Chapter 4: Movie Night, Secrets, and a Shocking Discovery

This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—I have to make the most of it.

I raced through my shower, scrubbing off every speck of sweat, humming my favorite song. I threw on my comfiest pajamas—soft cotton shorts and an oversized hoodie—before bounding down the stairs two at a time.

So not only did I turn the sofa into a full-on sofa bed,

I yanked the cushions off and spread out the spare sheets from the linen closet. The whole living room suddenly looked like a college dorm movie marathon.

I also cast my favorite Netflix drama onto the projector.

The living room smelled like buttery popcorn and dryer sheets, the projector casting blue shadows on the wall. The opening credits flickered against the wall, painting everything in cool blue light.

Just waiting for Uncle Mason to come over.

I grabbed a bowl of popcorn, nervously picking at the kernels, heart thumping. I could hear him moving around in the kitchen, making tea the way he always did when he couldn’t sleep.

Unexpectedly, while I was scrolling on my phone, a new local post popped up.

My phone buzzed, screen lighting up with a new notification from the neighborhood app. I thumbed the screen, expecting another meme, but paused when I read the headline.

[The girl I like has a boyfriend, but still asks me to spend the night. What should I do?]

I blinked. My curiosity flared. Who posted this? This sounded like some real-life drama—way juicier than my usual feed.

Who is this role model among us—the most devoted of all girls?

I snickered, picturing the poor guy all mopey, pouring his heart out to strangers on a Friday night.

I quickly clicked in.

My thumbs moved faster than my brain. I needed to know the full tea.

[The girl who’s been with me for fifteen years confessed today that she has a boyfriend, but still asks me to help her out. What do I do?]

Fifteen years? That sounds familiar.

I frowned, doing the math in my head. That was almost as long as I’d known Uncle Mason.

But also a little suspicious.

My heart skipped a beat. Could it be...?

But as a gossip lover, I didn’t think too hard and replied:

I shrugged, tapping out a response like the self-appointed agony aunt I was. [She definitely cares about you. Otherwise, she would’ve ditched you ten years ago.]

The guy, username [Heartbroken Big Dog], was really upset.

His reply came back instantly. He must’ve been waiting for advice, or at least someone to listen.

He replied in seconds—must’ve been glued to his phone.

I imagined him sitting in the dark, thumb hovering over the keyboard, desperate for reassurance.

[But she always avoids me, like she’s afraid of me.]

I paused, chewing my lip. That sounded way too familiar—like the way I’d dodge Uncle Mason’s lectures or hide my phone under my pillow at night.

For some reason, I suddenly thought of Uncle Mason confiscating my romance novels.

He’d always say, “Those books will rot your brain,” but I knew he secretly read the blurbs before tossing them on top of the fridge, just out of my reach.

And how he always comes out to catch me if I’m even a minute late for the 10 p.m. curfew.

I couldn’t count how many times I’d seen him standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, waiting for me to get home from the library. No matter how quietly I tried to sneak in, he always caught me.

I shivered, typing quickly:

My fingers flew over the screen. [Maybe you’re a bit too strict with her?]

[I’m a few years older than her, and I do manage her a bit more.]

His answer made my stomach twist. That sounded exactly like us—down to the age gap and everything.

Case closed?

I grinned to myself, certain I’d cracked the code. Only, the realization sent a weird little shiver down my back.

I continued to comfort him:

I typed with the confidence of a therapist on a TV show. [She must like you. Maybe the boyfriend is just an excuse. Try testing her—she’ll definitely slip up.]

I turned off the screen, feeling a wave of pride.

I tossed my phone onto the sofa, stretching out and grinning. I felt like I’d done my good deed for the day.

Awesome, helped another confused guy.

I gave myself a little fist pump, snatching another handful of popcorn.

I was very pleased with myself.

It was a small victory, but it felt good. Sometimes it was nice to be the one with the answers.

But for some reason, Uncle Mason’s image suddenly popped into my mind and wouldn’t leave.

I tried to focus on the movie, but every time a scene with a father figure or older brother flashed across the screen, I saw his face instead.

He likes to control me, sometimes to the point of being overbearing.

I thought of all the times he’d insisted on driving me to school, even when it meant he’d be late to work. The way he hovered at the sidelines during soccer games, always ready with a towel and water bottle.

But... I know deep down, I can’t do without this kind of "annoyance."

It was comforting, in a weird way, knowing someone was always there, even if he drove me nuts half the time.

Honestly, I even feel happy and cared for because of his possessiveness.

I hugged my knees to my chest, grinning at the ceiling. It was nice, being wanted—even if he was a bit much.

Covering my face, I felt my thoughts were a little twisted.

I hid behind my hands, giggling. Maybe I was the weird one after all.

I wondered, does Uncle Mason have another side to him?

My thoughts drifted, imagining him as more than just the strict guardian—someone with secrets, someone who could be fun, maybe even a little romantic.

Will he show it to me?

The question lingered in my mind. I blushed, wondering if I’d ever be brave enough to find out.

My face started to feel hot.

I pressed my palms to my cheeks, trying to cool the flush. Even the tips of my ears felt warm.

Upstairs, I heard Uncle Mason’s footsteps.

Heavy and sure, each one a reminder that he was never far away.

Getting closer and closer.

I froze, suddenly nervous, heart thumping so loud I was sure he could hear it from the hallway.

I couldn’t help but look up at him, my pupils shrinking.

The doorway filled with his shadow, broad shoulders blocking the light. My pulse skittered like a trapped butterfly.

Because on the lit-up screen was the post I had just replied to.

The words burned like a neon sign. I scrambled to turn the screen off, but it was too late.

Could Uncle Mason be Heartbroken Big Dog?

My heart thudded in my chest. Was he really pouring his heart out online… about me?

I immediately lowered my head, a strange feeling bubbling up inside.

My cheeks burned. Was it embarrassment? Guilt? Or something else?

I need to figure out a way to confirm it.

I bit my lip, eyes darting between him and the phone. My mind raced, plotting my next move.