Secretly dating a celebrity♡

22

Luke ran a hand through his hair roughly, his fingers tangling in it as he followed his father down the hallway. His chest felt tight, his heart racing like it was trying to escape. Everything inside him felt unsteady, like one wrong move would make him fall apart completely. He didn’t care anymore. Not about the consequences. Not about fear.

He burst into his father’s office without knocking.

“I am not marrying Maria,” Luke said, his voice loud and shaking with anger. “I’d rather give it all up.”

He stood there, fists clenched at his sides, staring at his father’s back. His jaw was tight, his whole body tense, bracing for an explosion.

His father didn’t react the way Luke expected.

He didn’t shout.

He didn’t turn angry.

He just spoke.

“Fine.”

The word landed heavier than any punch.

Luke froze.

His father turned around slowly, his expression calm—too calm.

“I’ll find someone else,” he said casually, as if they were discussing a business deal, not Luke’s life.

Luke stared at him, his chest hollowing out. In that moment, he didn’t see his father anymore. He saw a stranger. Someone cold. Someone who had never truly known him.

Without another word, Luke turned and walked away.

He didn’t wait for the bodyguards.

He didn’t look back.

He went straight to his car and slammed the door shut. The engine roared to life, and as he pulled out, a bodyguard shouted after him.

“Sir—sir, please wait!”

Luke didn’t slow down.

He drove fast—too fast—down empty roads, the world blurring past him. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white. His breathing became uneven, shallow. Every thought crashed into him at once—Heather’s letter, his father’s words, his mother’s absence, the life he never got to choose.

He slammed the brakes suddenly, the car skidding to a stop.

And then he broke.

A scream tore out of his chest, raw and desperate, filling the empty space around him. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably as he leaned forward, forehead resting against the steering wheel. His shoulders shook violently, his breath coming in broken sobs.

“Why does everything hurt so much?” he whispered hoarsely.

He wiped his face roughly, but the tears didn’t stop. They kept coming, no matter how hard he tried to pull himself together. After a few moments, he straightened up, exhausted, hollowed out, and started the car again.

He knew exactly where to go.

Jake’s house.

When Luke finally arrived, the sky was beginning to darken. He parked crookedly and got out, his legs feeling weak beneath him. He walked up to the door, realizing too late that he didn’t have a spare key.

He rang the doorbell.

The door opened almost immediately.

Jake stood there, his eyes widening the moment he saw Luke’s face. Luke’s hair was a mess, his eyes red and swollen, his expression distant and broken.

“W–What happened?” Jake asked, worry flooding his voice.

Luke stared at him for a second, like he didn’t know how to answer. Then his shoulders slumped, the strength he’d been holding onto finally slipping away.

“I lost her,” Luke said quietly.

Jake stepped aside instantly. “Come in.”

Luke walked inside like he was on autopilot. The familiar space should have felt comforting, but all it did was remind him how alone he felt. He dropped onto the couch, elbows resting on his knees, hands covering his face.

“My dad…” Luke’s voice cracked. “He doesn’t care. He never did.”

Jake sat beside him, not interrupting, just listening.

“He wants me to marry Maria,” Luke continued, tears slipping through his fingers. “And when I told him I wouldn’t—when I said I’d give everything up—he just said he’d find someone else. Like I’m nothing. Like I don’t matter.”

His breathing hitched.

“And Heather… she left. She thinks I’ll be better off without her.”

Jake swallowed hard.

Luke finally looked up, his eyes filled with pain and confusion. “Everyone keeps deciding my life for me,” he said. “And I’m so tired, Jake. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Jake put a hand on his shoulder firmly. “You don’t have to handle this alone,” he said quietly. “You hear me?”

Luke nodded weakly, even though he didn’t fully believe it yet.

An hour later, the house was filled with the quiet, comforting sounds of life continuing—coffee brewing, food sizzling softly on the stove, the faint hum of the kitchen vent. The smell of fresh food drifted through the living room, warm and grounding, but it did nothing to ease the heaviness sitting in Luke’s chest.

Luke sat on the couch, shoulders slumped, staring blankly at the wall across from him. His hands rested loosely in his lap, his mind far away. Every few seconds, his thoughts dragged him back to Heather—her voice, her smile, the way she looked at him like he was more than just a name or a face on a screen. The ache in his chest tightened every time her name crossed his mind.

Jake moved around the kitchen quietly, cooking without rushing, glancing over at Luke now and then. Each time he did, worry twisted in his stomach. Luke looked empty. Not loud or dramatic—just hollow, like something vital had been ripped out of him and left behind nothing but exhaustion.

When the food was ready, Jake poured two cups of coffee and carried a plate into the living room. He set it gently on the table in front of Luke.

“Eat,” Jake said softly.

Luke blinked like he’d just realized someone else was there. He looked down at the plate—his favorite food—and swallowed.

“Thank you,” he said weakly.

He picked up the fork and started eating fast, too fast, like someone who hadn’t eaten in days. He barely chewed, barely breathed between bites. It was as if filling his stomach might somehow fill the emptiness inside him. As if eating like this could bring Heather back, or at least quiet the pain for a moment.

Jake noticed immediately.

“Hey,” he said, moving closer and placing a steady hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Slow down.”

Luke froze for a second, then his grip on the fork loosened. His breathing was uneven, his hands trembling slightly. Jake gently patted his shoulder, grounding him.

Luke swallowed hard and nodded.

After a moment, his voice broke the silence.

“Dad talked to the manager, didn’t he?”

Jake hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.”

Luke didn’t look surprised. He let out a short, humorless breath.

“He told them the accident involved your cousin,” Jake continued quietly. “Said Heather was your cousin too. He even flew your actual cousin in from Japan just to make it believable.”

Luke let out a laugh—but there was no joy in it. It was hollow, sharp, almost painful.

“He always gets what he wants,” Luke said bitterly. “Always.”

Jake sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t argue, because he knew it was true.

Luke slowly set the fork down, his appetite suddenly gone. He stared at the plate for a long moment before pushing it slightly away.

“When’s our next show?” Luke asked quietly.

Jake blinked, caught off guard. He hadn’t expected Luke to even think about work right now.

“Next week,” Jake said carefully. “Tuesday.”

Luke nodded, like he was mentally filing the information away. “Okay.”

He stood up slowly, his body heavy, drained.

“I’ll go take a shower,” he said.

Jake nodded, but before Luke could walk away, he spoke again, his voice firm but gentle.

“Don’t act like everything’s fine just to avoid crying.”

Luke stopped.

For a second, it looked like he might say something. Instead, his shoulders tensed, and he nodded once without turning around.

Upstairs, Luke turned the shower on and stood under the water fully clothed for a moment, letting the warmth hit his back. The sound of the water drowned out his thoughts—until it didn’t.

Then the tears came.

Silent at first, then heavier, mixing with the water as his hands pressed against the wall. His chest hurt. Breathing felt like work. Every memory of Heather came rushing back, and this time, there was nowhere to run.

He wasn’t okay.

And pretending he was only made it worse.

Downstairs, Jake sat quietly on the couch, listening to the faint sound of the shower, hoping Luke would let himself feel everything—because sometimes, breaking was the only way to survive.