Lin’s friends spoke freely, as if Skylar were furniture—present, but irrelevant.

“Come on, Lin, you really married

him

?”

one of them laughed, not bothering to lower her voice.

“He’s so stiff. Doesn’t he know how to joke?”

“You’re wasted on someone like that.”

Another added, smirking,

“Honestly, he feels more like your son than your husband.”

The laughter landed cleanly, uninterrupted.

Skylar stood there, saying nothing. That silence only encouraged them.

The man beside Lin—the one everyone insisted was

“just a childhood friend”

—leaned in with a gentle smile. His voice was calm, considerate, perfectly measured.

“Hey, don’t say that,”

he said softly, glancing at Skylar before turning back to her.

“He probably just doesn’t like me very much. I get it. If I were him, I’d be insecure too.”

He chuckled lightly, as if embarrassed for her sake.

“No need to worry about me. I don’t mind. I know he’s just trying to get your attention.”

The room hummed with agreement.

When Skylar’s expression finally changed—tight, restrained—Lin snapped before he could even react.

“Hey!”

she said sharply, turning on him.

“Can you stop acting like a child for once?”

“My friends are

just joking

.Why do you always make things so serious?”

Her voice carried irritation, not concern.

“You always do this,”

she continued, louder now.

“Everyone’s having fun, and you’re sulking again. It’s exhausting.”

Someone scoffed openly.

“See? Even she’s tired of it.”

“Man, if I were you, I’d be grateful she hasn’t left already.”

The other man raised his hands slightly, playing peacemaker.

“Hey, don’t fight because of me,”

he said gently.

“Really, it’s nothing. I don’t want to cause trouble between you two.”

He looked at Lin, eyes warm, understanding.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. I know you mean well.”

Skylar saw it clearly then—not just the words, but the way the room had already decided who he was.