Chapter 1 01

"So, when's the wedding?"

Dylan stopped laughing the moment his mother's question sank in. He lifted his gaze and caught her watching him closely, as if waiting for his answer. A small smile slowly curved on his lips as he slipped an arm around his girlfriend's waist.

"We're just waiting for the right time, Ma," he said softly.

His mother's brows immediately drew together. "You and Brielle aren't getting any younger, son. What exactly are you still waiting for-"

"Don't force our son, Layla."

His father's voice cut his mother off, making it hard for Dylan not to smile.

"Dylan can decide for himself. He's old enough. And besides, Brielle isn't in a rush anyway. Right, Brielle?"

At his father's question, Dylan turned his attention to his girlfriend. He looked at her, quietly waiting for her response. Brielle Clarkson met his gaze. He didn't miss the subtle pout on her lips before she turned to his parents and flashed them a sweet smile.

"Of course, Tito. I can wait for Dylan. I understand that he's busy with work. I'll wait until he's ready," she answered gently.

Dylan pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly. He could hear the frustration hidden beneath her words. He knew she wasn't telling the truth.

"Right. I heard you're working on something new, Dylan," his mother said, quickly changing the topic. "Whose case is it again?"

Dylan couldn't help but feel relieved.

Talking about marriage made him feel suffocated. He didn't think he was ready for that conversation-not yet.

He nodded slowly and smiled at his mother.

"It's the senator's case, Ma. I'll probably be busy for the next few months since he refuses to admit anything."

"Senator Clemente?" his father asked. "I saw him on the news the other day."

Dylan nodded.

"Is your Uncle Damon the prosecutor?"

"Yes," Dylan replied with another nod. "I might stay at Uncle Damon's place for a few days, Pa. It'll be easier to talk there without interruptions. I already informed Tita Ivy."

Declan Fontanilla let out a soft chuckle.

"Son, you're old enough. You don't have to ask for permission from your mother and me about that anymore," he said jokingly.

Dylan shook his head.

"I'm just giving you a heads-up. I don't want you thinking I got murdered somewhere just because I didn't visit and you couldn't find me at my place," he joked.

Instead of laughing, both his parents suddenly turned serious.

He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head.

"M-Ma! You said Lance made donuts. Where are they?" he blurted out, trying to change the subject.

His parents shook their heads in unison, making Dylan rub the back of his neck again. He momentarily forgot that he couldn't joke like that around them. Convincing them to let him become a police officer hadn't been easy-his mother had been terrified that he'd get hurt or killed on duty. When they finally agreed, he promised them he would never let that happen.

"Your brother baked last night because he knew you were coming," his mother said as she stood up and walked toward the refrigerator. "But he had work today, so you missed him."

Dylan let out a quiet sigh of relief when she didn't scold him further.

Soon after, his father excused himself to get ready. It was their cousin's birthday, and they were heading there after lunch. His mother placed the donuts on the table before following her husband upstairs.

When his parents were gone, Dylan and Brielle were left alone at the dining table. Dylan immediately reached for his favorite donut and started eating.

He abruptly stopped when he noticed Brielle shaking her head beside him.

He turned to her, one brow raised.

"Is there any problem?" he asked casually.

To his surprise, Brielle hissed,

"You embarrassed me earlier," she said irritably, avoiding his gaze.

Dylan's brows lifted again.

"What do you mean? I didn't do anything wrong-"

"You did!" she snapped loudly.

Dylan instinctively glanced at the second floor, worried his parents might come down and see the scene unfolding.

He exhaled sharply and closed his eyes, forcing himself to calm down.

"Lower your voice. Mama and Papa might hear you."

Brielle rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

"I was already humiliated in front of them earlier, so what else is there to worry about?"

"I didn't embarrass you-"

"You did!" she shouted again. "What was that about waiting for the right time to get married? What right time are you talking about? Dylan, I want to get married. I've been waiting for you."

He sighed deeply before reaching for her hand.

"Babe, I still have work-"

"There you go again!" she cut in. "Is that stupid job really more important than me? Why are you still working there when you could just take the company that's supposed to be yours? Isn't Inara supposed to be yours? But because you insist on staying in that cheap job, your cousin's living like a queen while you're stuck working all the time!"

Dylan's jaw tightened. He wanted to tell her not to belittle his profession, but he held back. Arguing would only make things worse.

He sighed again and gently rubbed her hand, trying to calm her down.

"You want to get married?" he asked softly.

Brielle nodded quickly.

He sighed once more.

"Fine. Let me just finish this case, then we'll plan-"

"When?" she cut him off. "You said the same thing before and never followed through. If you don't want to get married, just tell me now so I won't keep waiting!"

"Brielle, of course I want to marry you. It's just that my work-"

"It's always work!" she snapped. "Dylan, what am I in your life? If you really loved me, you would've married me a long time ago."

He closed his eyes briefly before responding.

"Brielle, I love you. You know that. But I can't just abandon my job. Once we're married, where will we get money for our daily expenses if I don't work? What about your lifestyle? Your dad won't give you money anymore, Bri. I don't want to disappoint Tito."

Instead of understanding, she scoffed.

"I told you-take the company from your cousin. That was supposed to be yours! How do you expect to get rich if you stay in that job?"

Dylan shook his head again.

"My profession is not cheap, babe. Don't degrade it in front of me," he said firmly.

"Whatever. If you don't resign from that job, I don't think I can be with you anymore. You never have time for me. I'm tired of begging for your attention. I'm tired of this setup, Dylan!"

"So that's why you want to get married?" he asked. "Bri, married or not, nothing will change. I'll still have to work even harder after the wedding. I need to save up for us-"

"I don't care!" she cut him off again. "My friends are getting married! Why won't you marry me? Like your mom said earlier, we're not kids anymore. Why can't we just get married right away?"

Dylan rubbed his temples in frustration.

"Marriage comes with responsibility," he said calmly. "And it takes time. We don't need to rush-this isn't a race. Once we're married, you're my responsibility. What would your father say if I couldn't even feed you because I ran out of money? I don't want to disappoint anyone, Brielle."

Instead of replying, she stood up abruptly and glared at him.

"Just say it. You don't want to marry me," she said angrily before turning her back on him.

"Babe! Where are you going? It's Iverson's birthday-"

"I don't want to fake smiles in front of your cousins. Just leave me alone," she snapped before storming out of the house.

Left alone, Dylan shook his head and let out a long, heavy sigh. He leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples. He didn't know how he would explain to his parents why Brielle suddenly left.

His patience was wearing thin, but he forced himself to calm down.

"You love her, Dylan. That's what you get for loving her," he murmured before reaching for the chocolate donut in front of him.

"Really?" he muttered bitterly. "Right in front of my donut?"

He took a bite, his expression sour as memories from just minutes ago replayed in his mind. He shook his head again and frowned.

Maybe one day, she'd finally understand him.

Maybe.