Chapter 3 The Moment Between Us

BELA POV

One Month Later

I tried to forget him.

I really did.

After that first meeting-when he stood in our living room like some kind of marble statue carved by angels-I told myself I'd stop thinking about him. I would bury every glance, every flutter of my heart, every stolen moment behind a wall thick enough to keep me safe.

But it didn't work.

Because every morning after that, he came to escort Marianne to school.

Like clockwork.

He'd pull up in his sleek black car, step out looking like a god who forgot how to smile, and walk my sister to class like she was royalty.

And me?

I watched from the window like a ghost.

Every single day.

At first, Father was still stiff around him, but slowly, even he softened. He started calling Kyril by name without hesitation, even offering him coffee when he dropped by early. Mother had always liked him, of course-she called him "the son we never had," which made me want to roll my eyes and cry at the same time.

It was like everyone else saw something in him that I wasn't supposed to feel.

So I buried it deeper.

Told myself I was imagining things.

That maybe, just maybe, if I stopped paying attention, this stupid feeling inside me would go away.

But then today happened.

---

The rain had stopped by noon, leaving behind a thick, humid air that clung to my skin like a second layer. The sky was a pale blue now, streaked with clouds that looked like brushstrokes across a canvas. A strange sense of calm settled over the house as I walked through its quiet halls, the sound of my footsteps echoing faintly against the polished wooden floors.

I had come home early because my literature teacher got sick. No one was in the mansion except the maids and guards, which meant I had the entire place to myself.

Peace.

Quiet.

No one to compare me to anyone else.

I changed into a simple white satin dress that fell just below my knees. Thin straps held it up, and the fabric shimmered slightly under the light. It wasn't fancy-it was one of those dresses Mom bought for events I never attended. But today, I felt like wearing something pretty. Something that made me feel less invisible.

I curled up on the couch in the living room, a book open in my lap, though I hadn't turned a page in over an hour. My thoughts were too loud.

Then I heard the sound of a car pulling up.

I glanced at the clock.

Too early for either of my parents to be home.

Curious, I peeked through the curtains.

My stomach dropped.

Kyril.

Alone.

I didn't know why, but I panicked. My hands flew to my hair, smoothing down strands that weren't messy. I tugged at the hem of my dress, suddenly aware of how little fabric it actually had.

The door opened.

He stepped in.

His gaze landed on me immediately.

I froze.

He blinked, surprised to see me alone.

I quickly sat up straighter, adjusting my posture, trying to look composed. But in my rush, the strap of my dress slipped off my shoulder-and worse, my leg shifted, revealing more than I intended beneath the thin material.

I gasped softly and scrambled to fix myself, cheeks burning red.

"Uh... sorry," I muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He cleared his throat. "No problem."

He walked toward me slowly, his presence filling the room like a shadow I couldn't escape.

I patted the seat across from me, not meeting his eyes.

He sat.

Silence stretched between us.

It was unbearable.

I wriggled uncomfortably, fingers twisting together in my lap.

Why wasn't he talking?

Finally, I forced myself to speak.

"Uhm... excuse me, but may I know why you're here? My sister's school dismissal is at four."

He nodded once, as if he was mentally preparing himself for what he was about to say.

"Well, actually..." He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "Since you're her only sister... can you tell me what Marianne's favorite food is?"

I blinked.

That was unexpected.

"May I know the reason?" I asked, narrowing my eyes slightly. "And isn't she your girlfriend? Shouldn't you already know that?"

He chuckled nervously, rubbing his nose. "Tomorrow is actually our one-month anniversary. And I want to surprise her, but I don't know how to make that chocolate lava cake she loves so much. Well, I could order it-but I want it to be special for my Marianne."

My heart clenched.

*My* Marianne.

Of course.

I swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile. "Right. Of course."

I stood abruptly. "Come with me."

He followed me to the kitchen, where I opened the cabinet where Mother kept all her secret recipe books. I flipped through pages until I found the exact one Marianne loved best.

Here it was.

I handed it to him.

He took it, scanning the ingredients.

Then he looked at me again.

"Can I ask... do you know how to cook?"

I flinched.

"No," I admitted quietly.

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. "I already asked your mom if I could use your kitchen to prep this cake, but since I'm still not that skilled... maybe you could assist me?"

I stared at him.

Assist?

Me?

"I can't," I said honestly.

"But I will do it anyway," I added before I could stop myself.

His eyebrows shot up. "You sure?"

I nodded stiffly.

He smiled.

And damn it, he looked good doing it.

We spent the next hour in the kitchen, him directing and me clumsily following along. He handled everything-measuring, mixing, pouring batter into pans. I mostly held bowls and occasionally spilled flour on the counter.

Still, there was something intimate about it. Being alone with him. Talking. Laughing-yes, laughing. I hadn't expected that.

"You're pretty awkward around me," he finally said, watching me pour flour like it was dynamite.

I hesitated. "I guess... I don't know how to act around you."

He tilted his head. "Why not? We're family now, right?"

I almost choked.

Family.

Right.

"Maybe I still don't accept you as my sister's boyfriend," I lied smoothly.

He smirked. "Well, you should get used to me. I'm not going anywhere."

I bit my lip.

"And now that I look at you closely..." His eyes softened slightly. "You're also pretty. Try to smile more and stop having that gloomy face. I'm sure all the boys will become dogs for you."

I laughed, startled. "You think I need boys to follow me?"

He grinned. "Not dogs. Just someone who sees you for who you are."

I looked down, my chest tightening.

There was a long pause.

Then he asked, "How old are you again?"

"Fourteen."

He nodded. "Same age as Marianne when we met."

I looked up sharply.

He caught my expression and chuckled. "We met at the front café of the campus. She spilled coffee on me."

I blinked. "She did?"

"She offered to pay for dry cleaning. I told her no. Then she invited herself to lunch instead."

I couldn't help smiling.

"She's always been bold like that."

He nodded. "Yeah. That's Marianne."

Something twisted in my chest.

I looked away.

"Thank you," he said gently. "For helping me with this."

I nodded. "You're welcome."

---

The Next Day – Campus Courtyard

I skipped classes.

Again.

But this time, it wasn't because I was sick.

It was because I couldn't bear to watch them.

From the second-floor hallway window, I saw it all unfold.

Marianne stood in the gazebo, surrounded by curious students.

Kyril approached her with a box in one hand and a guitar in the other.

She gasped.

He smiled.

Then he played.

A soft melody filled the courtyard, and he sang-his voice deep and smooth, carrying lyrics that made girls swoon and boys roll their eyes but secretly admire.

Marianne cried.

They hugged.

Everyone clapped.

I bit my lip so hard it bled.

What right did I have to feel jealous?

None.

Zero.

But I did.

God, I did.

I turned away from the window, tears already spilling down my cheeks.

I ran home.

Didn't answer calls.

Didn't respond to texts.

Just locked myself in my room and cried until I couldn't anymore.

---

That Night

I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Moonlight filtered through the blinds, casting shadows across the walls.

I whispered to the darkness:

Starting tomorrow...

I'll make it my goal to forget him.

To erase every memory of his voice, his touch, his laughter.

To pretend I never wanted him.

To pretend I never loved him.

Even if it broke me.

---

♣️ END OF CHAPTER 1

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