Chapter 136 Spat!!!
June
I push the door open, and the familiar scent of the house hits me—but it doesn’t feel like home right now. My mind is a storm, each thought so loud I can't take it anymore.
Why did he have to ruin it like that?
Why confess—only to tell me to quit?
It should’ve been perfect. It could’ve been perfect.
But now all I can think about is the way he said it—calm, almost pleading. As if loving me was a mistake he needed to fix.
My chest twists painfully.
The internship is the only thing I’ve worked so hard for. The one thing I thought I had going right. Why would he ask me to throw it away?
I didn’t even get to ask him what he meant before Natalya walked in. And the way she looked at us—like she doesn't know a thing.
Oh, God. Maybe she does know, and that’s why Hermes said what he said. Maybe me mentioning his name in the cafeteria put everything at risk.
My hand flies to my chest, pressing against the ache growing there.
Is that his solution? To keep rumors from spreading?
For me to disappear quietly?
I worked so hard to get this internship. I can’t just… walk away.
"Stupid," I mutter, slapping my temple lightly. "So damn stupid."
Why did I have to fall for him? Why did I have to get involved at all?
Now I’m stuck between two losses—my career and the man I…
I shouldn’t even say it.
I love him, and he loves me. He said it.
But somehow, it still feels like I’m the only one being punished for it.
No. I can’t quit. I can’t lose both.
There has to be a way to fix this. There has to be.
The sound of the door creaking open behind me makes me flinch. My pulse jumps.
"Hey, it’s just me," a familiar voice says.
Leila.
I exhale shakily, trying to steady my racing heart. My lips part, but no words come out. I don’t even realize I haven’t moved from the doorway until she tilts her head at me.
"Oh, Leila, you just got… urm, back." My voice sounds off, detached. "I’ve to go."
I bend down to grab my bag from the floor, my movements stiff and mechanical. I can’t stay here. Not when my brain feels like it’s spinning.
"Wait—" Leila’s voice stops me, sharp but gentle.
"I’m really tired, Leila," I say quickly, forcing a weak smile as I grip the strap of my bag. "We can talk later, okay?"
I start to move, hoping to slip away before she notices the storm in my eyes, but her voice stops me cold.
"Urm– June, are you dating Tobias?"
I freeze mid-step, my hand still on the doorknob. Slowly, I turn to face her.
"What?" My voice comes out quiet, "How do you even—"
Leila crosses her arms, stepping closer, her expression unreadable. " Well, are you?"
My mind spins. How does she even know that? Did someone tell her? Did Tobias say something?
God, not now. Not when I already feel like my whole world’s falling apart.
I let out a deep sigh, pressing my fingers to my temple. "Yes," I lie, the word tasting bitter. "We’re kind of… doing that. Just getting to know each other."
Leila raises a brow, studying me for a second too long, as if she can see right through the cracks.
I look away, clutching my bag tighter. I don’t even know why I said it. Maybe because it’s easier than explaining everything—easier than talking about Hermes, or the tears still drying on my cheeks.
My head’s already a mess of too many things.
I don’t need one more problem.
"When did you two start dating?" Leila’s voice breaks through the air again, sharp and curious.
I sigh—loudly this time—because honestly, I can’t deal with this right now. Not after everything that just happened. My brain feels like a blender of chaos.
"I’m really sleepy, Leila," I mutter, forcing a weak smile as I touch her shoulder, avoiding her eyes. "You’re tired too, right? Let’s talk about this later, please."
Before she can open her mouth again, I slip past her and walk straight to my room. I can feel her confused stare burning the back of my neck, but I don’t care. I don’t stop until I’m inside, door shut, and my chest finally lets out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
I drop my bag to the floor and collapse on the bed, face buried in the sheets. My mind is spinning, replaying Hermes’s voice, his words, his eyes—everything.
"Quit your internship, June."
God, why would he say that?
I roll over and grab my phone, staring at the screen like it might have the answers. My thumb hovers over his name.
I already know what this is about. I already know he’s trying to protect me… or maybe protect himself. But I need to hear it from him.
My chest feels tight as I press call.
The line keeps ringing. Once. Twice. Three times.
No answer.
I try again, gripping the device tighter this time, praying he’ll pick up, that I’ll hear his voice—even if it’s cold, even if it’s just for a second, but nothing.
The silence on the other end feels louder than any word he could’ve said.
Frustration bubbles up in my chest, and before I know it, I throw the phone onto the bed.
A shaky breath leaves me, followed by a tear that slips down the side of my face.
"Why’s he not picking…" I whisper, pressing my palm against my chest as if that could calm the ache inside.
My mind drifts back to that moment—when Natalya walked in, and complimented the wedding dress, and Hermes just… dragged her out without a word.
Was he protecting me?
Or was he just trying to keep me hidden?
Is that why he wants me to quit—to erase the proof that we ever existed together?
I bite my lower lip hard, fighting back another tear. If that’s true, then why did he say he loves me? Why say it if it changes nothing?
My chest tightens again. Everything feels so heavy—his words, his silence, my own heart.
And then another thought hits me, quiet but sharp:
If Natalya does know… what would she do to me?
The question lingers, dark and terrifying, as my eyes grow heavy.
I curl up on the bed, hugging myself, the sound of my uneven breathing filling the quiet room, and somewhere between thinking of Hermes’s voice and the warm look in Natalya’s eyes, I drift off to sleep.
The next morning comes too fast.
My eyes feel heavy, but there’s no time to think because there’s a department meeting, and I’m supposed to be serving coffee.
So I keep my head down and my mind blank, and pretend everything is fine.
The conference room feels cold, filled with the quiet hum of conversation as the heads of departments take their seats. Natalya sits near the center, legs crossed, confident, polished. Hermes sits at the end of the table, unreadable as always, but his face looks sharper today, like he hasn’t slept either.
I walk in with the tray, careful not to spill a drop. My pulse races so fast I can hear it in my ears.
Just do your job, June. Don’t look at him. Don’t look.
When I reach Hermes’s side, I can feel his gaze before I even lift my eyes. My fingers tremble as I set down the cup.
"Your coffee… Mr. Grande," I whisper.
Then our hands brush, just barely, but that tiny touch is enough to send shivers crawling up my skin.
He doesn’t move or blink, but I can feel his eyes still on me as I straighten and quickly step away, swallowing the lump in my throat.
Then I move to Natalya, carefully placing her milkshake beside her.
"Thank you," she says smoothly, smiling as she lifts it to her lips and takes a slow sip.
For a second, I let myself breathe again. Watching her, I start to wonder—maybe I’ve been overthinking it. Maybe Hermes didn't tell me to quit because of her. Maybe she doesn’t actually know.
She looks so calm, so unbothered.
If she did know about us, wouldn’t she—
A sudden sound cuts through my thoughts.
Spat!
Cold liquid splashes across my gown.
I freeze. Slowly, my gaze drops—and my heart stops. Milkshake. All over me.
I look up to see Natalya lowering her cup, lips parted in shock.
"Oh, I’m so sorry, June," she says sweetly, standing up as the entire room falls silent.
Hermes’s chair scrapes sharply against the floor.
"Natalya," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
Every head in the room turns toward him.
Natalya gives a nervous laugh, stepping closer to me with a tissue. "Oh– the milkshake tasted sour," she says, dabbing at my dress.
"It’s fine," I manage, stepping back quickly, my voice barely holding steady. My mind spins—
Was it really an accident?
Or did she do it on purpose?
Does she know?
Hermes’s expression says it all—his jaw tight, eyes dark, hands clenched on the table.
My chest tightens. If anyone in this room notices the tension between us—the way his anger flares too fast, and personal—it’s over.
I lower my head, murmuring, "I'm sorry. I'll go clean up." before hurrying out of the room, .