Chapter 137 

Chapter 137 

The visit to the museum wasn’t as fun as I had planned it to be, and neither was the trip to West Side Beach. 

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Despite the postcard–perfect backdrop–the golden sun, the rhythmic rush of the waves, and the laughter echoing around–the day felt hollów to me.. The memory from the museum was still as fresh as it was a couple of hours ago and though I am trying really hard to shrug it off, I just can’t. 

Kaiden and his group–the infamous Four of Hearts–were knee–deep in the bcean, laughing loudly as they played volleyball in the water. Their easy grin and shirtless, dripping self were hard to ignore for each and every single girl present on the beach. 

Amber’s gang lounged nearby on designer beach chairs, their bikini–clad bodies glistening in the sun. They were tanning with an air of lazy perfection, occasionally snapping selfies with exaggerated duck faces and throwing side–eyes at anyone who dared exist near them. 

Some couples were making out in front of the rock, while others were literally having sex behind it. Ew! 

On our mat, I sat cross–legged with Clara, Sheela, and Rubina. We’d laid out a makeshift picnic on a colorful mat, circling the delicious bento box Clara had brought, paired with her still–warm cookies in a sky–blue tin. The scent of Sheela’s homemade aloo paratha wafted through the salty air, rich and buttery, while Rubina had gone gourmet with neat ham sandwiches and golden cheese croissants that looked like they belonged in a Parisian bakery. 

“I didn’t know we were supposed to bring food,” I said sheepishly, eyeing the spread. “You guys should’ve told me.” 

Sheela popped a cookie into her mouth and gave me a look. “Come on, Lucy. It’s a trip. Food is universally compulsory. You don’t bring it because someone says–you just bring it.” 

“Exactly,” Rubina echoed, offering a soft smile. “You just bring it.” 

A strange tightness twisted in my chest. “Sorry. I’ve never really been on a trip before. So… I had no idea.” 

Rubina let out a short laugh, a sarcastic one. “Yeah, sure.” She cocked her head slightly, pretending to understand me with her signature smug empathy. She waited–probably expecting a witty comeback or a jab. But I didn’t give her one. I just looked away. 

A second passed. Then two. Her smirk faded. “Wait… really?” she asked, voice softer now. 

I nodded, lips curving into a bittersweet smile. “Yeah.” 

Once, We had a family vacation when my mom was married to her ex–ex–husband, but I guess my ex–ex–step–siblings didn’t like me much. They locked me in the bathroom and told my mom I was skipping the trip because of a stomach ache. My mom–like she always is–cared more about her sugar- coated family than me, so she didn’t even bother to check. She just left. I spent the whole 48 hours locked in that bathroom. 

Since then, I made a vow: I wouldn’t go on a trip with any of my new families ever again. 

“But… why?” Rubina asked again, eyes narrowing like she was trying to read the rest of the story through my silence. 

I hesitated. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. 

I didn’t want to tell them. Not this one. Not another broken piece of 

my past t 

o add to the ever–growing pile they were already balancing. Everyone has a limit for other people’s darkness–and I was dangerously close to reaching it with mine. 

Just as the silence threatened to stretch into something painful, Clara jumped in, her voice bright and strategic. “How about,” she said, holding up a piece of aloo paratha like it was a rare artifact, “we eat this delicious–looking Italian pizza–with no toppings or sauce?” 

We all turned to look at the paratha. Even I cracked a small laugh. 

“Whaaaat…” Sheela gasped, clutching her hands on her chest like Clara had committed a culinary crime. “No. You did not–take that back.” 

Clara blinked, nonchalant. “What? I just said what I saw. It does look like an Italian fire–oven cooked pizza–just… without the toppings or sauce.” 

“It’s aloo paratha, Clara,” I said, tearing off a portion and rolling it between my fingers before shoving it toward her mouth. “More like a tortilla–stuffed 

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Chapter 137 

with potato fillings.” 

Clara leaned forward and bit into it with eager curiosity. “Hummmm,” she mumbled mid–chew, eyes wide with approval. “This is good.” 

“Isn’t it?” Sheela beamed, practically bouncing on the mat. With a flourish, she opened a tiny round tin. Inside, oil–glossed pickles glistened like edible jewels, rich with the aroma of spices that slapped the salty breeze away. 

“Try it with this pickle,” Sheela offered like it was a sacred ritual. 

Clara did as instructed, dipping the paratha delicately. Her reaction was instant. “Oh my god,” she said with her mouth full. “This combo tastes like heaven.” 

Sheela looked like she’d just won a Michelin star. “Isn’t it?” she echoed, thrilled. 

And just like that, a soft little bond bloomed between them–unspoken, simple, beautiful. I watched as they laughed over the tiniest bite, their dynamic shifting subtly. Clara was everyone’s favorite type, wasn’t she? Adaptable, warm, instantly likable. I could already tell Sheela adored her now more than 

ever. 

Before I could dwell too deep in that observation, a familiar voice rolled in like a breeze full of mischief and chaos. 

“Whoa, what is going on, ladies?” Thor’s unmistakably cheerful tone cut through the air, and I turned. 

And there they were. 

The Four of Hearts–shirtless, sun–kissed, and glowing like damn Greek gods pulled straight from the ocean. 

? 

Thor led the way with a grin that could start a revolution, followed by Jackson–smirking and slicking his wet hair back–and lan, with his usual soft–boy charm wrapped in those strong swimmer shoulders. And finally, Kaiden. 

Kaiden, who walked like the world bent around him. Water clung to his torso like worship. His hazel eyes scanned the group–and briefly, me–but the moment didn’t linger. Oof! I hate this pretending game. 

They settled down in easy chaos–Thor beside Sheela, already stealing a bite from her plate; Jackson plopped casually beside me, his damp shoulder brushing mine like an accident he didn’t care to correct; lan beside Clara, striking up a low conversation; and Kaiden… 

Kaiden sat beside Rubina. 

Of course, he did. 

And just like that, the tiny green monster I’d locked in the deepest vault of my chest–the one I thought I’d buried at the museum–clawed its 

1. up. 

way 

back 

Jealousy. 

Not again. 

“Come on, Lucy. Cool down,” I told myself inwardly, gripping my knees with sweaty palms. “He can’t sit beside you, remember? Not in public. Dan’s rules. Image. Election. All that crap. You can’t be mad. You’re logical. Mature. So stop acting like a walking red flag.” 

But logic didn’t stand a chance the moment Kaiden leaned slightly toward Rubina, his fingers reaching into her paper bag like he belonged there. 

“Ooh, cheese croissant,” he said with the innocent joy of a five–year–old getting a surprise gift at Christmas. “My favorite.” 

His smile was so soft. So real. 

And… my jealousy skyrocketed. 

My insides boiled like the lava in an angry volcano. 

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Chapter 137 

I know there’s no real reason to feel this way. They’re just good friends, bonding the way friends do. That’s it. Nothing more. 

But still… I can’t help it. 

Maybe it’s because I’m forced to hide my affection for Kaiden in public. Or maybe I really am just a toxic girlfriend. 

Either way, I’m burning right now—hotter than an Italian fire oven. 

To be continued…