The moment I heard someone call Michelle's name, I could feel her whole body stiffen beside me.
"Michelle?" he called out again, like a sign of confirmation.
The voice belonged to a man. Clean-cut, confident. But there was a flicker in Michelle's eyes that told me more than she probably wanted to admit. She turned slowly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Favour."
She didn't look happy to see him.
Of course, we ended up at a café. Typical. This was how dramas started—public places, unresolved feelings, awkward silences stirred with cheap coffee spoons. And yet, there I was, standing beside her like a loyal husband in a fairy tale we both knew was false.
We stood in line to order.
"Please act like you're the best husband a girl could ever have," she whispered without looking at me.
"But I am the best husband," I murmured back.
"Yes, but not for a lady—certainly."
"Okay, you win."
The waitress passed us our coffees. Michelle thanked her with a tight smile. We returned to the table where Favour was waiting, his posture relaxed but his eyes calculating.
Then I saw it—the way she sat a little straighter, the nervous way her fingers fiddled with her straw, the unspoken challenge in her gaze.
So I took her lead.
I draped my hand over her lap, gently brushed her hair behind her ear. My head rested on her shoulder, and she didn't flinch. She gave mutual consent, physically at least. I didn't know what she was chasing in that moment—revenge, closure, validation—but I decided I'd let her have it.
"So, Michelle, how have you been?" He asked.
"Good, thank you," she replied crisply.
He eyed me briefly. "Your husband?"
She arched a brow. "Obviously."
"Good to meet you," Favour said to me after far too long a pause. "I'm Favour."
"Kael," I replied, my voice even, cold enough to keep distance but warm enough to pass for polite.
He glanced at our intertwined hands and wedding rings. I squeezed hers just slightly.
"Babe," I said, brushing imaginary lint off her collar, "I bought you Taro bubble tea as an apology but you're drinking iced Americano. You know how bad you are with caffeine."
She rolled her eyes. "I know. Stop being so annoying."
"If you can't sleep tonight, I don't mind keeping you up," I teased, just loud enough.
She glared, and I saw it. It screamed "The audacity of this man."
Not of anger, but gratitude. Gratitude that I was playing the role. That I understood, somehow.
Favour shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"So… what brings you to Seoul?" Michelle asked, changing the subject. "How's your wife?"
Favour hesitated. "Oh… She just found out she's pregnant. We thought it'd be nice to move closer to her parents."
I saw Michelle's jaw twitch before she smiled. "Congratulations. How far along?"
"Only a couple of weeks. We just found out, actually."
She nodded. "That's wonderful. Please take care of her, okay?"
He smiled and looked away. I noticed Michelle flinch slightly when I tucked another strand of hair behind her ear. This time she turned to me and whispered, "Babe, stop. I'm talking to someone."
I didn't stop. She didn't pull away.
"You are so mean to me today," I said aloud, in the most lovesick voice I could fake.
"You're lucky," Favour said with an awkward chuckle. "Your husband really seems to love you."
She glanced at me, then stroked my hair lightly. "Does he?"
The conversation limped along after that, but we all knew it was over. Favour's wife called, and he cut things short. They exchanged numbers. I didn't like it, but I kept quiet.
When he walked away, Michelle's lips curled into a crooked smile. "That annoying son of a bitch," she muttered under her breath.
And suddenly, everything clicked.
That's why she'd asked me to act. That's why she wanted everything to look perfect. This wasn't about appearances—it was about pain. Anger towards this 'Favour'
I watched her walk out of the café. I grabbed her purse and jacket and followed.
"It's cold," I said, draping the coat over her shoulders. She didn't thank me, but she didn't shrug it off either.
"Wanna walk?" I asked. "You look like you need to vent."
She didn't speak, but she nodded. We walked to a park nearby. It was quiet, just the rustle of leaves and the occasional bark of a distant dog. We walked three full circles before she broke the silence.
"He's my ex."
I didn't say anything. I just listened.
"I was twenty. He was twenty-four. We dated for five months. Then one day… he ditched our lunch date."
Her voice broke, and I stopped walking. She didn't.
"He told me he had something urgent. I believed him. I went to the place we were supposed to meet—only to find him… standing on a stage, slipping a ring onto someone else's finger."
She stopped, hugging herself. "I thought… maybe he'd marry me. I was scared for him, you know? That he'd get matched with someone terrible. But later I found out…"
She took a deep breath.
"He said he couldn't support my 'hobby and fetish.' Can you believe that? He insulted me. But worse—he insulted Abyss. Said they were a waste of time."
I blinked. "So… you were more upset he insulted Abyss than left you?"
She turned slowly, her eyes glassy with tears. "No. I was upset about the fact that he ditched me".
"I planned a future. I thought I was enough. Pretty enough. Smart enough. I even earned more than him, Kael. I worked so hard."
I felt something twist inside me.
"You were too much for him. That's why he left. Inferiority complex disguised as maturity."
She laughed through her tears.
We walked back to the car in silence. She sniffled a few times the whole ride home. I wanted to cheer her up so I took a detour. Again.
"You can add that to your list," she said bitterly.
"I'm not keeping a list," I said softly.
"Liar."
I glanced at her. "Would you rather I keep the list… or get you another bubble tea?"
As I pulled into a drive-thru, her brows rose.
"One Taro bubble tea, please," I said to the speaker. "But you got one before", she said surprised. "Yes, but that one is warm, plus we kinda forgot it at the Café", I said
When we reached the payment window, she reached into my wallet, took out my card like it was the most natural thing, and handed it back without a word after paying.
She stabbed the straw into the cup and sipped.
That was when she smiled—small, but real.
"Thought so too." I smiled.
And for the first time, I realised I liked seeing her smile. Not because it made things easier.
But because I wanted to be the reason she didn't cry again.