Amara's breath caught as Max sauntered into the dining room, confidence radiating from every step. He was tall, with sharp features softened by a teasing smile. There was something inherently playful about him — the way he leaned on the back of the empty chair before sliding into it, eyes flickering between her and Kieran like he was already in on a joke.
"Sorry I'm late," Max said smoothly, setting down his phone and glancing at the food like he'd been summoned for a feast.
Amara still hadn't quite recovered from the shock. Max? Here? Of all people. Her mind scrambled, flashing back to just a three weeks ago when she nervously introduced herself in the university photography club — the same club Max presided over with effortless charm and witty sarcasm. She hadn't known he was related to Kieran. Not even a hint.
Max let his gaze settle on her with amusement. "Amara?"
She tried to compose herself, straightening in her seat. "I... I didn't know you and Kieran were—"
"Cousins?" Max finished for her, shooting her a grin. "Yeah, sorry. Kieran never mentioned me? Tsk. Shame on him."
Amara instinctively glanced at Kieran. He didn't even look up — simply continued eating with the same calm expression, as if Max's presence wasn't worth reacting to.
That stung more than it should have.
Max chuckled and leaned slightly toward Grandma. "Isn't she lovely, Grandma? She recently joined our photography club. Pretty good with a camera too."
Amara gave a polite smile, trying not to fidget under everyone's eyes. His praise, though light and teasing, was still praise — and she wasn't used to receiving it so publicly.
Grandma smiled fondly. "She is lovely. And talented too? My Kieran has good taste after all."
Amara's eyes darted to Kieran again, whose expression didn't shift. He was eating steadily, his fork scraping softly against the plate like nothing around him mattered.
Fake relationship, Amara reminded herself. You have to act like you're really together, or else…
Her thoughts trailed off as she caught Max watching her with a slightly raised brow — not suspicious, just curious. He clearly knew about the campus rumors. Everyone did. But the fact that Kieran had brought her here, to meet his grandmother, probably shifted the scales in Max's mind.
If she and Kieran didn't act convincingly, Max might start piecing things together — or worse, tease them in front of Grandma in a way that would force them to lie even more.
She sat up straighter, resting her hand gently on the edge of the table, trying to appear a little more relaxed.
"Keiran," Max said suddenly, turning to his cousin with mock disapproval. "Your girlfriend's going to run away if you keep ignoring her like that."
Amara stiffened, and Kieran finally raised his eyes — not at Max, but at her.
His gaze was calm, unreadable as always. But then he reached for the jug of water and poured some into Amara's glass, sliding it toward her with casual precision. "She won't," he replied quietly. "She's not the type."
The words were simple, but the subtle protectiveness in his tone made Amara's heart skip unexpectedly. He didn't smile, didn't make it obvious — but it felt real enough to sell their illusion.
Max grinned, clearly entertained. "Smooth," he muttered, taking a bite of a vegetable fritter.
Grandma's eyes sparkled as she looked at Amara. "You must be a good girl if even Max praises you. He's rarely impressed by anyone."
Amara felt warmth rise to her cheeks. "Thank you, Grandma. That means a lot."
"Yes," Max added with a lazy smirk, "everyone at university's talking about how much Kieran likes her. Can't shut up about them." He winked at Kieran.
Kieran set his fork down with a quiet clink. "Grandma," he said, tone clipped, "why did you invite him again?"
Grandma chuckled, clearly used to their banter. "Because I like him. And he doesn't visit enough. Now eat before the food gets cold."
The room softened again into light laughter and conversation, the earlier tension dissolving into something warmer. Even Amara felt herself beginning to relax, picking at the food more comfortably as the meal progressed.
Max continued chatting, steering the conversation to harmless topics — funny stories from campus, quirky club members, and the time Amara accidentally spilled water all over the darkroom floor. "She was mortified," he laughed, "but cleaned it up herself before anyone else saw."
Amara covered her face, groaning. "You promised not to tell anyone."
"Sorry," Max grinned. "Couldn't resist."
Lunch passed in a mix of awkwardness and amusement. Grandma was delighted, clearly happy to see Kieran with someone who wasn't intimidating or silent like him. She took to Amara instantly — asking about her hometown, her family, even her favorite authors. Amara responded as best she could, aware of Max's occasional glances and Kieran's silent presence beside her.
Toward the end of the meal, as dessert was served — a light mango pudding — Max leaned back in his chair and stretched.
"Well," he said lazily, "looks like I was wrong."
Amara looked up. "About what?"
"I didn't think Kieran would ever bring someone home. Let alone someone this nice."
There was a beat of silence before Grandma laughed again. "That's true. He always kept to himself. But it's good to see him smiling a bit more now."
Amara blinked, her spoon hovering mid-air. Was he smiling?
Kieran didn't react, simply sipped his water and placed his glass back on the table.
Max, noticing the shift in energy, stood and stretched again. "Anyway, I'll leave you lovebirds to help Grandma with the dishes." He winked and turned for the hall. "Call me if you get tired of his brooding, Amara."
"I'm not—" Kieran started, but Max was already gone.
The dining room door clicked softly behind him, leaving the three of them in a sudden hush.
Amara glanced at Kieran. He was still sitting straight, expression calm, but there was a slight tension in his jaw.
Then Grandma leaned over and patted her hand. "He likes to tease. But he means well."
"I know," Amara said softly, her mind still racing.
The car hummed quietly as it moved along the road, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow through the windows. Amara sat in the passenger seat, still digesting the surprise from lunch — and not just the food.
She turned slightly, arms crossed.
"You could've told me Max was your cousin."
Kieran, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting casually near the gear shift, raised an eyebrow.
"Is it a big deal?"
Amara blinked. "Yes! It is a big deal. You know… what if he knows about us? About this fake relationship?"
"He doesn't." Kieran's voice was flat, firm. "He can't."
Amara leaned back into her seat with a frustrated sigh, fingers brushing against the seatbelt strap. "But why not? Wouldn't that be easier? Then we wouldn't have to—" she made an awkward gesture, "—you know, act like we're dating at university too. We could just do it in front of your grandma."
Kieran exhaled slowly, like her suggestion genuinely tired him. "That would only make things more complicated."
"How?" she frowned, genuinely curious.
He didn't respond immediately. His eyes stayed on the road, but his jaw clenched faintly. The car turned onto a quieter street, and for a moment, only the sound of the engine filled the space between them.
Amara shifted in her seat. "What would we do then?" she asked quietly.
Kieran glanced at her, his face unreadable. "Do what?"
She looked at him, a little defeated. "This. Us. This fake thing."
His lips tugged into something close to a smirk. "As usual."
Amara sighed again, this time heavier. She pressed her forehead briefly against the window glass, staring out at the trees rushing by. "Right. As usual."
Neither of them spoke after that. The silence wasn't exactly comfortable, but it wasn't hostile either. Just a strange, floating pause — like both were lost in their own thoughts, unsure how far they'd come or how long this whole act could last.
And somewhere in the silence, Amara wondered whether pretending in front of others was easier… or if the hardest part was the moments they were alone — like now.