Victor's mind raced as he connected the dots. The memories he had of his father mentioning a high school rival and best friend named Stone now suddenly took on a new significance. But the realization that Kaylee's father was that very same "Uncle Stone"—his father’s best friend—left him speechless.
He stared at the video on Kaylee’s phone, trying to process it all.
"This is... crazy," he finally managed to say, turning to Kaylee, who looked equally stunned. "Our fathers were best friends?"
"I mean, yeah... but I had no idea they were this close," Kaylee replied, her eyes glued to the video where their fathers, drenched in sweat and laughing, looked like they hadn’t missed a beat since their youth.
They sat in silence, the absurdity of it all settling over them. Victor was still trying to wrap his head around the implications when Kaylee’s phone buzzed with a new message from her mother:
Ma: Your Pa won the race, but just barely! Uncle Tarang disappeared right after. Anyway, talk later. We're heading inside the house now for the real meeting with Ford Dylan. Pray that everything will go smoothly.
Kaylee read the message aloud, and Victor grinned, shaking his head. "My dad never does anything the conventional way."
As the video played on in the background—showing their fathers laughing and competing in ridiculous wedding-themed tasks, there was a strange sense of comfort settling over the room. The previous night's kiss still lingered in both their minds, but now, there was something new anchoring them: a shared history, a legacy that somehow connected their families long before they had ever met.
Victor shifted his chair closer, his voice softening. "It's kind of surreal, isn’t it? I mean, I always thought of my dad as this distant, hard-to-read figure. But seeing him like this, with your father... It's like getting a glimpse of another side of him. It makes me think about how things have a way of coming full circle."
Kaylee nodded, her heart swelling with affection for him, for everything they had been through and everything that lay ahead. "Maybe that's how it's supposed to be," she said, her voice gentle. "We're not just creating something new together. We’re part of something bigger, part of a story that was written long before we got here."
Their eyes met, and this time, there was no awkwardness. The tension from the previous night had transformed into something else—a mutual understanding that they weren’t just navigating their own feelings, but also stepping into a shared legacy.
Victor's hand brushed hers briefly on the table, a fleeting touch that felt intentional and reassuring. A silent reminder that they could face anything together, from family revelations to their own deepening feelings.
"We'll get through this," Victor said, smiling as he pulled his focus back to the blueprints. "One project, one day at a time."
Kaylee smiled back, a quiet peace settling over her. "Yeah, we will."
And with that, they returned to their work, the knowledge of their shared history—and their shared future—adding a quiet strength to everything they did.
***
Back at the Langford Estate, as the challenge came to an end, both Stone and Tarang (or rather, Ford) were drenched in sweat, panting. They exchanged a knowing look, a mix of old friendship and mutual respect glimmering in their eyes.
Tarang—still in character—patted Stone on the back. "Good race, old buddy," he said, his tone filled with nostalgia. "You haven’t lost your edge."
Stone laughed, catching his breath. "And you haven’t changed a bit, Tarang. What are you doing here, mingling with the Langfords?"
Tarang grinned, waving off Stone’s question as though it were trivial. "Just helping out where I can. Event planning and all that," he said casually, though his light tone couldn't completely mask the deeper significance behind his involvement. Stone caught it but knew better than to pry.
After a brief exchange of phone numbers and a warm greeting to Amethyst, Tarang gave a final wave. "I’ve got another task waiting. Catch up soon," he said with a playful nod before striding off, disappearing into the bustle of the estate.
Stone and Amethyst watched him go, a lingering sense of familiarity and intrigue in the air. Just as Stone was about to comment, Louis appeared with his usual poised demeanor, offering a polite bow.
"Congratulations, Mr. Stone," Louis said. "You’ve successfully completed the Langford family’s traditional welcoming challenge. Now, if you and Mrs. Stone will follow me, Master Ford is ready to meet you inside."
Still wiping sweat from his brow, Stone exchanged a glance with Amethyst. "Well, that was... something," he said, catching his breath.
Amethyst chuckled, shaking her head as a warm smile spread across her face. "You did great, though. I haven't laughed that much in years."
With a light laugh shared between them, they followed Louis deeper into the estate. The long hallway was lined with fine art and pristine furniture, each piece a testament to the Langford family's wealth and influence. The grandeur was almost overwhelming, but as they neared the door to Ford Dylan's office, a strange familiarity tugged at Stone’s mind, like a distant memory stirring just beneath the surface.
The door finally opened, and Louis gestured for them to enter. Ford's back was turned, his silhouette framed by the large glass window, the sunlight casting long shadows across the room. As Stone stepped inside, the sense of familiarity grew stronger, creeping into his thoughts.
Then, in one fluid motion, Ford swiveled his chair to face them, a sly smile dancing across his lips.
"Hello, father of the bride," he greeted, his voice rich with amusement.
Recognition hit Stone like a bolt of lightning. His eyes widened, and the name escaped his lips before he could stop himself. "Tarang?!"
Ford chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief and warmth. "Or as you know me now... Ford Dylan. Welcome, old friend."
"You sly one," Stone muttered, still in a mix of disbelief and admiration. "I should’ve known."
With a hearty laugh, Ford stood up and pulled Stone into a brotherly hug. "Welcome to the family, Stone."
***
Hann stood in his kitchen, the camera propped up on the windowsill, recording him as he moved around the small space. It was early morning, and sunlight filtered through the curtains in soft beams, casting a warm glow over the room. The kitchen was simple, much like the breakfast he was preparing—scrambled eggs and toast.
This had become his routine—recording videos for Joyce. It was the seventh day in a row, and the awkwardness that marked his earlier attempts was slowly fading.
He hit record, glancing at the phone with a smile that felt more natural now. The unease was gone. Somehow, it was different now. He wasn’t overthinking it anymore. Joyce, though absent, had quietly become part of these moments, part of his new life.
"Morning, Joyce," Hann began, his voice calm as he cracked an egg into the pan. The soft sizzle filled the brief silence before he spoke again. "Another simple breakfast today. You used to like the Mamak-styled RBTM cheese, right? I remember you mentioning it to someone during a meeting a few years ago. Thought I’d try some toast too, but mine's nothing fancy."
He paused, reflecting. Yes, he had actually noticed things about her back then—the snippets of conversation he overheard, the fleeting glimpses that had caught his eye. Over the past two weeks, he had plenty of time to sift through memories he hadn’t paid much attention to before. Details that seemed insignificant at the time had become the threads he clung to now. He regretted his indifference, the way he had overlooked these moments when they truly mattered.
Bittersweet, he chuckled, glancing at the bread in the toaster as it slowly browned to perfection this time. "I’ve gotten better at this. I guess it’s one of those things you get better at with time—like waiting."
He moved to stir the eggs, and the camera followed the casual flow of his routine. This one-way communication was becoming more comfortable, as if talking to her, even without a response, brought him a peace he hadn’t expected.
"I know the messages still aren’t getting through," Hann said, casting a brief glance at his phone on the counter. The single check mark on his WhatsApp was a quiet reminder, but he didn’t dwell on it. "But that’s okay. Doing this… it’s been good for me. Feels like I’m talking to you, like you’re here."
His tone was calm, accepting. The desperation and guilt of his earlier messages were gone. He had apologized enough. Now, it was about letting her in, in whatever way he could—even if it was just through these mundane, everyday routines.
As he plated the eggs, he paused and took a moment to look directly into the camera. His expression was softer now, more at ease. "I don’t know if you’ll ever watch these," he said with a gentle smile, "but talking to you like this... it helps. I think about you a lot. I miss you. But for now, this is enough."
The toast popped up, perfectly done this time. He smiled, almost proud of the small victory, and sat down at the table, his breakfast in front of him, the camera still rolling. He stared for a moment through the lens, as if Joyce were sitting right there, a slight smile curving his lips, hope and contentment flickering in his eyes.
"Take care of yourself, alright?" he said softly, before ending the recording. There was no sadness in his voice, just quiet acceptance. The waiting had become a companion of sorts, one he was learning to live with.
The frustration and uncertainty that once gripped him were gone. Instead, he felt lighter, more at peace. Whether Joyce ever saw these videos didn’t matter as much anymore. She was already part of his life again, woven into these small, quiet moments. And for now, that was enough.
***
Across the South China Sea, Joyce’s days were moving at a slower, more reflective pace. Another week had passed since her first meeting with Victoria at On The Sunset. When Victoria invited her to visit Windy Hill, a scenic retreat known for its breathtaking ocean views and gentle, windswept hills, Joyce hesitated for only a moment before accepting. The time away had done her good, offering moments of peace, though thoughts of Hann still lingered in the quiet spaces of her mind. Yet, something about Victoria’s gesture—reaching out in friendship—felt right. It was a connection worth nurturing, and despite Victoria's initial romantic interest, they had found an ease between them that felt comforting, free of awkwardness.
When Joyce arrived at Windy Hill, she immediately noticed Victoria waiting for her, standing near the hill's iconic windmill. The breeze tugged at Victoria's long hair, and her striking presence was, as always, hard to miss. But something else caught Joyce's attention—a Korean woman standing beside her with short hair and a chic, effortless style. They were standing close, almost too close, and there was something intimate about their body language.
As Joyce approached, she took in the subtle details: Victoria’s hand resting gently on the small of the woman’s back, the soft laugh that spilled from the woman's lips as she leaned into Victoria's space, and the unspoken connection in their glances. It was clear—they were more than just friends. The realization made Joyce pause. A flicker of discomfort stirred in her, not out of disapproval, but from unfamiliarity. Public displays of affection between same-sex couples were something she wasn’t accustomed to, especially ones so naturally unguarded. Still, out of respect, she kept her reaction carefully neutral. She was here as a friend, and she had no intention of casting judgment.
"Joyce!" Victoria called out with a warm smile, waving her over. "I'm so glad you could make it."
Joyce returned the smile and walked up to join them. Victoria introduced the woman beside her. "This is Minji. She's been showing me around Geoje. Minji, this is Joyce, the friend I’ve been telling you about."
Minji smiled politely, though there was an undeniable intimacy in the way she looked at Victoria. As they exchanged pleasantries and chatted about the scenery, Joyce couldn’t help but notice the frequent touches, the shared glances, and the subtle but clear affection between Victoria and Minji. It wasn’t intrusive, but it was there—enough to make Joyce feel slightly out of place. It wasn’t judgment that unsettled her; it was the unfamiliarity of it all, a world she had never stepped into.
Still, she remained warm and engaged, though a subtle tension lingered within her. As they explored the hill together, the breathtaking views of Windy Hill did their best to distract her. For brief moments, she was lost in the beauty of the landscape, but each time she caught a glimpse of Victoria and Minji together, that small knot of unease tightened again.
When they eventually parted ways, Joyce politely excused herself, her mind replaying the events of the day. The feeling of discomfort hadn’t faded. It was something she couldn’t easily ignore, and it troubled her. She wanted to be supportive of Victoria, to embrace her friend’s happiness, but something deeper, more personal, was stirring. It was a confrontation with something unknown, and Joyce wasn’t yet sure how to navigate it.
***
The next morning, Joyce received a message from Victoria inviting her to breakfast. She hesitated at first, recalling the events of the previous day, but ultimately decided to meet her. This felt like an opportunity to share her thoughts in a way that might help both of them.
They met at a cozy seaside cafe, much quieter than their previous encounters. Victoria greeted Joyce with her usual grace, though Joyce noticed a slight shift in her demeanor—she seemed more relaxed today, less guarded, and perhaps unaware of Joyce's internal conflict. After ordering their food and engaging in light conversation, Joyce took a deep breath, knowing it was time to speak up.
"Victoria," Joyce began gently, her voice calm but thoughtful, "I really appreciate our friendship. I think you're an incredible person, and I want to say this carefully, with a lot of respect for you..."
Victoria looked at her curiously but nodded for her to continue.
Joyce paused, gathering her thoughts. She didn't want to come across as condescending or judgmental. She genuinely cared about Victoria, and that care guided every word she was about to say.
"I want you to know that I'm not here to judge you or your choices," Joyce said, her eyes soft and compassionate. "And I've always believed that everyone deserves love and respect, no matter who they are or where they come from. But... I also believe that respect is mutual. Yesterday when we were at Windy Hill, I felt a little uncomfortable seeing you and Minji... so close in public. It's not because I have anything against you or her—it's just that as someone who is straight, it's something I'm not used to seeing, and it was a little overwhelming for me."
Victoria's expression didn't change much, but Joyce could see that she was listening carefully, her mind processing Joyce's words.
"I guess what I'm trying to say," Joyce continued, "is that while I respect you and your relationship, I think it's important to also consider how our actions affect those around us. We all have different beliefs, feelings, and comfort levels, and it's not just about one group or one side. It's mutual. As much as I want to be respectful of you, I think it would also help if you could be mindful of how certain things might affect others. When public displays of affection happen—whether between same-sex or opposite-sex couples—it can make some people uncomfortable, especially in spaces where that kind of affection isn't the norm."
Victoria's brows furrowed slightly, though she remained calm. "Are you saying I shouldn't be myself in public?" she asked, her tone not defensive, but genuinely curious.
Joyce shook her head softly, her voice gentle. "No, not at all. I'm not saying you should change who you are. What I'm trying to say is that being yourself doesn't have to come at the expense of making others uncomfortable. We all live in a society where different people have different values and comfort zones. And while I'm working on understanding and accepting you, I think we should all try to be a little more considerate of how our actions affect the people around us. It's not about hiding who you are—it's about respecting the space we share with others."
Victoria was silent for a moment, her eyes thoughtful as she processed Joyce's words. There was no anger in her expression, only a quiet reflection. Joyce could see that her words had struck a chord.
"I've never really thought about it that way," Victoria admitted softly, tracing the rim of her coffee cup with her fingers. "I guess, for so long, I've felt judged by people—especially straight people—so I’ve pushed back. Maybe I’ve become a little defensive."
Joyce nodded, understanding. "I can see why. And I'm really sorry that you've felt judged. That's never been my intention, and I think for many Christians, it's not about rejecting you as a person. God loves you, Victoria. And that's something I believe deeply. What we struggle with are the actions or choices—just like any other sin in the Bible. But it's never about you as a person."
Victoria looked down, her expression softening as she absorbed Joyce's words. "It's hard, you know? When people look at you and only see your orientation, not the person underneath."
"I get that," Joyce said quietly. "But I think it goes both ways. We have to see each other as people first, with all our complexities, our backgrounds, and our beliefs. It's not about judging, it's about understanding and respecting each other, even when we don't always agree."
Victoria smiled faintly, her eyes lifting to meet Joyce's. "You're really something, you know that?"
Joyce chuckled, a warm smile spreading across her face. "I just want to be a good friend. That's all."
Victoria nodded, her respect for Joyce deepening. Though she didn't fully understand everything Joyce had said, a sense of responsibility stirred within her—an awareness she hadn’t considered before. And though the road ahead would still be filled with questions, this conversation had planted a seed of reflection that would take root in time.
The rest of the breakfast was light and pleasant, their bond growing stronger despite their differences. Joyce had spoken her truth with love, and Victoria had listened with an open heart—something not often seen in the walls of their very different worlds.
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