FOUR

The clock showed 10 p.m., and Vee'spresso was closed, but the kitchen was still alive. Warm lights glowed against silver countertops, and the faint scent of vanilla, orange zest, and caramel lingered in the air like a soft echo of the day.

Veronica stood behind the counter, carefully adjusting the final tray of panna cotta. Each one was glazed to a perfect sheen, topped with tiny edible petals and translucent slivers of candied citrus. The light caught the domes like glass over snow. It was beautiful — too delicate to last.

Across from her, Julian leaned casually on the edge of the counter. His sleeves were rolled up, jacket long since tossed on a chair. He looked less like a hotel CEO and more like someone who'd been here forever. Familiar. Comfortable.

"You really did all this in one day?" he asked, watching her position the last dessert with the kind of precision most people reserved for surgery.

Veronica didn't look up. "The little hamster came over to help before her shift," she chuckled. "Also, adrenaline. And caffeine. So much caffeine."

"How nice of Hana to help," Julian murmured, eyes flicking to the display. He gave a quiet, amused smile. "It's gorgeous. Almost too perfect to eat."

Veronica smirked, brushing a curl from her cheek with the back of her wrist. "Don't say that to the guests. I already have to fight the 'pretentious baker' stereotype."

Julian tilted his head, eyes never leaving her. "They'll think you're an artist."

She paused for just a second, long enough for the compliment to land, then murmured a soft, "Thanks," and moved on like it didn't mean more than it did.

And they naturally shifted into work mode again. Julian outlined his vision for the hotel anniversary: where the desserts would be served, how to balance the cocktail pairings, even the music flow through the dining terrace. Veronica followed his rhythm with practiced ease, offering suggestions, correcting things without hesitation.

"The tarts won't hold if they sit too long," she said, frowning slightly. "They need to be fresh-plated, not pre-set."

"You think of everything," Julian said. Not flattery, just fact.

Veronica shrugged. "I just don't want my work to ruin someone else's night." There was a short silence.

Julian wasn't looking at the panna cotta anymore. His eyes were on her — the way her fingers moved, the quiet focus she carried like second nature, the way she cared in ways she didn't announce. And then, before Julian could stop himself, he said: "Would you want to go on a date this weekend?"

Veronica's hand froze midair. The tongs hovered above a linen-lined tray, and her gaze lifted, slow and unreadable. "…Is that a trick question?"

Julian's grin crept up like it surprised even him. It did. "Nope," he said, keeping it light. "Just asking plainly this time."

Veronica studied him. There wasn't tension in her body — just caution. She remembered the rooftop. The quiet way he confessed under city lights two weeks ago. The softness in his voice. The way she had to say no, even if a part of her wanted to say yes.

"You're not trying to get me to fall for you again with rooftop lights and late-night confessions, are you?" she asked lightly, eyebrow raised.

"Not unless it works," Julian said, smile easy, shoulders relaxed. "Hope it does, though." He shrugged. 

She laughed under her breath, but shook her head gently.

"I can't," she said. "Not right now." Julian didn't flinch. He just tilted his head slightly, waiting.

"You have your hotel's tenth anniversary in two weeks," she continued. "And I have a whole list of prep work to finish by next Friday. If I say yes now, I'll be half-present the whole date, thinking about lemon curds and plating patterns. And that's not a date. That's stress with wine."

Julian chuckled. Slightly disappointed, but he expected that much. "Fair point."

"But," she added, and the word came with the soft rise of something more, igniting a slight hope in Julian. "ask me again. After the anniversary. When all of this is behind us."

Julian smiled then, not surprised, not disappointed, just… happy. "I will," he said, a little too excited. "I absolutely will."

"Good," she said, and finally set down the tongs.

Julian placed a hand over his chest in mock solemnity. "No sequins. No heels. No rooftop ballrooms."

"Just dessert," Veronica said with a crooked smile. "And maybe bad coffee.

He grinned. "I can live with that." Veronica didn't say anything else, just smoothed the napkin beneath the tray and let herself smile, barely, under the golden hum of the kitchen lights. While Julian was all excited the whole night, all giggly, all smiley, as they continue their discussion - as if the whole world was in his side. 

*** *

The city outside buzzed quietly in the dark, lights blinking like fireflies in the distance. The cold breeze from the air conditioner brushed through Hana's skin as she rested her elbow against one of the table, supporting her chin with her palm, as she stares at the now less busy outside road. Hana watches as Veronica finishes whatever she was doing left at the counter before she made her way towards Hana, carrying two cups of coffee - which she knows Hana needs for her whole night job. 

"Espresso specially brewed for my beloved best friend." Veronica said, putting down the mug and took the seat across Hana on the table. Hana smiled and immediately took a sip, nodding her head towards Veronica as a sign of saying thank you. Veronica just smiled as she watches Hana took another sip.

"What time will you be clocking out tomorrow?" She asked.

Hana shrugged. Veronica knew her working shifts schedule, but still ask her every time. But Hana didn't say anything, too used to Veronica acting like her parent. So she settles with the most obvious answer; "Around 5am? 5.30 if I have to clean up..."

"You're driving?" She asked, Hana shook her head. "Thris will be there tonight, I need him to sign some documents. I'm waiting for him to pick me up and we'll leave together. You know he won't go home right after finishing his work." Hana added, patting Veronica's hand that was placed on the table.

"So you don't have to worry. I've got Zee to protect me, and Jace always do his job properly, not to mention Thrist hired fifteen bodyguards all over the club. Nothing will happen." She assured. Letting out a sigh, Veronica just nodded as she picks up her own coffee. There was no words exchanged again, as they let the comfortable silence engulfed them. The sound of the air conditioner felt too loud for some reason.

Hana stares at her friend. Veronica didn't say anything, but Hana noticed it. The way she steal a glance at Hana, the way she opened her mouth before deciding not to, and the way she was fidgeting with the handle of her coffee mug. 

Letting our a huff, Hana put aside her coffee and leaned her body against the table and look straight at Veronica. "What is it? Out with it before I go to work. You have ten minutes before Thristan arrives." She said, almost a command. 

Veronica took a deep breath. "Julian asked me out," she said finally.

Hana, sitting beside her, blinked slowly. "Again?"

"Kind of," Veronica muttered. "It wasn't a full-blown confession, it's just like last time." Yes, she told Hana about the previous confession. "Just a simple 'would you want to go on a date this weekend' sort of thing."

Hana didn't say anything immediately. She twirled the spoon inside her mug, eyes focused again to the road outside. "So?" she finally asked.

Veronica sighed. "I said no. But not... permanently. Just — " Pause. "not now. I told him to ask again after the anniversary project is over."

"Ah." Hana nodded, letting go of the spoon and leaned back against the chair. "Smart. Less stress. More dessert."

Veronica laughed, then fell silent again. Her fingers tapped against her mug as she stared into it like it held answers. That did not come unnoticed by Hana. "And you're sighing because?" So she asked, as direct as always — typical Hana.

"I don't know, Hana," Veronica said softly, shaking her head. "He's kind. Patient. He listens. And he makes me feel like I can just be… me." Another sigh. "But what if it's too soon? What if I still haven't fully let go of everything with Daniel? What if I—"

Veronica raises her head and paused at the way Hana looked at her, calm but unreadable. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something in her shoulders — tight, tense. Like her body was holding back a truth she wouldn't speak aloud. Veronica tilted her head. "You're doing that thing again."

"What thing?" Hana blinked innocently.

"That silent 'I will murder him if he breaks your heart' thing with your eyes." Veronica smiled. Veronica has always been the one acting like an older sister figure to Hana, so she forgot that Hana can actually be really protective if she wants to. She never says anything, but it always shows, either through her actions or expressions. It wasn't loud, but not quiet either.

Hana didn't deny it, instead looked away. She just sipped her coffee, then lowered the mug to her lap. "You've been through a lot," she said quietly. "He better know that."

"He does." Veronica assured, and Hana's gaze softened — but the steel in it never fully left.

"I think it's okay if you want to try," she added. "Really. It's been, what, almost a year since Daniel?" Veronica nodded.

"Then maybe," Hana added, "it's about time." Veronica turned the words over in her head.

About time. Not a command. Not a push. Just an opening — wide enough for her to step through if she wanted.

"I don't know if I'm ready to fall again," Veronica said.

"You don't have to fall," Hana said. "You just have to try." Hana smiled.

Veronica shook her head again. "He looks at me like he's not afraid I'll break. Like he's already factored in all the ways I might."

Hana leaned on her elbows, voice softer now. "And is that the part that scares you?" Veronica didn't answer. Just stared down at the cup.

"You don't have to say yes right away," Hana added. "Take your time, I'm sure he can wait." A short pause, watching Veronica's reaction through her silence. Hana knows, but she doesn't say it. "But don't keep pretending you don't want to."

Veronica smirked faintly. "You're enjoying this too much."

"Oh, you have no idea how fun this is." Hana chuckled, trying to ease the tension, and it worked. 

Veronica snorted. "Fair."

They sat in silence for a short minute. The coffee machine hissed. The air conditioning making the temperature colder. The silence settled in something gentle. Safe. Then, Hana added, without looking up: "You deserve someone who shows up, and he's been showing up. So maybe it's time you stopped hiding." 

And just like that, the wall Veronica had spent months building around her heart — logical, reinforced, airtight cracked, even. She didn't say anything. After a moment, Veronica exhaled. Her voice came out quieter than she meant it to. "I think I want to."

And Hana smiled. Not the wide, flashy kind. But a soft, understanding one — the kind that said: Then I'll be here. No matter what.

"That's good then." Hana huffed, standing up to pick her bag. "It's about time you stop fearing relationships because of that cheating douchebag." 

Veronica chuckled. "You'll never gonna let that go, don't you?" 

"Never in this lifetime." Hana said, rolling her eyes and picked up her mug to finish the coffee before putting it back down the table. "I'm leaving, Thris' here. Thanks for the coffee." She said and made her way towards the door while waving. 

Veronica chuckled when Hana stopped Thristan from coming inside the café to greet Veronica and pulled him towards his car. They starts bickering as they made their way to the car, Hana pulling Thristan who is twice her size. Giving up, Thristan just waved his hands to Veronica, which she waved back and laugh again when Hana smacked Thristan's back. Annoyed, Thristan starts kneading Hana's cheeks and laughing before bending over in pain after getting a punch on his stomach. 

The café was quiet again after Hana left, so Veronica decided that it's time to close up and go home. It was a long day of worries, but thanks to Hana, Veronica could let her worry go, even if it's just a little. 

*** *

The grand ballroom of The Callister Hotel shimmered under warm lights and crystal chandeliers, its marble floors polished to a mirrored sheen. Laughter echoed between velvet-draped columns, and the scent of aged wine and citrus-glazed canapés mingled with the hush of expensive perfume. Live jazz echoing through the whole room.

Veronica adjusted the fall of her champagne-gold dress with one hand while eyeing the dessert table for the fifth time in ten minutes. It looked perfect. The almond tarts were stacked like tiny towers, and her signature vanilla-honey panna cotta gleamed under the lights like dew-kissed porcelain. They spent a long time preparing for those desserts so Veronica wanted for everything to be perfect. 

Beside her, Hana tugged slightly at her pale sage gown, her shoulders drawn in and her brows knit together. She adjusted to bodice of her gown that clung too elegantly for her liking, her heels clicked uncomfortably as she shifted. With obvious frown, Hana muttered; "Tell me again why I'm here," 

"I thought I'm here as a bartender." She grumbled. 

Veronica sighed. "Hana—" Before she could finish, Julian, impossibly put together in his dark tailored suit, stepped toward them with two glasses of white wine and a look far too pleased.

"If I wanted a bartender," he said, voice smooth as always, "I wouldn't have asked Vee to make you look so damn pretty." He said, scanning Hana's whole look that is the exact opposite of her usual appearance that consist of oversized sweater or hoodie with shorts or cargo pants. He then nodded, acting as if he just seen his daughter dress up for prom night.

Hana rolled her eyes. "I'm leaving." She said, turning towards the nearest exit.

"No, you're not," Veronica said quickly, slipping an arm around her. "Come on, you survived worse. Stay for two hours and you'll have a week supply of your favourite cake."

Hana halted on her track and glanced at Veronica, obviously interested. But her desire to go home was bigger, so she looked away. Still trying to leave. But before she could turn on her heel, Thristan arrived, effortlessly looping his arm with hers. "Trapped," he said with a smirk. "Try running now."

"I swear to God," Hana muttered, letting out a defeated sigh. 

*** *

The night moved quickly. Veronica found herself by Julian's side more than once, not because of obligation, but because of ease. He carried himself like someone who had nothing to prove but everything to offer. Through it all, he stayed close without crowding. Every time she thought of slipping away to get air, he was already offering her a quiet moment. At times, he would ask her if she's okay or needed something. He was always ready to do anything for Veronica. 

It was during one of those moments, just past the main event, when dessert stations buzzed and music lulled into background hum that she noticed it. Julian didn't just remember the flavors she liked. He remembered how she never liked being thanked in public, how she preferred to let her work speak quietly. So instead of announcing her contribution, he simply led her to the dessert table where his guests were already raving about the panna cotta, never once mentioning it was hers. He never once mentioned her as "the desserts chef" or "my collaborator". Just Veronica Carlisle.

That unspoken respect settled into something warmer in Veronica's chest. She turned to him and asked softly, "You really planned all this to make me look good?"

Julian just gave a half-smile. "No. I planned it because I wanted it to be perfect. You just happened to be part of that."

Something in her shifted then. Not loud. But unmistakable. 

That was the moment she realized; That Julian wasn't chasing her, but he was waiting.

And it wasn't dramatic, nor was it fireworks.

But something settled. And she knew, suddenly, that when this night ended — she wouldn't be scared anymore. 

*** *

After an hour and a half of staying around, the event has been going smoothly without any flaws. Thristan and Veronica were pulled away by the hotel staff for final remarks and photos — since it was a collaboration with Thristan's family restaurant and Veronica's café. Hana stayed behind, silently watching over her friends at the corner while waiting for the two hours promised before she make her way out of this out of her world ballroom.

Hana was always proud of her friends' success, but sometimes, sometimes, she can't help but feels insecure being around them. She was once like them, a girl with so much potential, one that's success was just within reach.

But God has different plan, probably. 

Standing quietly while watching her friends, Hana absentmindedly stared at the glass of whiskey on her hand — she hasn't tasted alcohol in a while. And soon, she found herself standing between Thristan's parents, whom she hadn't seen in years.

Vivienne Everard, graceful as ever, pulled her in gently for a hug. "You've grown so much, Hana. I almost cried seeing you walk in. Elise would have loved this." She said with a smile, rubbing Hana's cheek with her thumb, before distancing herself to look at Hana's beautiful gown. 

The mention of her mother was like an old scar reopened. Hana's mother, a former coach, also her idol, had died in a car crash during Hana's final year of high school. Her father had never been quite the same since—grieving, then slowly transforming into a man too protective, too controlling for Hana to bear. And Hana, unable to bear everything, decided to go to college—though she never even went in the end. 

With the pretense of going to college, Hana couldn't go back home, and Veronica has gone to college by then, so Hana had nowhere to go. One moment she was a high school senior planning for a coach scholarship, to losing said scholarship due to an accident no one knows except herself. With nowhere else to go, no one else to tell, Hana did what she had to survive. Working multiple part time jobs a young adult could afford, trying her best to survive while at the same time running away from her controlling father — and avoiding her friends. Disappeared for three months, to faking her life for two months to her friends before they eventually found out what she had been doing without them. And five years after her mother's passing, Hana's father remarried someone else, and soon after, Hana completely erased herself from her father's new life. That was when Hana ended up becoming the number one most popular stripper at a nightclub next town. But she never thought that decision would follow her so long.

"Auntie Vivienne..." Hana said, pulling away from the older woman who was once her mother's best friend.

"I'm so glad to finally see you again after so many years..." She said. Hana just smiled, turning to the older man behind standing behind Vivienne.

"Uncle Rowan..." She greeted.

Rowan Everard. 

Before Hana could say more, he spoke, with cooler, precise voice. "You've grown," he said, eyes scanning her. "Surprising, really. Though I didn't expect to see you here."

Vivienne gave him a look, but he ignored it. 

"Neither do I." Hana chuckled, her tongue not being able to form any words. Nervousness eating her alive.

"It's unfortunate," Rowan said, sipping his wine, "how some talents get wasted when life takes a wrong turn. You had such potential once, Hana." 

"Wasted potential is a terrible thing." He added, taking another sip of his wine.

The words weren't cruel on the surface, but they landed like stones. Hana said nothing. She didn't have to, not when his eyes carried the weight of everything he didn't say. So she just smiled a little, taking a breath slowly, and let it pass over her like smoke. 

And as if that wasn't enough, Rowan added again; "I suppose we can only hope our children keep better company, now that they're older," he added absently, as if speaking into his glass.

Hana's shoulders stiffened. Her nails pressed into the clutch she held, but her voice stayed even. Looking at the clock that was hanging on the wall, Hana glanced at the entrance. Vee wouldn't mind if I leave fifteen minutes early, right? 

"Excuse me," she said softly. "I need to—" But before she could slip away, another presence stepped in. Not loud, not confrontational. Just... calm.

It was Julian. He'd been across the room. But he saw everything. The way Hana's eyes dropped, her shoulders barely stiffened. It was a different kind of tension from the woman who once told a drunk patron at Vee'spresso she'd break his kneecaps with a muddler. And more importantly, he saw her.

Julian didn't interrupt, didn't draw attention.

Instead, he simply stepped to Hana's side, offered her a drink she hadn't asked for, and said in his smooth, effortless tone: "Sorry to steal her, Auntie Vivienne and Uncle Rowan. But I need Hana's expert eye on the champagne tray. Seems we're falling short on class without her." 

There was no rebuttal to that. The Everard patriarch gave a shallow nod, but Julian was already walking away, gently steering a confused Hana with him. Julian steered Hana out of the ballroom, and Hana frowned the moment they arrived outside of the hotel, to the reception. 

"I thought you needed help?" And so she asked. 

Julian chuckled. "You're a guest, Hana. I wouldn't asked you no matter how good you are. I still have my manners." He said, taking the untouched wine from Hana's hold before handing her a key. 

Hana looked at the key and frowned, looking up to the unnecessarily tall man with confused expression. Julian just shrugged. "Two hours' up, I know you wanted to leave." He said. "You didn't drink, didn't you? I wouldn't want Vee to kill me if anything happens to you. I haven't even properly confessed to her."

Hana rolled her eyes, but a small chuckled left her mouth — and that was enough for Julian to know that she felt a little better. Taking the key, Hana stood beside Julian as they made their way outside to the parking area. 

"It's exhausting, isn't it?" Julian said once they reached where his car was parked. "Being the strongest one in the room."

Hana exhaled slowly, and shrugged. "Better than being the weakest."

And Julian didn't disagree. He simply nodded, agreeing. 

"Thanks." Hana said, standing beside Julian's car. "For the car," pause "and for earlier." 

Julian nodded, and with a smug smile said; "Instead teach me how to get Vee to like me a little more." 

Hana rolled her eyes and waved as she get inside the car. "You're already doing great, you bastard." Starting the engine, she rolled down the window which made Julian to leaned closer to her. "Take care of Vee for me, she's been through a lot. Don't break her heart..." 

Julian smiled and nodded his head, reaching out to ruffle Hana's hair earning himself a glare from the younger. "Promise. Take care, and drive carefully."

Julian watched as Hana slowly drove off to the distance before the area became engulfed in silence. And in that silence, Julian finally see Hana for who she is. Not the witty, guarded girl who snapped comebacks at Thristan. But the one who had survived being broken, and still showed up. Unexpected, but he understood. And earlier, he was watching her quietly gather herself without any audience. Julian finally understood.

Hana wasn't just fierce. She was fractured, too. And she wore that fracture with dignity no one gave her credit for.

That was also when Julian understood something else; about why Veronica always kept Hana close.

Why she guarded her like she was still that seventeen-year-old girl trying not to fall apart in a world that refused to let her breathe. 

He finally understand Veronica a little.