Chapter Twelve

The restaurant was dimly lit, the kind of place that whispered luxury with every flicker of the candles resting in golden holders. Soft jazz floated through the air, curling around the polished edges of wine glasses and gleaming silverware. Laughter and clinks of cutlery echoed gently, not too loud, just enough to make the atmosphere feel alive.

Ralph sat across from Jane at a secluded table near the far end, his posture straight, his jaw locked tighter than it needed to be. The food in front of him remained untouched, a barely grazed plate of grilled salmon with asparagus. He wasn't hungry—at least not for food.

Jane, however, was all smiles. Her long fingers circled the stem of her wine glass as she talked animatedly, her voice lilting with practiced charm. She looked beautiful, no doubt—dark red lips, hair pinned in soft waves, a dress that shimmered subtly when the candlelight touched it. But Ralph's eyes didn't linger the way they used to.

His thoughts drifted, uninvited but persistent, back to the plane, the airport, and the girl who had been haunting him even in silence. Alison. The way her hand brushed her hair back as she leaned by the window. The flash of her tired smile when she told him to take care. The way her eyes had lingered—like she wanted to say something but didn't.

"Ralph," Jane's voice cut through his thoughts.

He blinked and looked up. "Yeah?"

She tilted her head with a small, tight smile. "I was asking how your trip went. You seem a million miles away."

He gave a short nod, forcing his face to relax. "It went fine. Productive."

Jane's eyes narrowed just slightly, her lashes lowering. "I saw the photos online. You and your secretary… Alison, right?"

His grip on the fork faltered for a heartbeat, but he said nothing.

"She's very pretty," Jane added, the smile still on her lips but her tone dipped, honey-laced but laced with something darker. "The picture looked… close."

Ralph raised an eyebrow. "It was a work trip."

Jane leaned forward, her voice softer now. "I'm not blind, Ralph. I know when a man's head is somewhere else. Even now, sitting here, you're thinking about her, aren't you?"

Silence.

He reached for his drink and took a slow sip. "Jane… don't do this."

She looked at him for a long moment, then sighed and sat back, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. "Fine," she murmured. "Let's not fight. I didn't ask you here to argue."

Ralph pushed his plate back slightly and glanced at his watch. "It's getting late."

"Oh," she said, her tone lifting with false brightness. "So soon?"

"I've got an early start tomorrow."

She nodded slowly, rising from her chair as he did the same. The waiter passed by, dropping off the check discreetly. Ralph slid his card without a word. The air between them was stiff but civil, held together by the thin thread of history.

As they stepped out into the soft, breezy night, the scent of jasmine in the air, Jane wrapped her arms around herself and looked up at the sky.

"Do you remember this place?" she asked softly.

Ralph paused. "We've been here before."

"Yeah," she said with a wistful smile. "That anniversary night. You told me you loved me here."

He didn't respond. The memory was there, dusty now, dulled by time and wounds that hadn't healed the way they should have.

Jane stepped in closer, her voice almost a whisper. "Do you ever think about us? About what we had?"

He opened his mouth, maybe to deflect, maybe to tell her not to go there—but then she reached up and her hand brushed his cheek lightly. And before he could react, before he could step back or speak, she leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn't a soft, lingering kiss. It was desperate. Assertive. Possessive.

His hands stayed at his sides. His entire body went still. Jane's lips were soft, practiced, but Ralph didn't move to deepen it. His hands stayed limp by his sides, heart pounding in the wrong direction. He didn't want this. Not her. Not like this. Not anymore.

And just then—soft footsteps sounded down the stone path leading from the restaurant's terrace. Light heels clicked with hesitation, almost reluctant, as if the woman behind them didn't want to be seen or heard.

Alison.

She had stepped outside for only a moment. The walls inside had started to feel too tight, too warm, too full of Derek's voice and his easy lies. She needed air. Just a little silence to sort through the chaos in her chest. After all, it wasn't every day your ex-boyfriend pretended to still be your lover in front of your dying aunt.

Her head throbbed from smiling too long, pretending too much, swallowing too many things she wanted to scream. She thought she'd just stand outside for a breath or two. Just until she could return with a calm face. She has just keep calm to atleast spend only tonight with him, she won't ever see him again.

But as she turned the corner by the edge of the garden wall, her steps slowed, then stopped entirely. A figure that looked so familiar. Ralph? That's his face facing her just a few feet ahead

Ralph and the woman that sweetly called his name in the office the other time. Who's she?? Why are they kissing?.

She did not realised when a tear dropped, she quickly wipe it.

Her breath hitched—not loud, but sharp enough that her own body tensed at the sound. She didn't move. Couldn't. She didn't even realize her fingers had curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her own palms.

That was him. The same man who'd looked into her eyes days ago and touched her like he'd never known anything else. The same man who told her with a voice low and trembling that she wasn't just anyone. The same man whose mouth had traced fire across her skin.

Now that mouth was on someone else.

Her stomach twisted, something between heartbreak and rage curling through her chest. Her throat burned, but no sound came. She didn't want to cry—God, she would not cry—not here, not for him.

Ralph chest tightened with an emotion he couldn't quite name, and in the next second, he pulled back—gently, but firmly.

"Jane…" his voice was quiet, strained.

He didn't get to finish.

Because the moment his eyes lifted, he saw her.

Alison.

She stood frozen a few feet away, backlit by the restaurant's soft lights, her expression unreadable. Almost too calm. Too still. Her eyes didn't blink, didn't waver. Just stared.

Straight at him.

He inhaled sharply, chest hollowing.

"Alison—"

Jane, noticing his shift, glanced over her shoulder and smirked slightly. She stepped closer, deliberately curling her fingers around his hand.

"Is that not your secretary" Jane whispered beneath her breath, sweetly venomous.

He stiffened. "Jane, stop."

But Alison had already turned away.

And just as Ralph took a step toward her, another figure entered the scene—Derek. He slid his arm across Alison's shoulders casually, protectively, like he belonged there. His eyes flicked toward Ralph, amused.

"Ready to go, babe?"

Ralph stopped cold.

Babe?

His fists curled.

She had a man all this time?

Yet she let him kiss her like his life depended on it? She let him touch her, undress her with his eyes and hands. And now she was just going to walk away—with that smug son of a bitch?

The pain twisted in his chest so fast, he didn't realize when the anger took full control.

He took a step forward, voice low but sharp enough to slice through tension.

"So that's it?" he growled. "You've got a man, and you still slept with me?"

Alison froze. Her breath caught.

Even Derek tensed.

Ralph didn't stop.

He stepped closer, the restaurant's lights casting harsh shadows over his face. His voice was deep, harsh, boiling with emotion he couldn't swallow. "You looked me in the eyes and begged me to believe you weren't that kind of girl. That it meant something. And all the while—what?" He laughed coldly. "Was I just a fucking mistake on your cheat sheet?"

Alison blinked, stunned. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her body felt numb.

Derek looked between them, clearly confused now. "Wait... you two—?"

Ralph's gaze turned to him, sharp as a blade. "You didn't know?"

Derek stepped back slightly, instinctively.

Jane touched Ralph's arm. "Ralph, let's just go. She's not worth it."

But Ralph shook her off like fire. His eyes were still locked on Alison.

"Was it all a lie?" he asked again, quieter this time. The rage slipping into something more dangerous. Hurt. Betrayal. Raw emotion.

Alison's chest ached. Her hand slowly slipped out of Derek's grasp. But the damage was done.

She looked up, forced her voice to stay steady. "You were kissing your girlfriend, I guess we both lied."

Then she turned and walked away.

This time, Ralph didn't chase her. He just stood there. Silent and burning.

Alison didn't look back.She kept walking, each step harder than the last, like her heels were sinking into cement. Her hands trembled at her sides, her throat tight with unshed anger. The moment she turned the corner, far from Ralph's burning stare, she yanked her arm from Derek's grip.

"Don't ever touch me again," she snapped.

Derek blinked. "Alison, what the hell was that about—"

She turned on him like a flame unleashed. "Don't you ever call me babe again. Don't ever text me, don't call me, don't even think about me. We're not friends, we're not anything."

"But your aunt—"

"I don't give a fuck," she spat. "I should've known you were still the same lying, manipulative bastard. You came here with some sick game—what, hoping to win me back? Use my aunt to look good?" She shook her head slowly, tears of fury burning in her eyes. "You're pathetic."

She didn't give him a second glance. Just turned around and walked off into the night, her chest caving with every step. Her fingers wiped the tears before they could fall.

She hated herself more than she hated him.

Hated that she felt hurt.

Hated that she still wanted Ralph to chase after her.

But he didn't.

The silence in Ralph's car was suffocating. Jane sat beside him, grinning softly as if nothing had happened, but Ralph didn't even glance her way. His fingers tightened around the wheel until his knuckles turned white. The streetlights blurred through the windshield, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

He dropped her off with no words. No goodbye. Not even a look.

Jane stepped out awkwardly. "Ralph, I—"

The door shut before she could finish.

And Ralph drove off, swallowed by the night.

Inside his penthouse, the darkness didn't comfort him. It taunted him.

He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

How could she?

She had a man.

A fucking boyfriend.

All this time?

The same woman who looked him in the eyes and whispered "Don't let go."

He let out a bitter breath, pacing. His heart wouldn't calm down. His chest ached.

He had been planning to tell her to tell her sincerely he feels hard to ignore her.

And now? He clenched his jaw. His throat burned.

Was she just using me? Was I just another rich bastard to sleep with behind her boyfriend's back?

He stared at the whiskey bottle across the room. He didn't touch it.

Instead, he sat down again.

And for the first time in years—he let himself feel the full weight of betrayal.