BETA's LOVER

Chapter- Three

JACK'S POV

I looked at Mackenzie, wishing she could read the emotions in my eyes, but I knew she couldn't. She was too innocent, too naïve. So, I decided to keep my thoughts to myself, for now.

"But she doesn't know," I replied, taking a sip of my beer, which suddenly tasted flat and unappealing.

"You should tell her how you feel. What if she likes you back? If she doesn't, then at least you know. And you can walk away," Mackenzie said nonchalantly, swirling her beer glass in her hand.

I didn't know what to say. I nodded but didn't speak.

I had liked Mackenzie since college, though we hadn't really known each other back then. I had heard stories from my friends about how she never paid attention to the guys who tried flirting with her. It intrigued me, and I found myself watching her from a distance. Eventually, I wanted to be friends with her, but life moved on, and we lost touch after graduation.

Imagine my surprise when my assistant told me about an email from an up-and-coming start-up company looking to partner. When I opened the file, I saw it was Mackenzie's company. Without hesitation, I said yes. I knew how talented and driven she was, and I needed a reliable partner. In one move, I solved two problems.

From there, our partnership took off. We worked well together, balancing the business and making it grow. As we spent more time together, we became good friends. We shared our problems, supported each other, and I slowly began to notice that Mackenzie was opening up to me. I was happy to be there for her, especially when it came to her complicated relationship with her mom. She leaned on me, and I didn't mind.

But then, everything changed one evening when she smiled and hugged me, and I realized I had deeper feelings for her.

I'd liked her as a friend, but I never expected it would turn into something more.

When Quinn told me Mackenzie had a date, a rush of jealousy twisted my insides. But I kept quiet, watching from the sidelines. I knew Mackenzie didn't feel the same way about me, and I didn't want to risk ruining our friendship. So, I stayed silent, watching her with longing eyes but never saying a word.

Now, I knew I needed to say something. But not yet. After the new project kicks off, maybe then...

..........................

MACKENZIE

I was lost in my thoughts, staring at the mirror wall while rotating my nose pin. It had become a small ritual that helped me feel calm. Weird, right? But it was true.

I had been working non-stop ever since I got the new project. I wanted to impress Mr. Roman and Jack. In the process, I'd barely had time to meet Quinn, who was herself tangled up in her own business. Quinn is one of the top chefs in the city, and right now, she's teaching cooking classes for two weeks. Both of our schedules were so packed that hanging out seemed impossible. The weeks passed in a blur, and before I knew it, my part of the project was done. Now it was Jack's turn to take over. I took a deep breath as I signed the final papers.

"You need to rest. You are worn out," my assistant said, eyeing my crumpled clothes and dark circles under my eyes.

My hair was hastily tied in a ponytail, though most of it had already fallen out and framed my face.

"Yes, I really need a good night's sleep—and a one-week vacation to release all this bottled-up tension," I sighed weakly, barely able to keep my eyes open. A yawn escaped me, and I rubbed my eyes as tears threatened to fall.

"That's how tired I am," I added, barely managing to form the words.

"Take care of yourself, Ma'am," she said before leaving, wishing me a goodbye.

I sank back into my seat, closing my eyes for a brief moment. Wrapping my arms around myself, I felt the pull of sleep. In no time, I was drifting off.

Ring. Ring. Grrr... Grrr.

The sound of my vibrating phone jolted me awake. I blinked slowly, picked it up, and put it to my ear.

"Hello?" My voice came out as little more than a whisper.

"Hi! Why do you sound like a dead fish?" Quinn's voice was cheerful, despite the early hour.

"Because I have been working day and night for the past three weeks," I sighed, not bothering to hide my exhaustion.

"I heard from Laura. So, to help ease all the tension you've built up, I have got an amazing plan!" Quinn said, practically vibrating with excitement.

I could never imagine myself being that energetic.

"Keep going. Why do you always stop in the middle of your sentences?" I grumbled, irritated.

"TO see your curious response, but you never give me one!" she whined. I could practically hear her pouting on the other end.

"I guess you forgot what happened the last time I got excited about one of your plans. I ended up listening to one of your terrible jokes," I reminded her, my expression deadpan. She couldn't see me, but I knew she had understand the tone.

"IT WAS ONE TIME, MACKENZIE! ONE TIME!" she shot back.

"Okay, okay. Just tell me about this 'amazing plan," I said, eager to get to the point.

"So, the plan is this- we are going on a two-week vacation to the beach. And we will be joined by some of our other friends!" she explained, her tone bubbling with enthusiasm.

"Hmmm. Sounds good," I said, allowing a small smile to tug at the corners of my mouth.

"Yohoo! Finally, you sound a little excited!" Quinn teased. But I didn't budge.

"I'll text you the details in a few," she said. "I have to go now. The kitchen calls! Bye!"

And just like that, she hung up, leaving me to daydream about the upcoming trip.

I love going on trips, especially if they involve long drives!

It took me about an hour to finalize a schedule for when I returned, sending an email to Laura and organizing a few other loose ends. As I cleaned up my desk and reviewed the remaining emails, I finally finished my work.

While my laptop shut down, I heard a knock on my door.

"Come in." I said, gathering my things.

Laura entered, holding a folder. "Ma'am, I have forwarded the email and informed the employees about this week's holidays. I also notified the ones who need to be at Sir Jack's office."

"Good," I said, grabbing my purse and handbag. "Alright, let's go."

As I stepped out of the office, the usual silence greeted me. The office felt dead—no voices, no hustle. The weight of exhaustion hit me again as I walked toward the exit, waiting for Laura, who was double-checking the locks and making sure everything was off.

"Done, Ma'am. Everything's good," she said when she finally stepped outside.

I nodded, handing her the studio keys. With that, I headed toward my car, grateful to finally have a break. After putting my things in the back seat, I sat in the driver's seat and checked my phone while Laura continued loading the car.

"Ma'am, here you go," she said, passing me the car keys through the window.

"Thanks, Laura," I smiled before driving off, the music in the background a welcome distraction.

As I drove, I got lost in my thoughts. When I stopped at a red light, I glanced around and realized I didn't recognize the street. My brow furrowed in confusion. Pulling out my phone, I checked Google Maps. I was in a completely different town—3 kilometers away from home. Cursing under my breath, I quickly typed in the name of my town and adjusted my route.

Once the light turned green, I made a sharp turn and headed back in the right direction. It had been a long day, and the last thing I needed was a detour.

I grabbed food on the way home since I didn't have the energy to cook when I got back. After an hour-long drive (that should've only taken 10 minutes), I finally arrived at my apartment.

"Sad life," I muttered to myself, sympathizing with my exhausted state.

I staggered inside, trying to balance everything in my arms. After a few awkward moments, I managed to drop everything onto the couch.

What else was I supposed to do? I was going to clean them up later anyway.

I took a long, relieved breath, letting my muscles relax as I stretched backward, hearing the satisfying crack of my spine.

I always do my chores before I rest, no matter how tired I am. First, I cleaned my thermos, which still had tea in it, and poured myself a glass of water. My eyes wandered around the living room, scanning for anything that needed attention. They landed on a pile of files on the glass table, silently reminding me to organize them. I slouched over, gathered the files, and placed them on my small office desk. After a few minutes of sorting, I sat back in my comfy chair, resting my back as I closed my eyes for a moment.

Thoughts of the beach trip bubbled up, and for the first time in weeks, I felt excited. That spark of energy returned as I finished the last of my chores. Once I had eaten, the food had gone cold, but I didn't care. I heard my phone blowing up with messages from Quinn, sending me all the details about the trip. I ignored them for a while, but once I had finished everything, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and laid back in bed.

I don't even remember when I fell asleep, but I woke up with my phone tucked under my arm, the blue light from the screen lighting up the room.

After splashing my face with cold water, I felt somewhat human again. Grabbing my phone, I shuffled to the kitchen to make breakfast—something quick, since I still had to pack.

Opening the blinds, I let the sun pour in, smiling when I saw a few sparrows on the windowsill. One was drinking from the cup of water I had left out for them, while the others pecked at the biscuit crumbs I had placed there the day before. I grabbed the bird food, placed it on the windowsill, and slowly opened the window to avoid scaring them. They immediately noticed the food and hopped forward, one by one. Watching them eat filled me with warmth, a rare and peaceful moment.

The sight made me long for Aunt Susan, the one who truly cared about me, unlike the woman who called herself my mother. I sighed and dialed her number to check in, but it went straight to voicemail. She had probably passed out on the couch after drinking again. I was exhausted from trying to help her, but she wasn't ready to change. Still, she was my mother, and it was my responsibility, unlike her.

Today, I was going shopping with Quinn for the trip. I hadn't bought new clothes in ages, and I was looking forward to it—though I knew I had to control my excitement around Quinn. She had definitely tease me.

As I glanced at my reflection in the kitchen mirror, I caught a glimpse of myself looking refreshed for the first time in weeks. It was

time for a change, and I was ready for it.

The reason for that is she's a shopaholic. They say not to judge a book by its cover, and I feel like that phrase was made for Quinn. To a stranger, she might seem innocent and shy, but once you get to know her, you'd better brace yourself for hours of gossip and nonstop shopping. She could spend hours window shopping, going from one store to another. And even after that, she still had the energy to cook. Meanwhile, I am just an ordinary person—done for the day after a single shopping trip.

After making breakfast, I plopped down on the couch in the lounge to watch whatever was on TV while I ate. I flipped through channels for a while, my breakfast growing cold on the table. Frustrated, I quickly pressed the button on the remote and landed on a murder documentary.

This is better.

The documentary's opening sequence was eerie—grainy footage of a small town in the middle of nowhere, accompanied by a haunting piano tune. The narrator's deep, gravelly voice filled the room with my munching on the food.

"On the night of March 15th, 1994, in the quiet suburbs of Pine Ridge, a brutal murder shook the community to its core. The victim? A beloved local teacher, found in her own home with no sign of forced entry." The camera zoomed in on the front door, cracked open just slightly, and then the shot shifted to a body bag being wheeled away under a tarp.

Long done with my food, I looked at the time and came to know I was getting late. I looked back at the TV screen, intrigued by the mystery. Turning the TV volume up, I get to my feet and cleaned the area while listening to the scene being played on TV.

"Do you know anything about the murder?" the officer asked, the question hanging in the air.

The suspect's response was cold, "No. But I wish I did." Making me glance at the suspect cold stare, shaking my head, I went back to work.

I rushed off to do some packing, dragging a chair from the dining table and placed it near the wall cupboard. Climbing up, my hand reaching into the high cabinet, pulling out my blue luggage bag and threw it on the bed.

Damn, it's heavy!

I grabbed a few tissues and wiped the dust off the bag, which hadn't been used in a while. Opening the wardrobe, I stood with my hands on my hips, ready to tackle the difficult task of the day—choosing clothes for the trip.

I folded a few black and blue jeans, a couple of shirts, and even a bikini, stacking them into the bag. I grabbed my makeup bag and toiletry kit and tossed them in too. After searching through my shoes, I found matching ones, including a pair of slippers for the beach. I was done with packing. All I needed now was a good beach dress, and for that, I was going shopping with Quinn. Later that evening, Quinn picked me up, and we headed to the mall. After hours of hunting for clothes, Quinn and I were finally done. Our stomachs had been growling for an hour, so we decided to grab some food. As I sipped on my soda, I was once again reminded of my mom. I put the drink down and dialed her number.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded normal, not the slurred tone I usually heard from her when she was drunk.

"Hi, Mom. It's me," I spoke softly, glancing at Quinn. She perked up at my response, looking at me with curiosity.

"What is it?" Her tone was flat.

"Are you home?"

"Yes." The same one-word answer.

"I will visit you soon," I said, but the call ended abruptly before I could hear her reply.

Sighing, I lowered my hand to my lap, meeting Quinn's sympathetic gaze. She opened her mouth to speak, but I stopped her with a

simple shake of my head.

I only have one parent in this world, and she doesn't even care about her only child. What a life.

We finished our food and headed to my mom's house. Quinn waited outside as I walked into the house I used to call home. The

door was unlocked, as usual. I stepped inside, disappointment settling in. In the living room, I saw the familiar scene-my mom lying on the sofa surrounded by empty and unopened wine bottles. It pained me to see her like that, wasting my money on alcohol. I wanted her to live a luxurious life through me. She had faced criticism and hardships throughout her life as told by Aunt Susan. Though she hadn't played much of a role in raising me. Still, she gave birth to me. I wanted to take Aunt Susan and her shopping, go on dinner dates and drink together. Now Aunt isn't here, she was all i have left behind and my responsibility, so I want her to spend the money I sent on something good. But this—this wasn't it.

I approached her cautiously, pushing my short hair behind my ears.

"Mom?" I called softly, stepping in front of her.

She was sipping wine from a half-empty bottle, dressed in a dress and heels.

"Mom. How are you?" I asked, sitting beside her.

She didn't respond. She just stared at the TV, sipping her wine. I waited for her to acknowledge me, hoping for some attention or, at

the very least, a little bit of love.

"Why are you here?" Her voice was cold, like ice, piercing my heart. I swallowed hard, my eyes dropping to my trembling hands.

"I missed you, that's why I came. You never pick up my calls, and when you do, you don't talk to me." I tried to stay calm, even

though I knew she wouldn't open up to me. She never did.

Silence. Again.

"I'm making an appointment with a psychiatrist tomorrow. Will you come with me, Mom?"

She finally put the bottle down and turned to face me. Her eyes were empty—dead.

"I have told you before, I won't go. Stop coming here and disturbing me! I dont want you in my life, how many times should I tell you!? I just want to live my life. Is that too much to ask for?" She yelled, making me flinch, my heart racing at the sudden outburst.

I tried not to let her words hurt me, but they still did. She was the only blood relative I had left.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Don't show me your face! You remind me of that bastard! He ruined my life, and now

you're trying to take away what little I have left! I hate you! I hate you! Get lost!" She stood up mid-rant, knocking the small table over. Bottles shattered on the floor, glass pieces scattering everywhere.

I stared at the broken glass, feeling just like those pieces—shattered, fragmented, and alone.

When she referred to "that bastard," she meant my biological father. I wanted to scream at her, asking why she had given birth to me if she didn't want a connection with me. But I bit my tongue, digging my nails into my palms and closing my eyes to stop the tears from falling.

I heard a gasp behind me. Without turning around, I knew it was Quinn. She must have heard the yelling and come inside, worried about me.

"Aunt, step away! You will cut yourself!" Quinn's voice was frantic as she pulled my mom away, continuing to shout at me to leave the house.

I took a deep breath, grabbed a broom from the kitchen, and began cleaning up the mess. I was almost finished when Quinn returned.

"I gave her tranquilizers and put her to sleep," Quinn said softly, her hand gently resting on my shoulder.

I nodded without speaking, finishing the cleaning and tossing the broken glass away. After switching off the TV, I glanced upstairs

where my mom was now asleep.

I long for the day when she finally acts like a mother to me.

🌙🌙🌙