"This is the best dish I've ever tasted!" Dashylle's eyes sparkled as he gave Beatrice a thumbs-up.
"You're lucky to have a mom like her, Kyle!" he added. Beatrice chuckled—she adored him. His energetic, funny nature could lift even the heaviest mood, if only for a moment.
How lovely. How familiar.
"Your father raised you well," Beatrice muttered, glancing at Dashylle. His eyes widened at her words, and he nodded slightly, offering a polite smile. She swallowed, sensing her comment might have made him uneasy.
Dashylle noticed the guilt in her eyes and quickly searched for a way to change the topic.
"I'll wash the dishes, Madam!" he declared energetically.
"N-no! How could I let you do that?" Beatrice protested.
"Just let him, Mom," Kyle said sarcastically. "So he has a role in this house." The two men glared at each other, tension crackling in the air.
"Hey, you two, stop that," Yvienna interjected casually. The two looked at her, confused. This was the first time they'd heard her speak without shouting—as if an angel had taken over.
"What?" she asked, noticing their stare.
"Just ignore them. Continue your meal," Beatrice said warmly. Yvienna nodded and gracefully resumed eating.
"What a fake person," Dashylle murmured under his breath.
"Jealous basher," Yvienna replied with a smirk.
Beatrice shook her head, smiling at their playful banter. After the meal, Dashylle hurriedly grabbed the plates to wash, while Kyle, worried they might break, insisted on helping. Beatrice and Yvienna were left alone.
"Come, I'll show you something," Beatrice said, leading Yvienna to the couch and opening an old photo album.
"This is my son when he was a child," she said.
"He's so cute," Yvienna replied, admiring young Kyle—chubby cheeks, fair skin, and a fluffy tummy that made her suddenly feel a pang of baby fever.
As Beatrice turned a page, a photograph slipped out. Yvienna picked it up carefully and handed it back. They both paused, eyes landing on young Beatrice, wearing a fitted white dress and a beret, smiling with pure innocence.
"You're so gorgeous," Yvienna whispered. Her gaze lingered on the beret, noticing a name engraved that seemed familiar. Beatrice's heart raced, memories flooding back, and she gently replaced the photo.
"You seem like a happy family," Yvienna said, pointing at a picture of Kyle's family. Beatrice admired her innocence. Yvienna had no idea of the hidden struggles behind perfect families.
Beatrice longed for the same stability for her own children—but fate had been unkind. Wealth, business, looks—all present—but happiness had little room. She marveled at Yvienna's family, wishing her own grandchildren could one day know such warmth.
Then her eyes landed on young Kyle, and relief washed over her. At last, her son had found his happiness—Yvienna.
"Why do you two look so busy?" Kyle asked, sitting beside Yvienna.
"Mom?!" he exclaimed, grabbing the album when he saw a picture of himself as a two-year-old, completely naked.
"What?! You were just a baby!" Beatrice laughed.
"No big deal, Kyle—you were adorable," Yvienna teased, earning a genuine chuckle from Beatrice. For the first time in a long while, someone had made her laugh freely, and she felt gratitude swell in her chest.
"Why did you leave me alone, huh?!" Dashylle snapped at Kyle, then shyly glanced at Beatrice.
"You have permission to do anything you want with my son," Beatrice said warmly. Laughter erupted as Dashylle tugged at Kyle's ears.
"We're not done yet—let's clean your condo!" he called, chasing Kyle, leaving the two women alone again.
"I have something to tell you," Beatrice said, her tone soft yet heavy.
"W-what is it, Mother?" Yvienna asked shyly.
Beatrice sighed, tracing her fingers gently over Yvienna's hands, eyes sincere.
"I know it's too much to ask, but… can you please take care of my son?"
Yvienna looked at her, confused, trying to grasp the depth of the request. She sensed a meaning beyond the words but chose to trust her instincts.
"The only thing I wish for him is to be happy… and that's you, Yvienna." A tear slid down Beatrice's cheek. "You're his happiness, my dear."
Yvienna, unsure how to comfort her, knew only one way—she wrapped her arms around Beatrice.
"I will, M-Mother… Please don't worry," she whispered.
"He loves you so much. Not a day goes by without your name on his lips."
Hearing this, Yvienna's heart swelled. Her hug tightened, and for a moment, she felt the weight of responsibility, the warmth of trust, and the undeniable happiness that she and Kyle shared.
"Why does my cousin look so happy?" Dashylle asked, focused on driving.
"Why do you care?!" Yvienna snapped.
Their playful clash resumed as he drove back to her house. She couldn't stop smiling, remembering Kyle's words before they left.
"Be careful on your way… I love you," Dashylle teased, mimicking Kyle's voice.
Yvienna's smile faltered. Her cheeks warmed, and she glared at him. If only he hadn't heard it… her perfect day would've stayed intact. She rolled her eyes at the rearview mirror—and froze when something in the backseat caught her attention.
"Hey!" Dashylle's eyes widened as Yvienna bent to retrieve a beret.
She studied it carefully—it matched the one in the photo of Kyle's mother. The signature engraved on it read: 'Mi Amor.' Confusion swept over her as pieces of the puzzle clicked together.
The memory of Kyle's mother's look at Dashylle flashed in her mind—eyes filled with unspoken longing, almost tears forming as she watched Yvienna's cousin. It was as if she were missing someone she could never have back.
"Hey, how's Uncle?" Yvienna asked innocently.
Dashylle's expression darkened at the mention. He shot her a sharp glance.
"As f*cked up as before," he muttered, voice low, sending a shiver down her spine.
Her thoughts were cut as they finally arrived home.
"How was the visit?" Meg asked.
"Her mother's very kind. She welcomed us warmly," Yvienna replied, leaning in to kiss her mother on the cheek.
"I can feel her sincerity," Meg said, eyes distant as if recalling the past.
Yvienna practically jumped onto her bed, exhaustion settling in. She remembered she had promised to message Kyle once home. Message sent.
Sleepiness finally claimed her, eyes closing with a soft smile.
"She's a wonderful girl, my son," Beatrice said as Kyle drove her home.
"Always, Mom," he replied, guiding her to her room.
"I'll always love you, my son. Remember that!" Beatrice hugged him tightly, lingering a moment longer before heading to her room.
"Let's meet Dark and Grey tomorrow," she said softly, missing her twins.
The day ended peacefully, the sun setting for a new morning. Yvienna, meanwhile, planned to meet Tiffany at the nearest café—the earlier whining text still fresh. Tiffany had insisted they couldn't meet at her house, and Dashylle's presence had apparently intimidated her.
Dressed in dark brown trousers and a fitted white polo that highlighted her collarbone, Yvienna pushed open the glass door. Her eyes scanned the room until a wave of arms caught her attention.
"Best friend! Here!" Tiffany shouted energetically. The café was mostly empty. Yvienna shook her head and walked over, chin held high, removing her sunglasses gracefully.
"You're like a celebrity now," Tiffany murmured, pointing at the bodyguards outside.
"It's for our safety," Yvienna said, mind flicking back to the punches, kicks, and daggers from that day.
"W-what?" Tiffany stammered, panicking as Yvienna squinted at her.
"You!" Yvienna accused.
"Me?!" Tiffany pointed at herself, bewildered.
"How do you do that?!" Yvienna demanded.
"Do what?!" Tiffany replied, trying to catch the hint. Memories of Yvienna's daring ways raced through her mind.
"Aha?!" Tiffany exclaimed, realization dawning—but Yvienna just raised her brows.
"I-I'll tell you soon, but—" Tiffany began.
"How could you do this to me?! I tell you everything, and yet it seems I don't know you anymore," Yvienna pouted, feigning hurt.
"Alright, this is just a secret, okay?" Tiffany leaned in as Yvienna nodded rapidly.
"I'm the wife of Batman," Tiffany whispered dramatically.
Yvienna pushed her face toward the window, crossing her arms, while Tiffany groaned.
"Stop joking and tell me!"
Their conversation was interrupted as a waitress approached, setting down two glasses of water.
"Should I put the menu here, Ma'am?"
"No… maybe put it there?" Yvienna pointed outside, irritation flickering.
"Calm down, bestie," Tiffany said, glaring before turning to the waitress. "Sorry about that. Yes, we'll order now," she smiled apologetically.
The waitress left, and Yvienna cleared her throat, waiting for Tiffany to speak.
"What do you want to order?" Tiffany asked innocently.
"The truth about your identity, my. dear. best. friend," Yvienna replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
Tiffany shook her head, unable to resist any longer. Knowing her best friend, she'd do anything to uncover the truth.
"Okay, fine—but promise me it stays our top secret, okay?"
Yvienna rolled her eyes and tapped her chest. "This pretty face will never betray you. Now go on, tell me."
"I'm a boxer… and a drag racer, Yvienna," Tiffany confessed, a mischievous glint in her eyes.