She hesitated as if weighing her words. “Have you ever spoken to your brother about me? Even once?”
My stomach dropped, and that guilt I’d been trying so hard to bury came crawling back.
“I mean…” she continued, her fingers tightening around the cup. “After the last time we spoke?
I forced a quick nod. “Uhm… Yeah. Totally. I did.”
I fucking lied.
And I wasn’t even good at it
Since when did I become such a liar?
June studied me. Her gaze wasn’t just casual curiosity-it was searching, picking apart my words, my body language, and the slight twitch of my fingers on the counter.
Then she spoke again.
“Does he sleep in your room often?”
My heart jumped out of my mouth, and I watched it run out the door.
The breath in my lungs also vanished.
For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
The air in the kitchen suddenly felt too thick.
What was she implying?
Why did I feel like June knew something she shouldn’t?
Selene abovel
My fingers clenched around the counter as I scrambled for answer.
Think, Kasmine. Think.
“No. He doesn’t,” I said too quickly, too forced. “He… uh… shifted, one hand going to my waist, the other gripping the edge of the counter as I searched for the right words. “He does that when he’s angry… Just to have some space.”
June didn’t respond right away.
She just sat there, watching me. Not blinking or reacting. She was just processing
Damn it.
“He gets angry too easily and way too often, I guess.” she finally murmured, tilting her head slightly. “Because I’ve noticed he spends most of his nights in your room.”
Another pause.
“I just…” She inhaled deeply as if steadying herself.
My heart slammed against my ribs, pounding so hard I swore she could hear it.
This is bad.
Too bad.
If she continues this way, she’d find out about our secret affair before we know it.
“Kester is just like that, June,” I said quickly, forcing a small, reassuring smile. “You don’t have to worry about it. He’ll come around.”
She didn’t look convinced.
But she didn’t push further, either.
“Can I borrow your phone?” I asked, eager to change the subject.
Sure.” She handed it over to me.
I needed to text Jake.
By now, he was probably drowning in worry, trying to reach me on a phone that no longer existed
Guilt curled in my stomach. At this point, it had washed me clean-scrubbed me raw… I knew his number by heart.
Fingers shaking slightly, I typed it into the messaging app
“Jake. It’s Kasmine. I’m sorry for not reaching out to you sooner. My brother found our secret phone and destroyed it. But I am fine and will be back in three days. Kisses.”
I hesitated for half a second before hitting send.
“Thanks, June.”
She didn’t say anything. Just nodded, her expression totally unreadable.
The rest of the morning was… strange. Unsettling
Three times, I bumped into June. Three times, she acted off-like she was seeing me for the first time. Her smiles were stiff, her responses slower, her eyes holding something; that sent a ripple of discomfort down my spine.
She wasn’t looking like the sweet June 1 was used to.
Was she actually acting strange?
Or was I overthinking things?
Kester returned to his room early this morning and hasn’t been out since then. I didn’t want to bother him right now. He mentioned handling something work-related. Perhaps that’s what he was doing right now.
My mum kept calling me nonstop. I had to answer it.
I’ve been angry at her. This would be the first time she’s ever tried calling since I arrived in Maldives. I called twice, but she never answered, and neither did she return my calls.
I let it go to voicemail twice before finally rolling my eyes and answering.
I flopped onto the bed, pressing the phone to my ear.
“You finally remembered you have a daughter, huh?” I said making no effort to hide my disinterest.
“Darling!” she gasped dramatically, her voice dripping with warmth. “Don’t say that, baby. Mum has been so busy with pack matters.”
She sounded happier than I wanted her to be right now. Didn’t she feel the slightest ounce of guilt? Jeez… I clenched my jaw, staring at the ceiling. “Why are you calling?” I asked, wishing she’d go straight to the point. I already knew this wasn’t just a ‘checking in’ call. Mom didn’t do those.
And judging by the bubbly lilt in her voice, she was too eager-too damn fake-for this to be anything casual. There was certainly something more.
“Come on, darling,” she chided, brushing right past my coldness like it didn’t exist. “I called to see how you’re doing. Tell me, baby. Are you fine? How’s your vacation going? Made any new friends yet?”
There it was.
That forced, syrupy sweetness.
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