Unpretty Me

Now Brewing #08: Ghosting the Fluke

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The bus ride back from the team-building retreat felt like one of those awkward car rides where everyone knew something was off, but no one wanted to say it aloud. The employees of Luke's shops exchanged glances, whispering among themselves as their usually charming, upbeat boss sat sulking by the window, looking like a heartbroken teenage boy who had just found out his favorite band was breaking up.

Luke, the suave and composed owner of multiple businesses, was now giving off major sad puppy energy. He rested his cheek against the window, staring out at the passing scenery with a distant look in his eyes. The coffee-fueled confidence and charm he usually radiated had evaporated, replaced with something painfully recognizable—heartbreak.

Except no one knew why.

Meanwhile, in the back of the bus, Isla Abalos was in full-blown crisis mode.

Her brain whirred like an overworked espresso machine, replaying the moment in the elevator over and over. LukeTheFluke was her boss, Luke! It was undeniable now—everything about him lined up. The dry humor. The goofy charm. The little heart emojis he always sneakily dropped at the end of their messages.

"Oh my God," she whispered to herself, clutching Marina the Mermaid plush as if the toy could somehow solve her life problems. "I've been catfishing my boss. This is... this is bad."

She slumped in her seat, tugging her hoodie over her head to disappear from the world. "I've got to stop messaging him. Immediately. Cold turkey. No explanation. I can't risk him finding out I'm SirenAngel."

That decision was supposed to bring her relief, but it didn't. Instead, guilt gnawed at her like a rat determined to chew through a particularly stubborn piece of cheese.

When the bus pulled up in front of the three story building owned by Luke, the employees groggily dragged their luggage inside. The team-building retreat had been fun, but the emotional weight now hanging over them—thanks to Luke's sudden personality shift—was palpable.

"Is it just me, or does Boss Luke look like someone stole his soul?" whispered Emma, the head baker and Rey's supervisor.

"Right?" agreed Marco, one of the baristas who may or may not have a little crush on Bea. "He hasn't even cracked a dad joke in the last 24 hours. That's not normal."

The group exchanged concerned looks as Luke trailed behind, trudging up the café steps with all the enthusiasm of a kid on the first day of summer school. His usual sparkle was gone, and his perpetual smirk had been replaced by a permanent pout.

"Maybe he's just tired?" Rey offered hopefully.

Bea shook her head. "Nah. That's not 'tired.' That's 'someone-I-really-like-suddenly-stopped-talking-to-me-and-now-I-can't-function' energy."

Marco arched an eyebrow. "How can you tell?"

Bea rolled her eyes. "I've binge-watched at least twenty K-dramas. I know heartbreak when I see it."

At his office, Luke slumped into his swivel chair and sighed heavily. He pulled out his phone and checked his DMs for the hundredth time that day, hoping—praying—that SirenAngel had finally replied.

But no. Their last exchange was still sitting there like a lonely, abandoned text thread:

LukeTheFluke: "Goodnight, Angel. Talk to you tomorrow?"

That was a day ago, and since then, nothing. No messages. No songs. Just silence.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. Why would she ghost him like this? They had been getting along so well. He thought they had something special—or at least, online-flirty-special.