Chapter 16 - Janhae Dover Appears
Ginny Nakamura had planned hundreds of weddings.
She had coordinated disasters, fixed last-minute meltdowns, handled crying brides, drunk grooms, and mothers who thought they owned the color ivory.
She did not spiral.
She did not get distracted.
She definitely did not stare at the same floral arrangement for ten full minutes while replaying the image of Jayna’s hand on another woman’s waist.
“Ginny.”
Silence.
“Ginny.”
A paper ball hit her forehead.
She blinked.
Across the studio, Janhae Dover stood with her arms crossed, eyebrow raised.
Janhae was effortlessly sharp—tailored trousers, oversized blazer, hair sleek, gaze too perceptive for comfort. She’d worked with Ginny for three years now.
Which meant she knew things.
Like when Ginny was lying.
“You’ve been holding that ribbon like it personally offended you,” Janhae said calmly.
Ginny glanced down.
She was gripping a blush satin spool so tightly her knuckles were white.
“I’m fine.”
Janhae walked closer.
Slowly.
Like approaching a wounded animal.
“You visited her clinic yesterday.”
Ginny froze.
“…How do you know that?”
“You posted a story.”
Ginny blinked.
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did. It was a boomerang of you pretending to sip protein shake with the caption ‘supportive fiancée energy.’”
Ginny’s face drained of color.
“I deleted it after five minutes.”
“Five very incriminating minutes.”
Ginny dropped into her chair.
“Oh my God.”
Janhae leaned against the worktable.
“So,” she said gently, “what happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s worse.”
Ginny glared. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
“Your fake fiancée.”
Ginny groaned. “We’re not calling her that.”
“Why not? That’s what she was at the reunion, right?”
The reunion.
The cheers.
The way Jayna had held her hand like it was natural.
Ginny’s stomach flipped.
“It was just a lie,” she muttered.
Janhae tilted her head.
“And now?”
Ginny didn’t answer.
Which was answer enough.
---
Janhae softened slightly.
“You’re spiraling,” she said quietly.
“I am not.”
“You are distracted. You triple-booked a caterer this morning.”
Ginny blinked. “I did what?”
“You. Triple. Booked.”
Ginny covered her face with her hands.
This was bad.
Very bad.
Janhae crouched slightly to catch her eye.
“Tell me what happened at the clinic.”
Ginny hesitated.
Then sighed.
“She was working with a client.”
“Okay.”
“She was… close.”
Janhae blinked.
“Close like—?”
“Hands-on therapy close.”
Janhae stared at her.
“You’re jealous of physiotherapy?”
Ginny shot her a look. “It didn’t look clinical.”
“It’s literally clinical.”
“I know that!”
Janhae studied her.
And then a slow smile spread across her face.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“You’re in deep.”
Ginny stiffened. “I am not.”
“You are.”
“I am not in deep.”
“You went to her workplace unannounced and felt territorial over a paying client.”
Ginny opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
“…It wasn’t territorial.”
Janhae raised one eyebrow.
Ginny deflated.
“Okay maybe a little.”
“A little?” Janhae deadpanned. “You’re glowing red right now.”
Ginny flopped back in her chair.
“I don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Feel like I’m about to lose something that was never mine.”
There it was.
Raw.
Honest.
Janhae’s expression shifted immediately.
More serious now.
“Has she given you any reason to feel that way?”
“No.”
“Then what are you actually afraid of?”
Ginny stared at the ceiling.
Because the answer was humiliating.
“That she’ll move on before I figure my feelings out.”
Janhae didn’t react immediately.
Which meant she was choosing her words carefully.
“That’s not fear,” Janhae said gently.
“That’s consequence.”
Ginny looked at her.
“You don’t get to ghost someone, drag them into a fake engagement, then assume they’ll just… wait around.”
Ginny flinched slightly.
Janhae wasn’t cruel.
She was honest.
And Ginny needed honesty.
“She deserves clarity,” Janhae continued. “Not half-ownership.”
Ginny swallowed.
“I’m not trying to half-own her.”
“But you are trying to reserve her.”
The words hit clean and sharp.
Ginny looked down at her hands.
“I don’t know how this happened,” she whispered.
Janhae leaned back against the table.
“It happened when you kissed her and didn’t forget it.”
Ginny’s pulse skipped.
“You didn’t tell me it was intense,” Janhae added softly.
“It was,” Ginny admitted.
“Then why did you run?”
“Because she looked at me like she knew.”
“Knew what?”
“That I was already in trouble.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Janhae crossed her arms loosely.
“So what now?”
Ginny exhaled shakily.
“I don’t know.”
“Are you still pretending?”
The question landed hard.
Ginny thought about the balcony.
About Jayna’s hand on her waist.
About the way jealousy burned yesterday.
“…No,” she admitted quietly.
Janhae nodded once.
“Then stop acting like you are.”
Ginny frowned. “What does that even mean?”
“It means,” Janhae said calmly, “if you’re going to want her, want her properly.”
The studio felt too quiet suddenly.
“What if she doesn’t want me like that?” Ginny asked.
Janhae’s expression softened.
“Then at least you’ll know.”
Ginny looked away.
Fear creeping up her spine.
Janhae straightened.
“You’re not scared of losing her,” she said gently.
“You’re scared she’ll ask you to stay.”
Ginny’s breath caught.
Because that—
That was dangerously accurate.
Commitment.
Vulnerability.
The possibility that this wasn’t temporary.
That this wasn’t a reunion game anymore.
Janhae grabbed her bag.
“I have a vendor meeting,” she said casually. “Try not to elope before I get back.”
Ginny huffed weakly.
As Janhae reached the door, she paused.
“One more thing.”
Ginny looked up.
“If you hurt her because you’re confused,” Janhae said softly, “that’s on you.”
The door closed behind her.
Ginny sat there alone.
Heart pounding.
Mind racing.
Territorial.
Scared.
Falling.
And for the first time since this lie began—
She wasn’t afraid of Jayna’s feelings.
She was afraid of her own.