Dinner was finally over.
Stella felt like her soul had just survived a battlefield. Between her mother's endless praise of Dylan, his dramatic recounting of the gangster incident, and her mother practically calling Dylan "future family," Stella was seconds away from melting into the floor.
So the moment her mother stood up and chirped, "Shall we chat more in the living room?" Stella shot Dylan a subtle look, "Run. Now!"
Thankfully, he understood.
He offered Alicia a polite smile before saying, "I'm so sorry, Ma'am. I still have an online meeting tonight. I should head back."
Bless him. He was quick. Smooth. Efficient.
But Stella was not so lucky.
"Stella, walk Dylan to his car," Alicia said sweetly, already collecting dishes, ignoring her daughter's protest.
"Mom, it's fine—"
"No arguing."
And that was it. Stella had no choice.
If Alicia had any idea Dylan lived in the same building, she would've fainted from joy... or worse, moved the wedding to next Sunday.
