My Don Boyfriend Belongs to the Heroine
Since then, he had been watching me, quiet, his confusion barely hidden.
“Is everything… alright?” he finally asked.
“Of course,” I said, taking another sip of orange juice, forcing a small smile. “If you’re in a rush, you can go ahead. I can just grab a taxi.”
Nate’s eyebrows furrowed deeper. He mumbled, “I can wait for you…”
The conversation died, and the comments appeared again.
But this time, the context had shifted. They weren’t talking about me and Nate anymore. They were talking about someone else—the beautiful, perfect heroine, Nate’s so-called true love.