Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 127: The Haunting of Table Twelve [II]

ADRIEN’S POV

The scream still echoed in the closed silence, Aria standing and pointing at Cameron like someone had just insulted her ancestors.

They were talking—loudly—something about blind dates and betrayal and hexes, but I wasn’t listening.

Because something was happening behind them.

A shift in the air.

A faint, eerie sound floated in from the hallway—like wind through abandoned corridors or a haunted music playlist on loop.

Then she appeared.

I froze.

No. No, no, no.

Please.

God.

No.

Tell me that isn’t who I think it is.

She glided in barefoot, draped in layers of pale fabric and chiffon that swirled around her ankles like mist. Her veil floated with every movement, casting her face in translucent shadow, and her arms—God help me—her arms were moving. Swaying in slow, unsettling waves like she was summoning drowned sailors from the abyss.

And then I heard her voice.

Low. Breathless. Eerily melodic.

"Oooooohhhh... the air is... cursed..."

I blinked.

No.

Please.

What the hell was she doing here? Dressed like that? Following Aria’s dramatic shriek like she was about to exorcise someone at the table?

"Return the talisman... the tea leaves have spoken..."

Oh, for the love of—

My brain was trying to process the visual: Isabella—my sweet, normally sensible girlfriend—is the one haunting the restaurant.

Like a deranged bridal wraith from a haunted opera.

She was walking backward now—backward—arms undulating like seaweed in a current, the hem of her dress whispering along the floor, veil glimmering in the low light like an omen.

I swallowed hard.

I heard Cameron curse under his breath next to me. "Oh my God. That’s Isabella?"

"I think so."

And God help me...

She was gorgeous.

Absurd. Ridiculous. Unhinged. But gorgeous.

There was something hypnotic in the way she moved—equal parts committed theater kid and ancient being. Her gown flowed around her like fog. Her voice was low and haunting. And her expression—what little I could see beneath the veil—was all solemn intensity, like she’d truly been summoned from another realm and had grave warnings to deliver before dessert.

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing.

Because this was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever witnessed in my life. And somehow—somehow—she made it look beautiful and smooth.

Infuriatingly so.

why the hell did she look so good doing that?

Across from us, Aria was watching Isabella approach like she, too, was questioning every life choice that had led to this moment.

My girlfriend turned like a possessed priestess at a fashion gala, arms outstretched, voice ghostly and echoing.

"Return the talisman..."

I couldn’t help it.

My lips twitched.

My entire body fought not to laugh.

She glided toward the table like something out of a gothic nightmare—pale layers of chiffon swaying, veil casting shadows over her face, her arm raised like she was mid-Renaissance painting come to life.

I tried not to let the absurdity of it all break my focus.

But I couldn’t help noticing she looked like a bucket of cold water had just been dumped over her.

Her hair was damp and wild beneath the veil, some strands plastered to her cheeks. The pale fabric clung to her in all the wrong ways, and the faint scent of dampness mixed oddly with the perfume she usually wore.

God help me, it was adorable.

She looked like a soggy Victorian banshee who’d wandered into the wrong restaurant and committed to the bit with alarming dedication—but somehow, she still managed to steal my breath.

Barefoot. Wet. Whispering about talismans.

And I was utterly, helplessly falling in love with her.

I had to avert my gaze for half a second just to function again.

Our eyes locked again.

I saw the horror dawn on her face, the precise second she processed that I wasn’t just some vaguely-familiar bystander caught in her séance stunt

I was Adrien.

Her boyfriend.

The one she most definitely had not expected to witness her... this way.

She looked like she wanted to sink through the floor.

Instead, she stood there like a deer in a chiffon train caught in a supernatural spotlight and whispered, in a voice so small it barely carried across the table:

"...boo."

The single syllable, delivered with the solemnity of a death knell despite its utterly ridiculous context, hung in the suddenly dead air.

The pre-recorded ghostly whispers echoing from her pocket gave the "Boo" an unholy, distorted echo, like a spectral parrot repeating its last word.

I lost it.

I absolutely lost it.

And laughed, not the loud, hysterical laugh the moment probably deserved. Just a quiet, uncontrollable exhale, and a smile I couldn’t fight even if I tried.

The kind that stretched slow and stupid across my face, completely betraying the image of control I usually carried like a badge.

But it only lasted for a second.

She is cute.

So stupidly cute.

ISABELLA’S POV

Cameron made a strangled sound in his throat.

Adrien blinked once, so slowly it felt like judgment. Not alarm. Judgment.

And then Adrien said flatly, "Isabella."

Spoken so quietly, so firmly, that it might as well have been a lightning strike.

I froze. My brain collapsed in on itself.

Across the room, Aria whipped off her veil and screeched, "WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL?!"

I turned slightly toward her, horror blooming across my face. "You screamed!"

"I didn’t know it was them!"

"You screamed!"

"I thought it was a stranger!"

Adrien let out a slow exhale like he was about to start meditating through the chaos.

"I told you this would be cursed," I muttered through my veil, spinning away in a panic to run? Hide?

And then—like the universe had been waiting for the perfect moment to kick me while I was down—

My heel caught on the hem of my ridiculous, flowing gown.

I wobbled.

Arms flailed.

My veil slipped.

My foot snagged again.

And I knew—knew—I was going to fall.

Time slowed.

My brain screamed great, now you’re going to die in front of your boyfriend while dressed like this.

But I didn’t hit the floor.

Because two strong arms caught me.

Effortlessly. Instinctively.

One slid around my waist, the other braced across my back, stopping my fall like he did this kind of thing every day.

Adrien.

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