POV: Jasmine
Finn didn't knock. Just walked into Liam's villa like he still belonged there—like he hadn't just been erased from the official narrative of their lives.
The sound of the door slamming echoed through the kitchen where Liam and I were celebrating the interview's positive reception with sparkling cider. We'd been laughing about something—I can't even remember what now. Something stupid and light and meaningless.
Our smiles died the moment we saw his face.
He looked like someone had reached into his chest and rearranged everything inside. His usual easy grin was gone, replaced by something I'd never seen on Finn before—cold, calculated fury barely contained beneath a mask of eerie calm.
"Finn—" I started, setting down my glass with trembling fingers.
"When were you going to tell me?" His voice was quiet. Controlled. Nothing like his usual playfulness. The absence of warmth in his tone made my stomach drop through the floor. "Before or after the whole world saw you pretending I don't exist?"
"It wasn't like that," Liam said, stepping forward with his hands raised in that placating way he had. The golden retriever trying to calm a storm. "The network had specific requirements for the segment, and we had to make split-second decisions about—"
"No?" Finn stepped closer, and I could see his hands shaking at his sides. "Then what was it like? Because from where I'm standing, it looked like you two decided to rewrite our entire relationship without bothering to include me in the conversation. I watched it, you know. Sat in my apartment like an idiot, excited to see how we'd handle the media together. And then there I was—not handling anything. Because I wasn't even mentioned."
"We didn't have time to—"
"Bullshit." The word cracked like a whip, making both of us flinch. I'd heard Finn angry before, but never like this. Never with this brittle edge that suggested something fundamental was breaking inside him.
"You had time to coordinate outfits, time to prep talking points, time to practice your fucking sound bites about your beautiful unconventional love story. But you didn't have five minutes to call me? To say 'hey, Finn, we're about to publicly deny everything we built together—you okay with that?'"
My eyes were wet before I could stop them. The tears came hot and fast because he was right. God, he was so right, and I couldn't even defend myself properly. "I'm sorry. You're right. We should have told you. I should have fought harder to include you, should have demanded that they acknowledge all of us or none of us. I made the wrong call, and I'm so sorry."
"Sorry doesn't cut it." Finn laughed, and the sound was hollow and broken, nothing like the bright warmth that usually spilled out of him. He ran a hand through his hair—that nervous gesture I knew so well—and when he looked at me again, I saw something shatter behind his eyes.
"You know what the worst part is? I actually believed it. The three of us, the four of us, whatever the fuck we were calling it. I believed we were building something real. Something that would last."
"We were—" Liam tried, his voice cracking with desperation.
"Were we? Because Asher told me the truth." Finn's voice cracked on his cousin's name. "Said you were just sex to him. Just convenience. A warm body to pass the time until the real relationship solidified." He looked between us, and I watched his composure fracture piece by piece. "Is that what I was too? A warm body? A good time until the baby came and you needed to look respectable for the cameras?"
"No." I reached for him, closing the distance between us even though everything in his posture screamed don't touch me. My hand found his arm, and he flinched but didn't pull away. "Finn, no. I loved you. I still love you. That was never a lie, not for a single second."
"But you love him more." Finn looked at Liam over my shoulder, and the resignation in his eyes was worse than anger would have been. Anger I could have fought. This quiet acceptance was devastating. "You've always loved him more. I was just too stupid to see it. Too busy playing the charming third wheel to notice I was never really in the race."
Silence stretched between us like a living thing. I wanted to deny it—wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I loved all of them equally, that my heart had somehow expanded to hold three men without ranking them.
But I couldn't. Because some part of what he was saying was true, and Finn had always been able to see through my bullshit.
Liam wouldn't lie for me either. He stood there, jaw tight, eyes wet, unable to offer the reassurance Finn needed because we'd all agreed—no more lies. No more convenient omissions.
"I'm happy for you," Finn finally said, and there was no anger left in his voice—just exhaustion. Bone-deep weariness that made him look older than I'd ever seen him. "Really. You two deserve each other. Deserve the fairy tale you're building. The beautiful house, the perfect babies, the media-approved love story."
"Finn, please—" I stepped toward him again, but he was already retreating, putting distance between us like he couldn't bear to be close anymore.
"I just wish you'd been honest with me." He backed toward the door, and each step felt like watching someone walk out of my life in slow motion. "I wish someone had told me I was temporary before I started planning for permanent. Before I started imagining what our kids would look like, what holidays would feel like with all of us together, what growing old with you might mean."
My heart cracked clean down the middle. I'd done this. We'd done this. In trying to protect our image, we'd destroyed something precious.
"You were never temporary to me," I whispered, but the words felt inadequate. Meaningless against the weight of what we'd done.
Finn's smile was sad and small—nothing like the megawatt grin that had made me fall for him in the first place. "Yeah, well. Actions speak louder than words, bunny. And your actions told the whole world exactly where I stand."
The doorbell rang.
Finn turned, his hand on the knob, ready to escape. But when he opened it, he froze.
Asher stood on the threshold, suitcase in hand, looking like he'd driven through the night to get here. His usual gruff composure was cracked, something raw and desperate bleeding through.
"I came for you," Asher said quietly, his voice rough with emotion I'd never heard from him before. "You shouldn't be alone right now."