, trying to shield her from the cruel consequences that could arise if Kelvin found out. And yet, understanding didn’t ease the ache in her chest or stop the sting behind her eyes.

What had just happened between them — the kiss, unintentional as it was — felt like opening a door to something real, something pure. And now it was slammed shut again. The timing was cruel.

Trying to stay composed, Alice forced herself to complete the assistance she had initially agreed to offer to the staff, but her thoughts were a tangled mess. When she had done enough to avoid drawing attention, she gently excused herself and slipped away.

She found a small, quiet table near the edge of the garden, partially shielded by a tall hedge and wrapped in the golden hue of fairy lights. It was beautiful, peaceful — but nothing could soothe the storm inside her.

Alice sat down slowly. She blinked up at the lights and tried to gather strength from the quiet, tried to pretend she hadn’t just lost something she never even had in the first place.

The tears came anyway — slowly, silently — slipping down her cheeks while her lips trembled with the effort of holding it all in. She tilted her head down, as she tried to wipe the tears off.

She hated that - the waiting, the uncertainty and the ache of loving someone she couldn’t have — not yet. Not freely. Not without consequence.

But she also hated how right Daniel was. That made it worse.

In that moment, surrounded by beauty, dressed like a dream, and seated in the midst of a celebration, Alice never felt alone.

And yet, somewhere deep inside her, she clung to the hope that one day — when all the chaos ended — she could be with Daniel without fear or guilt.

But for now, she just needed a minute to breathe… and to survive the rest of the evening without falling apart.