Taken By My Fiancé's Uncle - Chapter 80: Chapter 80

"It's really nothing." Lorraine clenched the pepper spray, knuckles white. She didn't know why Sheila had given it to her, but Sheila's warning to keep it hidden from Eugene was etched firmly in her mind.
Eugene's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering.
Lorraine bolted inside, grabbed her backpack, and rambled, "I have class this afternoon. Gotta go—bye! Take care of your wound. I'll visit after school." She fled without meeting his furious gaze.
The alley was bustled with street vendors and tourists. Lorraine hurried toward the entrance, only to collide with a man.
"Lorraine?" the man called. He had short hair, Harry Potter-style glasses, a white casual shirt, and black slacks. Unassuming, yet down-to-earth.
Lorraine gaped. "Henry? What are you doing here?"
Henry Sheppard was a top Auretian University grad, and it was rumored that he had secured a high-profile position upon graduation.
When Lorraine was a freshman, he was a senior, and their acquaintance stemmed from their involvement in the student council—their relationship, at best, was nothing more than casual.
"I live nearby," Henry smiled sheepishly. "Why the rush?"
"Class is about to start, and I'm running short on time. I'm heading to the bus stop. Bye, Henry."
"Hey, wait up. I'll give you a ride." Henry reached out and grabbed her wrist.
His sweaty palm made Lorraine instantly uncomfortable. They quickly pulled apart, with Henry's face turning bright red.
"I-I mean..." He stammered. "Cabs and buses are a nightmare right now. I'm driving to Auretian University to meet my professor—want a ride?"
He gestured to a black BMW 3 Series idling in the shade. It was a base model, and was oddly flashy for someone as bookish as Henry.
Lorraine checked her watch. "Thanks, Henry."
"My pleasure." Henry beamed, revealing straight white teeth.
As they settled in, he leaned over suddenly. Lorraine flinched. "Henry?"
"Seatbelt." Henry's ears reddened as he murmured the reminder.
"I got it." Lorraine snatched the strap from his hand, fastening it with a click.
The car purred to life. Henry nodded toward Antiquity Lane. "You live around here?"
'The Shaw family is filthy rich, so maybe she bought a place here? But those palatial stone manors cost a fortune, and even with money, it's not easy to get one's hands on one,' he mused.
"Nah, just helping a friend. He got injured." Lorraine dodged the question, unsure how to define her ties to Eugene.
"I see." Henry nodded.
The two didn't have much to talk about, and the ride was quiet. When they reached campus, Lorraine heaved a sigh of relief and said, "Thanks again."
"Sure thing." Henry shuffled shyly. "Is your number still the one in student council records?"
"Yep, same as before. Why?"
"Call me when you're free."
Assuming it was just polite chatter, Lorraine nodded and bolted for class—she was nearly late.
Lorraine and Sheila were in the same elective course that afternoon. Sheila sat rigidly in her seat, face soured, barely speaking. Lorraine spent the period cracking jokes until Sheila finally thawed.
After class, Sheila wouldn't let Lorraine leave. Instead, she dragged Lorraine to the Stuard residence for dinner, deliberately stalling until sunset.
Lorraine hailed a cab to Antiquity Lane, anxiety knotting her stomach.
By nightfall, street vendors had packed up. The ancient lane looked weathered under dim lamplight, insects buzzing in the humid air.
She mustered her courage and walked inside. As she passed the last candy shop, she slowed down, eyeing the big lollipops with serious temptation. They looked absolutely delicious.
The plump shopkeeper emerged. "Buy one? I'll give you a deal. This craft is dying out."
"How much?"
"Ten bucks each."
Lorraine licked her lips and walked on. She'd loved these as a kid but never owned one. Disappointing, but she couldn't spare the cash.
The shopkeeper, eager to make a last sale, called out to her, "How about five bucks for one?"
Lorraine ignored her, nearing the palatial stone manor. At the sight of its dim light, she spun back. "Five dollars each?"
"Yep!" The shopkeeper figured a loss was better than nothing.
"I'll take two." Lorraine handed over a ten-dollar bill.
The shopkeeper fell silent.
Lorraine stepped inside with two big lollipops, the splurge giving her a boost. At the door, she rang the bell.
In the courtyard, Nathan sat across from Eugene, lifting his final glass of red wine. "Cheers. It's my birthday, and you're the only one here."
Nathan usually played it cool and enigmatic, but each birthday, he let his guard down, revealing the lonely, vulnerable side he showed only to his closest friends.
Nathan was an orphan, and Eugene and Lorenzo were his entire world. Those teenage years as a street punk felt like yesterday—without the two, he might have ended up worse than a stray dog.
Eugene swirled his wine glass elegantly, sniffed the bouquet, and took a sip. "We'll have a proper binge another day. Party until we drop."
He knew full well that if Lorraine came back and caught him drinking, he'd be in trouble.
Undeterred, Nathan downed his glass and launched into a speech about brotherhood—words Eugene knew only a truly loyal friend would utter.
On the table, a cake sat with unblown candles, their wicks nearly burnt out. The area was littered with crab shells and peanut husks.
Nathan was ready to keep talking. But at the doorbell's ring, Eugene's expression shifted. He grabbed Nathan's arm and urged, "Use the back door. Now."
Nathan blinked, confused. "Who'd come here? It's just us..."
"Things are different now." Eugene hauled Nathan to the back door and shoved him out, slamming it shut as Nathan gaped in confusion.
Eugene raced back to the dining room, stuffing crab shells and peanut husks into a trash bag. After rinsing his mouth to kill the wine scent, he let his right arm hang limp and opened the front door.
Lorraine stood outside, not impatient at all. The moment the door opened, she quickly thrust her hand forward. "Surprise!"
Eugene was momentarily stunned by her radiant expression, then noticed the hint of nervousness in her eyes. She was clearly trying to appease him, probably worried he'd be mad about coming home late.
For some reason, that made his chest tighten. Her desperate attempt to please him just made him feel weird and uncomfortable.
"Look what I got. Do you like them?" Lorraine asked.
Eugene glanced down. In her palm sat two big lollipops—the kind sold on street corners. Warmth from her hand had made them sticky, their colors dulled by the day's heat.
Those big lollipops looked pretty sad. Their appearance was nothing special, and the flavor? Not exactly mouth-watering. At the Antiquity Lane, they were everywhere—one could grab a handful, but nobody was buying. They were constantly overstocked and far from fresh.
Lorraine watched him with sparkling eyes. "Childhood memories, right?"
'Childhood? I never had one. But maybe I can start now.' Eugene gave a silent smirk as he reached to take the lollipops.
Lorraine jerked her hand back. "Do you like them?" she insisted, fearing his anger over her late return. She thought that if he said yes, he wouldn't be mad about her lateness—his anger was truly intimidating.
Eugene went still, as if hearing something ridiculous. He stared at her stunning face for a moment, saying nothing.
Just as Lorraine thought her attempt to please him had failed and was about to give up, Eugene said, "I like them. Really like them." His tone was gentle, but deep and magnetic, caressing her eardrum softly.
The night breeze enveloped them like a gentle ripple. Overhead, the stars blazed brilliantly. In his eyes, starlight bloomed and spread, so dazzling that Lorraine momentarily lost her focus.
'They're just some lollipops. Why's he acting like it's a big deal? So weird,' she thought.
Eugene plucked the lollipops from her hand and tucked them into his pocket, fingertips brushing her palm. She shivered, forgetting to warn him they were dirty.
Then he took her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers. His grip was firm yet gentle—not tight enough to hurt, but strong enough to prevent her from pulling away. Then he slowly guided her inside.
A voice whispered in his heart, lowly but unmistakably clear—the hands that brought him lollipops, the person who gave him a glimpse of childhood, he would never want to let go.'