Lahat ng Kabanata ng In Love With My Son's Best Friend: Kabanata 91 - Kabanata 100

JUNE’S POVThe door slam wasn’t just a sound in this house. It was a punctuation mark. This one, sharp and final, came from down the hall, Marlene’s room. My body went still in the middle of folding a towel. The laundry room air felt suddenly thick and hot. Minor drama, Luca’s text had said. Sorted out, don’t worry. Bullshit. Nothing that ends with a slam like that is sorted. It’s ignited.I finished the fold with careful precision, set the towel on the stack, and listened. Heavy footsteps, most likely Adrian’s, stomped past the door toward the kitchen. The fridge opened, then slammed shut. Franklin was supposedly at the office, but the house felt crowded with all the things we weren’t saying. I needed to see her. I needed to know what minor drama looked like on my daughter’s face.I found her curled on her bed, face buried in her pillow. Not sobbing, but her shoulders were rigid with the effort of holding it in. “Marlene?” I kept my voice soft, sitting on the edge of the bed the way

JUNE’S POVThe silence after Franklin’s question roared in my ears. My own heartbeat was a frantic drum against my ribs, and I could almost hear the faint creak of the floorboard outside the door, the shift of weight that meant Luca was still there.Frozen, eyes wild and probably listening. Franklin’s eyes moved over my face like a scanner, looking for the lie he already knew was there. The final gong of the grandfather clock vibrated up through the bones of my feet.I forced a laugh. It came out thin and brittle, like ice cracking. “Expecting someone? Who would I be expecting at midnight, Franklin? The Tooth Fairy?” I crossed my arms tighter, my nails digging half-moons into my own biceps. The sharp, specific pain helped. “You’re the one skulking around. What’s really going on?”It was a pathetic counterattack, but it bought seconds. I prayed Luca had heard Franklin’s voice and had the sense to vanish.Franklin did not blink. He took another step into the room, and the intimate moonl

LUCA’S POVFrom the top of the stairs, I heard it all. Franklin’s voice was calm, and measured. Marlene’s was shaking, furious. He kept asking questions he already knew the answers to, letting her talk herself raw.“Has he ever said anything to you about your mother?” The words lodged right in my ribs. He wasn’t arguing. He was collecting evidence.I stayed frozen until the voices died, then backed away before anyone could see me. My skin felt too tight. Adrian’s apology from last night burned through me all over again, and now Marlene was crying for me, defending me, while her father was turning that pain into leverage against June.I couldn’t stay upstairs so I made my way down. I found him later in his study, the door open. He sat at his desk with a whiskey, staring out the window like the view had personally offended him.I knocked on the frame. “Mr. Wallace?”He turned. No anger, no warmth. Just cold hard assessment. “Luca. Come in.”The rug swallowed my footsteps. “I overheard s

LUCA’S POVThe motel room stank of cheap beer and detergent that was obviously losing its fight against years of cigarette smoke. Orange neon leaked through the thin curtains in slow, nauseating pulses. I had been sitting on the edge of the sagging bed for hours, phone dead in my hand.I sent one text to Adrian: “I’m okay.” Nothing to June.What could I possibly say to her? That I was sorry I got kicked out by her husband? Well, I had it coming, and it is only good that it ended this way. Any words at this point would only make it worse.A soft knock. Too hesitant for real trouble. My heart kicked anyway.Through the peephole, I saw Sarah, arms wrapped around herself against the cold, the walkway light cutting sharp shadows across her face.Disappointment slammed into me. I opened the door.“Sarah.”“Luca.” Her smile was small, automatic. She glanced past me. “Can I come in? Just for a minute.”I stepped aside. She slid in, eyes scanning the room (the lumpy bed, my single suitcase, th

JUNE’S POVThe car’s tires crunched over the thin frost in the driveway, a sound like bones breaking. The grocery bags on the back seat held things I barely remembered choosing: milk, cereal, bananas that would bruise before anyone ate them.I’d needed the errand to look normal, something to justify the hours I was missing. But the house glowed too brightly ahead of me, every downstairs light on like a warning.I cut the engine and the cold rushed in, sharp and clean. Plastic handles bit into my palms as I gathered the bags. My keys shook. The lock resisted, then gave in. Warmth hit me as I stepped inside. The stove clock read 10:17 p.m.Franklin sat at the island in his robe, a single mug steaming before him. He wasn’t drinking. His eyes followed me as I set the bags down, the thud too loud in the quiet. I started unpacking right away, bread into the bin, eggs into the fridge.My hands moved with a steady rhythm they did not feel. Inside, everything was shaking.“Late night for groce