Chak looked out the window.
"That was a long time ago," he said quietly. "Long before I met you. Before I even knew who I really was. Back then, I thought I liked girls. I was in college when I met her. She was kind, sweet, always there for me when Kit wasn't around. I fell in love with her.
But over time, I started noticing that she wasn't really interested in me — she cared more about what I had. The money, the status, the name. I helped her with assignments, studying… Professors often turned a blind eye because she was dating me. I only found out later that she had threatened them — if they didn't give her a passing grade, she'd tell me or her father. She came from a rich family, used to getting whatever she wanted. Spoiled.
The longer I was with her, the more suffocated I felt. And then I met him. The guy I couldn't stop thinking about. That's when I realized who I truly was. I stayed with her for a few more days, but deep down, I knew it was over. I told her our love would never work. I never showed her my emotions — not like I show them to you, Niran. Kit had warned me even before I started dating her: If she's the right one, she won't use you for fame. She'll see the good man you are.
When I ended things, she started yelling at me. She said I'd never find anyone who would love me like she did. That I was cold and unreachable. And at that moment, I believed her. I decided I'd never fall in love again. I shut myself off. I didn't want to get hurt anymore.
My mother began setting me up on blind dates, but I kept refusing. I went on a few, but I could tell right away — they wanted money, power, a name. They talked about the future we could have together, while all I wanted was to go home."
He let out a small, bitter laugh, honest and raw at the same time.
"And then I met you. For the first time in years, I felt what it means to truly live. And to love. Every single day, I'm grateful that you came into my life."
I stood up and walked toward him.
"I don't care about your money or your fame," I said softly. "All I want is your love."
Chak looked at me, a faint glimmer flickering in his eyes, and whispered,
"I know."
"Chak… what are we going to do when you get married?" I asked carefully.
For a moment, he didn't answer. His gaze drifted somewhere distant, as if he was searching for an answer even he didn't have yet.
"I don't know," he finally said quietly. Then, after a pause, he added, "But I do know one thing — I'm not going to lose you that easily, Niran. I'll do whatever it takes to make us both happy."
His words sank deep into my heart, and that familiar warmth spread through my chest — that soft, fluttery feeling that comes when someone says exactly what you needed to hear.
"I don't care where I'll be," I said gently. "Even if I have to work overtime, as long as I can be with you."
Chak frowned slightly, a flicker of surprise in his expression as he turned his gaze back to me.
"You'd stay at work just because of me?" he asked.
"Because of our love," I replied, my cheeks heating as I looked away.
His lips curved into a small smile. "You know… that's actually not a bad idea, my artist," he said, pulling me into his arms.
His embrace was warm and steady — the kind that made the world outside fade away.
"I'd do anything for you," I whispered.
"I know," he murmured back. "And I don't want to lose you."
In his arms, I felt safe. Like nothing could touch us. His breath brushed against my neck, and my heart beat faster, syncing with his in a quiet rhythm only we could understand.
Suddenly, I leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
"This one's still owed from this morning," I said with a small grin.
Chak tilted his head slightly, his voice low and teasing.
"Actually, you owe me a kiss, artist."
I laughed softly, stepping back from his hold. "You'll get that one after lunch," I said, slipping out of his arms.
As I turned away, I caught a glimpse of his smile — that quiet, secret smile that always managed to make my heart race and my thoughts scatter.
When I turned around, I could still feel my heart racing — pounding so hard it almost hurt. I walked to the fridge, opened it, and froze. Inside, there was only a bottle of water and a few sauces. No fruit, no food, nothing that resembled an actual meal.
I sighed and turned to Chak, who was leaning casually against the counter, watching me with that unreadable look of his.
"Why is there no food in the fridge?" I asked, slightly confused.
"I rarely stay here," he said calmly, as if that explained everything. "And when I do, I only eat freshly prepared meals."
"And what are we supposed to eat now?" I asked, raising a brow.
"Don't worry," he replied with a faint smile. "The maid will bring something soon. I called her while I was still at the office."
I sighed again and smiled softly. "You really think of everything," I said.
Chak slowly approached me, his gaze lowering to my lips. "And while we wait," he said quietly, "can I get a kiss?"
I smirked. "After lunch."
"This kiss is the appetizer," he murmured, his voice low and teasing — and before I could say anything, his lips were already on mine.
At first, the kiss was gentle, tentative, but it quickly deepened — turning into something fiery, hungry, and impossibly tender all at once. My arms found their way around his neck while his hands settled on my hips, pulling me closer. The world faded — it was just him. His scent. His warmth. His breath against mine.
And then — click. The sound of the door.
We instantly pulled apart, breathing fast. I wiped my lips quickly with my hand while Chak straightened his shirt, his expression shifting back to calm control.
"Master Chak, I brought the food," the maid said as she stepped inside, completely unaware of what she had interrupted.
Chak cleared his throat lightly, his voice composed. "Place it on the table," he said, as if nothing had happened.
I stood there awkwardly, trying to act natural, my face still warm from both the kiss and embarrassment. My heart hadn't even slowed down yet.
The maid smiled politely at me before leaving the room, and I caught Chak glancing at me from the corner of his eye — that teasing little smirk threatening to appear.
"Something wrong?" he asked, as if he didn't already know.
I looked away, crossing my arms. "No," I muttered. "Not at all."
He chuckled quietly, the sound low and smooth. "You're blushing," he said, stepping closer again, just enough to make my pulse spike.
"Am not," I said quickly, though the heat in my cheeks betrayed me completely.
"Sure," he murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting. "Then you won't mind if I test that theory later."
I swallowed hard, glaring at him, but he just turned toward the table with that infuriating calm confidence — like he already knew he'd won.
A few minutes later, there was another knock at the door. Chak glanced toward it calmly.
"That must be her again," he said, just as the door opened.
The maid walked in — but this time, she wasn't alone. Two tall men in black suits followed behind her, each carrying large suitcases. One of them placed two down near the living room couch, and the other set the third beside them.
I blinked, confused. "Uh… what's going on?"
The maid smiled politely. "Master, I see you've found someone you truly care about," she said softly, her gaze shifting briefly toward me.
Chak's lips curved into a small, genuine smile. "You're right," he said simply, and then placed his hand gently on my shoulder.
I froze for a second, feeling his warmth through my shirt, my pulse suddenly picking up again.
The maid continued, "Everything is packed, sir. In the largest suitcase are your things, Master. The middle one belongs to the young lady, and the smaller one…" — she looked at me with a slight knowing smile — "is for the gentleman."
"Wait—my things?" I said, turning to Chak in disbelief. "How—when did—?"
Chak's smirk grew just a little. "Let's just say… I like being prepared."
The maid bowed her head respectfully. "If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave now."
"Thank you," Chak said, his voice composed as ever.
When the door closed and the room fell silent again, I turned to him with my arms folded. "Okay," I said, narrowing my eyes slightly. "What's going on, Chak?"
He chuckled, walking toward the window and glancing out at the city lights below. "That," he said, his tone smooth and teasing, "is for tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?" I repeated, confused. "What happens tomorrow?"
He turned his head, meeting my gaze with that steady, unreadable look — the kind that made my stomach twist.
"You'll see soon enough, my artist," he said quietly. "Just trust me."
I frowned, half nervous, half curious. "You're being mysterious again," I murmured.
He smiled faintly and walked back to me, stopping just close enough that I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes.
"Maybe," he said, his voice low. "But I promise — you'll like where we're going."