25. A latte is enough

Tristan sighed before glancing at Luka, who stood beside him like an obedient dog. He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Don't stir up any trouble," he warned. 

Luka grinned leisurely. "When have I ever done that?" 

"Forget it," Tristan muttered, shaking his head in defeat.

Tristan rang the doorbell. They could hear a loud bang as if someone tripped over on their way to the front door. Luka chuckled, the sound lacking its usual warmth. Tristan glared at him as the door opened. Alec came face to face with Tristan as his grip on the door handle loosened. Somehow, he failed to notice Luka. "Tristan," Alec exclaimed with relief. However, the fever had taken its toll, and his head spun violently. Alec's vision blurred as he lost his balance and fell straight into Tristan's chest. Instinctively, Tristan reached out, wrapping his arms around Alec to steady him. His breaths were shallow, his body radiating a concerning heat.

Luka folded his arms on his chest with a frown, taking in the drama-like greeting. He clicked his tongue a few times, the sound sharp and out of place. "Dear, I'll take care of it," Luka whispered, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down Tristan's spine. He moved with surprising strength - taking Alec from Tristan's grasp and lifting him in his arms bride-like style.

"Tristan," Alec murmurs drowsily in Luka's arms. Tristan follows closely behind. 

Luka frowned, knowing his expression was out of Tristan's sight. He almost tossed Alec on the couch in front of the TV. 

Tristan gasped, hiding his amusement at Alec's muffled grunt as he hit the couch.

"I don't get why you hurried to this mess," Luka glanced at Alec.

"He's my friend." Tristan's gaze fell to the ground.

Luka scratched the back of his neck. "That's right, he's your friend, not your husband. You don't have to come running whenever he calls."

Tristan lifted his gaze, suppressing the urge to express his hatred toward Alec. "I care about him," as this lie escaped his lips, Alec turned on the couch. 

"I can see that," Luka smirked, a glint of hope mirroring in his eyes. 

Luka took a step closer, placing a hand on Alec's forehead, his touch lingering a beat too long. "Are you sure, Tristan? I wouldn't want you to get sick too." His voice is laced with a sweetness that makes Tristan's skin crawl.

Tristan gulped. Before he could rethink his decision, a slender figure emerged from the hallway, her face etched with concern. It's Kristina. Tristan bit the inside of his cheek as the fake Kristina walked over.

Kristina's eyes darted between Tristan and Luka, taking in the scene with a sharp coldness.

"What's going on here?" Kristina demanded, her voice laced with suspicion. 

Kristina's eyes narrowed at Luka, who maintained a sickly sweet smile.

"And you are...?" she questioned, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Luka extended a hand, his smile widening. "Luka, a friend of Tristan's."

Ignoring his hand, Kristina's gaze fixed on Tristan. "Does Alec know about this?" she questioned, her tone piercing.

Tristan took a defensive stance, fed up with walking on eggshells around this imposter. "Does he have to know? He was the one who wanted me here. But God forbid if I have other matters at hand." 

Kristina tried to stay calm; she tried to keep her composure to keep the events of the previous night hidden like the true Tristan would. Nevertheless, she refused to lick the feet of her own body that played the same game as her.

Tristan's eyelid twitched uncontrollably.

Kristina's eyes widened as if she understood. Tristan felt a strange familiarity wash over him.

Kristina's facade crumbles for a split second, a flicker of something akin to fear crossing her features. She quickly recovers, however, schooling her expression into a mask of icy indifference. "Don't play dumb, Tristan," she hisses. "You know exactly what I mean."

Tristan closed his eyes, trying to ignore the twitch of his eye. "I won't bother explaining."

It was as if each of them led an entirely different conversation, yet they somehow got their answers.

Luka tried to keep up with this chaotic exchange. 

The fake Kristina smiled. "Stay for a while. I'll make you coffee." 

The three of them sat behind a kitchen counter. A strong coffee aroma filled the air. The true Tristan preferred strong black coffee without sugar. However, Kristina served him a latte. 

'How does she know? How does she know I hate black coffee?'

Tristan smiled at the milky coffee in front of him. "I can never complain," Tristan chuckled lightheartedly, tasting the coffee. A bit of the foam stuck to his upper lip, and he licked it away with satisfaction.