Mirror Crown
The laughter faded slowly, replaced by a silence that wasn't awkward—but heavy. Tasha stared into her wine glass, swirling it absentmindedly. The city lights reflected in her eyes, but her smile was gone now. She looked… tired. Not the kind of tired that comes from a long day, but the kind that comes from carrying too much for too long.
"You ever feel like your last name is a cage?" she asked suddenly, her voice soft.
That caught me off guard.
I blinked. "What?"
She looked up at me, something raw and real in her eyes. "The family name. The expectations. The pressure to act perfect, love perfect, be perfect. Like you don't get to make your own choices—you just play the role written for you."
I froze for a moment. Because damn… that hit way too close.
"I feel that every second," I replied quietly, letting a bit of me leak out. Not Christian. Xavier. Just me.
Tasha sighed and leaned back. "My mom's been pushing me to get engaged. She thinks it'll secure more power for the family, help the brand, whatever. It's not even about love anymore. Just strategy. Connections. Control."
I tilted my head. "Is that why you're still with Christian?"
She gave a weak smile. "Maybe. I used to think I loved him. Then I thought maybe I was just addicted to the chaos. Now… I don't even know. But tonight? You feel… different. Like someone who listens."
I kept my expression unreadable, but inside, that hit like a train. She didn't even realize she wasn't talking to the real Christian. She was talking to a ghost wearing his skin.
I nodded slowly. "You deserve more than pressure and power plays, Tasha."
She looked at me like she was seeing me for the first time. "You keep surprising me."
I shrugged. "Maybe I'm just finally showing you who I really am."
Her hand brushed mine across the table, a small touch—but electric. A mix of trust, curiosity… and maybe even the start of something deeper.
But under all that warmth, one cold thought pulsed at the back of my mind:
If she ever finds out who I really am… this whole thing shatters.
Still, for now, I smiled. For now, I played the part. And maybe—just maybe—I could write a new version of Christian everyone could believe in.
Even her.