The walk to the restaurant was quiet, each step weighed down by the unresolved tension from our encounter with Celine and Jake. Liam's words replayed in my head: I'll explain everything. And I wanted to believe him, to let it all slide, but Celine's revelation stung. How could he have kept this from me?

The restaurant was modest—no dim lighting or chandeliers here, just mismatched wooden tables, chairs that creaked with every shift, and a warm hum of laughter and conversation in the background. Vintage posters plastered the walls, and strings of fairy lights looped across the ceiling, casting a cozy glow that softened the mood. Liam led us to a corner table by the window, where the noise of clinking glasses and murmured conversations gave us a bubble of privacy.

We sat in silence. I felt my emotions simmering—confusion, and a bit of hurt, I hated admitting to. Liam finally broke the silence with a sigh, his gaze heavy and distant, as though he was sorting through memories he'd rather keep buried.

"Celine and I..." he started, the weight of his words stretching the silence. "We dated for about a year, if you can even call It daring. It wasn't... exclusive, not the way I'd hoped." He looked down, his hands absentmindedly toying with the edge of his napkin. "But I cared for her. A lot."

I felt a pang of sympathy, though I wasn't ready to let my guard down. "So, you loved her?"

His eyes flicked up, holding mine for a long, quiet moment. "I thought I did. I wanted commitment, something serious. But Celine was... different. She told me she wasn't ready for anything that deep, and I—I stayed because I thought I could show her how it could work."

The way he said it tugged at something within me. That feeling of hoping for more, only to have those hopes dashed. "Did she ever give you any reason to believe things would change?"

"At times, yeah," he murmured. "I mean, I'd just lost my parents, and I didn't know where I was going or what I was doing. She was there. She was... a distraction from the hurt. I told myself if I kept showing her love, she'd want the same."

He paused, eyes fixed on the worn wood of the table, as if bracing himself. "Then, one day, I decided to surprise her. I knocked on her door, flowers in hand, just wanting to tell her how much she meant to me." His voice cracked, and I saw his jaw clench, a single tear slipping down his cheek. "But it wasn't her who answered."

My heart ached for him. The rawness in his voice mirrored the pain I'd felt after Jake's betrayal. I reached across the table but hesitated, not wanting to push him. He swallowed and continued, "When I asked her, she just said the same thing—that she wasn't ready for a relationship, for commitment. So I threw the flowers on the floor and walked away. Never heard from her again."

The air between us thickened as he fell silent. His eyes, usually so guarded, were full of vulnerability that pulled at my heart.

After a beat, he continued, "I'd go to that bar almost every night, just... wondering what she was up to, wondering why she hadn't reached out to apologize or explain. Until..."

I felt the weight of his words settle over me, and suddenly, everything clicked into place, and so I finished his sentence, "until you spoke to me that night in the bar, and I showed you that video of her proposal..."

He nodded.

Realization hit again, "And I told you about her pregnancy..."

That must've hurt him alot. Maybe that's why he never told me about their history that night.

"You offered to be my fake boyfriend because you wanted revenge too," I said softly. "You wanted to get back at her for breaking your heart."

He shook his head, looking at me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. "Yes and no. I also wanted to do it... for you."

The simplicity of his statement sent a ripple through me. "Why?" I whispered. "You didn't even know me."

A faint smile touched his lips, and he shrugged, a touch of humour softening his gaze. "I couldn't just sit by and let two villains walk away happy, not after what they did to us. They get to go live happily ever after, while people like us wonder if we weren't worth loving?" His gaze softened, his voice barely a whisper. "That night at the bar, I just... I felt like we had something in common, even before we spoke."

A wave of emotion washed over me. My heart ached, but not just from the pain of the past. I felt something warm, comforting.

Liam and I understood each other.

I looked down at my hand resting on the table, and before I could stop myself, I reached out, my fingers grazing his.

He glanced down at our hands, his brows lifting in surprise, but he didn't pull away. I felt the rough calluses on his fingers, a reminder of the hard years we'd both survived, and suddenly, that touch felt like the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment, the noise of the restaurant faded, and it was just the two of us in our own little world. His hand was warm, steady, grounding in a way I hadn't felt in a long time.

In that moment, I realized I wasn't alone in this. There was someone else who understood the hurt, the loss, and the hope that maybe, just maybe, we were worth more than the heartache that had been dealt to us. 

"Didn't you ever finish your childhood movies?" I asked, a small smile tugging at my lips.

Liam's brow furrowed, clearly confused. "Movies?"

"Yeah," I leaned in, my voice soft. "Villains never win."

His eyes searched mine, a smile slowly breaking through the sadness in his gaze. "No," he murmured, his thumb lightly brushing against my hand. "I guess they don't."