Page 41 of Johan.

I roll my eyes, unable to hide my exasperation. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yeah, I am. She really sparked interest in me. But I'm moving on... Now that I know she’s with you.”

I notice the sadness in his eyes, the realization that Hannah has always been into me and not him. “I appreciate the honesty.”

We share a moment of understanding, the air between us heavy with unspoken words. The fire crackles in the silence, adding to the ambiance of the room. Conrad stands up, breaking the tension. “Alright. Let's go and change for dinner.”

I nod, following his lead, the conversation still lingering in my mind.

As we head out, I can't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for Conrad's honesty and the complex yet strong bond we share. The revelation about his feelings for Hannah is a shock, a twist I didn't see coming. It explains so much—the glances, the way he always seemed to be there, his silent support. I wonder how long he’s harbored these feelings and how hard it must have been for him to see us together. Yet, he’s never let it interfere with our friendship.

The estate's grandeur fades into the background, replaced by the warmth of friendship and the comfort of mutual understanding. I appreciate his honesty, but it also makes me question how much I’ve overlooked. Have I been so wrapped upin my own world that I missed what was right in front of me? Conrad’s quiet sacrifice, his ability to put our friendship above his own feelings, speaks volumes. As we walk, I silently vow to be more aware, to not take this friendship for granted.

Just as we cross the foyer, ready to go upstairs, my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen and see Astrid’s name. I can’t help but heave a long sigh, already tired of the conversation that’s about to unfold, but knowing it’s best to play along for now, I decide to pick up.

“Hi, Astrid,” I say, trying to sound cheerful.

Her voice is animated and sweet. “Hey, love! How are you doing? What are you up to?”

“I'm at Conrad's for the week, hunting like I told you.” I hope this doesn’t turn into a lengthy chat. Conrad stops in his tracks for a second, turning to look at me with a curious glance, then he continues and moves ahead, his footsteps quick and light as he reaches the stairs.

“Oh, right! How's that going?” she asks, seemingly oblivious to my earlier explanation.

“Good. How about you?” I ask out of politeness, following Conrad’s lead as we go upstairs. He pauses, noticing my slower pace, and waits for me, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I'm out shopping for bikinis for the Maldives. I’m super sad you can’t join us.” Her tone’s a mix of excitement and sadness.

I shift the phone to my left hand, using my right to grasp the banister, each step feeling heavier with the weight of the conversation.

“I know, but we’ll see each other after. Time flies during the holidays.”

We talk for a bit longer, her enthusiasm about the trip evident. I feel a pang of guilt for not being more engaged, but I’m drained. “Enjoy your vacation; it's going to be a great time withyour family,” I finally say, reaching the top of the stairs where Conrad stands, patiently waiting for me.

“I’ll call you once we land in a few days. Bye!”

“Bye, Astrid,” I say, hanging up and feeling an immediate sense of relief. I let my shoulders drop, releasing some of the tension.

Conrad, noticing my exhaustion, chuckles. “My poor boy. Women, huh?”

I shove him playfully, the tension easing a bit more. “Yeah, you could say that.”

He grins, giving me a friendly pat on the back. “Come on, let's get ready for dinner.”

As we walk to our respective rooms, the conversation with Astrid fades into the background, replaced by the comforting presence of a friend who understands more than I’ve ever given him credit for. I feel the stress of the day melt away with each step, grateful for Conrad's easy companionship.

The week at Conrad’s went fast, and now I’m in a sleek black car heading to Heathrow’s private tarmac, where the jet Hannah is already on board awaits me. As the car glides smoothly along the road, the early morning darkness of winter envelops the city, with streetlights casting a soft glow over the frost-covered landscape. I stare out the window, my mind wandering to the upcoming flight. I can’t help but picture Hannah and me sneaking into the small but luxurious bathroom of the jet, her laughter hushed as we lock the door behind us. The fantasy of our bodies pressed together in the confined space, the thrill of the stolen moment, sends a rush of excitement through me.I smile to myself, the anticipation making the journey to the airport seem even longer.

The driver turns through a gate marked “Private Aviation,” and we pull up in front of a modern, glass-walled terminal reserved for private jet passengers. A uniformed attendant opens my door, greeting me with a polite nod. I step out into the cool morning air, feeling a slight chill as I adjust the strap of my carry-on bag on my shoulder. A concierge swiftly approaches, checking my name off a list and guiding me through a discreet security checkpoint, which is more streamlined than the usual commercial process.

I walk through a polished, well-appointed lounge area where a few other travelers are relaxing on plush sofas, sipping on morning coffee and reading newspapers. The concierge leads me directly out to the tarmac, where the jet is waiting. The aircraft is sleek and modern, its engines idling softly in the background. A portable staircase is already positioned at the entrance, and a flight attendant stands at the base, welcoming me with a warm smile.

“Good morning, Mr. Bentinck,” the flight attendant says. “Welcome aboard.”

I nod in return and climb the steps, the metal cold under my gloved hands. The interior of the jet is even more luxurious than I anticipated. The cabin is spacious, with wide, plush leather seats, warm lighting, and elegant wood paneling. Hannah is already seated, her face lighting up as she sees me. But then I notice Amelia sitting right beside her, bundled up in a stylish winter coat and scarf, her gray hair cascading over her shoulders, and her green-rimmed glasses adding a touch of sophistication.

“Dr. Amelia, such a surprise,” I say, trying to mask my shock as I walk towards them.

Hannah stands up and gives me a warm hug. “It’s a surprise for Oma,” she explains, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “She hasn’t seen her sister for two decades.”

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