[DEAN]
"Stop pouting, Fern. It doesn't suit you."
Dean's voice was calm, almost amused, but Fern was anything but. He stared at Dean in pure disbelief, his arms crossed as he leaned back in the car.
"I don't suit pouting?" Fern scoffed. "I've never seen you like this before, Dean. Going through all this trouble for a girl? Do you . . . actually like her?"
"Yes."
No hesitation. No second-guessing.
Just a single word—solid, certain, and final.
Fern nearly choked on air. He jolted upright, staring at Dean like he had just confessed to a cri. "Wait—what?! You really like her? As in, seriously like her? Or is this just another woman you plan to keep on the sidelines?"
The air in the room shifted.
Dean's expression darkened in an instant, his gaze turning sharp as steel. "Don't lump her in with the others." His voice was low, deadly serious. "Eve is different."
Fern shut his mouth, stunned.
Dean was angry.
Not the usual kind of annoyance he showed when inconvenienced, but real anger—an emotion he rarely wasted on anyone.
And all because Fern had compared Eve to the other won in his past.
Fern leaned back, observing Dean closely. He wasn't just protective of her. He ant what he said. This was real.
And it was terrifying.
Dean had never cared about anyone like this before. He was the type to live his life without attachnts, never bothering to hold onto anything or anyone. If people caused him trouble, he discarded them without a second thought—cold, ruthless, and unaffected.
But now?
Now he was personally making sure that Eve had the best dresses delivered to her. Dresses his mother had made, no less—sothing Dean never would've gone out of his way to arrange for anyone else.
He had never lifted a finger for a woman before.
And yet, here he was.
"You . . . ," Fern hesitated, watching his friend closely. "Are you serious about her?"
Dean didn't answer imdiately. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out sothing small, placing it in Fern's hand.
A few strands of hair.
Fern frowned. "What is this?"
"Eve's hair," Dean said. His tone was unreadable, his expression carefully blank. "I need you to take it to our affiliated hospital and run a DNA test. Make sure that Dante gets a sample as well. I don't trust hospitals here."
Silence.
Fern blinked, staring at the strands in his palm. ". . . What?"
Just a second ago, he thought Dean was finally in love. And now he was asking for a DNA test?
His confusion must have shown because Dean's eyes flicked toward him, sharp and firm.
"Just do it," Dean said, final and absolute.
Fern didn't ask any more questions. Whatever this was about, whatever suspicion was growing inside Dean's mind—it was big.
And for the first ti, he realized—
Dean wasn't just protecting Eve.
He was searching for sothing.
And he wasn't going to stop until he found it.
=== 🤍 ===
[EVE]
"You're ho late," Haley said the mont I stepped inside.
Her tone was sharp, accusatory—like she was demanding an explanation rather than simply stating an observation.
I didn't like it.
I was exhausted, my body heavy from the long day, and my patience was already thin. The last thing I needed was to be interrogated like a misbehaving teenager.
"You're still up?" I asked instead, ignoring the tension in her voice.
"We were worried because you weren't ho yet, dear," my mother, Helen, said as she erged from the hallway, her expression unreadable.
I resisted the urge to sigh. They weren't up because they were worried—sothing told they had an entirely different reason for waiting.
And I was right.
"That guy must be sothing special to keep you out so late," Haley remarked, crossing her arms. "Who is he?"
I frowned, catching sothing off in her tone. Was that . . . jealousy? Annoyance? Irritation?
"Guy?"
"The one you were with just now," Helen clarified as she approached, taking my hand in hers with a practiced warmth. "We saw you in the lobby."
I stiffened. They followed ?
The realization made my stomach twist. But before I could call them out for it, Haley pressed further.
"Are you dating him? Is he courting you?"
There was an unsettling eagerness in her voice, an urgency that made my skin crawl.
I blinked. "What? No. Dean is one of our models for the upcoming show."
Haley finally relaxed, a satisfied smile curling her lips as she nodded to herself. "Good. Good."
I watched her carefully, a sense of unease creeping up my spine. Why did she care so much?
Then, before I could process her reaction, her eyes lit up with excitent, and she grabbed my hand.
"Then you don't mind setting us up, do you?"
I pulled my hand back. ". . . What?"
"Eve, be a dear and set up a date between your sister and that gentleman," my mother chid in, her voice smooth, as if she were asking for sothing as simple as passing the salt.
I stared at them, my exhaustion montarily forgotten. "You want to set up a date between Dean and Haley?"
"That's right," Haley said eagerly, her head nodding so fast it was almost comical. "He's single, right? And I'm single too. If we end up together, then it's a win-win for both of us."
I let out a slow sigh, trying to keep my irritation in check. "Look, Haley, I don't know if Dean is single or not, and honestly, it's none of my business to know about his personal life. But if you really want a date with him, I'd have to ask him first."
The atmosphere in the room changed in an instant.
Haley's smile vanished. My mother's face fell.
"What?" Haley scoffed, her eyes narrowing. "Don't tell you like him too. Is that why you're refusing to set up with him?"
I blinked, montarily stunned by how quickly she jumped to conclusions.
"What?"
"What other reason could there be?" she pressed, crossing her arms. "You just t him today. There's no reason to be this hesitant unless you want him for yourself."
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