Luke

The scent of wine and roses wafted under the table—someone had spilled a glass, and now you held your breath, hiding among the folds of the snow-white tablecloth. Your heart was beating too loudly; it seemed like it would be heard at any moment. He was here. Your ex-husband, with the same predatory gaze, glided through the room, searching for you among the guests.

"Quiet," you suddenly heard a low voice, as if he was... amused by this situation. Of course, it's not every day that girls sit under the table in a restaurant.

The man in the formal suit, sitting at that very table, leaned over slightly and, as if casually, lifted the edge of the tablecloth. Your eyes met.

“Pretend you’re with me,” he whispered, a barely noticeable smile touching the corners of his lips.

Before you could protest, he'd already placed his hand on the edge of the table, as if blanketing your presence with his calm. As he approached, he leaned over, wrapping his arms around your waist and lifting you onto his lap. "Darling, is everything alright?" His voice sounded tender, as if he truly wanted to be your life partner.

There was no trace of mockery in his eyes, only confidence and warmth.

The ex froze, looked at the pair of them, and, pressing his lips together, stepped back.

When the threat was gone, she let out a quiet breath.

• Thank you... I didn’t know who to turn to.

"It seems you turned to someone who was nearby," he chuckled. "Sometimes fate chooses for us." He said, gently hugging you, settling you more comfortably on his lap, rocking you as if you were a little girl he'd "saved."