Evan sat at the dining table, the soft glow of the chandelier casting a warm light over the room. To his right, his stepmother Eleanor was as composed as ever. Her hair was neatly tied back, and she ate with the quiet precision of someone who had spent her entire life mastering control. On his left, his father Charles was rexed, offering a small, encouraging smile every now and then.

  Sienna’s absence was noted in passing when Evan casually mentioned, “She’s out with friends,” before moving on to another topic.

  As dinner progressed, Eleanor began talking about the ongoing legal matter at their investment firm, her tone steady and matter-of-fact. Evan listened, his thoughts elsewhere, waiting for the right moment to speak.

  Finally, he set his fork down and cleared his throat. “Mother, I wanted to talk to you about something important.”

  Eleanor gnced up, her sharp eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Go on,” she said, her tone calm but with an edge of curiosity.

  Evan sat up straighter. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my role in this family and what’s expected of me. And I feel like I want to contribute more. Not just support Sienna, but find something I can truly take pride in.”

  Eleanor’s knife clinked softly against her pte as she set it down. “Contribute more?” she repeated, her voice even, but there was a faint hint of skepticism. “Evan, your role is already clear. As her fiance, supporting Sienna is your primary responsibility. That is more than enough of a contribution.”

  Charles shifted slightly in his seat, gncing at Eleanor before looking back at Evan. Evan ignored the subtle tension in the air and pressed on.

  “With respect,” he said carefully, “I don’t want to just stand beside her as some... decorative figure. I want to be someone who complements her efforts. Someone who can make her proud. And someone who can feel proud of himself, too.”

  Eleanor’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes sharpened. “And you think Sienna isn’t already proud of you? That what you’re doing now isn’t enough?”

  “It’s not about enough,” Evan replied, his voice steady but firm. “It’s about feeling like I’m truly contributing. I’m not saying I don’t want to support her—I do. But I also want to have something of my own.”

  Eleanor leaned back slightly, folding her hands neatly in front of her. “Evan,” she began, her voice calm but carrying the weight of authority, “what you’re talking about is not child’s py. Do you think Sienna shines as she does because she simply decided to try harder one day? She’s been working toward this since she was barely old enough to understand the magnitude of her responsibilities.”

  Evan opened his mouth to respond, but Eleanor pressed on. “Do you remember st year’s charity ga? You were still finding your footing, trying to navigate the social intricacies of that event. Sienna, meanwhile, managed the donors, chaired the event, and still had the energy to close a major business deal the very next morning. Do you think that came from sheer luck? Or from whims about finding something to be proud of?”

  The memory stirred something in Evan. He could see it clearly now, like a scene repying in his mind from the old Evan’s life. He had been at the ga, awkwardly attempting to engage with polished strangers, tripping over his words as he tried to project confidence. Meanwhile, Sienna had been a force of nature—her every movement precise, her every word calcuted. She had charmed donors effortlessly, orchestrated the event without a hitch, and looked as though she belonged in that high-pressure world. Even now, he couldn’t imagine managing it all as seamlessly as she had that night.

  He sighed inwardly. He got her point. Sienna’s success wasn’t accidental; it was the product of years of hard work, discipline, and sacrifice. Eleanor was right about that. But did that mean he should stay confined to the role he’d been handed, never trying to grow into something more?

  “Mom,” he began carefully, his tone softer now, “I know how much Sienna has worked to get to where she is. I’m not saying it’s easy or that I can just waltz into it and expect to thrive. But I want to support her in a way that feels real to me, not just stand by and py the part. I want to be someone she can count on—not just because it’s expected of me, but because I’ve earned it.”

  Eleanor’s expression didn’t waver, but something in her eyes shifted—though whether it was acknowledgment or further skepticism, Evan couldn’t tell.

  Charles interjected gently, his tone soothing. “Eleanor, he’s not dismissing Sienna’s work. He’s trying to grow, to figure out his pce. Isn’t that something we want to support?”

  Eleanor’s gaze flicked to Charles, her expression unreadable. For a long moment, the only sound was the faint clink of utensils on ptes. Finally, she sighed softly.

  “There’s a time and pce for everything,” she said, her tone measured. “Right now, I need to focus on resolving the legal conflict at the firm. Once that is settled, we can revisit this discussion.”

  Evan hesitated, unsure whether to push further, but Charles gave him a subtle nod of encouragement. “Thank you, Mother,” Evan said, bowing his head slightly. “I appreciate you considering it.”

  Eleanor inclined her head slightly, a gesture that was neither agreement nor refusal. “For now, let’s focus on the present. There’s enough on everyone’s pte as it is.”

  The conversation shifted back to lighter topics, but the weight of the discussion lingered in the air. Evan felt a small sense of victory, knowing that the door to his independence hadn’t been completely shut.

  As the meal wrapped up, Charles gave Evan a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “We’ll figure this out,” he said softly.

  Evan nodded, feeling a flicker of gratitude. Even if his mother wasn’t fully on board yet, his father’s support meant a lot. For now, that was enough.

  ***

  At night, the hallway was quiet as Evan walked past the rows of doors in the mansion, his footsteps muffled against the thick carpet. He paused as he noticed light spilling out from Sienna’s slightly open bedroom door. Curious, he knocked softly.

  No response.

  He hesitated for a moment, then pushed the door open.

  The scene before him made him freeze in pce. Sienna y sprawled across her oversized bed, her hair a disheveled halo around her head. Her dress was rumpled, slipping slightly off one shoulder, and she hadn’t bothered to cover herself with a bnket. The room carried the faint aroma of wine, mixed with her usual citrus perfume—a scent he hadn’t noticed before tonight but suddenly felt all too aware of.

  For Evan, the sight was far too stimuting. Heat crept up his neck, and he turned his gaze to the side, clenching his fists as if to fight off his runaway thoughts. She’s drunk, he reminded himself, trying to steady his breathing. Focus.

  Swallowing hard, he approached the bed. “Sienna,” he called softly.

  No response again.

  Carefully, he knelt beside her, brushing her hair away from her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and her lips slightly parted as she breathed.

  Even in this state, she was stunning. But it wasn’t just her beauty that caught him off guard—it was the vulnerability. This wasn’t the sharp, domineering Sienna from this afternoon. No, this version of her, childish and unguarded, was someone else entirely. And it threw him off more than he cared to admit.

  “Sienna,” he tried again, gently shaking her shoulder.

  Her eyes fluttered open, gssy and unfocused. A sluggish smile spread across her face as she blinked at him. “Evan?” Her voice was soft, almost childlike.

  Before he could respond, she reached out and pulled him into a hug, catching him completely off guard. His face was smothered against her chest, with the softness of her breasts pressing against his cheek. He could feel the warmth of her skin radiating through the thin fabric of her dress. For a moment, he was acutely aware of the gentle curves of her body and the sensation of her arms wrapped tightly around him.

  Evan froze, his heart racing as his mind struggled to catch up with his body's instincts. For a split second, he let himself acknowledge the sensation, his thoughts straying into territory he knew he shouldn't be exploring. He felt a flush rise to his cheeks as his brain began to conjure up images he quickly shoved aside, reminding himself that this was not the time or the pce. With a jolt, he came back to reality, his eyes widening in arm as he realized just how compromising their position was.

  He pinched her arm lightly. “Hey! Let me go,” he said, flustered.

  “Ow,” she whined, pulling back with a pout. “Why are you so mean?”

  “Mean?” he echoed, exasperated. “You’re the one—never mind.”

  She flopped back onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes were gssy, and her cheeks were flushed—a mix of alcohol and vulnerability. “You don’t listen to me,” she mumbled, her words slow and childlike.

  Evan sat back, trying to regain his composure. “You’re drunk,” he said matter-of-factly, brushing off the lingering warmth on his face.

  Sienna’s gaze drifted to him, soft and unguarded. “Drunk... maybe,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I like you. I like you so much, Evan.”

  Her words caught him off guard. He stiffened as she continued, her tone shifting to something quieter but tinged with annoyance.

  “But why won’t you listen to me?” she mumbled, her fingers clutching weakly at his sleeve. “You’re supposed to listen to me. Follow my words. I just want you to be safe... quit that club... stay away from those women... and... and focus on me.”

  Her words trailed off, her frustration hanging in the air.

  Evan sighed, feeling a pang of something he couldn’t quite name. She sounded so fragile, so far removed from the confident and composed Sienna he was used to. He sat on the edge of the bed, carefully prying her fingers off his sleeve.

  “Sienna,” he said gently, his voice calm and soothing, as though speaking to a child. “I understand how you feel. But I’m my own person. I have to make my own decisions. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you—it just means I need to be true to myself too.”

  She scowled, her brows knitting together in frustration. “You don’t get it,” she muttered, turning her back to him and curling up on the bed in silent protest, her body tense and small like a child sulking after a reprimand.

  Evan exhaled sharply, staring at Sienna’s turned back as she sulked like a child, her body curled up in the sheets. He knew she wasn’t satisfied with his answer, but there was little he could do now in her state. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to push down the mix of frustration and guilt swirling inside him.

  “You’re impossible sometimes,” he muttered under his breath.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, his irritation ebbing as he watched her breathing slow slightly. Gently, he pulled the bnket up over her shoulders, tucking her in carefully.

  Evan’s gaze lingered on her sleeping face. It was strange, seeing her like this—small, quiet, and defenseless. It reminded him, almost painfully, that no one was as untouchable as they seemed.

  After a moment’s hesitation, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her temple—a gesture more comforting than romantic.

  “Goodnight, Sienna,” he murmured, his voice quiet but firm. “We’ll talk when you’re sober.”

  Her lips moved in a faint mumble, but she didn’t stir. Evan straightened, taking one st look at her before switching off the mp and walking toward the door.

  As he left her room, the lingering warmth of the kiss stayed with him, even as frustration gnawed at the back of his mind. They had a long way to go, he thought, but that didn’t mean he’d stop trying.

  LunarEcho