Felicity's POV.
A soft knock shattered my Saturday morning peace. I groaned, rolled out of bed, and tugged on my sweater as I shuffled to the door. I opened it—and 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?"
"Okay, don't freak out, but—"
"That's never a good way to start a sentence," I muttered. "Come in. Start talking."
She stepped inside, rubbing her hands together nervously. She took a deep breath.
"Chris is my brother."
I blinked. Laughed. Blinked again. "Come again?
You're joking. This is some elaborate Oxford prank, right?"
"No, I'm serious. He's my actual brother. As in—same mother, same father. That kind of brother."
Silence.
The kind that screams louder than words.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I stared at her, my chest tightening.
"You—you've been my best friend this whole time," I whispered, my voice cracking. "And you didn't think that was worth mentioning?"
"I'm sorry," she said, 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 pooled under my skin like ice water.
"No. No, you don't get to dump that on me and call it 'complicated.' You sat there while I talked to you about him. You—you listened to every embarrassing detail. And you just sat there pretending you didn't know?"
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
"I—I don't even know how I feel right now."
She hesitated. "Are we okay? You're so quiet." she said.
"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 told you and Mia everything—everything about how I felt for Chris. And she just sat there knowing all that?"
"I know. I'm sorry. I get why you're upset."
"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 really sorry."
I exhaled shakily. "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."
Penelope smiled with visible relief. "Let's go. Bring your jacket."
"Yes, Mom."
She laughed. "Hey—I'm not your mom!"
I giggled. "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, too-perfect blazer and a confident stride. He had that golden-boy glow, hair slightly tousled. He has a dimple that I didn't see before and his gray eyes caught mine—and I froze. He looked just like Theodore Owens. My childhood crush. But older.
"Felicity!" he called, jogging toward us with that annoyingly charming grin and too-perfect blazer.
"Hi, Alex," I said, pretending to sound normal.
"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.
Then I remembered something—something horrifying.
"Oh no. That's where Chris works."
"We shouldn't go there," I blurted. "Let's go somewhere else—better."
"Why? It's literally 30 seconds away," Alex said. "Come on."
We walked toward the café. Alex's hand brushed mine more than once—deliberately. Bold. Charming. Dangerous.
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 looked up—and time stopped.
"Chris?" I breathed.
Our eyes locked. His hand was still on my waist, the other gripping my arm. His gaze held mine like it always did—intense. 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."
"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. 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. "But I'd be more than that if she lets me."
Chris's expression tightened.
"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.
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… thanks," I stammered.
"Aww! You are such a gentleman," Penelope cooed.
Chris returned, slamming our plates down harder than necessary. "Enjoy."
He walked away—but not before giving me one last lingering look.
I sat with a fake smile, a flower in my hand, and my heart in shreds.
Peace? Nowhere in sight.
This love triangle?
Officially a war zone.
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. 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 the opposite direction—heart pounding, head spinning, and completely, utterly confused.