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"Be honest. Did you ever sleep with Elaine?"
The deep, low voice cut through the crack in the door, freezing me in my tracks. My hand hovered over the doorknob.

Through the narrow gap, I could see Logan Mercer lounging on the couch, his jaw tight, his lips pressed into a thin line.

"She's tried," he said flatly. "But I wasn't interested."

"Come on, Logan," his best friend, Caleb Turner, replied with a laugh that carried a hint of disbelief. "Don't sell her short. Everyone knows Elaine's gorgeous. She's got half the guys in our circle chasing after her."

Logan tipped his head back slightly, his brows pulling together. "You don't get it. We've known each other too long. It's like…" He hesitated, searching for the words. "It's like knowing what's behind every door before you open it. There's no mystery left."

My chest tightened as I listened from the hallway.

I first met Logan when I was fourteen. Back then, everyone told me he was the person I'd marry. I was sent to live at the Mercer estate, and for ten years, we'd been tied together—sharing a house, a life, a future, or so I thought.

Caleb chuckled, breaking my thoughts. "So you're saying you see too much of her? What, you know how many times she sneezes in a day? How often she checks the mirror?" His teasing tone shifted into something more reflective. "You know, Logan, relationships don't work like that anymore. People want excitement. They crave the chase. It's only fun when you can't have what you want."

Logan didn't respond. He just sat there, smk curling up from the cig he'd lit.

"So," Caleb pressed, leaning forward, "are you still going to marry her?"

My breath caught.

Logan' parents had pushed for us to get married, but he'd never given me a clear answer. I hadn't dared to ask. Now, Caleb was doing it for me.

Logan exhaled a slow stream of smk, his silence stretching into the room.

"Not answering, huh?" Caleb smirked. "Let me guess. You don't want to marry her."

"That's not it," Logan replied, his tone clipped.

"Then what? You're willing to marry her, but you're not exactly thrilled about it?" Caleb's grin widened, as if he'd struck a nerve. He knew Logan too well.

Logan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Ever heard this saying?" he asked.

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "What saying?"

"Some things hold no real value, but you still can't seem to let them go."

The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. My grip tightened on the marriage license application I was holding, the paper crumpling slightly beneath my fingers.

"So," Caleb said, his voice quieter now, "what's it going to be? Are you marrying her or not?"

Logan glanced up, his lips curving into a faint, humorless smile. "Why do you care so much? Are you interested in her? If you want, I'll give her to you."

It wasn't just the words, but the way he said them—detached, careless, as though I were an object he was ready to discard.

I felt something inside me crack.

Logan might not have cared, but I had given him ten years of my life. Ten years during which he'd become my whole world. And now, he was treating me like nothing.

Caleb scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not that desperate." He stood up, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. "But seriously, Logan, if you don't want her, let her go. She deserves better."

Logan stubbed out his cig, the motion sharp and deliberate. "Get out, Caleb. You're just here to stir up trouble."

Caleb shrugged. "I'm not the one stirring up trouble. That's all on you."

He turned toward the door.

When he opened it, he froze.

I was standing there, still clutching the marriage license application. My legs felt stiff, my fingertips numb.

"Elaine," Caleb said, his voice unusually cautious. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, then forced a small smile. "Were you looking for Logan? He's inside."

I couldn't speak. My throat felt dry, and my heart was pounding in my ears.

Caleb's gaze flicked to the paper in my hands. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "You should think about what you really want."

His shoulder brushed mine as he walked past, leaving me standing there, motionless.

The application form felt unbearably heavy in my hands, the weight of it pressing down on me like a stone.

After what felt like an eternity, I swallowed hard, forced myself to breathe, and pushed the door open.
Chapter 2
The soft rustle of paper caught Logan' attention. He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto mine. I didn't need a mirror to know how grim my expression was.

"You look pale," he said, frowning slightly. "Are you feeling unwell?"

Without answering, I walked over to his desk, my fingers tightening around the marriage license application in my hand. Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I finally spoke. "If you don't want to marry me, I can tell your mom myself."

His frown deepened. He knew I'd overheard everything.

My voice cracked as I continued, "I never thought I'd end up being a burden to you, Logan—"

"Elaine," he cut in, his tone calm but firm. "To everyone else, we're already like a married couple."

I froze. Was that why? Because it looked right to everyone else?

I wanted him to marry me because he loved me, not because it was convenient.

Logan capped the pen in his hand with a quiet click, his gaze dropping to the crumpled application form I was holding. "We'll register next Wednesday," he said, the words flat, emotionless.

It was what I thought I wanted to hear. But instead of relief, I felt a heavy ache deep in my chest.

I shook my head slightly, my voice barely above a whisper. "You don't have to force yourself. I'm not some charity case."

"Elaine Hart." His voice turned sharp.

I flinched and looked up, meeting his impatient gaze.

He held out his hand. "Give it to me."

I didn't move. The air between us grew tense, heavy.

After a few seconds, he sighed, stood, and crossed the short distance between us. His tall frame towered over me as he exhaled softly, his frustration tempered with a strange gentleness. "I was joking with Caleb," he said, his voice quieter now. "Did you really take it seriously?"

Was it really just a joke?

"You know how men are," he added, his tone almost dismissive. "Prideful. Stupid."

He reached out, his hand sliding down my arm until it found mine. His grip was firm yet strangely comforting. Slowly, he pried the document from my grasp. "Don't let something like this get to you," he said, his voice steady, almost coaxing.

With that, he turned away and tucked the application form into a desk drawer. Then, grabbing his coat, he added, "I need to step out for a bit."

He'd been doing that a lot lately—leaving without explanation, staying out longer each time.

Before he could pass me, I spoke, my voice cutting through the silence. "Logan."

He stopped.

"Do you like me?" I asked, my words trembling slightly but firm enough to demand an answer.

He turned slowly, his dark eyes studying me. For a moment, I thought he might actually answer. Then, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, softening his features. A dimple appeared on his left cheek.

Logan looked good when he smiled—too good. I still remembered the first time I saw that smile, ten years ago. I had just arrived at the Mercer estate, a scared girl of fourteen, and he had ruffled my hair and called me "kid." That smile had felt like sunlight breaking through the clouds, warming a part of me I didn't even know existed.

Even now, that same smile still had the power to undo me.

He reached out, his large hand resting lightly on my head, his fingers ruffling my hair in the same casual, familiar way.

"Of course I like you," he said, his voice soft. "Why else would I go across the city to get you roasted pears when you're sick? Or buy you your favorite roses every birthday? Or watch meteor showers with you, even though I hate staying up late?"

He paused, his hand sliding from my head to my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. "And why else," he added, "would I want to marry you?"

His words should've comforted me. They should've been enough.

But they weren't.

I stared at him, unwilling to let it go this time. "Do you like me romantically?"

His hand froze mid-motion. The smile faded from his face.

For a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes—hesitation, uncertainty—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

His hand dropped to his side, and he let out a soft chuckle, as if I'd asked something foolish. "Don't overthink things," he said lightly. "Come on, let's go home after work. You like fish, right? I'll have someone send over some fresh salmon and cook it for you tonight."

Then he turned and walked out, leaving me standing there in the quiet, his words hanging in the air like smoke.

He'd dodged the question. Again.

The faint scent of his hand cream lingered in the space between us, and the warmth of his touch still burned on my cheek. But my heart felt cold.

Logan treated me well. He pampered me. He cared for me. But his affection felt… familial. Like that of an older brother looking after a younger sister.

And yet, despite everything, I couldn't stop myself from loving him. I had loved him for ten years.

But what now?

Should I marry him, knowing that we might spend the rest of our lives together as nothing more than companions, our intimacy stripped of passion and romance?

Or should I let him go, even if it meant breaking my own heart, so he could find someone he truly loved?
Chapter 3
I couldn't stop thinking about the question all day. It lingered in the back of my mind, unanswered, gnawing at me. By the time Logan came to pick me up that afternoon, I still didn't know what I wanted to do.

And yet, I followed him anyway. Habit was a terrifying thing. Ten years was all it took to tether me to this routine—him, the Mercer Estate, and the unspoken understanding that I would always be there.

"Why are you so quiet?" he asked, glancing at me as he drove. He must have noticed my mood.

I hesitated, my fingers fidgeting with the strap of my bag. Finally, I worked up the courage to say, "Logan, maybe we should—"

Before I could finish, his phone rang.

The car display lit up with an unlisted number. I saw his grip tighten on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening.

It wasn't like him to look nervous.

I turned to study his face, but his expression was unreadable. Without a word, he tapped the screen, switching the call to Bluetooth. "Hello. … Yeah, I'm on my way."

The call was brief, but his voice was clipped, his tone unnaturally tense.

When it ended, he glanced at me, his jaw tight. "Elaine, something urgent came up. I can't take you home."

I knew what he was going to say before he said it. It wasn't the first time. Still, foolishly, I'd hoped he'd at least take me back before running off.

My chest ached, but I forced myself to keep my voice steady. "Is something wrong?"

He didn't answer. Instead, his gaze shifted to the road ahead as he pulled into a temporary parking spot. "Get off here and grab a taxi," he said, his tone brisk.

I stared at him, searching for some kind of explanation, but he offered none. He didn't even bother to lie.

What could I say to that? Begging for answers would only humiliate me further.

"Text me when you get home," he added, already reaching for the gearshift.

I nodded stiffly, clutching my backpack as I climbed out of the car.

The cool air hit my face as I stood on the sidewalk, watching his car merge back into traffic. He didn't look back.

I already knew. From the call to his unwillingness to explain, I could feel it—something wasn't right. But I didn't ask. I didn't want to peel back the thin, fragile layer of denial that kept me sane.

"Be careful on your way home," he called out the window before speeding off.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the empty stretch of road where his car had disappeared. My chest felt hollow, my feet rooted to the spot.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Nora, my best friend.

"Elaine, where are you? Want to grab dinner?"

Nora was a gynecologist, sharp-tongued and brilliant. She never minced words, which was exactly what I needed right now.

"Sure," I said without hesitation.

Nora sounded surprised. "Wow, you didn't even check with Logan first? Did the sun rise in the west today?"

I managed a dry laugh, but her words hit a little too close to home. For years, I'd lived as if my entire life revolved around Logan. Every plan, every decision—always prefaced with, "Let me check with him first."

"Where are you right now?" I asked, changing the subject.

She rattled off an address, and I hailed a taxi to meet her.

The moment she saw me, Nora's sharp eyes narrowed. "What happened? Did you and Mr. Perfect have a fight?"

She was one of the few people I could confide in, so I told her everything.

When I finished, her expression darkened. "Men are the worst," she muttered, stirring her drink with unnecessary force. "He thinks you're boring? Insipid? As if he's some kind of prize. Has he even slept with you?"

Her bluntness made my cheeks burn. I shook my head, embarrassed.

Nora rolled her eyes. "Exactly. What a jerk. If he spent ten years with you and hasn't even tried, it's not respect, Elaine. It's disinterest."

Her words stung because they were true.

There had been moments—like the time I'd gotten drunk and kissed him. But instead of kissing me back, he'd gently pulled away and sent me to bed. At the time, I thought it was because he respected me, that he didn't want to take advantage of me.

But now, I realized it was because he didn't want me.

Wasn't there a saying? That if a man loved a woman, he'd want her. He'd desire her.

Logan had never shown that kind of desire. Not once.

"I think," I said slowly, my voice trembling, "I want to give up."

Nora's eyes softened. She reached across the table and clinked her glass against mine. "Good. You deserve better. There are plenty of guys out there, Elaine. With your looks, you could have anyone."

She wasn't wrong. At eighteen, I'd won a beauty pageant. There had been offers for modeling, even acting. If Logan hadn't stopped me, I might have had a career in the spotlight.

Over the years, countless men had tried to win me over. But I had eyes for only one.

And he didn't want me.

The thought made my throat tighten. I pushed back my chair and mumbled an excuse, hurrying to the restroom before Nora could see the tears threatening to spill.

I was so distracted I didn't notice the man stepping out of the restroom until it was too late. We collided, and I stumbled, knocking him to the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" I exclaimed, reaching out to help him up.

But before I could, he shrieked, "Help! Someone's trying to molest me!"

His voice rang through the hallway, loud and panicked. My jaw dropped.

What just happened?
Chapter 4
I never thought I'd find myself sitting in a police station, accused of indecency.

The boy I'd accidentally knocked down—who turned out to be a seventeen-year-old named Kian Vaughn—insisted I'd done it on purpose. His story was as absurd as it was infuriating.

"She touched me!" Kian declared dramatically, pointing at me like I was a criminal.

The officer leaned forward, his expression carefully neutral. "Where exactly did she touch you?"

Kian's face lit up with faux indignation as he pointed to his chest and then below his waist. "Here. And here!"

I stared at him, dumbfounded.

What in the actual hell?

I nearly shouted my disbelief out loud. Me, a woman who hadn't even touched Logan—someone I'd been in love with for ten years—was suddenly being accused of assaulting a brat who hadn't even finished puberty.

The officer turned his attention to me, his expression skeptical.

"I didn't touch him," I said quickly, my voice firm. "I bumped into him by accident. That's it."

"Had you been drinking?" he asked, his tone pointed.

I blinked, caught off guard. Was that really relevant? But in this world, a drunk man was just a man. A drunk woman? She was indecent.

"Yes," I admitted. "I had a bottle of beer."

The officer raised an eyebrow, his disbelief clear.

I sighed, frustrated. "Look, I wasn't drunk, and I definitely didn't ‘take advantage' of this kid." My words came out sharper than intended, but I was too irritated to care.

The officer made a note of my statement before turning back to Kian. "Are you absolutely sure about your accusation? You're aware filing a false report is a crime, right?"

Kian crossed his arms defiantly. "I'm sure. She touched me."

I clenched my fists, resisting the urge to strangle him.

Before I could say something I'd regret, Kian's face suddenly brightened. His gaze shifted to the doorway.

"Selene, you're here!" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with childish glee.

I turned to see who had arrived, ready to plead my case to his family. But the sight of the two people walking in stopped me cold.

The woman was stunning, with long black hair cascading down her back and a flowing white dress that made her look ethereal. She was the kind of woman men imagined as their first love—soft, gentle, perfect.

Her name was Selene Vaughn. And standing right next to her was Logan.

My heart sank like a stone.

"Kian, what happened?" Selene asked, her voice full of concern as she knelt in front of him.

Kian ignored her question entirely, his attention locked on Logan. "Hey, Selene, is he my new brother-in-law?"

Logan' expression froze. His eyes widened briefly before narrowing, his gaze hardening as it shifted to me.

"Elaine," he said, his tone cold and clipped. "What's going on here?"

"Brother-in-law, do you know her?" Kian interrupted, pointing at me with exaggerated outrage. "She's a hooligan! She touched me here and here—" He gestured to his chest and groin again, like he was auditioning for a bad soap opera.

I didn't have the energy to explain anymore. I just stared at Logan, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. He'd been gone for a few hours. Just a few hours. And now he was someone's "brother-in-law"?

Was this why he'd left so suddenly earlier?

Selene stood and turned to me, her expression polite but distant. "Elaine, right? I'm Selene, Kian's sister."

Her voice was soft, almost apologetic. I was surprised she even knew my name. But then again, I was Logan' shadow, his accessory. Anyone who knew him would know me.

I swallowed hard, forcing the bitterness down. "I accidentally knocked your brother over. That's all. I didn't do what he's accusing me of."

Selene's lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. "I believe you. Kian can be... dramatic."

Without warning, she turned and smacked Kian lightly on the back of his head—twice. "Stop causing trouble," she scolded, her tone gentle but firm.

She explained the situation to the officer while the police checked the surveillance footage. Unsurprisingly, the video proved my innocence.

The officer sighed, looking at Selene. "Since you two know each other, you can settle this privately. Otherwise, the boy will need to be detained for filing a false report."

Selene immediately tugged on Logan' sleeve, a small, intimate gesture that sent a pang through my chest.

Logan had always been distant with people. His guarded nature kept most at arm's length, and he hated being touched.

But Selene? She seemed to bypass all of that effortlessly. And judging by the lack of reaction from Logan, this wasn't the first time she'd done it.

There was an ease between them that I didn't want to analyze too deeply.

I opened my mouth to say something, but Logan spoke before I could. "It's fine," he said curtly. "It was a misunderstanding. Let's drop it."

Before I could process his words, I felt his hand wrap around my wrist, firm and unyielding. Without another word, he pulled me out.

Chapter 5
Logan' hand gripped mine so tightly that it hurt. He didn't say a word at first, but his jaw was clenched, his anger radiating off him like heat.

"Elaine," he said, his tone low and biting. "Did you go to the bar to drink? Is this your idea of revenge? Acting out just because of something I said?"

I blinked, stunned. Revenge? Was that really what he thought?

His jaw tightened, and his eyes burned with an intensity I rarely saw. The raw emotion in his face—anger, frustration—momentarily silenced me.

It was almost… possessive.

For a brief moment, the bitterness in my chest eased. Maybe, just maybe, he cared. If he only saw me as a sister or a friend, he wouldn't care so much about what happened.

"No," I repeated firmly. "I didn't—"

Before Logan could respond, Kian swaggered out of the building, wearing his trademark smirk. He whistled as if he hadn't just caused chaos. "Hooligan," he called out, his voice dripping with mockery. "What are you trying to do now? Seduce my brother-in-law?"

I bit back a groan. Some people were born to test your patience, and Kian Vaughn was one of them.

As he walked toward me, his cocky grin widened, and I couldn't help but glance at Selene. She stood nearby, her expression carefully composed, the perfect picture of innocence. But I couldn't forget the way she'd touched Logan earlier—light, casual, intimate.

The memory burned in my mind.

Acting on impulse, I reached out and took Logan' arm. His muscles tensed under my touch, but he didn't pull away.

"You're talking nonsense again," Selene said, her voice soft as she stepped forward and pinched Kian's arm. Her chastising tone came with a faint smile, like she was used to handling his antics.

She turned to me with an apologetic look. "Elaine, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Logan said before I could respond. His voice was firm, his eyes locked on Kian. "And you," he added, his tone sharp, "this is your last warning. Cause trouble again, and no one will save you."

Kian, defiant as ever, glared up at him. "Who do you think you are? You're not my dad. I'll only listen to you if you marry my sister and actually become my brother-in-law."

"Kian!" Selene hissed, her face flushing with embarrassment. She smacked his arm harder this time, but he dodged her, laughing.

"Don't act like you don't know," Kian taunted, his voice loud and obnoxious. "He likes you, Selene. Why else would he spend all his time with you? Day and night, taking care of you like you're the only person in the world?"

My grip on Logan' arm tightened involuntarily.

Day and night.

The words struck a nerve. Logan had barely been home these past weeks, disappearing for hours on end without notice. I'd tried to dismiss it, telling myself he was busy with work. But now, hearing Kian's words, the truth felt undeniable.

He'd been with Selene.

Of course, I knew why. She was his late best friend's widow. It made sense for him to take care of her after her husband's tragic death.

But every day? To the point where her own brother saw it as something more?

"What are you even talking about?" Selene snapped, her voice trembling as she hit Kian again, harder this time.

He raised his hand instinctively to block her, but the motion caught her off balance. Selene staggered, her heels slipping on the pavement.

"Watch out!" Logan shouted.

I felt a shove, and before I could steady myself, I stumbled backward. By the time I regained my footing, Logan was already by Selene's side. He knelt on one knee, holding her as if she were made of glass.

"Selene, are you okay?" His voice was frantic, his hands steadying her. "Where does it hurt?"

Her face twisted in pain as she clutched his arm. "My stomach," she whimpered. "It hurts, Logan."

"Don't worry," he said, his voice trembling. "I'll take you to the hospital. You're going to be okay."

I stood frozen, watching the scene unfold like an outsider. I'd seen Logan in countless situations—calm, composed, in control. But now? He was panicking. For her.

Not once in ten years had I ever seen him look at me like that.

"Elaine!" Logan barked, snapping me out of my daze. "Get in the car. You're driving."

For a moment, I couldn't move.

"Hurry up!" Kian shouted, storming over to me. He grabbed my arm roughly, and something inside me snapped.

Without thinking, I raised my hand and slapped him.

The sharp crack echoed in the air.

Kian stumbled back, his cheek already reddening with the imprint of my fingers. He touched his face, stunned, before his expression twisted in anger.

"You—" he hissed, lifting his hand as if to strike me back.

"Kian!" Logan' voice cut through the tension like a blade. "If you touch her, I'll make sure you go back inside."

Kian froze, his hand hovering mid-air. After a moment, he lowered it, glaring at both Logan and me before stomping off.

"Kian!" Selene called after him weakly, but her voice gave way to a pained cry as she clutched her stomach again.

"Logan… It hurts," she whimpered. "Please, take me to the hospital."

Logan didn't hesitate. "Elaine!" he barked again.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and climbed into the driver's seat. Selene groaned in pain as Logan helped her into the backseat, his voice low and soothing as he reassured her.

"Doctor!" Logan shouted the moment we arrived at the hospital. "She's pregnant, and she just fell. She's in a lot of pain!"

Pregnant?

The word echoed in my mind, heavy and disorienting. My legs felt like they were weighed down with lead as I stood there, unable to move. My chest tightened, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach.

Selene's husband was dead. How could she be pregnant?

My gaze drifted to Logan. His face was taut with panic, his eyes fixed on the door to the emergency room. He looked so anxious, so desperate.

Was he... was he worried because the baby was his?

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