THE RUIN HE CHOSE

THE ART OF PRETENSE

AURELIA

If you think Zayn looked like the most dangerous person then you should see the older version of him. It wouldn't take a genius to know who his father was amongst the two men sitting.

He had few white graying strands of hair and his skin a bit wrinkled but he had the exact same striking handsomeness as his son. Zayn turned to me and patted down my hair.

“There you go,” he said tenderly, removing his hands from mine and bending down to hold the edge of my gown as I sat. It wasn't necessary I could sit down either way but he still wanted to pass the impression that he was madly in love with me. I forced myself to get into character and smiled sweetly at him, desperately hoping it didn't show on my face that I was faking it. My cheeks started to hurt from being stretched.

The two men quietly watched us act like couples in love.

“Dad, meet my beautiful girlfriend and wife to be… Celez.” He said flatly. I looked at him in disbelief, he could have at least tried to sound convincing, he wasn't doing anything with that tone of his.

His father stared right through my soul as if trying to see behind my eyes if I had any hidden intentions.

Well I do and he isn't going to find out that way.

“How did you meet this nutcase,” his dad finally broke the silence.

Finally, something to keep this dark gloomy house active since I stepped in.

“I was just a mere waitress working at the club house, didn't know I know I was going to catch his attention, and my, what a lovely person did he turn out to be,” I grinned at him. His dad laughed as if he couldn't believe his son and lovely could be in the same sentence

At least one of them was capable of laughing.

The other dude was quiet, he studied me with quiet eyes, his gaze flickering between me and Zayn as if he couldn't believe I was with his brother or his brother was with someone like me.

Zayn's dad and I had a conversation, we surprisingly flowed along well. After a while, Zayn's dad turned to the dude beside him.

“This is my second son, Lorenzo.” Lorenzo stared at me, mirroring his brother's expressionless facial features. I stared blankly at him too. It felt like eternity but then he broke eye contact and stood up, walking out of the living room without a word. Zayn's father stared at his disappearing back and went back to the conversation normally as if nothing happened .

A maid came and announced that dinner was ready. Zayn helped me up again and I watched as his father stared at us, a strange look on his face before he forced a smile and led us to the table.

I had to conclude at that point that everything about this family was weird.

We made our way through the glittering hall toward the long banquet table. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. Zayn walked beside me with that easy confidence of his, his hand lightly resting on the small of my back. The touch was polite, almost protective, and I had to remind myself it was all part of the show.

When we reached the table, he pulled out my chair with smooth, practiced grace. I glanced up at him as I lowered myself into the seat.

He’s really playing his role well,I thought.

The table settings were breathtaking. Pristine white linen tablecloths draped elegantly over the long surface, embroidered with delicate silver threading that caught the light with every subtle movement. Each place setting featured heavy, ornate silverware polished to a mirror shine, multiple forks, knives, and spoons arranged with military precision. Delicate bone china plates with gold rims sat at the center, flanked by crystal wine glasses in varying sizes that sparkled like diamonds. Fresh floral arrangements of white roses and lavender ran down the middle of the table, their scent subtle and luxurious. Everything screamed old money and impeccable taste. Even the napkins were folded into intricate shapes, resting on the plates like works of art.

My eyes drifted over the platters of food already arranged beautifully across the table. Steaming dishes of herb-crusted rack of lamb, glistening roasted vegetables drizzled with balsamic reduction, and platters of fresh seafood that looked almost too perfect to eat. There were creamy risottos, buttery garlic prawns, and a whole grilled fish presented on a bed of lemon slices and fresh herbs, its skin crisped to golden perfection. The aromas wafted up, savory, rich, with hints of garlic, thyme, and citrus, making my mouth water despite everything. It all looked so enticing, each dish plated with chef-level artistry that made it almost a shame to disturb.

I settled into my chair, smoothing the fabric of my dress over my lap. Zayn took the seat beside me and immediately leaned in. “Allow me,” he said softly, reaching for the serving utensils before I could even lift a finger.

He volunteered to help portion my food without missing a beat. I watched as he carefully selected a large, flaky piece of the grilled fish, transferring it to my plate with surprising gentleness. Then he took his time deboning it right there, his fingers precise as he removed the delicate bones and set them aside. When he slid the perfectly prepared portion toward me, I turned to him with my best adoring smile.

“You’re such a darling,” I said sweetly, letting my voice carry just enough warmth for anyone nearby to hear. I even reached over and brushed my fingers lightly against his arm.

Zayn’s eyes met mine, they were devoid of emotions.

Minutes later, Lorenzo arrived at the table. He dropped into his seat across from us without a word, his expression dark and closed off. He didn’t speak to anyone, didn’t even glance around. Just unfolded his napkin with sharp, irritated movements and started helping himself to food. I didn’t give him much attention. I didn’t care whatsoever.

The meal began, and the conversation around the table flowed in polite, surface-level waves. I focused on my food, savoring the delicate, buttery flavor of the fish. It practically melted on my tongue, seasoned perfectly with herbs and a hint of chili that lingered just enough. Zayn kept the act going effortlessly, refilling my water glass and making quiet comments that made me laugh at the right moments. I played along, leaning into him slightly when it felt natural, letting my shoulder brush his.

Halfway through my meal, the rich food started sitting a bit heavily in my stomach, or maybe it was just the tension I was carrying. I needed a moment to breathe. I dabbed my mouth with the napkin and pushed my chair back slightly.

“Excuse me,” I said politely to the table. “I need to use the restroom.”

Before I could even stand fully, Zayn was already on his feet. “I’ll show you the way,” he volunteered smoothly, offering his arm like the perfect gentleman.

I took it without hesitation, letting him guide me away from the table. He turned and left without sparing me a second glance.