WHEN NO ONE IS WATCHING (GL)

Chapter 18: A Double Life

"I can't. I have to return home."

Jane reached for the door, but before she could turn the handle, Evelyn stepped forward, closing the space between them. Her hands trembled as they cupped Jane's face, and without another word, she kissed her.

It wasn't timid—it was aching, searching, as if years of unsaid feelings were finally set free. For a heartbeat, Jane froze. Then… she gave in, her lips moving with Evelyn's, the taste of shared history and confusion swirling between them.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless.

Jane's voice was low. "Thank you for last night."

"For what?" Evelyn asked, voice nearly breaking.

"For reminding me I'm still human."

And with that, Jane turned and left, her pulse still racing..

Jane arrived home with the sun now fully risen.

She stood in front of the door for a moment, steeling herself, then stepped inside.

Her mother's voice was the first to greet her. "Look who finally remembered her family exists! Dr. Thompson herself!" she joked.

Jane chuckled, pulling her into a hug. "Mum."

She sat with her for a while — the usual updates, family chatter, laughter from her siblings in the background — before the weight she'd been carrying forced its way up her throat.

"Mum…" she started, voice quieter now.

Her mother turned, sensing the change.

"I lost my job. I have to start looking for another hospital."

The room froze for a moment.

"What?" her mother gasped, eyes wide. "How? What happened?"

Jane didn't blink. She had practiced this.

"There was a patient. Rude. Aggressive. Said awful things. I finally snapped. Told her off. Turns out she was important — connected. My boss gave me two options: leave quietly or risk a lawsuit and lose my license."

Her mother's face twisted in anger. "That is nonsense! You, one of the best doctors they had? What kind of backward institution is that?"

Jane gave a small smile and leaned her head on her mother's shoulder. "It's fine. I got my final paycheck already. I'll figure things out."

Her mother wrapped her arms around her daughter and sighed. "You always carry too much. But I'm here, alright? You don't need to hide everything from me."

Jane closed her eyes.

She wanted to say, Actually, Mum, I kissed a girl. I might be in love with one in America. I'm not the daughter you think I am…

But instead, she said, "I know. Thank you."

And for now, that was enough.

Two Days Later

The knock on the door was firm, deliberate.

Jane had barely gotten out of bed when her little brother ran past her to open it. What followed was a wave of loud greetings, footsteps, and then silence—heavy, like a storm about to crash.

"Auntie?" Jane called, walking into the living room. And then she stopped.

There she stood—her mother's sister, elegant and stern-faced, beside a tall man in his early thirties. He was clean-cut, handsome, dressed in a crisp white shirt tucked into expensive-looking trousers. He smiled at her kindly. Too kindly.

Her heart sank.

"Jane," her auntie started, pulling her into a stiff embrace, "you remember Collins."

Collins stretched out a hand. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person."

Jane forced a smile as her hand met his. What is going on?

Her aunt didn't give her time to ask. "He's the young man I've been telling your mum about. From a good family. Stable job. Ready to settle down."

Jane blinked.

"Mum?" she turned to her mother, eyes wide with disbelief.

Her mother looked away.

"I came because I care," her aunt said, her voice suddenly sharpening. "I've defended you more times than I can count, Jane. When the rumors began spreading—about you being... a lesbian—I shut them down. I told them, not our Jane. Not the only one left in this family who could restore our name after your father's disgrace."

"Auntie, with all due respect," Jane said through clenched teeth, "what rumors? What proof do you have?"

"Why else would people talk, Jane?" her aunt snapped. "Why else would a young woman choose to dress like a man, walk like one, talk like one? You want to say you're just 'comfortable'? The society we live in doesn't work like that!"

Her voice rose with each word, echoing through the room like judgment wrapped in fire.

"I have tried. We have all tried," she continued. "But this is it. You're going to marry Collins and end all these shameful whispers. Or else…"

"Or else what?" Jane cut in, her voice shaking.

Her aunt folded her arms. "Or else you will no longer be seen as one of us."

Jane stood there, frozen.

Something inside her cracked—not just from the insult, but from the realization that no matter how hard she tried to live quietly, to not cause waves, she would never be "enough."

"I've been like this since I was little, and none of you cared to understand me," Jane said, tears sliding freely now. "You just wanted me to fit in."

"You're embarrassing us," her aunt hissed. "And your mother is encouraging it."

"Enough," her mum finally said, stepping forward. "Say what you want about my parenting, but don't stand in my house and insult my daughter."

"You're the reason she's like this!" her sister snapped.

"I'm the reason she's still standing."

Jane looked between them both, heart breaking. The woman who had always nagged her for her tomboy clothes… was now defending her.

And Collins?

He stood awkwardly by the door, clutching the bouquet he had brought.

"I didn't know things were this complicated," he said gently. "But I meant what I said, Jane. I've seen your pictures. I've heard about your work. And I… I admire you."

She turned to him, tired, skeptical.

"You don't even know me."

"Then let me," he said quietly. "I don't care about what they're saying. I just want to get to know you."

Jane didn't answer.

Not because she was shy.

But because she was empty.

Too drained to explain to one more person that she wasn't broken. That she wasn't going to force herself to be someone else's "acceptable."

"Excuse me," she said softly, walking out of the room.

Upstairs in her room, she shut the door, leaned against it, and let herself break down silently.