From Villain to Virtual Sweetheart: The Fake Heir's Grand Scheme(BL)-Chapter 757: Micah Wants Tea (And Not the Drinking Kind)

The morning light had settled across the room when the soft knock at the door announced the arrival of breakfast.

Micah stepped forward immediately and accepted the delivery. He reached for the neatly packed box and opened it without hesitation.

"Do you think he is awake?" Micah asked, glancing toward the closed bedroom door that separated them from Ilyas. His tone carried a mixture of concern and impatience. "Should I check on him?"

Darcy, who had already taken the time to freshen up, appeared far more composed than he had earlier, though the faint shadows beneath his eyes betrayed his exhaustion. His complexion had improved slightly, yet there remained a subtle tension in his posture, as though he were holding himself together through sheer will.

He gave a small nod, his voice calm but measured. "If you’re curious, just open the door quietly and take a look," he said. "But if he were awake, he would’ve come out when he heard you."

However, Micah did not wait for him to finish. His impatience overtook any intention of restraint. He was already halfway across the room, his fingers curling around the handle before Darcy could add anything further.

The door creaked open with deliberate care, and Micah leaned forward slightly, peering into the dim interior.

Instead of finding him asleep, he was met with a pair of wide, startled eyes.

Micah’s expression changed instantly. The concern that had lingered on his face dissolved into warmth, blooming into a bright and reassuring smile that seemed to carry sunlight with it.

"Oh! You are awake!" he exclaimed softly as he stepped inside. "Perfect timing. Breakfast just arrived. How are you feeling?"

His voice was gentle, encouraging, filled with a natural ease that made it difficult for anyone to feel guarded in his presence.

Yet his steps faltered almost immediately. Micah’s gaze lingered on Ilyas more carefully now, and the subtle shift in his expression did not go unnoticed. The dark circles beneath Ilyas’s eyes were far too pronounced to ignore, and the fatigue etched into his features was unmistakable.

For a brief moment, Micah considered asking. However, unlike his earlier interrogation of Darcy, he refrained. There was no need. After everything that had happened, after the fear and chaos that had surrounded Ilyas, it would have been unreasonable to expect him to rest peacefully. The exhaustion spoke for itself. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Ilyas, just like Darcy, had not slept even for a single moment.

The night had stretched endlessly before him, filled with restless thoughts that refused to settle. His mind had replayed every detail, every memory, each one laced with a mixture of embarrassment and confusion.

He had berated himself repeatedly. Why had he asked Darcy that? Why had he allowed it to reach such an awkward point?

And then there had been the silence afterwards, heavy and suffocating.

As if that had not been enough, his body had betrayed him in the most humiliating way possible. The loud growl of his stomach had shattered what little composure he had managed to maintain. Then came the memories that followed.

Darcy’s hands. The warmth of his chest. The closeness that had blurred the boundaries between comfort and something far more dangerous. The memory of Darcy’s lips brushing against his neck.

Ilyas felt his face heat up instantly at the recollection, his ears turning a deep shade of red.

He had spent the remainder of the night tossing and turning, unable to rest, silence his thoughts, or escape the lingering sensation that clung stubbornly to his skin.

Now, faced with Micah’s bright and open expression, he felt a slight sense of relief. At least, with Micah present, the tension might ease. At least, things might feel normal again.

That fragile hope lasted only a moment. Because behind Micah, standing at the doorway, was Darcy. Their eyes met briefly. And just like that, the tension returned in full force. No, it was even worse now.

Ilyas lowered his gaze immediately, his embarrassment surging once more, his posture shrinking as though he wished he could disappear entirely.

"Thanks," he murmured, his voice barely audible. "I’ll have some."

Micah’s attention shifted between the two of them, his instincts sharpening almost instantly. Something was not right.

He could feel it. The air between them was too stiff, too careful, too deliberate. This was not simply the aftermath of a restless night. This was something else entirely.

"Darcy," Micah said casually, though his eyes remained fixed on Ilyas, observing every small reaction. "Could you bring the food in here?"

The reaction was immediate. Ilyas flinched. It was subtle, but unmistakable.

Micah’s eyebrow lifted ever so slightly.

Darcy, however, did not comment. He simply complied, retrieving the containers and drinks before placing them carefully on the table inside the room. His movements were controlled, as though he were deliberately avoiding drawing attention to himself.

Ilyas slowly got out of bed and moved toward the sofa, his movements stiff.

Micah followed, settling beside him with exaggerated ease. "Let’s eat," Micah said cheerfully. "I am starving."

The meal began in silence. But it was not a comfortable silence.

Micah observed everything. Darcy’s unusual detachment. Ilyas’s hesitant glances. The lack of natural conversation. The absence of Darcy’s usual attentiveness when it came to shared meals.

Micah’s curiosity grew rapidly. Something had happened. Something significant. Micah’s interest skyrocketed. Fuck! He wanted to know what had happened!

*******

They finished their breakfast far more quickly than one would have expected, especially considering the heavy and somewhat strained atmosphere that had settled among them. The clinking of utensils against containers gradually faded.

Darcy was the first to move. He placed his utensils aside with a calm, almost detached precision before rising to his feet in one smooth motion. His expression remained composed, giving nothing away, as though the silence and tension that had filled the room had not affected him in the slightest.

"Then, I’ll be leaving now," he said evenly.

Micah’s head lifted abruptly, surprised and confused. "What?" he exclaimed, his brows drawing together as he stared at Darcy. "Where are you going? What about Ilyas?"

Darcy met his gaze without hesitation, his tone remaining as steady as ever. "You’re here, aren’t you?"

Micah blinked. "Huh," he said, "No. I have plans with Clyde today."

The mention of Clyde brought with it a faint sense of awareness, as though Micah had only just remembered the existence of a certain possessive and easily jealous individual who had been rather insistent earlier that morning.

Before the conversation could continue further, Ilyas spoke, his voice quiet yet steady despite the lingering fatigue evident in his features. "It’s fine," he said. "I’ll be discharged today anyway."

Micah’s reaction was immediate and firm. "No," he said, shaking his head decisively. "Absolutely not."

His tone carried an authority that left little room for argument, and he leaned forward slightly as though emphasising every word that followed.

"Your older brother entrusted you to our care before he left," Micah continued, his gaze unwavering. "Do you really think we can just let you walk away the moment you are discharged? And then what? You return to your apartment, where the paparazzi are practically waiting at your doorstep. That is not safe. Not even close."

He paused only briefly before adding with even greater insistence, "And more importantly, you should not be alone. Not after everything that has happened."

Ilyas lowered his head in response, his fingers curling slightly against his lap. He did not argue, yet the quiet tension in his posture suggested hesitation rather than agreement. He knew he was in a pinch but the mere thought of staying alone with Darcy made him so stressed out that he wanted to flee.