The truth

The neon lights of the bar flickered softly over Xander’s face, casting hues of blue and red on the whiskey glass in his hand. It was his third maybe fourth drink of the night, though he’d stopped counting after the second. The music in the background was muffled beneath the heavy haze of his thoughts, and the laughter of strangers only made the silence in his chest louder.

He stared down at the amber liquid, watching it swirl gently as if the answer to everything would rise from its depths. But nothing came just more questions, more regrets, and more guilt than he knew what to do with.

Across from him sat two of his closest friends, Andrew and Kelvin—men who had known him since college, when life was less complicated and decisions didn’t cost pieces of your soul.

Andrew leaned forward, tossing a peanut into his mouth. “Okay, you’ve got to stop looking like someone stole your inheritance. Oh wait… you’re about to lose it, aren’t you?”

“Very funny,” Xander muttered, rubbing a hand down his face.

Kelvin sipped his cocktail, cocking an eyebrow. “You’re doing all this over that girl? June?”

Xander didn’t reply. The silence was answer enough.

Andrew shook his head. “Christ, Xander. Are you seriously catching feelings?”

“She’s not just… some girl,” Xander said quietly. “You don’t know what she’s been through. Everything with Larry, the press, losing a child… She’s strong. But fragile. Like she’s constantly stitching herself back together with trembling hands.”

Kelvin rolled his eyes. “Okay, Shakespeare, we get it. You’re enamored.”

“I’m not enamored,” Xander snapped, then sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I am.”

Andrew clinked his glass against Xander’s. “Then all the more reason to seal the deal before your heart gets in the way. Get her drunk. Charm her. Sleep with her. It’s not hard, Xander. You’ve done it a hundred times.”

“She’s not like the others,” Xander muttered.

“She doesn’t have to be,” Kelvin said, deadpan. “You’re not marrying her for love, remember? You’re marrying her for the deal. The shares. The merger. The legacy. You seduce her, get her pregnant, tie her to you legally, and boom you’re in control. Everyone wins. Or at least you do.”

Xander looked away, jaw tight.

“And if she finds out later?” he asked quietly. “What then?”

Andrew shrugged. “By the time she finds out, the ink will be dry. And trust me, women like her don’t walk away from a name like yours once the money’s in play.”

“She’s not like that,” Xander said sharply.

Kelvin chuckled. “Keep telling yourself that, lover boy. But while you’re sitting here brooding like some tragic hero, your dad’s getting more impatient and your cousin’s already licking his chops waiting to take your spot.”

Xander went silent. The words sat like stones in his stomach. The truth was cold and simple: this wasn’t just about June anymore. His entire life, everything he had grown up believing he’d inherit, was on the line. If he didn’t do this if he didn’t make June his he would lose it all.

But when he thought of June, of her smile when she talked about her mother’s cooking, of the way she laughed with her whole heart when he danced like a fool in the kitchen, of the softness in her voice when she spoke about the baby she lost… he couldn’t imagine being the man who broke her again.

And yet…

Could he really throw away everything for her? For a woman who might never even love him back?

The weight pressed down on him like a building collapsing.

“I need air,” Xander said abruptly, standing from the table.

“Don’t take too long,” Kelvin called after him, mockingly. “Your inheritance won’t wait for your feelings to sort themselves out.”

Outside, the night was cooler, quieter. Xander stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the black velvet sky littered with stars. His chest ached in a way that was unfamiliar. He wasn’t the man his father wanted him to be. But he also wasn’t sure he could be the man June deserved.

“What the hell do I do now?” he whispered to no one.

Xander sat in his car outside June’s apartment, fingers drumming against the leather steering wheel, his jaw locked in quiet turmoil. His mind repeated the same haunting mantra: Just do what you have to do. That had been his father’s voice earlier in the day, cold and unwavering. You’re not being asked to love her—just win her trust, get her to fall, and secure what’s ours.

The weight of expectation pressed down on him like iron cuffs.

His chest was heavy, his conscience restless—but the decision was made.

He was going to do what everyone demanded.

He was going to set the stage.

He’d win June’s heart—at any cost.

The next morning, Xander made the arrangements. He called a high-end private chef, ordered floral centerpieces, and reserved a rooftop venue in a secluded luxury building downtown. A canopy of fairy lights would hang above them, with soft music playing in the background. The view overlooked the glowing city skyline. Everything had to be perfect. Everything had to scream sincerity, intimacy, love.

He would play the role to perfection. He always did.

By evening, everything was set.

He wore a tailored navy-blue suit, not too formal, but effortlessly elegant. He held a small velvet box—not with a ring, but a delicate bracelet engraved with "For every scar, a story. And you, June, are poetry."

It was cheesy. But it would work.

He pulled out his phone and dialed her number.

"Hey, it’s me," he said, voice smooth. "Can I steal you for a few hours tonight?"

There was a pause.

"I don’t know, Xander… After last time”

"I know," he said softly, cutting in. "I messed up. That’s why I want to make it right. No pressure. Just dinner. Just a chance to say I’m sorry. Please."

Another long pause.

Then, finally: “Okay. What time?”

******

June stepped out of the car, her eyes widening at the beauty of the rooftop. Candlelight flickered from the table set for two, white petals lined the pathway, and the music of a soft piano ballad filled the warm air.

She blinked, stunned.

“Xander… this is… this is beautiful.”

He turned to her, wearing the gentlest smile he could muster, stepping forward to take her hand.

"You deserve beautiful, June. Sit with me?"

She nodded, her usual caution softening under the weight of sincerity real or not.

Dinner passed slowly, with laughter, shared stories, and stolen glances. Xander played the attentive host, watching her closely, hanging on every word, making her feel seen. And June—God, she was glowing. She laughed more tonight than she had in weeks. He noticed how she pushed her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, how her fingers traced the rim of her wine glass when something touched her heart.

She was… everything.

But he had a role to play. A timeline to meet. And a future to secure.

After dessert, he stood up and offered her his hand.

"Can I steal one dance before you go?"

She hesitated.

Then smiled. “Only one.”

He pulled her gently into his arms, their bodies swaying slowly to the music.

And when her head rested lightly against his shoulder, something inside him cracked a little.

He pulled back slightly, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"June," he whispered. “I know I’ve made mistakes. But being with you it makes me want to be better. You make me want more out of life. You make me want you.”

She looked up, caught off guard.

“I know you’re scared,” he added. “But I’m not asking for everything right now. I just want a chance. Will you be my girlfriend?”

The words hung in the air like a spell.

June stared at him, searching for cracks, motives, truth.

“I…” she started, but hesitated. “I don’t know, Xander. I’ve been through so much. You know that.”

“I know. And that’s why I’ll be patient. You don’t have to say yes now. Just… consider it.”

He took out the bracelet box and opened it.

June gasped quietly.

"It’s beautiful."

"For a beautiful woman," he said, locking eyes with her. "No pressure. Just hope."

She smiled faintly, conflicted.

"Okay," she said softly. "I’ll consider it."

Xander pulled her into another hug, hiding his expression in the crook of her neck.

Because behind his warm smile, behind the tender embrace, was a war.

Between duty and desire.

Between strategy and sincerity.

And even as June clutched the bracelet to her chest, Xander couldn’t shake the voice that echoed in his mind.