"We can't let the family find out, or Derrick will be upset."I wanted to stay silent, but Derrick approached me insistently. He stopped me and pulled me into his arms.

“Were you just on the phone with your dad?” he asked, his voice soft yet teasing. “Was he rushing you again to bring home your little boyfriend?”

I shook my head, unable to meet his eyes.

Derrick chuckled softly and buried his face in the crook of my neck.

“So, did you tell your dad that your 'little boyfriend' is actually me?”

I raised my eyes to look at him, but it felt as though a layer of fog had settled between us.

“Aren't you the one who doesn’t want to publicize our relationship?” I whispered.

Derrick lifted his head and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

“It’s not reluctance, Aiselle,” he said softly.

“You know there’s a big age gap between us. If your dad found out I had 'claimed' his precious little girl, he’d probably cut me off. You’re still young; this can’t be rushed. We have to take our time.”

He exuded the same mature charm that had captivated me from the beginning. Even in moments like this, his words and demeanor were flawless. For three years, he’d told me the same thing—that it wasn’t the right time to make our relationship public.

I looked at Derrick’s serious face, focused expression and couldn’t hold back the question that burned within me. “The reluctance to go public... is it really just because of my dad and the age difference?”

The memory of the video replayed in my mind, the intensity in Derrick’s voice as he spoke to Claire

“Honey, as long as you’re willing to come back, you will always be my girlfriend.”

I had believed, for three years, that Derrick’s love for me was genuine and unreserved. But since Claire returned to France, she sought me out immediately. I still remembered the contempt in her eyes

“You’re nothing more than my stand-in. Why else would Derrick stay with you for three years and keep you hidden from everyone around him? To him, you’re just a little girl who happens to resemble me—a fleeting amusement.”

Her words pierced deep, leaving wounds I couldn’t ignore.

Now, I stared at Derrick’s seemingly perfect face. He suddenly laughed and playfully tapped my forehead.

“Dummy, if it’s not the age difference, what else could it be?”

He laughed, quickly changing the subject. “Try the pumpkin cake I brought you—you’ve always loved it.”

Derrick placed the cake in front of me. It was still warm, steam rising from it. This dessert, usually my favorite, tasted like wax in my mouth. After a few bites, I excused myself and went to bed.

After cleaning up, Derrick joined me, lying down beside me.

“Come here, cuddle,” he murmured, his voice deep and magnetic. He stretched out his hand toward me, smiling slightly with his eyes half-closed.

For three years, I had fallen asleep in his arms, finding comfort in his embrace. But tonight, I switched off the nightlight and made an excuse.

“My neck feels a bit stiff tonight. Go ahead and sleep.”

Derrick didn’t argue. Instead, he thoughtfully adjusted my pillow.

“Goodnight, my little girl.”

He soon fell asleep, his breathing steady and calm.

Memories flooded back to six years ago when I first came to Lyon for college. My dad had asked Derrick to look after me. In my early years, I avoided him, blushing at just the sight of him.

It wasn’t until the end of my junior year, during my internship, that things changed. I rented a place outside and ended up being scammed by a shady agent.

I was evicted by my landlord again and had nowhere to go.

Standing in the rain, clutching my luggage, I cried helplessly. Just then, Derrick drove by and spotted me.

“Aiselle?” he called out, concern evident in his voice.

He placed my luggage in the trunk and took me back to his family villa once again.

“I’ve already spoken to your dad,” he reassured me. “So don’t worry about staying here.”

He was truly considerate. Even the pajamas he had prepared for me were my favorite pink color. Despite his kindness, I still couldn’t bring myself to appear in front of him without blushing.

I had known Derrick since childhood. He once attended a birthday banquet my dad hosted for me. Among all the guests, I couldn’t take my eyes off Derrick. People even teased, “Derrick is getting more handsome by the day—even the little girls can’t stop looking at him.”

Whenever Derrick visited, I always called him “Bro.” He would laugh and squat down to correct me.

“Aiselle, I’m your father’s friend. You should call me Uncle Derrick.”

During the year I stayed at his house, I stubbornly continued to call him “Brother.” Derrick never corrected me again.

One day, the water heater on the second floor broke. Since Derrick wasn’t home, I used the bathroom on his floor to shower. Halfway through, the door suddenly opened. Derrick stood there, equally shocked.

“Sorry!” he blurted, eyes wide with panic as he quickly backed out.

I stood frozen, my mind blank. After getting dressed, I stepped out to find Derrick’s gaze lingering on me.

Awkwardly, I explained, “The water heater upstairs is broken, so I...”

He chuckled lightly and shook his head. “It’s okay. I didn’t see anything. Don’t worry.”

Relief washed over me, but disappointment lingered. Derrick always carried himself with a righteous, almost ethereal aura. I’d heard that after his first love left the country, he had stayed single.

After much internal debate, I finally summoned the courage to confess my feelings. But he turned me down.

“Aiselle, I see you as a child. You’re still young...” he said gently.

“But I’m not a child, Derrick. You’re only a bit older than me and I like you,” I insisted.

Derrick froze, a helpless smile spreading across his face. From that moment on, I noticed his gaze lingered on me more often. He paid attention to everything I did.

After my failed confession, I found an apartment and prepared to leave. On my last night, I intended to say goodbye. Unexpectedly, Derrick came home drunk. He hugged me tightly, his eyes misty and filled with longing. His scent enveloped me.

Reason told me to push him away, but I couldn’t. I let him hold the back of my head as I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

The next morning, Derrick awoke filled with regret. But soon, he came to me and, as always, spoke gently.

“Aiselle, since you like me too, would you be willing to try being my girlfriend?”

Overjoyed, I agreed immediately.

Only later did I learn the truth. The reason Derrick got drunk that night was because he’d found out that Claire, his first love, had married someone else abroad. In his drunken state, he had murmured “Claire,” mistaking me for Claire’s double.

Derrick went to the bathroom to shower, leaving his phone on the nightstand. It began to ring repeatedly.

Derrick’s phone was never off-limits to me. His lock-screen password was my birthday. Once, I joked, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll snoop?”

He pulled me into his arms, smiling dotingly. “What’s there to be afraid of? I’m all yours.”

Out of trust, I never checked his phone. But now, with the sound of water pattering in the bathroom, I glanced at his phone—and froze when a message popped up.