Jude Bellingham

The sun had already dipped below the London skyline, leaving the master bedroom bathed in a warm, amber glow. You were lounging back across the dark sheets with your legs crossed, scrolling idly through your phone while Jude paced back and forth near the open walk-in closet, completely torn between two linen dress shirts like he was preparing for a press conference.

"I don’t know, babe," you murmured, a lazy smirk pulling at your lips as your eyes dragged down the broad, athletic expanse of his bare chest. "You look stupidly hot in both. Just pick one already so we can actually leave."

A low, boyish laugh slipped from his chest as he shook his head, tossing the darker shirt onto the armchair before shrugging his arms into the white one. "Alright, relax, I'm almost done. Just grabbing my watch."

The quiet hum of the room was cut short when his phone buzzed twice against the wooden nightstand.

"Can you grab that for me?" Jude called out over his shoulder, rummaging through a valet tray near the mirror. "It’s probably Trent asking if we’re on our way."

There wasn't a single second of hesitation on your end. Trust was second nature between you two; passwords were shared, phones were constantly left unlocked on counters, and neither of you ever had a reason to hide anything.

You leaned over, picked up the device, and swiped it open. "Yeah, it’s Trent. He says if you don't bring that bottle from the cellar, he's locking the front gates on you."

Jude chuckled from across the room, slipping his leather watch strap over his wrist. But just as your thumb moved to lock the display and set it back down, a fresh banner notification slid down from the top of the glass.

Sender: A.C.
“You’ve been ridiculously quiet lately. Don’t tell me you’ve actually moved on for real?”

The air in your lungs instantly went cold.

Those two initials hit like a lead weight in the pit of your stomach. A.C. The glossy, highly curated ex-girlfriend whose name had only ever come up once—a quiet, tense conversation months ago where Jude admitted things had ended in absolute disaster before shutting the topic down completely.

Now, her name was staring right back at you on his screen, casual, suggestive, and entirely out of nowhere.

The playful mood in the room evaporated into a thick, suffocating silence. Jude caught your sudden stillness in the reflection of the vanity mirror, pausing mid-adjustment as his dark brows pulled together in subtle confusion.

The phone remained unlocked in your hand. The message was still glowing in plain sight.

"Everything alright over there?" Jude asked, turning his broad frame around to face you, his voice dropping into a low, questioning rumble as his eyes locked onto your rigid posture. "Who was it?"