Felicity's POV.
After the longest, most tense and confusing day on campus, I came home feeling like my brain had been tossed into a blender. Emotionally exhausted, I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto the small living-room couch, rubbing my temples as if that might somehow untangle my thoughts. Of course, Mom noticed something was wrong right away. She always did.
"What happened?" she asked gently, handing me a warm cup of tea as she sat beside me.
I tried to shake my head, tried to keep it all in but it came pouring out anyway. The kiss. The weird tension afterward. Chris avoiding me. Me avoiding him. The confusion, layered on confusion. I hated how messy it sounded. I hated how much I cared. I hated how vulnerable it made me feel. Most of all, I hated how much it mattered.
She listened in complete silence, just sipping her tea and occasionally nodding with this strange, annoying little smile.
When I finally stopped talking, she chuckled softly.
"Sweetheart," she said gently, setting her cup down. "This is exactly how love begins, messy, confusing, and terribly inconvenient. You're in love with Chris."
"Wait—what? What do you mean?" I blinked. "How could you even say that? I'm not in love with Chris… am I? No. Never."
"You're flustered and trying to deny it," she said calmly. Then her expression shifted, turning serious. "But I need to come clean about something."
My stomach tightened. "Okay… go on. What is it?"
"That day I came to visit," she said slowly. "Chris was here. We talked. He told me everything." She met my eyes. "I saw it in his eyes, Felicity. That boy is in love with you," she hesitated before adding. "So I planned the whole drinking part. Yes, that was me. But Chris isn't at fault. Don't blame him, he was just doing what I asked."
My heart dropped. The room tilted. The tea in my hands suddenly tasted bitter.
"You what?" I asked, my voice rising. "You planned it? You tricked me? You used me, all because of a boy?" I shook my head, hurt burning in my chest. "That's messed up, Mom. Even for you. How could you do this to me? Gosh… I'm so disappointed in you."
"I didn't trick you. I nudged you," she said firmly. Her tone softened. "I knew your heart had already been broken once. I just wanted to spark something, to help you open your heart again. I didn't want you shutting it away forever."
I stood up so fast the cup nearly slipped from my hand. "How could you, Mom? That's not your decision to make! Do you think this is funny? My feelings aren't part of some experiment! Mom, what happened to honesty, huh? Ugh, I can't even right now."
She reached out for me, but I stepped back. "Please," I said, my voice shaking. "Just leave me be for now."
I stormed up to my room, slammed the door, and collapsed onto my bed. Angry, embarrassed, hurt, humiliated, heartbroken, and even more confused than before.
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Christopher's POV.
Later that evening, I found myself at a quiet, tucked-away pub just off campus. Jake and the rest of the crew were already there, crowded around a wooden table littered with half-empty glasses, burger and fries. They looked at me like they knew something big was about to happen. I took a breath, grabbed my drink, and stood.
"I'm calling it off. The bet. It's over," I clarified.
Silence followed. The guys stared at me, stunned, especially Jake, the one who had started the whole thing.
Brian blinked. "Wait… what? You're joking, right?"
"I'm not," I said.
"No way," Liam muttered. "You're serious?"
"As a heart attack," I said, sitting down. "This was never about the bet. Not anymore. I didn't just fall for her… I'm crazy about her."
Jake raised a brow. "You're in love? I knew it from the moment you walked in frowning. You had that look."
"What?… Whatever. But yeah," I muttered. "I think I am."
The group erupted into laughter and teasing.
"Mate, you caught feelings? Oh no, you're doomed," Brian said dramatically, clutching his chest.
"This is worse than I thought. He didn't just catch feelings. He fell hard. He's in love—crazy stuff, mate," Liam gasped, mock-horrified.
But then the tone shifted. "I'm serious," I cut in, my voice firm. "And you all need to be serious too. No one says anything to her about the bet. You hear me? Never… ever. I should be the one that talks to her."
The laughter died instantly. The table quieted, the air turning heavy—solemn.
"If Felicity finds out from someone else… it's over. For real. I mean it."
A long pause followed, thick with understanding. Then Jake raised his glass slowly, deliberately, like a vow being sealed.
"To falling hard and meaning it."
"To falling hard and meaning it."
We chorused and clinked glasses. It wasn't celebratory but in acknowledgment. An unspoken pact. It felt like the end of an era. Something had ended. And something far more dangerous had begun. A silent oath that something bigger was now at stake and we were all bound to it.
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Felicity's POV.
It was Monday morning. The sun was out, the air smelled of fresh grass, and birds chirped as if the world were perfectly fine. But inside, I was a storm. I'd barely slept the night before, tossing and turning with flashbacks of Chris, Mom's confession, and my heart acting like a traitor. I hadn't texted Chris. I hadn't looked him in the eye since the kiss.
I hadn't spoken to Mom since Saturday night because of that incident two nights ago. She tried knocking a few times, even slipped a note under my door that read: "Please, let's talk. I only did what I thought was best."
I ignored it. Until Sunday morning, when she made pancakes, soft, cinnamon-dusted ones, just how I liked them. On one of them, she spelled "SORRY" in whipped cream.
She sat across from me and gently said, "I'm sorry, Felicity."
I said nothing, only stared at the syrup slowly melting across my plate.
"I never meant to hurt you," she continued softly. "I shouldn't have interfered. I just didn't want you to miss something real."
I finally looked up. "Then why did you do it?" I asked. "Why plan something so manipulative?"
She sighed. "Because I saw how you looked at him. And how he looked at you. Because I recognized it—love. It is love, Ninu. I knew there was something there. I just wanted to give it a little push. I was afraid you'd run from it."
"By setting up fake alcohol just to get my attention? That's your idea of a push?" I snapped. "You shouldn't have done that, Mom."
She leaned against the counter, her eyes tired. "Okay. Maybe it was wrong. I admit that. But I wasn't trying to trap you, Felicity. I was trying to help you open your heart before you locked it away for good."
Silence fell between us. Then, almost without thinking, I asked, "What really happened between you and Dad? Why did you get divorced?"
Her eyes widened like I'd caught her off guard. She blinked slowly, then folded her hands.
"You always said it just didn't work out," I pressed. "But that's not the whole truth, is it?"
She sighed and sat across from me again. "No," she said. "It's not."
I waited.
"Your father loved me. But he was tied to something else. Something I couldn't be part of. Duty. Expectations. Secrets. I wanted a love that was real and free. He couldn't give that to me."
"What kind of secrets?" I whispered. "Was he a prince or something?"
She gave a dry laugh. "Not quite. But close enough to live in a world I didn't belong in."
I frowned. "A world?"
She paused again. "Let's just say… your father lived in a world that expected loyalty over love. Power over truth. And I chose love even if it meant walking away."
"So… you left?"
"I had to. I didn't want you growing up with half-truths and public appearances. I wanted you to live for real moments, not performances."
For the first time in days, I looked into her eyes. She looked tired. Not because she was weak. But because she'd been strong for far too long, stronger than anyone I knew.
I stood up slowly, walked over, and hugged her. She held me like she hadn't in years.
I frowned again. "What do you mean? Was he… rich?"
She gave a soft, almost sad smile. "Not rich. Royal."
My breath caught.
"Royal? Wait… are you saying Dad was a—?"
She stood before I could finish. "I have to go pack. I'm heading back to America tonight."
She kissed my forehead. "I love you, Felicity. And you deserve a love that doesn't come with lies."
And then she walked away, leaving me with more questions than answers. My heart pounded harder than it had all week, heavy with a truth that felt uncomfortably close to my own life. Still, my heart wasn't settled. I didn't know what this meant for me or for Chris. But I knew one thing for sure, nothing felt like a coincidence anymore. Secrets were everywhere. In silence. In glances. In the things people did for you without asking. And I was only just beginning to unravel them. This was the truth we buried. And somehow, I had a feeling it wouldn't stay buried for long.