"No. This conversation is not over," Tania snapped, her voice cutting through the thick, humid air. "Seriously, Lyan? Don't insult my intelligence. You owe me honesty—at least that much. Who is she to you?"
Lyan stared at her, his posture tense, jaw flexing once before he caught himself. For a moment, it looked like he might erupt—like the words were fighting their way up his throat, hot and unfiltered.
Instead, he breathed in slowly through his nose, anchoring himself.
"Tania," he said, calm but resolute, "my choices aren't about anyone else. They're about what I want—and what I don't. I've made that clear."
She gave a short, bitter laugh and looked away, scanning the sky as if it might offer her answers. The clouds had gathered thick and low, rolling over the horizon like smoke. The air smelled like wet earth waiting.
"Oh, have you?" she said, turning back to him with fire in her eyes. "Because if this is really about what you want, then I'm not going anywhere. It's about to rain—and I hope it pours. Let's see how my father reacts when he finds out you left me out here in the storm like some stray dog."
Lyan looked up. Thunder murmured low in the distance, a warning growl from the dark sky above.
He ran a hand down his face, slower than he meant to, trying to will his irritation into something he could manage. "Tania," he said, voice tight with restraint, "don't do this. This—whatever this is—it's not the way. You weren't invited, and I won't let you show up unannounced and force your way in."
She stepped forward, close enough for the tension to bristle between them. Her tone dropped, edged in threat. "You think I'm bluffing? You know I'm not. Let me in, or I'll call my father and give him every messy detail you've been trying to avoid. Word for word."
He took a breath. "Fine. I'll let you in—but only if you agree to one thing."
Tania arched a brow, folding her arms to match his. "A condition?" she said, her voice dripping skepticism. "Since when do you get to negotiate with me?"
His voice didn't rise. It didn't need to. It was low, even, and carried more weight than a shout ever could.
"You don't talk to the woman inside in a disrespectful manner." he said. "Not a word out of line. She's here as my guest, and I won't tolerate you being... whatever this is."
Tania blinked, caught off guard by the firmness in his tone. "Wait—rules? For her?" Her words were sharp.
"She's under my roof. That's all you need to know. You treat her with respect, or you can stay out here."
For a moment, she didn't move. The first few drops of rain splattered against the stone steps. She looked between him and the front door, then finally muttered, "Fine."
Lyan stepped aside. "Then come in. But I meant what I said."
She walked past him without another glance, her heels clicking sharply on the polished floor, every step measured like punctuation. Her eyes moved quickly, soaking in the refined interior until they landed on the woman at the dining table.
Angela sat at the dining table, back straight, fingers resting lightly on a glass of water. She looked up as Tania entered—not startled, not concerned. Just... observant. Her expression was unreadable, not frozen but restrained, like someone who'd long learned the power of silence.
Tania's lips curved into something between a smile and a sneer. "Hi. I'm Tania—Lyan's fiancée," she said with slow, saccharine precision. "I assume you have a reason for being here?"
Angela set her glass down gently, her movements unhurried. She held Tania's gaze for a moment longer than necessary before speaking.
"Fiancée?" she said, the word light on her tongue, almost amused. "That's interesting. He hadn't mentioned that." She offered a polite, unreadable smile. "But don't worry—I'm not here to threaten anyone's title."
The words landed like a whisper dipped in steel.
Tania's gaze shot toward Lyan, whose face gave nothing away. Her shoulders stiffened as she turned back to Angela. "Well, now that you know who I am, I hope you don't mind if I ask what exactly you're doing here."
"Well, about that, I guess I have no say! For what I know, I am Mr Lyan's friend!" she said, looking into Lyan's eyes, who was already pulling out the chair, "as for why I am here, Mr Lyan can answer that question."
Tania's gaze flicked back to Lyan, her suspicion thickening. She opened her mouth to speak, but Lyan's sharp glance silenced her. He slowly sat down at the table, his posture tense yet controlled. His eyes locked with Angela's.
Angela's eyes drifted to Lyan.
Lyan spoke instead, his tone even but resolute as he sat down. "She's my friend," he said, calmly. "That's all you need to know. And why she's here? That's between me and her."
Tania raised her eyebrows, letting out a small laugh. "Friend?" she repeated. "You sound awfully protective for just a friend."
Tania's mouth twitched. "Friend?" she echoed, her tone skeptical. "You sound awfully protective for just a friend."
He looked up at her now—finally. His gaze was cold, not cruel, but colder than she remembered. "Are we going to eat, or are you planning to interrogate everyone at the table?"
Angela reached for her fork, unfazed. "I'm happy to eat in peace," she said simply, her tone light but clear, offering no apology, no explanation.
Just then, Mrs. Jones entered quietly, placing a plate in front of Tania. The older woman gave a polite nod—nothing more.
Tania muttered a clipped "Thank you," but the tightness in her smile didn't go unnoticed.
Silence followed. The kind that didn't settle, but hovered like something waiting to snap. The only sounds were the gentle clink of cutlery and the soft patter of rain against the windows.
Lyan took a slow breath and let it out through his nose. Across the table, Angela calmly cut into her food, as if nothing about the atmosphere bothered her. She hadn't risen to Tania's bait. She didn't need to.
Lyan studied her for a second too long.
"Why does she look so calm?"She had every right to be defensive, to fire back—but she didn't. That kind of control… it wasn't just maturity. It was lived-in restraint. Strength.
He remembered what she'd told him the day before—about her uncle. The way she'd said it so plainly, like someone who'd stopped expecting fairness a long time ago and learned to live above it instead.
He blinked, realizing he was still watching her.
Angela glanced up and caught his eye. She gave him a faint, knowing smile.
"You're not eating," she said softly, her voice a quiet interruption.
He looked down at his plate, half-touched. "I will," he replied. "Just... distracted."
"By me?" she asked, arching an eyebrow, not teasing, just honest.
He almost smiled. "Maybe."
Tania cleared her throat, a bit louder than necessary. "Is this what dinner's like now?" she said flatly. "Everyone staring at each other and pretending it's not weird?"
Angela didn't flinch. "Only if you keep talking," she said, still calm, still not looking at her.
Tania's fork clinked against her plate as she set it down. "Wow. You really think you're above all this, don't you?"
Angela finally looked at her. "No. I just think some things don't deserve my energy."
That landed hard.
Lyan shifted in his seat, catching Tania's glare before it turned sharp.
"I think we could all use some peace," he said, not apologizing to anyone—just drawing a line.
Tania picked up her water and took a long sip, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere above Angela's head.
"What the hell is going on here?" she thought.Angela didn't need to raise her voice. She didn't even try to win. And somehow, that made her impossible to ignore.