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What I never imagined—not in a whisper or a fantasy, not in the hidden recesses of my mind—is that he would fall for me. I agreed to a relationship built purely on sex, convinced that it was all he would ever give, certain that it could never evolve into something deeper.

“Here you are,” a voice suddenly breaks through my reverie.

I turn to see Sara and Maya stepping onto the terrace.

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Maya says with a bright smile, settling into the chair opposite me.

“The dresses for the party have arrived,” Sara announces, her voice brimming with excitement.

Tonight is New Year’s Eve, and the celebration will be held at the Thomas house. All outfits were curated by a renowned New York designer, a detail Sierra and the moms meticulously managed. I haven’t even seen my dress yet.

“I can’t wait to see mine,” I admit, unable to conceal my excitement.

I’ll never deny it—I love these moments when fashion allows me to feel like a woman fully alive, my heart stirring at the elegance and allure of designer clothing. And even if I resisted, protested, or refused, they would have made the decision regardless.

“We mainly came to tell you that the makeup artists and hairstylists will arrive in two hours,” Sara continues, her gaze lingering on me, as if studying my state of mind.

“And to check if you’re alright,” Maya adds, her tone soft and careful.

Sara leans closer, her hand covering mine on the table—a gesture both comforting and grounding.

“We’re sorry you had to endure such a painful situation because of us… and because of our names,” she begins, but I interrupt immediately.

“We all suffered through that mess because of my parents,” I assert firmly. “If anyone owes an apology, it’s me—for dragging your names into such a petty scandal.” My sigh carries the weight of frustration and lingering guilt.

“Nonsense,” Sara responds, her tone gentle but unwavering. “The press will seize on anything, no matter how trivial, just to sell papers. We’ve grown used to it…”

She pauses, her gaze holding mine with an intensity that startles me.

Maya is doing the same—studying me as though trying to see through the walls I’ve built around my own heart.

“Now that you’re with Ethan,” Maya says calmly, “you’ll need to train yourself not to let anything in the media affect you.”

Surprised, I stare at them with wide eyes. Aside from the conversation we’d had when Ethan told them we were a couple—and the endless teasing from the guys—this topic had never surfaced again. Not even with Sierra. Mostly because we’ve never had a private moment alone, though I’m certain she’ll make sure we do soon, eager for every detail.

Sara squeezes my hand gently, her warmth radiating into mine.

“I’m so happy you and Ethan finally realized you’re in love with each other,” she says softly, her voice carrying a quiet joy.

“It was about time,” Maya mutters, rolling her eyes.

“Excuse me” I ask, utterly bewildered.

“Oh, please,” Maya scoffs with mock exasperation. “We’ve known for years. You two were the only ones blind to it.”

They both burst into laughter, probably because I look completely thunderstruck.

“Years?” I echo, sounding like a child who can’t grasp the simplest explanation.

“Yes, sweetheart,” Maya replies, amusement twinkling in her eyes. “We were convinced you’d end up together.” She leans closer, lowering her voice almost to a whisper. “We might have… nudged things along a little.”

“Hold on,” I say, sitting straighter. “Nudged… now?”

They exchange a glance and a conspiratorial smile, the kind only seasoned co-conspirators can share without a word.

“What did you do?” My tone sharpens despite myself.

“Well,” Maya begins, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Let’s just say Ethan’s relationship with Antonia served a purpose after all…” She pauses deliberately, letting the weight of her words sink in. “But only to spark jealousy, not to protect Antonia’s reputation.”