Mission Love - Chasing Mr. Right ✓

Epilogue

Ryan’s POV

I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting the grin threatening to spill. Across from me, Aisha stood frozen, her wide eyes darting around the room like a deer caught in headlights. Her lips parted, but no sound came. The color drained from her face before rushing back in full force, turning her cheeks a deep shade of red.

She was panicking.

The room buzzed with snickers and murmurs, but I barely noticed. My focus was locked on her—on the way she swallowed hard, on how her fingers twitched at her sides like she was debating whether to bolt or argue.

Before she could do either, I turned to her father. "Uncle, can we step out for a moment?"

He chuckled, amused, and nodded. Around us, a few of Aisha’s relatives shook their heads, smirking knowingly. They thought they knew what was happening.

They didn’t.

I reached for her wrist, my fingers curling around her warm skin, and pulled her out of the crowd. She didn’t resist. Not yet. Silent and stiff, she followed me through the hall, past the curious glances and whispers, until we stepped into the backyard.

Cool air brushed against us, the night quiet except for the faint hum of voices inside. The second I let go, she took a step back, arms crossing over her chest.

But I didn’t give her space. Instead, I grabbed by her waist and tugged her closer.

Her brows furrowed instantly, that little crease forming between them. The bridge of her nose scrunched up just slightly—a telltale sign she was spiraling into overthinking. Cute!

I smirked. "Overthinking again?"

She blinked. Her lips parted, closed, then parted again, exhaled slowly.

"W-what do you mean by that?" she demanded, voice sharper now, more grounded.

I exhaled, lowering myself onto the wooden bench nearby. She hesitated for half a second before sitting beside me, but it was stiff and robotic, like she wasn’t entirely present.

She wasn't!

I leaned back, tilting my head toward her. "Do you remember Hell Clubhouse?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes. Of course. Dina took me there to party."

"And?"

She frowned. "And... I had a few shots of something."

"And?"

Her fingers curled over the edge of the bench. "And I came back home."

I huffed out a quiet laugh. "Really?" I turned to her fully now, my elbow resting on the back of the bench. "Because as far as I remember… you passed out."

Her frown deepened, her fingers gripping the edge of the bench so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "I passed out?"

I nodded slowly, watching as confusion flickered across her face. She was trying to piece together a night she barely remembered.

"That’s impossible," she muttered, shaking her head. "I woke up in my apartment. If I passed out, then how—?"

I let the silence stretch, my lips curling slightly when I saw the moment it hit her.

Her head snapped toward me, eyes wide, her breath hitching. "No."

I arched my brow. "Yes."

She inhaled sharply. "No."