The sun peeked out from behind scattered clouds, casting a gentle warmth over the university grounds. Amara stood by the entrance gate, fidgeting with the hem of her simple yellow dress. It was modest and clean, with delicate embroidery at the sleeves — a dress she thought looked respectful but not overdone. Still, she felt strangely exposed, her nerves prickling at every passing glance.
Her phone buzzed with a single message: "Almost there." Just seeing Kieran's name on the screen made her stomach twist into knots.
When his car pulled up, sleek and black against the dusty pavement, Amara quickly walked over. The driver's side window rolled down, revealing Kieran in a crisp white shirt and a watch that looked more expensive than her entire wardrobe.
He leaned slightly toward the passenger side. "Get in."
She slipped into the seat, careful not to let her dress crease too much. The door closed with a quiet thud, sealing them into a bubble of awkward silence. The air conditioner hummed gently, and Kieran tapped the steering wheel lightly with his fingers before shifting gears and driving off.
Amara glanced at him from the corner of her eye. His expression, as always, was unreadable.
She swallowed, her voice hesitant. "Um… what if your grandma doesn't like me?"
There was a beat of silence. Kieran didn't glance at her, his eyes fixed on the road.
"I mean…" she continued quickly, her voice stumbling, "even though I'm just your fake girlfriend—what if—"
"She'll like you," Kieran cut in smoothly, not waiting for her to finish.
Amara blinked. There was no hesitation in his voice. It was said with the same certainty as someone stating the time of day.
After a few seconds, Amara shifted in her seat again. "I think we should buy something for your grandma. It feels rude to go empty-handed."
Kieran nodded once and pointed to the back seat without taking his eyes off the road. "I already did."
She turned and saw a large bouquet of delicate pink lilies, wrapped in soft pastel paper, alongside a sleek tin of what looked like expensive green tea leaves.
"Oh…" she murmured, surprised. "That's thoughtful."
Silence fell again, filled only by the soft purr of the engine and the occasional honk of traffic in the distance.
After a moment, Amara spoke again. "What if she asks how we met?"
This time, Kieran glanced at her briefly before looking back at the road. "We met at university. It's been a month."
"That's… true," Amara said quietly, nodding.
She looked out the window at the passing scenery, hands clasped tightly in her lap. But her thoughts kept racing, spinning a hundred worst-case scenarios.
"What if she asks more?" she asked again, her voice small. "Like… like our favorite things, or how we started dating?"
"Don't overthink it," Kieran said calmly. "Just follow my lead."
Amara pressed her lips together and nodded. But her fingers continued to fidget in her lap.
It wasn't long before the car began to slow, turning into a quiet, elegant neighborhood. The roads were lined with tall trees, their leaves fluttering in the breeze, and trimmed hedges stood guard in front of stately houses. Amara's eyes widened as the car rolled through a large gate and into the driveway of what looked less like a house and more like a private estate.
"Wow," she breathed. The building ahead was beautiful — white stone with large windows, flower-laden balconies, and vines that curled up the sides like art. Everything looked pristine, polished, and expensive.
She turned to Kieran, a quiet realization dawning in her chest. Of course he's rich. His clothes, his calmness, the way he never seemed rushed. Still, seeing it in front of her like this was different. Intimidating.
The car stopped, and Amara felt her nerves catch up to her.
Kieran stepped out first, walking around to her side. She followed, placing one foot cautiously on the gravel driveway. Her breath caught slightly in her throat.
"Let's go," he said, nodding toward the entrance.
But as he started walking, Amara instinctively reached out and grabbed his arm.
He paused and turned slightly, his brows lifting in surprise. She quickly let go, her face flushed. "I—sorry. I'm just… a little nervous."
Kieran sighed, then extended his hand toward her, palm open.
"Huh?" Amara blinked, not quite processing.
Without a word, Kieran reached for her hand and gently took it in his own.
His hand was warm, large, and oddly reassuring. The contact sent a jolt through her, not unpleasant, but startling. She stared at their joined hands, her mind suddenly blank.
"Let's go," he said again.
She nodded mutely, letting him lead her across the driveway.
As they walked toward the grand entrance, Amara couldn't help but feel like a character in someone else's story. She'd always imagined situations like this while reading novels — the rich, mysterious boy bringing the ordinary girl to his home. But now that she was living it, the pressure felt real, heavy, and far from romantic.
The front door opened before they reached it, revealing a woman in her sixties with silver-streaked hair pulled neatly into a bun. She wore a lavender silk sari, her posture graceful and her eyes sharp.
Kieran greeted her with a short hug. "Grandma."
Her stern expression melted instantly. "Kieran, my darling." She looked past him then, her eyes landing on Amara.
"And you must be…?"
Amara took a step forward, offering a polite smile. "Amara. It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."
The older woman's eyes roamed over her briefly before softening. "Call me Grandma. You're lovely."
Amara handed her the bouquet and the tin of tea. "For you."
"Oh, lilies!" she beamed, clearly touched. Grandma held her at arm's length, smiling brightly. "Come, both of you. Lunch is ready."
They followed her into the house. The interior was just as breathtaking — marble floors, chandeliers, soft classical music playing somewhere in the background. A maid led them to a spacious dining room where a beautifully set table waited.
Lunch was served delicately, dish after dish placed in front of them — fragrant rice, vegetables, and elegantly prepared side dishes.
Amara sat next to Kieran, her shoulders tense and her fingers resting carefully on her lap. Everything was unfamiliar — the way the cutlery was arranged, the silent presence of the maid, the expensive china. She felt like an intruder in a world she didn't belong to.
Then she felt his eyes on her.
She turned slightly and saw Kieran smiling at her.
A real smile. Soft. Almost… reassuring.
Her breath hitched. He had never smiled like that before. Not at her. Not at anyone.
And somehow, even though she knew this was fake, the warmth in his expression soothed something in her. She smiled back, small and uncertain, but grateful.
Lunch began, and Grandma talked animatedly — asking Amara about her studies, her home, her dreams. Amara answered politely, slowly growing more comfortable under Grandma's genuine warmth.
Then the dining room door opened.
Amara looked up — and her fork stopped midair.
A tall figure entered the room, his presence casual but immediately commanding.
"Sorry I'm late," he said smoothly.
Amara's eyes widened in disbelief. "Max?!"
The man — Max — smirked as he walked over and took the seat beside Grandma.
"What, so shocked to see me, Amara?"