By the time they left the garden, Cleo felt lighter, like the sun had melted something tight and knotted in his chest. They walked with a shared rhythm, arms brushing, heads occasionally leaning in to say something only the other would hear. It felt like one of those days they'd remember years from now as the moment everything had just worked.
Riz led them to a quiet rooftop restaurant tucked above an art gallery. It was stylish but intimate—light wood furniture, leafy green decor, and floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed the space in sunlight. A perfect spot for a perfect day.
They ordered—pasta for Cleo, something with grilled seafood for Riz—and the conversation remained soft and easy, with Riz telling stories about the first time he tried to cook and accidentally set a dish towel on fire.
Cleo was mid-laugh, relaxed and glowing in the warmth of Riz's smile, when Riz's phone buzzed on the table. He picked it up casually, but the slight wince that followed immediately shifted the air.
"Everything okay?" Cleo asked, tone still light but brows narrowing slightly.
"Yeah," Riz said, a beat too fast. "Just... Antonette's nearby. She saw my story. Says she's coming up to say hi."
Cleo's expression didn't change much, but Riz could see the subtle tightness in his jaw.
"Oh, great," Cleo said. "Why not crash a date uninvited? Classic Antonette."
"She won't stay long," Riz tried to reassure, but it didn't land.
Before another word could be said, Antonette breezed in—sunlight catching on the gold accents of her earrings and designer bag. She looked effortlessly expensive, as always. And confidently familiar.
"Riz!" she sang out as she approached, her heels clicking delicately on the tiled floor. "Knew I recognized that view on your story."
Riz stood out of courtesy, but the hesitation in his movement was clear. "Hey, Antonette."
"Cleo," she said, smiling as she pulled her sunglasses up to rest on her head. "Didn't think I'd see you today."
"Unfortunately," Cleo muttered under his breath, then louder: "Fancy seeing you here."
Without waiting for an invitation, Antonette pulled out the spare chair at their two-person table and sat down, crossing her legs with ease.
"This place is adorable," she said, glancing around. "Very... homey."
Cleo said nothing, just looked at Riz. Riz gave him an apologetic shrug as if to say I didn't plan this.
Antonette turned back to Riz, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling. "You remember that wine bar we went to with my dad's business partners? This place has the same ambiance. Remember how much you loved the dessert there?"
Riz chuckled, polite but distant. "Yeah. I remember."
Cleo stirred his iced tea a little too hard, the clink of the ice loud in the quiet tension.
"You two planning anything fun after this?" Antonette asked, twirling a strand of hair.
Cleo set his fork down. "Is this a social call or a full invasion?"
Antonette blinked, smile faltering just a fraction. "I didn't realize I needed permission to say hi to an old friend."
"Funny, that's not what this feels like."
Riz shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Hey, let's all just—"
"No, Riz," Cleo said, standing abruptly. "I'm not doing this."
"Cleo—wait—" Riz started, half-standing.
But Cleo was already moving, grabbing his phone and walking out toward the rooftop railing. His shoulders were stiff, his back straight—but the set of his jaw said don't follow me right now.
Antonette looked after him with wide eyes and a soft scoff. "Wow. What's his problem?"
Riz didn't answer. His gaze followed Cleo out into the light, heart sinking. The day that had started so perfectly now felt like it was teetering on the edge of something breakable.
And he knew exactly who he needed to fix it for.
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The rooftop was quieter near the edge, where a row of potted herbs swayed in the afternoon breeze. Cleo leaned on the railing, looking out over the city like he needed the skyline to calm the storm inside him.
Riz approached slowly, his steps tentative but steady. "Cleo."
Cleo didn't turn. "I thought this was supposed to be our day."
"It is," Riz said gently.
Cleo let out a quiet laugh, bitter around the edges. "Didn't really feel like it back there."
Riz exhaled. "I didn't know she'd show up. You have to believe me—I didn't invite her."
"She just happened to know which rooftop restaurant we were at?" Cleo finally turned to face him, arms crossed over his chest, voice tight. "Riz, she's not clueless. She knew what she was doing."
"I know," Riz admitted, stepping closer. "But I didn't flirt with her. I didn't ask her to join us. I was trying to be polite. You know how tangled things are with her family and the business."
Cleo's eyes dropped to the ground. "I know. That's what makes it worse."
Riz tilted his head. "What do you mean?"
"You were laughing with her," Cleo said, voice quieter now, but each word struck with weight. "Smiling. You didn't even notice how uncomfortable I was. Or maybe you did and you just didn't care."
"That's not fair—"
"No, Riz, what's not fair is feeling like a third wheel on my own date."
The silence that followed was thick.
Riz took a slow breath, then reached out—fingertips brushing Cleo's hand. "I didn't mean to make you feel like that."
Cleo didn't move away, but he didn't look up either.
"I hate that she can still get under your skin," Riz continued. "But you know what she doesn't have?"
Cleo's brows lifted slightly. "What?"
Riz smiled softly. "Me. She doesn't have my heart. You do."
And before Cleo could say anything, Riz leaned in and stole a kiss—gentle but full of meaning, the kind that asked for forgiveness and offered it in return. Cleo hesitated for a second, lips parted in surprise, but then leaned in too, just a little, like he was exhaling some of the weight.
They pulled back slowly, foreheads resting together.
"I'm sorry," Riz whispered.
Cleo closed his eyes. "I just wanted one perfect day with you."
"You'll get it," Riz said. "Starting with a proper, uninterrupted date. This Sunday. No unexpected guests. Just you and me."
Cleo let out a small breath. "You promise?"
"I'll throw my phone into the sea if it makes you feel better."
Cleo cracked a smile at that. "You'd die without your phone."
"Then I guess I'll just have to block her instead."
Cleo chuckled, the last of the tension melting away. He looked up at Riz—really looked—and the sharp ache in his chest softened into something warmer, safer.
"Okay," he said. "You're forgiven. But you're paying for dessert."
"Only if I get to feed you bites like it's a wedding cake."
Cleo rolled his eyes, but the blush creeping up his neck gave him away. "You're insufferable."
"And you're mine," Riz said, pulling him into a quiet, reassuring hug.
And this time, no one interrupted them.
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End of Chapter Fourteen