The hotel ballroom was lit up with crystal chandeliers, their glow bouncing off the polished marble floors. Everyone was dressed to impress sleek suits, designer dresses, heels clicking.
People chatted in small groups, fake smiles and polite laughter all around. Glasses clinked as waiters moved by with trays, and soft music played in the background from a live band tucked in the corner. It looked perfect on the surface, at least.
Ethan tugged at his collar for what felt like the hundredth time. His tailored suit was suffocating, the tie pressed uncomfortably against his neck.
Why is Damien dragging me to a gala? Can't the man just send an assistant? He glanced at Damien, who sat upright in his wheelchair, the back straight and poised, his hands resting lightly on the wheels.
Even while sitting, Damien had a presence that was hard to ignore. The quiet way his wheelchair moved, the steady way he looked around, it felt like he was always in control.
People noticed him without meaning to. Some even moved out of the way without thinking, as if the air around him was telling them to.
Ethan exhaled. Okay, survive one more day. Then his mission survive for seven days will be completed.
Across the room, a familiar figure caught Ethan's eye, and his lips twitched. Jamie. He was everywhere huh?
And right beside them, Lucas Wen, all smiles and careless charm, leaning slightly too close. The two of them laughed quietly, angled toward each other.
Damien noticed too, his dark eyes sharpening. He didn't move but the subtle tightening of his jaw and the faint narrowing of his gaze spoke volumes. Ethan flinched. Oh no. Here we go.
They maneuvered slowly through the crowd. Damien's wheelchair glided over the marble with careful precision, movements deliberate, calculated. Ethan followed, trying to stay out of the way while watching Damien's sharp assessment of everyone they passed.
"Damien," Jamie said, his voice a soft, melodic chime that made Ethan want to roll his eyes. "It's been a long time."
Lucas, smirking, draped a possessive arm around Jamie's shoulders. "I hope you don't mind, Damien. I've been looking after our little songbird here."
Then, Jamie did the unthinkable. He gently shrugged off Lucas's arm and gave a dismissive little laugh. "Oh, Lucas, don't be silly. He's just a friend. He had been looking after me since I returned to the city, that's all."
Ethan's jaw nearly hit the floor. He said it! He actually said the classic 'just a friend' line with a straight face! The audacity was breathtaking.
To Ethan's surprise and disappointment, Damien seemed to believe it. The cold, sharp tension in his body faded, and all that heavy attention he'd been throwing at Ethan the whole evening shifted completely… to Jamie.
What an idiot
Whispers filled the air like smoke.
"Look, the ex is back."
"Poor thing, the replacement's already been tossed aside."
"Did you see the way Young Master Damien looked at Jamie? They're totally getting back together."
Ethan didn't care. In fact, he felt relieved. The main characters had finally met and no one died. Great.
Now, he could finally focus on the important thing in front of him: food.
He just hoped Jamie wouldn't come for his head again.
He found a quiet corner, settled into a plush chair, and happily piled a plate with tiny, delicious cakes.
He didn't notice Lucas Wen striding towards him, his peacock-like feathers clearly ruffled.
"Enjoying the view from the sidelines?" Lucas sneered, looking down at Ethan. "It must be bitter, being discarded so easily."
Ethan took a delicate bite of a strawberry tart. He looked up, his expression calm. "How are you any different from me, Mr. Wen?" he asked, his voice even.
"How does it feel to watch the person you love introduce you as 'just a friend' while he flirts with his old flame?"
Lucas's smug expression shattered. "You..." he sputtered, but no clever retort came. Defeated, he slumped into the chair beside Ethan and snapped his fingers for a waiter. He grabbed a glass of champagne and downed it in one go.
A quiet, comfortable silence settled between them. Two side characters pushed aside by the story's spotlight.
Lucas swirled the drink in his hand and smirked. "You're pretty calm for someone who just got dumped."
Ethan picked up another mini éclair. "There's more to life than failed romance. Like desserts. This one tastes like heaven."
Lucas chuckled, genuinely this time. "You're strange."
"And you're still sitting here."
Their banter flowed easily after that—light teasing, mutual understanding, and the shared bitterness of being sidelined.
Across the ballroom, Damien watched.
He had expected drama. Jealousy. Maybe Ethan throwing a fit or clinging to him for attention.
Instead, Ethan looked relaxed. Even… happy.
With someone else.
Damien's expression darkened slightly. He didn't understand why, but something about it irritated him. That calm smile. That easy laughter. That complete disregard for Jamie's return.
The chatter in the hall faded into noise. All he could focus on was Ethan. And the strange, uncomfortable feeling tightening in his chest.
Ding!
Favorability Value: -40
Ethan blinked at the small notification only he could see. Wait… it rose? By ten? I didn't even do anything. He shrugged, returning to his food with a faint smirk. Whatever.
***
Back at the quiet villa, Ethan was completely drained. The gala had taken everything out of him—smiling, socializing, and pretending like the weight of his pregnancy wasn't slowly wearing him down. All he wanted now was ten hours of uninterrupted sleep.
Already in his loose pajamas, he shuffled toward his room with half-closed eyes when a calm voice stopped him.
"Xia Lan."
Damien sat near the tall window, his wheelchair framed by the moonlight. His face was unreadable, tone low and steady.
Ethan blinked, too tired for games. "What?"
"Come here."
Something in Damien's voice made Ethan pause. He hesitated, but still moved closer.
Just as he opened his mouth to ask what was going on, Damien's arm moved—quick and firm. Before Ethan could react, he was pulled off balance, landing awkwardly across Damien's lap. His body hit the strong muscle of Damien's legs and the cold edge of the wheelchair frame, and a soft gasp escaped his lips.
Damien's arms slowly wrapped around him, holding him in place. One hand rested gently almost possessively on the small curve of Ethan's stomach, while the other circled his waist, pulling him closer until Ethan's back was pressed fully against Damien's chest.
The heat of Damien's body seeped through the thin fabric of Ethan's silk pajamas. It was warm, grounding... and confusing.
"W-What are you doing?" Ethan asked, his voice quiet and uncertain.
Damien didn't reply.
Instead, he lowered his head, resting his face against the crook of Ethan's neck. His breath brushed lightly over Ethan's skin, making him shiver. He didn't move, didn't speak. He just held Ethan tightly like he was afraid to let go.
The room was quiet. Only the soft hum of night and the sound of their breathing filled the space.
Ethan didn't understand. His thoughts swirled in a mess of confusion.
Why...? he wondered. He already has the person he loves. So why is he holding me like this… like he doesn't want to let go?