Felicity's POV.
When I got home that evening, confusion and hurt weighed on me, pressing heavily on my chest. Noah had a girlfriend. How did that even happen? How did I not see it? Was it recent—or had I been fooling myself all along? I thought he liked me. Or maybe I'd imagined it because I wanted to believe it. Either way, the truth stung. I didn't allow myself to sit with it for too long. I showered, ate dinner, and crawled into my bed, forcing sleep to take me before my thoughts could spiral any further.
A soft knock shattered my sleep and my Saturday morning peace. I groaned, rolled out of bed, and pulled on my sweater as I shuffled to the door. When I opened it, I nearly gasped.
"Penelope?" I blinked in surprise.
"How? How did you even know where I live?"
She gave me a sheepish smile.
"Chris told me."
My brows shot up. "Chris told you?"
"Yes! Okay. Please don't freak out, but—"
"That's never a good way to start a sentence," I muttered, stepping aside. "Come in. Start talking."
She walked in, rubbing her palms together like she was bracing herself. She took a deep breath, then said quietly,
"Chris is my brother."
I blinked. Then I laughed. Then blinked again. "Come again?"
She didn't smile.
"You're joking," I said. "This is some elaborate Oxford prank, right?"
"No, I'm serious," she said softly. "He's my actual brother. As in, same mother, same father. That kind of brother."
Silence fell between us. Then my face burned. The kind that screams louder than words. It pressed in on my ears and my thoughts. My heart slammed against my ribs as I stared at her, my chest tightening.
I dragged a hand down my face. "Wait what?" I breathed. "Your brother? As in brother brother? Oh my God. Oh my God. This is so embarrassing. How could I not see that?" I whispered, my voice cracking. "You, you've been my best friend this whole time. I trusted you, and you didn't think that was worth mentioning?"
"I'm sorry," she said quickly, eyes wide and sincere. "It's complicated. There are things we can't always share. And it wasn't my story to tell. But he'll explain everything. I promise."
Betrayal spread under my skin like ice water.
"No. No. No," I snapped. "You don't get to dump that on me and call it 'complicated'. You sat there while I talked to you about him. You listened to every embarrassing detail and you just sat there pretending you didn't know and said nothing?"
Her eyes shimmered. "I know. I'm so sorry. It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
"I don't even know how I feel right now."
Then I went silent. She hesitated. "Are we okay? You're so quiet."
"I'm fine," I muttered. "Just… overthinking."
She sat beside me. "Thinking about what?"
"Mia," I said. "How is she connected to all this? Is she… related to Chris too?"
Penelope let out a long breath. "No. But that's another story. All I know is, she was in love with him. Once. A long time ago. But it's over now."
My jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me?"
"I wish I were."
"I told you and Mia everything, I mean everything about how I felt for Chris. And she just sat there knowing all that?"
"I know," she said. "I'm sorry. I get why you're upset and hurt."
"You think," I roll my eyes. "That's an understatement."
She nodded. "Fair. But please… don't shut me out."
I clenched my fists. "I feel exposed. Betrayed."
"I know," she whispered. "And I'm truly sorry."
I exhaled shakily. "Just breathe, Felicity. It's okay."
She looked surprised. "Really?"
"Yeah," I said, standing up and grabbing my coat. "It's okay. But I need fresh air before I emotionally combust. Okay breathe."
Penelope smiled. Relief washed over her face. "Let's go. Bring your jacket and put it on."
"Yes, Mom."
She laughed. "Hey. I'm not your mom, silly! Don't do that."
I giggled. "I know. Just kidding."
We stepped into the crisp Oxford air. The streets were quiet, kissed with soft morning light. It felt…almost peaceful. Until I saw him.
"Alex is here," I muttered to Penelope. "Let's turn around. Now."
Too late. He'd already spotted me.
"Felicity!" he called, jogging toward us with that annoyingly charming grin. His too-perfect blazer fit perfectly over his fair skin, stretching over his broad shoulders, and his confident stride made his height even more noticeable as he jogged closer, his smile effortless. He had that golden-boy glow, the kind of energy that radiated from him, his hair slightly tousled like he'd just run his fingers through it. He had a dimple I hadn't noticed before, and when his gray eyes caught mine, sharp and familiar and my chest tightened. He looked just like Theodore Owens. My childhood crush. Only older and taller. And suddenly, I wasn't at Oxford anymore. I was twelve again, staring at Theodore Owens.
"Hi, Alex," I said, pretending to sound normal and forcing a smile.
"Penelope," he said with a courteous nod. "Always a pleasure."
She smirked. "Likewise."
"There's a cute café around the corner," he offered. "Breakfast on me?"
"Oh no, we were just—" I started.
"I've been craving pancakes and orange juice since Thursday," Penelope interrupted, linking her arm in mine.
I shot her a glare. "You're enjoying this."
"Immensely," she whispered back.
Panic hit. Then I remembered something—something horrifying.
'Oh no. That's where Chris works.'
"You know what? We shouldn't go there," I blurted. "Let's go somewhere else. Somewhere better."
"Why?" Alex said. "It's literally thirty seconds away. Come on. It's right there."
I didn't feel fine, even as we walked toward the café. Alex's hand brushed mine more than once, deliberately. Bold. Charming.
He opened the door for us like a proper gentleman.
"Ladies first."
"Thanks," I mumbled.
I stepped inside—and ran straight into a broad chest. A strong pair of arms caught me before I fell. Warm. Familiar. I had collided with a solid chest wearing a crisp apron over a white shirt and dark black trousers. He was tall, his warm fair skin suddenly too close as his strong arms held me, firm and familiar. The faint scent of cologne wrapped around me, stealing my breath as I looked up and time stopped. It was Chris.
"Chris?" I breathed.
His hands were still on my waist, one gripping my arm, his gaze locked onto mine like gravity. Our eyes locked. His gaze held mine like it always did. Intense and unreadable.
Behind me, Penelope whispered, "Well… this just got interesting."
"Hi," he said softly.
"Hi," I echoed, breathless.
"Thank goodness I caught you," Chris said. "You almost hit the floor."
"Yeah. Thanks."
"You're welcome, love," he murmured.
Then Alex stepped in, clearing his throat.
"You okay, Felicity?" he asked, placing a protective hand on my back.
I stepped back from Chris quickly. "Yeah. I'm fine."
Chris's gaze dropped to Alex's hand. He noticed immediately. His jaw clenched.
"Didn't know you were meeting someone," he said lightly.
"I wasn't," I replied. "We just bumped into each other."
"We're just friends," Alex added smoothly. "Though I'd like to be more if she lets me."
Chris's expression hardened with something like hurt and pain.
"Great," he said flatly. "Take a seat. I'll get your order."
"Oh wow," Penelope grinned. "Didn't know you worked here."
Chris muttered, "Guess I do."
"I'm so proud of—" I started.
"I'll have pancakes and orange juice for all of us," Alex cut in, smug.
Chris narrowed his eyes. "Why me?"
"You're the waiter, aren't you? Chop chop," Penelope chirped.
Chris turned on his heel and stormed off.
Penelope beamed. "This is fun."
We took a seat, and suddenly Alex was gone.
"Where's Alex?" I asked.
"He's right there. Oh!" Penelope gasped. "He brought you a flower."
Alex returned with a single red rose.
"For you, my love," he said, grinning.
I wanted to sink under the table. Kill me now.
"Oh uh… thanks," I stammered.
"Aww! You are such a gentleman," Penelope cooed.
Chris returned with the plates, slamming them down harder than necessary. "Enjoy."
He walked away but not before giving me one last lingering look. I sat there with a fake smile, a flower in my hand, and my heart in pieces. Peace? Nowhere in sight. This love triangle? Officially a battlefield. I took a long sip of orange juice, trying to calm the thunder in my chest.
Alex leaned in slightly. "You okay?" he asked, softer now.
"Yeah," I said, avoiding his gaze.
He placed a hand over mine. "Felicity," he said gently. "The day I asked you to be my girlfriend, you didn't answer. And that's okay. Take your time."
I looked up slowly. His gray eyes held sincerity, not arrogance.
"I've loved you since the first day I met you," he said. "Maybe too quietly. Maybe too respectfully. But I can't pretend anymore. You don't have to say it back. You don't have to decide anything. Just… take your time. I'll wait for you, Felicity."
My breath caught. Penelope froze mid-chew. I didn't respond. I couldn't. I just nodded. Across the café, behind the counter, Christopher saw everything.
After breakfast, Alex paid the bill and walked us out. He lingered near the door.
"Like I said," he added, "I'm not asking for anything now. Just think about it. I'm not going anywhere."
He walked away and I walked in the opposite direction, heart racing, head spinning, caught between two worlds and completely, utterly confused. The flower, the waiter, and the war zone all blurred together, and I was right in the middle of all this madness, trying to breathe, trying to understand, trying not to fall apart.