Chapter 40: Romantic night

Alan's POV

Night fell more softly than I expected.

The beach looked different now. It was quieter and calmer, like the world had slowed down just for us.

By the time we reached, something between us had shifted.

We walked side by side. Not touching, but not apart either.

Our shoulders brushed every few steps. Our fingers grazed, accidentally, and repeatedly.

But neither of us moved away.

Soft music drifted from somewhere behind us, blending into the sound of waves.

"Can we sit here for a while?" I asked, hesitantly.

She nodded, a little shy. We settled on the sand away from the water.

Milie sat beside me. Not too close. Not too far. Just enough for me to feel her presence without touching her.

And that distance? It was driving me insane.

For a while, neither of us spoke. Just the sound of waves. Just the silence.

And somehow, it didn't feel awkward. Instead, it felt complete.

While I was watching the waves, a soft laugh escaped from Milie.

She threw her head back, carefree, and lay on the sand.

"What?" I asked, looking back at her.

Her eyes were fixed on the sky.

"I can't believe it." She said with a warm smile.

"Believe what?"

"That we acted this well."

I leaned down slightly, propping myself on one elbow.

"It may be an act for you," I said quietly, "not for me."

Her laughter faded. Her eyes found mine. I didn't look away.

"The words I said—I meant them," I continued. "The sorry… the care… all of it."

"I meant it."

Something changed in her expression. Not discomfort. Not rejection. Something deeper.

Like she was trying to understand what to do with me.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For?"

"For taking you for granted."

I smiled faintly. "You think you did?"

She nodded in sincerity. "Yeah… many times."

"But later, you make it up for it."

A strand of hair fell across her face. Without thinking, I reached out and tucked it behind her ear.

She didn't stop me. She didn't even flinch.

"May I?" I asked. She understood. She always did. She gave a small nod.

I lay down beside her, closer now. Our shoulders brushed, and our fingers rested so close they almost touched.

My heart pounded harder than it should have. I wanted to lace my fingers through hers.

I wanted to pull her closer. But I didn't.

Because I knew, if I pushed even a little too much, she might pull away.

And I may ruin this moment. I didn't want to, not at any cost.

"Have you ever imagined," I said lightly, "having a night like this… with a fake boyfriend?"

She turned her head toward me and let out a small scoff. "Tsk."

"Thanks me then," I smirked. "I'm giving you a pretty solid demo of what a real boyfriend could be like."

"What if I don't want a real boyfriend?" she shot back, playfully.

A small chuckle escaped through me. "Then it works out perfectly for me."

She frowned slightly. "How?"

"You single. Me single." I glanced at her. "We can just continue this."

She laughed, hitting my arm. "You are really impossible."

"You never miss a chance to flirt."

"And you never stop giving me chances."

She laughed even more when she suddenly stiffened, moving closer to me.

"Hey—Crab!"

I looked over her. A crab was crawling near her side. She was panicked.

Before I could react, I instinctively leaned over her to move it away.

She startled and shifted closer, too close.

My arm instinctively wrapped around her, right across her breasts.

"Relax," I murmured. I didn't realize when I had pulled her this close to me.

Or when the space between us disappeared completely.

Her body was pressed against mine, warm and soft.

It felt calm, and for a second, neither of us moved.

We both breathed heavy against each other. Then suddenly it hit us. Both at once.

I let go immediately, and she pulled away awkwardly.

"I'm sorry," I said, stealing a glance at her.

She didn't respond, didn't look at me.

And then—she threw sand on me.

It was a classic Milie move, pushing things off with jokes and fun.

"What the—!" I sat up, stunned.

She was already laughing, running.

"Oh, you're dead now," I muttered, grabbing sand and chasing her.

She ran straight into the water, laughing and splashing at me.

And just like that, the tension broke.

We played like kids. Water fights. Laughter. Chaos. Like, no complications existed between us.

Like we weren't standing on the edge of something dangerous.

By the time we stepped out, both of us were breathless. Thank god. Alive.

I turned my back to her slightly.

Without hesitation, she climbed onto me, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I held her legs instinctively. Steady, and secure in my grip.

"So?" I said, adjusting her weight. "My fake girlfriend… did I make up for it?"

"Hmm…" she hummed near my ear. "You did a good job."

"Just good?"

"Very good. More than my expectations."

Her arms wrapped around my neck. Tighter than before.

Like she didn't want to fall, or maybe—she didn't want to let go.

We walked like that all the way back. Talking nonsense. Laughing at nothing.

And somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling fake.

The moment we entered the house, she started tickling me.

"Mils—stop it—"

"No," she laughed, relentlessly.

"Mils, I might drop you—"

"I trust you… You won't."

She kept going, and I lost it. I dropped her onto the couch and attacked back.

"Now you're done, Miss, Mils."

"No—no—Alan—stop—"

My fingers moved mercilessly over her sides, and she squirmed beneath me, laughter spilling out of her without control.

It filled the room—breathless, unrestrained, beautiful.

And then—"Enough."

The voice cut through everything, sharp, loud, and burning.

We froze.

For a second, neither of us moved—just stared at each other, caught somewhere between laughter and shock.

Then slowly we turned. Daxton stood there.

His eyes locked on us. His jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack.

His chest rose and fell, each breath heavier than the last—like he was holding something inside.

Something that had been building for far too long.

The air in the room shifted.

What was light a moment ago suddenly felt suffocating. Heavy in a way that pressed against the skin.

I looked at him carefully.

It wasn't irritation. It wasn't just anger. It was something deeper. Something breaking.

And I could feel it—When it finally shattered.

The sound of it wouldn't just reach him. It would tear through all of us.