Chapter 5

JENNIE POV: 

Jennie hated family toasts.

Not regular toasts. Those she could survive.

A champagne glass. A fake smile. A few polished lies about legacy and growth and “meaningful partnerships.” Easy.

But family toasts?

Those were worse.

Because family toasts always came with hidden agendas, public pressure, and at least one older relative trying to imply something deeply inappropriate with a smile that looked harmless from a distance.

So by the time she and Lisa stepped back into the main room, Jennie was already mentally planning at least four ways to disappear before the end of the event.

Unfortunately, her mother spotted her immediately.

Of course she did.

Mothers like hers could sense rebellion in the air the way sharks sensed blood.

“Jennie,” her mother said, voice calm and elegant and somehow still threatening. “There you are.”

Jennie smiled politely.

The kind of smile that said I am being very respectful despite my better judgment.

“Wasn’t aware I’d gone missing.”

Her mother’s eyes flicked once toward Lisa, then back to her.

“Come. Your father wants the two of you near the front.”

Of course he did.

Why suffer privately when you could be displayed like a luxury investment package in front of half the city?

Jennie looked toward the center of the room and immediately regretted having functional vision.

A raised platform.

A microphone.

A bunch of board members.

Her father standing near the podium already looking like he had rehearsed this.

Disgusting.

Jennie exhaled through her nose. Beside her, Lisa leaned in just slightly and murmured, “Your eye is doing the thing again.”

Jennie kept smiling.

“What thing?”

“The violent little twitch.”

Jennie turned her head just enough to glare at her while still looking socially acceptable.

“You’re not helping.”

Lisa’s mouth twitched.

“Actually, I think I’m helping a lot.”

“You are one sentence away from becoming a liability.”

Lisa looked delighted by that.

Which was honestly one of her most irritating traits.

She found way too much joy in Jennie’s suffering.

Then again, Jennie found way too much satisfaction in threatening her, so maybe the universe was balanced in an ugly way.

They moved toward the venue together.

And that was the thing Jennie hated most.

Together.

Not accidentally crossing paths at some event.

Not arguing across a conference table.

Not trading sharp comments from opposite ends of a room.

Actually moving as a pair.

Walking side by side while people turned to look at them like they were already a unit.

It felt too intimate for something so fake.

Jennie hated how much that thought bothered her.

At the front, her father greeted them with a nod that somehow managed to feel both formal and possessive.

Lisa’s stepfather stood beside him looking equally pleased with himself.

“Stand here,” her father said quietly.

Jennie obeyed because causing a scene this early would be amateur work, and if she was going to ruin something, she preferred to do it elegantly.

Lisa took the spot beside her.

Close enough that Jennie could feel her shoulder near hers without actually touching. 

Close enough that it was annoying.

Close enough that Jennie was suddenly too aware of where her hands were.

She folded them in front of her just to have something to do.

Her father tapped the microphone.

The room quieted.

Jennie immediately wanted to leave.

“Thank you all for being here this morning,” he began, with the smooth, practiced tone of a man who had spent his life making inconvenient things sound visionary.

Jennie tuned out approximately forty percent of it.

Something about family values.

Something about strategic growth.

Something about partnership and future leadership and trust between legacies.

At one point he said the phrase “a meaningful next chapter” and Jennie nearly blacked out from secondhand embarrassment.

Beside her, Lisa looked perfectly composed.

Jennie glanced at her once.

Big mistake. Because Lisa was already looking at her.

Not in a way anyone else would clock.

Just… there.

Watching.

Like she found this whole thing stupid too. Like she was trying not to laugh.

And somehow that made Jennie feel slightly less homicidal. Which was a deeply unfortunate development.

Then her father said:

“And today, we’re pleased to formally share the engagement of our daughter, Jennie Kim, and Lalisa Manoban.”

The room broke into applause. Jennie’s soul briefly left her body.

She smiled anyway.

Years of training. Years of control. Years of learning how to keep her face still while internally experiencing full emotional collapse.

She turned her head slightly toward Lisa. Lisa smiled at the crowd with effortless ease.

Then under her breath, so low only Jennie could hear:

“Congrats, babe.”

Jennie kept smiling.

“I’m going to push you down those fancy stairs.”

Lisa’s smile got brighter.

The applause finally died down.

Jennie thought the worst part was over. That was her first mistake.

Her father extended a hand toward them.

“If the two of you would join us for a moment.”

Jennie blinked.

Join us for what. For what exactly.

She turned to her mother with her eyes alone. Her mother gave her the smallest warning look.

That meant: do not embarrass us.

Which naturally made Jennie want to embarrass them more.

But before she could decide how much damage she was willing to do, Lisa stepped forward smoothly, and Jennie had no choice but to follow unless she wanted to look like she was being physically dragged into a hostage ceremony.

They stepped onto the platform. Someone handed them champagne flutes. Jennie accepted hers with the numb energy of a woman being professionally haunted.

“Smile,” Lisa murmured beside her.

Jennie smiled without moving her lips. “I hate you.”

Lisa clinked her glass lightly against Jennie’s. “No, you don’t.”

Jennie turned her head just enough to look at her.

And there it was again.

That thing.

That stupid, calm, unreadable confidence Lisa had when she said things like she already knew the answer.

Jennie hated that.

Also maybe hated that she couldn’t immediately prove her wrong.

A photographer called out, “Can we get one of you two together?”

Jennie wanted to throw the champagne.

Instead, she turned.

Lisa turned too.

They lifted their glasses. The camera flashes started again.

And because the universe hated Jennie personally, Lisa leaned just slightly closer and said, still smiling:

“You’re doing great, by the way.”

Jennie blinked.

That almost threw her off more than the cameras. Because she’d expected teasing. Or some smug little comment.

Not… that.

Not something soft. Not something that sounded real.

She recovered quickly, because obviously she had to. 

“Shut up.”

Lisa’s mouth twitched. But she didn’t push.

And somehow, weirdly, that made Jennie more aware of her than if she had.

After the toast, people surged toward them almost immediately.

Congratulations.

Handshakes.

Air kisses.

Too many smiles. Too much perfume. Too many people acting like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Jennie survived the first ten minutes through sheer force of will. The second ten through caffeine. The third through petty hatred.

By minute thirty-seven, she was dangerously close to snapping at a seventy-year-old woman in pearls who had just said, “I always thought you two would end up together.”

Jennie smiled tightly.

“Did you.”

The woman nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh, absolutely. The tension was very obvious.”

Jennie nearly inhaled her own soul. Beside her, Lisa coughed into her drink to hide a laugh.

Jennie elbowed her lightly without looking.

Lisa actually made a small offended noise.

The woman continued, fully unaware she was causing psychological damage.

“Some people fight because they dislike each other,” she said knowingly. “But some people fight because they’re fascinated.”

Jennie stared at her. Then at Lisa.

Then back at the woman.

“Respectfully,” Jennie said, “that is one of the worst things anyone has ever said to me before noon.”

The woman laughed like Jennie was joking. Jennie was not joking.

Lisa, unfortunately, looked like she was having the time of her life.

Once the woman moved on, Jennie turned to Lisa immediately.

“Say one thing and I’ll actually kill you.”

Lisa held up both hands. “I said nothing.”

“You looked like you were going to explode.”

“I’m very expressive.”

“You’re very annoying.”

Lisa smiled. “You’ve said that already.”

“I’ll say it again.”

“I know.”

Jennie hated that answer so much she had to take a sip of champagne just to avoid throwing a a vase at her.

Then one of the event coordinators approached.

“Miss Kim? Miss Manoban? We’ve arranged a private media room for your statement and seated interview.”

Jennie turned slowly.

“A what.”

The coordinator smiled like a woman moments away from regretting every career choice that had led her here.

“A brief couple’s interview for selected press.”

Jennie stared. Then looked at Lisa.

Lisa looked back.

Then both of them said at the exact same time:

“No.”

The coordinator froze.

Jennie and Lisa turned to each other.

There was one very quiet beat. Then, despite herself, Jennie almost smiled. Because okay.

That was slightly satisfying.

The coordinator blinked nervously. “I—I was told—”

“My father told you,” Jennie said smoothly.

“And my stepfather told you,” Lisa added.

The woman nodded.

Jennie and Lisa looked at each other again. Lisa tilted her head slightly.

Jennie understood immediately.

Dangerous.

Unhelpful.

Annoyingly good teamwork.

Jennie smiled politely at the coordinator.

“Give us two minutes.”

The coordinator nearly fled.

The second she was gone, Jennie turned to Lisa.

“Absolutely not.”

Lisa nodded. “Hard agree.”

“I’m not doing a seated couple interview.”

“Neither am I.”

Jennie crossed her arms. “Then fix it.”

Lisa looked offended. “Why me?”

“Because you’re charming in emergencies.”

Lisa paused.

Then, very annoyingly, smiled.

“That’s kind of sweet.” Jennie stared at her.

“That was not sweet.”

“It was a compliment.” Lisa said.

“It was an insult with formatting.”

Lisa laughed softly.

Jennie hated that laugh. Not because it was bad. Because it was becoming way too familiar way too fast.

Lisa leaned slightly closer. “Fine. I’ll handle it.”

Jennie narrowed her eyes. “Without making it worse?”

Lisa gave her a look. “No promises.”

Jennie pointed at her. “That is not reassuring.”

But before she could say anything else, Lisa was already moving toward the group of parents near the back of the room.

Jennie watched her go. And immediately wished she hadn’t.

Because seeing Lisa in full strategic mode was always a problem. She moved through the crowd like she had been built for this kind of thing.

Relaxed. Smooth. Smiling just enough. Saying exactly what needed to be said without ever looking like she was trying.

Jennie had seen her do this in boardrooms before. At launches. At investor dinners. At charity events.

She always made it look easy. Which was deeply irritating. And maybe also why Jennie had never quite been able to ignore her. Not that she would ever say that out loud.

Lisa reached the parents.

Jennie couldn’t hear the full conversation from where she stood, but she could see enough.

Lisa smiling politely. Her stepfather stiffening. Jennie’s father saying something clipped. Lisa not backing down.

Interesting… Very interesting.

Jennie shifted slightly, trying not to look like she was obviously watching. Which failed instantly when her mother appeared beside her.

“You should look happier.” 

Jennie didn’t turn, and said: “You should lower your expectations.”

Her mother exhaled softly. “This matters, Jennie.”

Jennie finally looked at her. “I know that’s what you keep telling yourself.”

Her mother’s expression changed slightly. Not much. But enough.

Enough for Jennie to recognize the tiny flicker of guilt buried under all the control.

It almost made her feel bad. Almost.

Then her mother said, “At least try not to make this harder than it has to be.”

Jennie laughed once. That short, flat kind of laugh that never meant anything good. “I’m not the one who arranged my daughter’s public engagement before asking if she wanted a life.”

Her mother’s jaw tightened just slightly.

And there it was. The part neither of them ever said directly.

Jennie was easier to manage when she was useful. More valuable when she was compliant.

Loved, maybe, but always with conditions attached. It was exhausting.

Her mother looked away first.

Which felt like winning, except it didn’t actually feel good.

Before the silence could get any worse, Lisa returned.

Jennie looked at her immediately.

Lisa gave her a tiny nod.

“It’s canceled.”

Jennie blinked.

“really?”

Lisa took a sip of coffee like she hadn’t just performed a miracle.

“really.”

Jennie stared. “How?”

Lisa shrugged one shoulder. “I told them if they wanted a couple’s interview this early, they could either wait three weeks or accept the risk of a negative quote going viral before lunch.”

Jennie stared harder.

Then—

against all logic—

laughed.

A real one.

It came out before she could stop it.

And Lisa’s whole face changed when she heard it. Not dramatically. Just enough. Enough to make Jennie suddenly aware that she didn’t do that around many people.

Laugh like that. Without thinking. Without measuring. Without performing. That realization was so deeply uncomfortable she shut it down immediately.

“You threatened them?”

Lisa looked pleased. “Professionally.”

Jennie looked away so Lisa wouldn’t see the smile trying to happen again. “You’re insane.”

Lisa leaned in slightly. “You’re welcome.”

Jennie turned back toward her. And because her life clearly wasn’t difficult enough already, she had one very stupid, very brief thought:

Oh.

That was dangerous. She took another sip of champagne like it might erase the thought chemically.

It did not.

The event finally started thinning out around noon.

Which meant the older board members moved toward side conversations, the press got redirected toward official spox, and the room lost just enough pressure to become survivable.

Jennie found herself near one of the side terraces with Lisa again. No one had intentionally sent them there.

They had just… ended up there.

Which Jennie did not care to unpack.

Outside, the air was cooler.

Quiet.

A little removed from the noise inside.

Jennie leaned against the stone railing and exhaled.

“Today has been one long human rights violation.”

Lisa stood beside her, elbows resting back against the railing behind her.

“That dramatic, huh?”

Jennie turned her head.

“I was fake-engaged before breakfast.”

Lisa considered that.

“Okay, yeah. Fair.”

Jennie looked out over the courtyard below.

People moved in and out beneath them.

Staff. Drivers. Assistants. Security.

Everyone doing their jobs while Jennie stood here trying not to think too hard about the fact that this was now her life.

Or at least her next two years.

Maybe more, if her family found new and exciting ways to hold her hostage.

She hated how tired that thought made her.

“Hey.”

Jennie turned slightly.

Lisa was watching her now.

Not joking.

Not teasing.

Just… looking.

Jennie immediately wanted to make it weird so she wouldn’t have to deal with whatever this was.

“What.”

Lisa tilted her head a little.

“You okay?”

Jennie blinked.

That shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did.

It was such a simple question.

Such a normal one.

But normal questions always felt suspicious in Jennie’s world because they usually came with an agenda.

How are you? meant behave.

Are you alright? meant recover faster.

Do you need anything? meant ask for less.

But Lisa sounded like she was actually asking. Which was stupidly disarming.

Jennie looked away first. “I’m standing in a fake engagement at a family-funded propaganda brunch. Use context clues.”

Lisa huffed a laugh.

But she didn’t let it go.

“That bad?”

Jennie stared out at the courtyard.

Then said, before she could stop herself, “I just hate being cornered.”

The words sat there.

Heavy.

Too honest.

Jennie immediately regretted them.

She straightened a little, ready to brush it off, but Lisa spoke first.

Quietly.

“Yeah.”

Jennie looked at her.

Lisa’s expression had changed again.

Less playful now.

Something steadier underneath.

“I know,” Lisa said.

And the problem was—

Jennie believed her.

Because Lisa did know.

Maybe not everything.

But enough.

Enough to understand what it felt like to have your future turned into a negotiation by people who called it love.

Enough to understand what it did to a person. Enough to not make a joke out of it.

Jennie swallowed.

And because sincerity was starting to become a real problem, she did the only thing she knew how to do.

She looked at Lisa and said, “If you get emotional on this terrace, I’m pushing you off it.”

Lisa stared at her for one second.

Then laughed.

And just like that, the tension eased.

Barely.

But enough.

“There she is,” Lisa said.

Jennie narrowed her eyes. “Don’t narrate me.”

“I’m just saying. You looked like you were about to have a feeling.”

“Horrifying accusation.”

“Really serious one.”

Jennie rolled her eyes.

Lisa smiled at her like she’d won something small and private.

And Jennie hated—hated—how much she was starting to understand that expression.

They stayed there a little longer.

Long enough for the silence to become less awkward and more… weirdly okay.

Jennie did not enjoy that realization.

Then Lisa’s phone buzzed.

She checked it.

And immediately made a face.

Jennie noticed.

“What.”

Lisa looked up.

“So. Tiny issue.”

Jennie stared.

“Whenever you say tiny issue, it means I’m about to need legal representation.”

Lisa winced slightly.

“Families want us at dinner tonight.”

Jennie froze.

Then laughed once.

Again, not because anything was funny.

“No.”

Lisa looked sympathetic in the least helpful way possible.

“It’s at your parents’ place.”

Jennie turned fully toward her.

“Still no.”

“Apparently it’s a ‘private celebration.'”

“That phrase should be illegal.”

“Agreed.”

Jennie dragged a hand down her face.

“Why.”

Lisa looked genuinely apologetic.

“Because they’re monsters?”

Jennie closed her eyes.

Breathed in.

Breathed out. Then opened them again.

“What time.”

“Seven.”

Jennie stared at her.

“Do you think if I throw myself into traffic right now, they’ll cancel?”

Lisa looked thoughtful.

“Depends. Is it elegant traffic?”

Jennie looked at her.

Then, against every instinct she had left, laughed again.

Lisa smiled immediately.

Too immediately.

Like she’d been waiting for that.

Jennie noticed.

And because she hated being vulnerable more than almost anything, she narrowed her eyes and said:

“Don’t get used to that.”

Lisa leaned one shoulder against the terrace pillar.

“To what?”

Jennie looked away.

“Me finding you remotely tolerable.”

Lisa’s smile went softer around the edges.

Dangerously softer.

“Too late.”

Jennie’s chest did something deeply stupid.

So naturally, she chose violence.

“Be careful,” she said coolly. “That almost sounded sincere.”

Lisa looked at her for a long second.

Then said, low and easy:

“Maybe it was.”

Jennie forgot how to stand correctly for half a second.

Which was humiliating.

And Lisa definitely noticed because of course she did.

Jennie recovered instantly.

Or at least, she hoped it looked instant.

“Well,” she said, grabbing her bag. “That’s enough terrace bonding for one lifetime.”

Lisa pushed off the railing.

“Terrace bonding?”

“Shut up.”

“You named it.”

“I hate you.”

Lisa smiled as they started walking back inside.

“No, you don’t.”

Jennie didn’t answer.

Mostly because she was busy trying not to think about the fact that Lisa kept saying that like one day Jennie might stop denying it.

And worse—

like maybe Lisa was willing to wait.

That thought followed her all the way to the elevator.

And it only got worse when Lisa held the door open for her and said, very politely:

“After you, fiancée.”

Jennie stepped inside.

Then looked at her and said, with complete sincerity:

“If you call me that again, I’m keying your car.”

Lisa stepped into the elevator beside her, smiling like this was the best day of her life.

“Noted.”

The doors closed.

Jennie looked straight ahead.

Lisa stood beside her, still too close, still too calm, still somehow making this entire disaster feel less unbearable than it should have.

And honestly?

That was becoming its own kind of problem.

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that’s all for this chapter thanks for reading and enjoy