Rose’s POV
I woke up to voices.
A lot of voices.
For a few seconds, I just stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out why the house sounded like a train station at six in the morning. Then I remembered.
The wedding was tomorrow.
Apparently, some family members had decided that arriving at five or six in the morning was perfectly reasonable. Because apparently, sleep was optional when there was a wedding involved.
I showered, threw on something comfortable, and headed downstairs, already regretting it.
The estate was packed.
People were coming through the entrance with suitcases, garment bags, boxes, and enough food to feed a small army. Someone was shouting directions from the dining room while another person was laughing loudly in the sitting room. Phones kept ringing, doors kept opening and closing, and every few seconds someone called out another person’s name.
I stopped halfway down the stairs and looked around.
It was strange seeing the house this full.
Some faces were familiar. I remembered seeing a few of them at my father’s burial, though I’d barely paid attention to anyone then. Others were complete strangers. Apparently, I had aunties and uncles I’d never met before, along with enough cousins to make me question how large our family actually was.
One of the uncles walked past me with a pot belly so impressive it looked like it had been carefully cultivated through years of eating braised duck every evening and washing it down with cheap cans of beer.
I quickly looked away.
I wasn’t judging.
Okay, maybe I was a little.
Then I noticed the cousins.
Some looked surprisingly polished for people who had probably been dragged out of bed before sunrise. Others had so much grease in their hair that I was convinced it could moisturize the tallest slide in the whole world.
I blinked.
What exactly did they put on that?
"Rose!"
I turned just in time for an auntie to walk toward me with her arms open.
I smiled politely and accepted the hug.
"Look at you! You’ve grown so much."
"Thank you."
"You don’t remember me, do you?"
I hesitated.
"I do."
I absolutely did not.
She laughed and pinched my cheek. "I remember when you were little. You were such a tiny thing."
I smiled. "Yeah."
"Come and greet your uncle."
There was apparently another uncle.
I followed her, because apparently refusing wasn’t an option.
For the next few minutes, I greeted relatives whose names I knew I would forget the moment they walked away. Some hugged me, some kissed my cheeks, and others stared at me like they’d discovered a family member they’d only heard about.
One auntie held both my hands and smiled.
"So, Rose, how are you?"
"I’m fine."
"How old are you now?"
"Twenty-three."
"Twenty-three?" Her eyes widened. "When did you grow up?"
I laughed awkwardly. "I don’t know."
She laughed too.
"Are you working?"
"Yes."
"What do you do?"
I answered.
"Do you live here?"
"Yes."
"Do you have a boyfriend?"
"No."
"Why?"
I stared at her.
"Why what?"
"Why don’t you have a boyfriend?"
"I don’t know."
She looked genuinely puzzled by that answer, as though I’d just told her I didn’t believe in relationships.
Before she could investigate further, someone called her from across the room.
I almost thanked them personally.
I slipped away, only to get caught by another auntie.
"Rose!"
I stopped.
She smiled.
"Come here."
My eye lid twitched before i walked over.
Fuck me
She hugged me, then held me at arm’s length.
"You’re beautiful."
"Thank you."
"Your mother must be so happy."
I smiled. "She is."
"Are you happy?"
The question caught me off guard.
"Yes."
She nodded approvingly.
Then the interrogation began.
Did I eat properly?
Did I cook?
Could I cook?
Did I like children?
When was I getting married?
Did I want children?
How many?
Did I exercise?
How often?
Was I sleeping enough?
Was I losing weight?
Was I gaining weight?
Did I have allergies?
Did I have any strange habits?
At one point, i felt like she could ask, "Do you know how many individual taste buds you have?"
I stared at her.
"Anything else?", i asked with a half smile.
"You really do look like your mother"
"I... didn’t know."
She laughed. "Really?"
"I always thought i looked like my father"
"You do dear. You’re a perfect mixture of both."
I smiled not knowing how to respond
She shrugged. "Just in case."
She smiled and waved me off like I was the one taking up her time.
I was beginning to suspect my relatives had decided to use me as today’s entertainment.
By the time she finally let me go, I felt like I’d just completed a government interrogation.
And somehow, another auntie managed to make it worse.
She started telling me stories about when I was young.
"Do you remember when you were a three?"
"No."
"You had the smoothest bottom!"
I nearly choked.
"I’m sorry?"
She laughed. "You were such a cute baby. Your skin was so smooth."
I smiled weakly. "Thank you?"
"You used to run around without clothes."
I glanced around the room, horrified.
"Can we maybe not discuss this in front of everyone?"
She laughed even harder.
"Why? You were a child!"
"I know. That’s exactly why."
She waved her hand dismissively and continued talking about my childhood as if she hadn’t just informed me that half my relatives had apparently admired my baby bottom.
By the time I escaped, my social battery was completely dead.
And, honestly, I was starting to understand why some people disappeared during family gatherings and only returned when everyone had gone home.
I walked away from the crowd, letting my feet carry me down one of the quieter hallways. My shoulders had slumped, and I honestly didn’t care anymore.
I just wanted five minutes without someone asking me about marriage, children, food, or my childhood butt.
Then I heard a familiar voice.
Reagan.
I slowed down.
"No. There’s no need for you to come."
He sounded tense.
I couldn’t hear the person on the other end, so I stayed where I was.
A few seconds passed.
Then his voice changed.
It became calmer, almost unnaturally so.
"No, I’m not chasing you away. It’s just..."
He stopped and let out a long sigh.
I cautiously peeked around the corner.
Reagan stood farther down the hallway, one hand resting at the bridge of his nose. He looked frustrated, his brows drawn together.
"Where are you?" he asked.
He listened.
"Let’s discuss this properly."
Another pause.
Then his head lifted.
"What?"
His voice sharpened.
"Then why did you bother asking if you’re already on your way?"
I frowned.
Already on the way?
Who was coming?
Reagan paced a few steps.
"You were planning to surprise me without knowing my address?"
He stopped and closed his eyes briefly.
"And now you’re lost?"
I pressed my lips together.
I shouldn’t have found that funny.
But somehow, I did.
Reagan muttered a few curses under his breath and rubbed his forehead.
Then he listened again.
His expression became even more irritated.
I couldn’t hear what the person was saying, but whatever it was clearly wasn’t helping.
Finally, Reagan sighed.
"Just tell me where you are."
He listened for another moment before saying something too low for me to catch.
Then the call ended.
I immediately stepped backward.
I had no business standing there listening to his conversation.
I turned toward one of the darker hallways just as I heard his footsteps.
They were quick.
Hurried.
Like he had somewhere to be.
I slipped farther into the shadows and waited.
Reagan appeared at the end of the hallway a few seconds later. He didn’t notice me. His expression was still tense, and his pace hadn’t slowed.
He walked past.
I stayed still until his footsteps faded.
Only then did I step back into the hallway.
I stared in the direction he’d gone.
Who was that?
I couldn’t hear the other person’s voice, but Reagan had sounded completely different from the man I’d been watching over the past few days. Frustrated, yes, but also strangely careful.
And whoever it was had apparently been planning to surprise him.
Without knowing his address.
And somehow had managed to get lost while already on the way.
I rubbed my forehead.
What kind of person did that?
More importantly, what kind of person was Reagan expecting?
I glanced toward the busy end of the estate. The house was still full of relatives, wedding preparations, laughter, and noise. Tomorrow, my mother would be getting married, and somehow I had a feeling the day was going to be far more complicated than anyone was letting on.
I looked down the hallway one more time.
Reagan was already gone.
I sighed.
I didn’t know who had called him.
I didn’t know why they were coming.
And I definitely didn’t know why the thought of it bothered me.
But one question kept circling my mind.
Who is that?
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter