"Phalin," Chak said.
Phalin. The name echoed in my head. Where had I heard it before? Why did it sound so familiar?
She stepped toward him with a confident smile, taking his hand as if it belonged to her. The flash of cameras filled the room instantly.
"Chak and I are getting married in less than a week," she announced proudly, her voice steady and sweet.
A wave of murmurs rolled through the crowd of reporters.
And then, as if she wanted to make sure no one missed it, she lifted her hand.
A large diamond ring sparkled under the lights.
"As you can see," she added playfully, "he's already chosen the ring."
More flashes exploded.
Then she turned to him, leaned in, and pressed a kiss against his cheek — bold, deliberate, claiming him in front of everyone.
Something inside me froze.
The air left my lungs. I looked at Chak — he stood there like a statue, motionless. But I saw it, the tightening of his jaw, the shadow crossing his eyes. He was angry.
But that didn't change what had just happened.
She had touched him. She had kissed him.
I couldn't stay there.
I pushed the door open and stepped out of the conference room, the sound of cameras fading behind me. The hallway felt colder. I leaned against the wall and tried to breathe, but every breath hurt.
"How dare she…" I whispered. "How dare she kiss his cheek like that... and show off."
Footsteps approached.
"Niran," a gentle voice called.
I turned. Anamaria was standing there, her expression soft yet serious.
"Come," she said, reaching out and taking my hand. "You need some air."
We stepped outside, onto a terrace wrapped in green, overlooking the skyline of Bangkok glowing beneath the afternoon sun.
The air was warm, but I was shaking.
"I hate it when someone touches him," I muttered. "Let alone kisses him in front of everyone. How dare she…"
I ran a hand through my hair, my voice trembling. "I don't even know if I can be at their wedding. I'm too… jealous."
Anamaria gave a faint smile, but her eyes were full of understanding.
"I know, Niran," she said softly. "I saw the way you looked at him when she kissed him. You love him too much."
I didn't answer. I just stared out at the city, my heart beating too fast.
Yes.
I do love him.
Too much.
I didn't need to answer her.
She already knew.
The terrace door opened, and Rattan appeared with a serious expression.
"Master Chak is looking for you both," he said after a pause. "And… he's not in a good mood."
Anamaria simply nodded, then turned to me.
"Shall we go?"
I gave a small nod. I didn't trust my voice to work.
My thoughts were scattered, still stuck somewhere between the shock in the conference room and the ache it left behind.
As we walked back inside, I heard the whispers.
"So she's actually Chak's sister?"
"And he's really getting married?"
Every word was like a knife. Everyone was talking about it — the wedding, Phalin, the rumors that spread faster than truth ever could.
When we reached the hallway, I saw him.
Chak.
His face was calm, but I knew better. That wasn't calmness — that was the silence before a storm. His eyes were cold, sharp, and filled with restrained anger.
I approached him carefully, as if one wrong word could break the thin thread of control he still had.
"Where have you been?" he asked, his voice low but cutting.
"We just needed some air," I replied quietly. "I needed a moment."
He said nothing. Only his jaw tightened. The tension in the air was thick enough to choke on.
Then he turned abruptly and started walking toward the elevator.
We followed.
Inside the elevator, the silence was suffocating. The soft hum of the machine was the only sound between us. Chak stood in front, his posture straight, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the numbers above the door. He didn't look at me once.
When the elevator doors slid open, he stepped out first.
Without turning, he said coldly, "Write the report as briefly as possible. And before you do—come to my office."
"Yes, sir," I said quietly. My voice sounded smaller than I wanted it to.
I noticed how everyone in the office was staring — first at Chak, then at Anamaria. Their whispers followed us like shadows.
Anamaria sat down at my desk and gave me a soft smile.
"I'll help you," she said gently.
"Alright," I replied, though my eyes were already following Chak disappearing into his office.
And then I went after him — knowing that whatever awaited me behind that door wouldn't be easy.
The door closed behind me with a soft click.
Chak was standing by the window, his back to me. The city lights reflected off the glass, painting his silhouette in silver and blue. His hands were still in his pockets — that calm, controlled posture he always had when he was fighting not to show what he really felt.
I didn't speak at first. The silence between us was heavy, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioner.
When he finally turned around, I saw it.
A faint smudge of lipstick on his cheek — Phalin's lipstick.
That same color I'd seen when she kissed him.
Something inside me twisted.
Before I could stop myself, I stepped closer, pulled a tissue from my pocket, and reached up. Chak didn't move. His eyes stayed on me, cold and unreadable, as I gently wiped the mark away.
When the color disappeared, I still didn't lower my hand.
"I don't like it," I said quietly.
His brows knit together slightly. "What?"
"I don't like it when someone kisses you," I murmured. My voice trembled just a little. "Not if it's not me."
The words hung in the air between us — fragile, dangerous, real.
For a moment, Chak said nothing. Then a faint, teasing glint appeared in his eyes.
"So," he said, his tone low but with the hint of a smirk, "is my artist jealous?"
I met his gaze — and for a heartbeat, I couldn't breathe.
"Yes," I admitted softly. "Maybe I am."
Chak's lips curved, just barely, but his eyes… they softened in a way that told me more than words ever could.
The silence stretched on — fragile, electric.
Chak was still standing close, his gaze locked on mine. His breathing had slowed, but his eyes… they were softer now.
I didn't think. I just moved.
My hand reached up, almost on its own, and before he could react, I leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek — the same place where Phalin's lipstick had been.
The warmth of his skin lingered against my lips, and for a moment, neither of us breathed.
When I pulled back, my voice was quiet but certain.
"Only I can kiss you. No one else."
Chak blinked, caught off guard. For a man who was always in control, he suddenly looked…surprised.
His eyes softened again — something flickered there, something dangerously close to affection.
But then he straightened, his expression slipping back into the calm mask he always wore.
"Niran," he said slowly, as if trying to steady both of us. "You really don't know when to stop, do you?"
I smiled faintly. "Not when it comes to you."
He exhaled, the corner of his lips twitching — not quite a smile, not quite resistance.
And for a second, I thought he might lean closer. But instead, he turned his gaze away, his voice low and rough.
"Go finish your report."
But this time, I didn't move.
I looked at him — really looked — and whispered,
"Wait… when we're alone," I said, my voice steady but soft,
"because I'm not letting you go."
For a brief second, Chak froze.
And even though he didn't turn around, I saw it — the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Just enough to make me believe he felt the same.