Althea turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open, immediately hit by the unmistakable scent of too much — a combination of sharp cologne, fresh lilies, and what could only be described as someone trying really hard to impress. She froze for a second, bags still in hand, and squinted into the living room.
There he was. Adrian. Sitting on her mother's pristine white couch like he owned the place, wearing that smile that deluded almost every eye in the room. His shirt was crisp, perfectly ironed, and he had one of those bouquets in his lap—the kind that looked like it cost more than Althea's entire wardrobe. Next to him, Max was planted like a slouchy statue, legs stretched out, eyes lazily scanning something on his phone, completely unbothered by the family meet-and-greet happening around him. He looked like he wanted to perish quietly.
Althea's brain short-circuited. Did Adrian always look this much like a man auditioning for Son-in-Law of the Year? And Max looked like he'd been emotionally blackmailed into coming and was already plotting his escape route via the window.
Adrian stood up as soon as he noticed her. "Althea! You're here!" His voice was so bright, you'd think she was the prize at a raffle. She glanced behind her to make sure no one else had followed; just in case he was greeting the cat.
"We were just talking about the brunch this weekend. I brought flowers." He gestured proudly at the bouquet, which to Althea looked like it was auditioning for a funeral.
She glanced at the flowers and back at him. "You brought funeral flowers to my house." The words left her mouth before her filter could catch up.
Her mother gave a tight smile that screamed 'I'm trying to keep the peace but you're making it difficult.' "It's polite," she said primly, clearly on Team Adrian today. "Not everything has to be a performance, Althea."
Max let out a subtle pfft, but didn't even look up from his phone. Iconic.
Adrian motioned toward the empty chair. "Please, sit. Come join the conversation."
Althea dropped her bags and sank into the chair with the enthusiasm of a cat being shoved into a bath. Her mom wasted no time jumping in.
"Well, it's nice to see you've finally come home, Althea. Shopping, was it?" Her tone had the gentleness of lemon juice on a paper cut. Her dad blinked behind his glasses and gave the universal look of a man who just wanted to watch TV in peace.
Adrian, bless him, tried to revive the mood like a man doing CPR on a very dead fish. "We were just telling your parents about the brunch this weekend. I thought it would be nice to bring them up to speed. I… I know I haven't always been the most present—"
"Or honest," Althea added under her breath.
There was something unsettling about watching Adrian run through his well-rehearsed charm routine while Max lounged around like a cat ignoring the chaos.
Adrian faltered. "—But I wanted to fix that. Be better. For her." He looked at her with that expression, the one he used when he was trying to convince her of something, warm and slightly pleading.
Althea's mom clapped her hands lightly. "I think that's wonderful. At least someone is making an effort in this relationship."
Boom. Mic drop. Temperature drop.
Even the lilies wilted slightly out of sheer secondhand embarrassment.
Adrian's smile froze. Max finally looked up. Althea's stomach twisted, but she said nothing. Her mother's words felt like tiny paper cuts; not always deadly, but damn if they didn't sting every time.
Her mother pressed on, eyes glittering with cruel delight. "It's just so... disappointing, really. We were hoping for more from you. Perhaps a little less drama, a little more cooperation."
Adrian shifted awkwardly, like he wanted to protest but knew better.
Althea's mouth tightened. She could feel the hurt gathering in the pit of her stomach, familiar and unwelcome.
Before she could say anything, "Can you not?" Max said with a calmness that surprised everyone. His eyes locked onto her mother, cool and steady.
Her mother's smile flickered — an unspoken how dare you in her narrowed eyes.
Adrian looked like he wanted to disappear through the floor, caught between family politics and the awkward reality that Max just shut down the whole conversation in one sentence.
Her mom's lips pursed. "Excuse me?"
Max finally looked up then — really looked. Althea caught that glance and suddenly felt less alone in the room.
"She's not a problem that needs fixing," he said simply. "Maybe you do."
Silence. Heavy. Dense.
Althea blinked. Her mom stared at Max like he'd grown a second head. Adrian, bless his oblivious soul, tried to chuckle again.
Max didn't wait for a reply. He just gave Althea a look, a brief flicker of something unreadable and real like he'd just taken out the trash and was done with it. And then walked toward the door like it wasn't even a question.
Adrian gawked. "What?"
Althea was on her feet before she could think. She followed him out without a word, ignoring Adrian's startled "Wait—!" and her mother's disapproving noise.
Once they were on the porch, the door still ajar behind them, Althea exhaled like she'd been holding her breath underwater.
Max stretched his arms like he'd just left a business meeting with Satan.
"I hate lilies," he muttered. "They smell like stress."
Althea burst out laughing. Not cute giggles. Not restrained chuckles. Just honest, raw relief laughter.
"Did you seriously come here with him just to pull a full reverse Uno on my mom?"
"I didn't plan it," Max said.
She studied him for a second. "You're different. Quieter today."
Max shrugged. "It's hard to be loud when the circus is already in session."
Althea smiled, despite everything. "Thanks."
"You do seem like you wanna burn those lilies in the backyard." Max said with amusement.
Althea let out a laugh. "Oh, I will. Full-on ceremonial sacrifice."
"Maybe hold a funeral. Invite the bouquet." then started to walk away. Then paused.
"You looked weird today," he said over his shoulder. "Expensive. Like you emotionally damaged a credit card."
And just like that, he was gone.
Althea stood on the porch alone, arms crossed, a strange ache in her chest and a single thought bouncing around in her head:
Why?
"Althea," came the voice from behind her, soft and a little breathless. "Did Max leave?" She didn't jump. Just blinked slowly, as if her body needed a moment to buffer before responding to him.
She turned around and found Adrian standing at the door. He looked weirdly... hesitant. Like even the porch might reject his presence on principle. She stared. He stared back.
Then she said flatly, "No, Adrian. He evaporated into sparkles and ascended to a higher place where lilies don't exist and everyone has basic emotional awareness. He despises lilies."
Adrian paused. Blinked. "So... yes?"
"Yes."
He stepped out, holding onto the doorframe like it was his emotional support beam. "I didn't know he was gonna say that. To your mom, I mean."
Althea crossed her arms. "Yeah? Neither did I. It was... oddly satisfying. Like watching someone slap a mosquito mid-flight."
Adrian winced, rubbing the back of his neck like he'd just lived through a war flashback made of passive-aggressive small talk. "He always does that. Walks in, says something nuclear, then ghosts like a misunderstood poet."
"Must be nice," she murmured, "to say exactly what you mean and not care if it ruins the mood."
Adrian chuckled, but it was dry. "Yeah. That's... kind of his thing. Always has been. Since we were kids, Max had this way of saying what everyone else was thinking but didn't have the guts to say."
Althea glanced at him. "And you?"
"I usually... smiled and stayed quiet. Told people what they wanted to hear. Said what sounded right, not always what I felt."
Althea raised a brow. "That tracks."
"I know." He looked down. "I wanted to be the guy that always fixed things. Smoothed things over. But Max... he doesn't smooth things. He slices straight through them."
He gave a small laugh. "Even now, even though he's younger than me, I swear I look up to him more than anyone."
Althea stayed quiet. Something in her chest tugged — the truth of that sentence felt too close, too familiar. Like Adrian had just held up a mirror to both of them.
"And I bet he didn't spend fifteen minutes practicing flower angles in the mirror before entering either." Althea said.
Adrian blushed. "I didn't—okay maybe ten."
She snorted.
Adrian's voice turned softer. "I'm sorry. Really. For all the Alaya things and also for making you play along with this... melodrama that's going on."
Another beat passed. The porch was still. The lilies inside were probably wilting from the sheer weight of the awkwardness left behind.
Adrian let out a sigh. "You deserve someone who won't hesitate to speak up. Who says the hard things, not just the pretty ones."
"And yet you brought funeral flowers and said nothing while my mother verbally karate-chopped me."
"I know." He looked down. "I suck."
"Good. Step one is admitting it."
Adrian smiled a little, sad but real. "You're different with him. With Max. More... you."
"Yeah, because he is like he would eat you alive emotionally and then disappear with your wallet."
Althea then took a deep breath. "He doesn't expect me to be palatable. That's refreshing."
There was a silence. This one didn't feel painful, just awkward.
"I'm going inside," she finally said. "I've reached my social tolerance for the day. My brain's buffering."
Adrian stepped aside. "Right. Of course."
She paused at the door, then turned back one last time. "Next time, bring chocolate. Or a legally binding apology, or my new friend Alaya."
He chuckled and nodded. "No flowers?"
She gave him a look. "Adrian, if I see another lily this week, I'm burning your credit card."
She stepped back inside, past Adrian and her mother's silence, and for once, didn't explain herself. She just picked up the flowers, dumped them gently in the trash, and went to her room.
He could charm the parents. She'd rather keep the ones who stayed when she wasn't trying to be likable.
End of Chapter 13.