I treated myself to a rich, spicy pasta at a cute little bistro all on my own, then caught a late movie before heading back to my parents’ place. My phone stayed dead silent all evening—eerily so. It wasn’t surprising, though. Even if Malcolm doesn’t remember me anymore, I still have to stick to the script. I have to live through the heartbreak, I have to mess up all the sweet little moments between him and Yara.

Before I walked in the door, I smoothed my face into the right expression, forcing it to look as broken-hearted and gloomy as my role calls for.

Stepping into the living room, I found my parents—Olivia and Gustavo—getting ready to call it a night. When they saw I’d come back alone, that curiosity and worry immediately pricked at them.

"Jolie, honey, what’s going on with you tonight?" my mom asked, craning her neck to peek behind me hopefully. When she didn’t spot Malcolm’s familiar frame, she added, "You came home alone? Where on earth is Malcolm?"

My chest heavy, I tossed my purse onto the couch and wrapped my arms around her, letting the frustration spill out. "Mom, don’t even get me started. I was with Malcolm today, and we ran into Yara. He just dumped me right there on the street and took off after her."

"That Malcolm boy, how dare he pull something like that?" Dad frowned deep, his displeasure plain as day.

Mom paused, thinking it over for a minute. "Yara… Is that the woman you mentioned earlier, the one crying all over Malcolm?" she asked, her tone serious.

I nodded, my throat tight with that wronged ache. "Yeah, that’s her."

"Unbelievable," Gustavo slammed his palm down on the coffee table. "You’re engaged. He’s supposed to act like it. How can Malcolm treat you this way?"

I nodded right along with him. "Exactly! He left me, his own fiancée, standing alone on the street just to run off with another woman."

This wasn’t just an insult to me—it was a slap in the face to both our families, who’d arranged this engagement together.

"Mom, Dad," I sniffled, fanning the flames a little more, "you have to stand with me on this."

"Don’t you worry, honey," Olivia soothed me. "I’ll talk to Malcolm’s family first thing tomorrow."

As their only cherished daughter, who’d never been disrespected like this before, of course my parents weren’t going to let Malcolm walk all over me. True to her word, Mom called me the next morning, urging me to head straight over to the Salazar family home.

I was a little caught off guard—I hadn’t expected things to move this fast.

Malcolm had disrespected everyone by dragging another woman home without a single care for my feelings, and my parents had made sure his family knew every last detail.

When I walked into the Salazar living room, Malcolm was already standing there, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

"Malcolm, how could you do something so hurtful to Jolie right in front of her?" Malcolm’s mom snapped, clearly fuming. "Do you even remember what you promised me yesterday?"

He stayed totally calm. "What I promised you doesn’t get in the way of helping a colleague."

That almost sent her over the edge. She tugged hard on his sleeve, reminding him my mom was right there in the room—he could at least pretend to feel bad.

Glancing over at my mom, who wasn’t looking any happier than his own was, Malcolm softened his tone. "Olivia, I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left Jolie alone on the street. It won’t happen again."

Even after his little apology, Mom’s face stayed just as stiff as before.

He’d totally side-stepped any mention of Yara, like bringing her home to the family estate was no big deal at all. In his mind, he was just doing a coworker a favor.

"Malcolm, fix that attitude," his mom ordered, clearly fed up with him.

Her irritation was obvious, and it just kept growing with how dismissive he was being.

"Malcolm!" she finally blew up, furious at his constant indifference when this was such a serious matter.

Malcolm stood there, a faint frown on his face, watching his mom get angrier and angrier.

She couldn’t hold back anymore—she reached for that old wooden spoon she’d used to discipline him since he was a kid, ready to knock some sense into him right then and there.

My mom stepped in just in time, stopping her before she could move, and called me over to them.

When I got there, I saw Malcolm’s mom was already crying, bemoaning how hard it was raising Malcolm, how he always had her worrying over stupid stuff even when it came to something as big as marriage.

Mom sat right beside her, patting her back and calming her down.

Malcolm plopped down on the sofa across from them, his face as cold as ice.

I glanced at that big, solid wooden spoon sitting on the table, and my heart gave a little jump.

[Oh wow, they’re really about to do the whole mom discipline thing?]

[Ha! He deserves this for once. Serves him right.]

Malcolm snapped a sharp look right at me, that gaze cutting straight through me, no going around it.

I looked away quickly and greeted his mom politely.

When she saw me, she waved me over. "Jolie, honey, what do you think we should do to fix this?" She shot Malcolm a withering glare before turning back to me, "Whatever you decide, I’ve got your back one hundred percent."

I sat down between the two moms, hesitating under Malcolm’s unblinking stare, then finally said, "Auntie, Malcolm didn’t really do anything all that wrong. All we need is for Yara to move out of Malcolm’s place, and we can pretend this whole thing never happened."

"You hear that, young man?" his mom scolded. "I will never let that troublemaker set foot on any Salazar property ever again."

I bit my lip, twisting my hands nervously in my lap under my dress.

[Malcolm, don’t back down now.]

[Yara only has you. Don’t leave her hanging now, come on.]

[Just tell your mom you love her, you can’t live without her, and you want to call off our engagement!]

[Go public with you and Yara, so she can come and go from your place whenever she wants!]

There was a faint, amused glint in Malcolm’s otherwise cold eyes as he watched me fidget. He let out a low, deep chuckle.

That chuckle only made his mom even madder—it felt like he was straight up mocking her authority. She was just about to tear into him again when Malcolm cut her off.

"Mom. Let me talk to Jolie alone."

With that, he headed outside first.

My stomach twisted with a mix of anxiety and curiosity, so I followed him out.

In the garden gazebo, Malcolm stood with one hand tucked into his jeans pocket, the other hanging loose at his side. He had a cigarette lit between his fingers, the cherry glowing bright as pale smoke curled up into the cool air.

"Malcolm…" I started, not totally sure why he’d dragged me out here alone.

Malcolm flicked the ash off his cigarette, his dark eyes locked steady on me.

"Jolie. If I told you there’s nothing going on between me and Yara, would you believe me?"

I said nothing.

[I don’t believe it now. But there will be, soon enough. The future’s already written.]

"Malcolm, you brought a woman who clearly has feelings for you back to your family home. Do you really expect me to believe nothing happened between you two?" I answered with a bitter little smile. "At the end of the day, this is my fault. I was too stubborn. I walked away from what we had, and three years overseas… That was just too long."

"Jolie, that’s not what I meant," Malcolm exhaled slowly, sharp menthol fumes curling around him. "I thought after everything we’ve been through, you’d get where I’m coming from."

I didn’t say a word.

[Seriously? Does he actually expect me to buy that? After everything he’s put me through?]

[This guy is unbelievable. Always hiding behind some stupid excuse for his own garbage.]

Malcolm looked thrown off by my silence. Still, I kept my mask steady. "I don’t get it, Malcolm. There’s no excuse for what you did to me." I forced myself to step closer, lacing my fingers through his, and stared deep into his eyes with all the fake sweetness I could muster. "Malcolm, we’re engaged now. Let’s not let anyone come between us, okay?"

On the outside, I kept the act going. On the inside?

[Ugh, I’m this close to puking all over his nice shoes.]

Malcolm was completely confused.

"Jolie," he said, low and grave, "Yara and I aren’t what you think. There’s nothing between us. I chose you to be my fiancée, and I’m sticking to that. You don’t have anything to worry about."

I stared up at his earnest, stupid-handsome face and nodded slow, my jaw tight enough that my muscles ached from not twitching:

[This man deserves a fucking Oscar. That performance awards-level good.]

[Engaged to me and still stringing another woman along. Who even knows how many times he’s cheated behind my back?]

Malcolm sighed deep, his brows furrowing hard.

He stubbed his cigarette out in an ashtray. Smoke twisted up toward the ceiling before it faded into nothing.

"Jolie, I haven’t done a single thing to betray you," he insisted, his face all sincere as he gripped my shoulders. His dark eyes held my reflection clear as day. "Yara and I are strictly professional."

"I believe you, Malcolm," I answered soft, my eyes wide and bright. "It’s just Yara I don’t trust. She’s too clever for her own good."

[Sorry, Yara, for talking trash behind your back. I swear I didn’t mean it… not really anyway.]

[You’re actually the nicest Yara, I totally don’t think you’re a scheming little fox… okay, maybe I do a little.]

[It’s all his fault! This man is impossible!]

Malcolm was speechless.

Ignoring the little voice in his head that screamed my inner thoughts, he breathed a sigh of relief. "…I’m glad you trust me."

"Yes," I said, grinning wide. "Malcolm, you’re my man…"

[Ugh—anyone can have him. I wouldn’t touch this guy for free.]

Malcolm’s face twisted for half a second, but he heard me finish: "I don’t want my man sharing a roof with another woman."

Still reeling from my disgusted inner rant, he blurted out, "So what do you want to do about it?"

"So…" I hesitated, stepping even closer, and let my fingers toy with the knot of his tie. "Either Yara moves out… or I move in with you."

My voice went soft and husky at the end, hanging in the air, and my perfume curled sweet and subtle between us.

[I swear to god, I’m actually gonna gag this time.]

Malcolm snapped out of his daze: "…" Wow. What a hypocritical woman.

Furrowing his brow, he tugged my hand away from his tie and spoke cold. "That’s not possible."

I was caught off guard for a second.

"Like I said, I haven’t betrayed you. You’re overreacting."

With that, he turned and walked out.

Behind his back, I muttered under my breath:

[Of course it’s fine for him to live with another woman, but not his fiancée. What a total jerk. All he’s good for is cheating.]

Malcolm stopped mid-step and turned around.

I fixed my face into a soft, vulnerable little mask, letting hope shine in my eyes:

[What are you looking at? Just leave already, I can’t stand being in the same room as you.]

Malcolm: "…"

He’d initially planned to say something else, but some weird, thick tension hung in the air, pulling him back. He ended up just walking away with that cold, blank look on his face.

In the car, Malcolm leaned back against the leather seat and closed his eyes.

His whole demeanor was frosty, walled off behind that cold aloofness he always carried.

The driver hesitated for a minute, then asked careful, "Mr. Salazar, where to next?"

Malcolm rubbed his temples, never opening his eyes. "The hospital."

He needed to check if something was wrong with him.

Why the hell can he hear Jolie’s thoughts?

A little while later, he held the doctor’s report in his hand, his face dark as a thunderstorm.

The report said everything was perfectly normal.

As for why he could hear Jolie’s inner voice, Malcolm kept it to himself. He didn’t want people thinking he was crazy.

When he got back to the apartment after work, he turned the handle and opened the door. Yara was there, grinning, holding a spatula and wearing an apron. "Malcolm, you’re home! I made something really good for dinner."

He followed her gaze to the dining table, and it was loaded with all his favorite dishes.

He tossed his jacket over the sofa carelessly and said flatly, "We have staff for this. You don’t have to do it yourself."

Yara grabbed the jacket off the sofa and hung it on the rack, answering light, "Taking care of your needs is part of my job as your secretary. Besides, I wanted to make you a special dinner to say thank you for letting me stay here."

She smiled and winked playful.

Malcolm’s lips tugged up in a tiny, almost unnoticeable smile. He lifted his hand like he was going to ruffle her hair, then thought better of it and let it drop.

"I’m gonna go wash my hands."

Yara nodded, watching him walk away, a faint shadow of sadness crossing her face.

He’d clearly wanted to touch her. Why did he stop all of a sudden?

When Malcolm came back to the table, Yara was back to her bright, cheerful self. She quickly ladled a bowl of warm soup for him. "Malcolm, I spent all afternoon making this, you have to try it."

"Alright."

Malcolm lowered his head, just about to take a sip, when someone knocked on the front door.

The housekeeper hurried to open it, and I walked in, dragging a big suitcase behind me.

I noticed all their faces drop, but I didn’t feel even a little embarrassed. I just smiled warm and bright: "Hi, everyone!"

[I, Jolie, am back to claim what’s mine!]

Malcolm almost burst out laughing, but he choked it back at the last second.

He frowned, pulling on that stern, serious face he does. "Why are you here?"

I pouted and sauntered over to the table, dropping hard into a chair. "Duh, I came to spend time with my fiancé."

I snuck a glance at Yara, who looked like she wanted to disappear into the floorboards, and let my voice drip with provocation. "I guess I was a little too late. Who knows if someone already tried to steal him away from me?"

The meaning couldn’t have been clearer. Yara shifted uncomfortable, biting her lip so hard it went pale, and stared at her lap.

"Didn’t I tell you not to come here?"