Marcus

Today

Melanie's stunned expression as Adam introduces me and Natalie to the group is hard to miss. Her eyes dart between Natalie and me, and a heavy silence settles between us. The weight of unspoken words hangs in the air, and it's suffocating. I catch glimpses of emotions flickering across Melanie's face—confusion, hurt, and perhaps a hint of regret.

If only she had decided to confront me about what she saw, instead of disappearing without a trace. If only she had given us a chance to explain. But regrets won't change the past, and here we are, in the midst of an awkward reunion.

Adam suggests we move to the dining table now that everyone is here. The suggestion is met with agreement, and we all start to transition. It's a familiar scene, reminiscent of the last time Adam and Mallory hosted a dinner party, the night I first met Melanie. The familiarity is both comforting and uncomfortable, a reminder of what once was.

As we gather around the dining table, I can't help but watch Melanie. She stands up, and my muscles tense involuntarily as I see Daniel place his hand on the small of her back, guiding her. A surge of jealousy courses through me, my jaw clenching in response. Natalie, sensing my tension, tightens her grip on my bicep.

"Marcus, calm down," Natalie whispers, her voice a soothing balm to my turbulent emotions. I shoot her a grateful glance, trying to rein in the conflicting feelings surging within me. Melanie is here, just a few feet away, and seeing her with Daniel stirs a complicated mix of regret and longing.

However, amidst the myriad of emotions, I notice something else that adds a new layer of concern. Melanie looks fragile, more delicate than I remember. She was always slender, but now it's evident that she's lost too much weight. Her figure, already slim, appears almost frail. The worry deepens in my chest, overshadowing the jealousy and frustration.

The group settles around the table, each engaged in their own conversations. I take a seat, attempting to focus on the light banter around me. Natalie continues to offer silent support, smiling at me and squeezing my hand under the table. I can't shake the awareness of Melanie's presence, and every stolen glance at her only intensifies the ache in my chest.

I catch Melanie's eye at times, and the unspoken words linger between us. I wish she could see the regret in my eyes, the silent plea for understanding. But she remains guarded, her gaze shifting away whenever our eyes meet. Daniel, oblivious to the undercurrents, seems comfortable in his role, participating in the conversation with ease.

Adam's suggestion of inviting Sophia and Emily into the mix earns a smile from me. He knows exactly what he's doing—perhaps a little too well. "Sure thing, Adam. I'll bring them along next time," I respond, acknowledging the subtle playfulness in his eyes.

Melanie clears her throat and directs her question at me. "Who are Sophia and Emily?" Her eyes lock onto mine, searching for answers.

Swallowing, I meet her gaze head-on. "Sophia and Emily are my other two sisters," I reply, my voice steady despite the internal turbulence.

Natalie chimes in, "Marcus here was blessed and cursed with three little sisters. Quite the handful."

I keep my gaze steady on Melanie, waiting for her reaction. She glances from Natalie to me and then down at her plate, a subtle shift in her demeanor that doesn't escape my notice. My attention, however, shifts when I notice Daniel's intense gaze fixed on me. The glint in his eyes isn't lost on me—it's a mixture of suspicion and something darker. I hold his gaze for a moment, the unspoken tension between us simmers beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

The air becomes thick with tension as Daniel shifts his gaze away, directing his frustration into his dinner. I return my attention to Melanie, who remains fixated on her plate, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. She seems uncomfortable. I wish I could reach out, offer some comfort, but unfortunately, I can't.

Throughout the dinner, conversations flow around the table, but Melanie and Daniel remain conspicuously silent. I catch Daniel shooting me glares whenever he notices my gaze drifting toward Melanie. His irritation simmers beneath the surface, and I can practically feel the weight of his gaze each time he catches me looking at her.

When dinner concludes, Adam, ever the gracious host, proposes dessert. The enthusiastic agreement from everyone fills the room, though Melanie and Daniel's participation is lukewarm at best. Adam and Mallory leave to fetch dessert, returning with plates, forks, and a decadent tiramisu that Mallory carries with a triumphant grin.

Melanie's eyes light up at the sight of the tiramisu, and she can't hide her delight. "I love tiramisu," she admits with a smile. Adam, with a playful chuckle, points to me and reveals, "You should thank Marcus, he brought it."

Melanie's surprise is evident as her eyes dart between me and Mallory. The unexpected revelation seems to catch her off guard.

Daniel, unable to hide his irritation, scoffs, "Well, aren't we lucky that Marcus here brought your favorite dessert, Melanie." His words carry a sharp edge, his eyes narrowing as he glances between Melanie and me.

"It's not luck," I reply, my tone measured. "I brought it because I remembered it's your favorite dessert, Melanie." The tension between us crackles, and Daniel's face contorts with anger.

He leans in, his voice low and venomous, "You've got some nerve, Marcus. Hitting on my girlfriend right in front of me."

My jaw tightens, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "Daniel, that's not what I'm doing. It's just dessert."

His anger flares, and he retorts, "Sure, just dessert." Melanie starts to speak up, defending me, "Daniel, he's not—" but a stern look from him cuts her off.

Mallory intervenes, her voice calm but firm, "Come on, Daniel, it was just a nice, friendly gesture. Let's not ruin the evening. We're all here to have a good time."

Daniel shoots Mallory an angry look, his jaw clenched, but she holds his gaze with a steady resolve. He looks away, simmering with frustration.

As Melanie picks up her fork to enjoy the tiramisu, I notice Daniel's hand clamping down on her arm. His voice, low and possessive, cuts through the room, "You've had more than enough today, Melanie. You don't need dessert."

An uneasy realization dawns on me. Daniel is the reason for Melanie's weight loss. Anger simmers within me, an unsettling mix of frustration and concern for Melanie's well-being. I have to talk to her. Tonight.

After everyone finishes dessert – except for Melanie and Daniel, who sit in tense silence – I join Mallory and Adam to clear the table. As we enter the kitchen, Mallory glances at me, concern etched on her face. "You okay?"

I run my hands up my face, frustration evident in my voice. "I need to talk to Melanie privately."

Mallory sighs, shaking her head. "Marcus, it's impossible right now. Let's not make things worse."

I pace the kitchen, my mind racing. "I can't just leave without talking to her, Mallory. There are things that need to be said, things that need to be understood."

Mallory approaches, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Marcus, things are already tense. Be patient, and I'll make sure Melanie contacts you. It's not the right moment."

I look at her, my frustration evident. "I can't go through that again, Mallory. Waiting for Melanie to call me—it's too hard. I need to fix this now."