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Shadows of Morning Sickness and Golf Course Revelations

Harry's eyes wide with anticipation, "Did you manage to finish the round?"

Tom grins, his voice low and conspiratorial.

"We used the flashes of lightning as our guide. Every time the sky lit up, we swung with all our might, hoping our shots would find their mark. It was pure and utter fucking madness. Absolute madness!"

The men erupt into laughter again, their tales of triumph and misadventure mingling. Time seems to stand still as their stories echo through the clubhouse, each word a testament to the bond formed on the links-a bond forged through shared challenges, triumphs, and the timeless joy of the game.

Yet, amidst this mirthful exchange, Venetia finds herself ensnared within the clutches of her own melancholia-a prisoner of her roiling hormones. A pang of guilt tugs at her heartstrings as she contemplates the secret she bears, a weighty burden concealed from her unsuspecting family. She wrestles with the guilt of withholding this knowledge from Tom's friends and his family too, though deep down, she knows it to be a prudent choice.

Unbeknown to her, Tom and the boys possess a remarkable sensitivity to her every nuance, ever attuned to the currents that stir within her. Recognising the veil of sadness that hangs over her, they rally around her, their collective presence a steadfast fortress against the encroaching gloom.

"Come on, Vee," Tom says with a wink, leaning back in his chair. "Tell us the funniest golf mishap you've ever witnessed. You've been a few times when we were younger."

Venetia's gaze flickers, caught between the weight of her emotions and the genuine concern in Tom's eyes. She takes a deep breath and offers a hesitant smile.

"Well, there was this one time when Harry here," she points to the man sitting across from her. "Decided to try his hand at a trick shot - if that's what it's called? He basically wanted to hit the ball off a tree trunk and land it perfectly on the green. You can imagine what happened next."

Laughter erupts from the group, Harry joining in with a self-deprecating chuckle.

"I swear, I thought I had it in the bag," Harry admits, shaking his head. "But that ball ricocheted off that tree like it had a personal vendetta against me. Ended up in the water hazard instead."

The room erupts in a fresh wave of laughter, the air thick with the sweet scent of shared humiliation. She raises her glass to her lips, feigning nonchalance as she takes a sip, desperately attempting to maintain an air of composure. As if the thought of her own grotesque mishap hadn't crossed her mind...

"And that's when quite literally pissed myself."

Without saying anything else, Venetia picks up her glass of water and takes a sip, trying to act as if she wouldn't do such a grotesque thing in public.

Tom's jaw hangs open, a portrait of disbelief, mirroring Jack's incredulous expression. Both men gaze at the actress, searching for any hint of deception in her words.

"It's true," she interjects, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. Harry nods, his grin stretching from ear to ear. Though he was just a lad back then, that day remains etched in his memory like a permanent scar.

A blush creeps across her cheeks, a delicate flush of pink that accentuates her charm.

Memories of her sixteen-year-old self, frolicking on the greens resurface, bringing with them the vivid recollection of that fateful summer's day. She wore a dress, its fabric billowing gracefully in the wind-a stroke of luck in an otherwise disastrous moment. All that remained was the unpleasant reminder of damp undergarments and tiny rivulets of urine trickling down her legs. It wasn't a sight befitting a lady, but the uncontrollable laughter that seized her prevented any semblance of decorum. It marked the first time one of the Holland brothers stumbled so spectacularly at golf, etching its place in the annals of their shared history.