Racheal's hand trembled slightly as she gripped her fork. Her appetite vanished, yet she forced herself to keep eating, afraid Mia would notice something was wrong. Her mind replayed Declan's cold denial—"No, we don't know each other."
Mia, sensing the strange tension, glanced between them. "Hmm, are you sure you two haven't met before?" she pressed, curiosity dancing in her eyes.
Declan leaned back casually, his expression unreadable. "I'm sure," he said firmly, though his gaze flickered toward Racheal for the briefest second.
That fleeting glance did not escape her. It was as if he wanted to say something, yet deliberately held himself back. Racheal's chest tightened. How could he act so indifferent when he had been the shadow watching over her all this time? When he had saved her from shame and humiliation?
She lowered her eyes, fighting the sting of regret. If only I had known… I blamed him, hated him, pushed him away…
Mia smiled, breaking the silence. "Well, that makes this easier. Since you don't know each other, let me properly introduce you two. Declan, this is my good friend Racheal. And Racheal, this is my annoying older brother."
Declan chuckled softly, but there was no warmth in it. "Nice to meet you," he said politely.
Racheal forced a smile, though her heart was pounding. "Nice to meet you too," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The meal continued with Mia chatting excitedly about random things, but Racheal barely heard a word. She stole a glance at Declan now and then, only to catch him doing the same before quickly looking away. The unspoken tension sat heavily between them, a truth neither was ready to confront—not here, not now.
Feeling suffocated, Racheal placed her fork down. "Excuse me… I need to use the washroom," she said, her voice steady though her nerves weren't.
Once inside the washroom, she leaned against the sink, her reflection staring back at her. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her emotions tangled in knots. She turned on the tap, splashing cool water over her face, then gripped the sink tightly.
"Racheal… you can do this," she whispered to herself, closing her eyes. She took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders back to relax her tense body. She had to stay composed, at least in front of Mia.
Meanwhile, back at the table, Declan pushed his chair back. "I'll be right back," he muttered to his sister, ignoring her questioning look. His steps were purposeful as he moved toward the washroom corridor.
Just as Racheal opened the door to step out, her heart steadied, she collided head-on with him. Startled, she nearly slipped on the polished floor.
Before she could hit the ground, strong hands wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her close. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself pressed against Declan's chest, his eyes locking onto hers.
The world seemed to fall silent. The only sound was her rapid heartbeat, thundering in her ears.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Declan's grip was steady, protective—yet there was something else in his touch, something Racheal could not name. She gasped softly, her hands resting against his arm as if to push him away, but her body betrayed her by leaning into his warmth.
His voice was low, almost a whisper. "Careful… you could have fallen."
Racheal swallowed hard, her lips parting but no words coming out. She had never been this close to him before, and now that she was, the weight of all her past misunderstandings pressed heavily on her chest.