We moved out faster than I expected, the noise of the event fading behind us as the doors closed and the cooler night air hit my face, grounding and sharp at the same time, though it didn't fully clear the warmth still lingering in my head.
Chak didn't slow down.
Not until we were far enough from the entrance.
Then he stopped.
Just for a second.
His gaze moved around the area, quick, sharp, scanning, checking every direction like he was looking for something specific—or making sure there was nothing to find.
Only after that did he turn to me.
And before I could react—
his hand was on me.
Firm.
He lifted me without hesitation.
"Chak—" I started, immediately protesting, my hands instinctively pushing lightly against him. "I'm fine. I can walk. I'm not drunk."
"Enough," he cut in.
Sharp.
Final.
It wasn't loud.
But it didn't need to be.
I froze for a second, caught off guard more by his tone than the action itself, and just like that, the protest died in my throat, replaced by something else.
Annoyance.
No—
more than that.
I went quiet.
Completely.
I didn't fight him anymore as he carried me to the car, but I didn't look at him either, my expression closing off as he opened the door and carefully set me down in the seat.
I turned my head away the moment he stepped back.
Didn't say anything.
Didn't even glance at him.
He walked around the car and got in, starting the engine without a word, the silence settling between us in a way that felt heavier than before.
I crossed my arms slightly, staring out the window.
Mujast.
Clearly.
And I knew it.
Every now and then, though—
I couldn't help it.
My eyes would drift.
Just for a second.
Toward him.
The way his hands rested on the steering wheel.
The way his expression stayed calm, focused, completely unaffected.
And annoyingly—
unfairly—
he looked… really good.
Handsome.
Too handsome.
I looked away again immediately, my expression tightening just slightly as if that would fix anything.
It didn't.
A few seconds passed.
Then another.
And even though I was still annoyed—
still refusing to properly look at him—
my thoughts betrayed me again.
He really is handsome.
I huffed quietly under my breath, turning my head back toward the window.
Still silent.
Still stubborn.
But no longer entirely focused on being upset.
After a while, the car slowed and then came to a stop somewhere quieter, the city noise more distant now, softer, like it couldn't quite reach us anymore.
Chak turned off the engine without saying anything and stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him as he walked a few steps away, pulling out his phone, his posture immediately shifting back into something composed, controlled—businesslike.
I stayed inside.
Still quiet.
Still a little stubborn.
At least that's what I told myself.
But then—
I looked.
Through the window.
And I saw them.
A few girls nearby, not far from where Chak was standing, their attention clearly on him, their gazes lingering a little too long, their expressions a mix of curiosity and interest that was impossible to miss.
They were looking.
He stood out.
He always did.
Tall.
Sharp.
Confident.
Untouchable.
I watched as one of them whispered something to the other, both of them glancing at him again, their eyes following his movements like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Something twisted in my chest.
Sharp.
Uncomfortable.
Jealousy.
I looked away for a second, trying to ignore it.
But it didn't go away.
It only got stronger.
Because suddenly—
my thoughts shifted.
To something I didn't want to think about.
Something I had been avoiding.
He wasn't just mine.
Not here.
Not in the way I wanted.
I swallowed, my fingers tightening slightly in my lap.
Because the truth was—
to the world—
I wasn't anything.
Not his partner.
Not someone who could stand next to him.
I was just—
his secretary.
And more than that…
something hidden.
Something that wasn't supposed to exist.
The word formed in my mind before I could stop it.
Lover.
No—
worse.
The other one.
A quiet breath left me, my chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol anymore.
He was married.
That reality didn't change.
Didn't disappear just because of what we had.
And me—
I was still outside of that.
Still something that had to stay in the shadows.
The thought hit harder than I expected.
I looked back at him again, through the glass, watching him as he spoke on the phone like nothing in the world could touch him, like nothing complicated existed around him at all.
And for the first time that night—
something hurt.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just quiet.
Deep.
And impossible to ignore.
I didn't notice when the call ended.
Only when the car door opened again.
Chak got back in, calm as always, like nothing had shifted, like the air between us hadn't changed at all, and only then did I notice the small bag in his hand, which he placed quietly on the back seat without saying a word.
I felt his gaze on me.
Clear.
Focused.
Waiting.
And I wanted to look at him.
I really did.
But I didn't.
I kept my eyes turned toward the window, my expression neutral, even though my thoughts were anything but, and after a second, he started the engine again without pressing further, letting the silence stay between us as we drove.
The ride felt longer this time.
Quieter.
Heavier.
But eventually, we arrived.
He parked, turned off the engine, and before I could even react, he leaned over, unfastened my seatbelt, and then—
lifted me again.
Like before.
Effortless.
I didn't protest this time.
I didn't say anything at all.
At least—
not intentionally.
Because the moment he picked me up, the words slipped out before I could stop them.
"So handsome…"
Too loud.
Too clear.
I froze.
His lips curved slightly.
A quiet, unmistakable smile.
I turned my face away immediately, heat rising to my cheeks, but I didn't try to take it back.
It was too late anyway.
He carried me inside, the door closing behind us, and as we stepped into the living room, he moved toward the couch, clearly about to set me down.
"No," I said quickly, my voice softer now but immediate. "I want to stay like this… I want you to carry me."
He paused.
Just for a second.
Then adjusted his hold slightly without arguing.
I shifted a little in his arms, looking at him this time, my expression softer, quieter.
"Am I heavy?" I asked, almost absentmindedly.
"No," he answered simply.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
I watched him for a moment longer before asking, a little more carefully this time—
"Were you… mad earlier? When I raised my voice?"
I just nodded.
Then back ahead.
"I knew you were upset," he said.
And just like that—
he lowered me.
Set me down gently on my feet.
The space between us returned.
Without warning.
Without softness.
I blinked once, a little thrown off by the sudden shift, but before I could say anything, he turned away, walked back toward the door, and reached for the bag he had brought in.
He came back a second later.
Placed it in front of me.
Right there.
Between us.
And for a moment—
he said nothing.
I looked down at the bag, then back up at him, my thoughts still tangled somewhere between the silence in the car and the way he had just set me down.
"What is it?" I asked quietly.
He didn't answer immediately.
"Open it."
Simple.
Direct.
I hesitated for just a second before reaching for it, my fingers brushing lightly against the paper as I pulled it closer and looked inside.
For a moment—
I didn't fully understand what I was seeing.
Then it clicked.
Chocolate.
But not just any chocolate.
Carefully chosen.
Different kinds.
The same ones from the event.
Except—
without alcohol.
I looked at them, then back at him, my chest tightening slightly in a completely different way now.
"You…" I started, but the words didn't come out right.
He watched me, calm as ever.
"You didn't get to enjoy it properly," he said simply.
Something in my expression must have shifted, because his gaze softened just a fraction.
I swallowed, my fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the bag.
"You went out… just for this?" I asked quietly.
"Yes."
No hesitation.
No explanation needed.
For a moment, I didn't say anything.
Because I didn't know how to.
Everything I had been thinking earlier—the jealousy, the doubt, the way I had looked at him through the window—it all felt… distant now.
Not gone.
But quieter.
Less certain.
I reached into the bag and picked up one piece, turning it slightly between my fingers before glancing back at him.
"You're unfair," I murmured softly.
A faint hint of confusion crossed his expression.
"How?"
"Because I try to stay upset," I said, a small, almost helpless smile forming, "and then you do something like this."
He didn't respond to that.
Not directly.
He just stepped a little closer.
"Are you still upset?" he asked.
I looked at him for a second longer.
Then shook my head lightly.
"No."
Not really.
I placed the chocolate back for a moment and stepped closer instead, closing the small space between us again, my voice quieter now.
"Not anymore."
And this time—
I didn't look away.
He didn't move right away.
He just stood there, close enough that I could feel the quiet shift in the air between us, his gaze steady on mine like he was measuring something deeper than my words, something unspoken.
"Good," he said softly.
That was all.
But it was enough.
I exhaled slowly, some of the tension I hadn't even realized I was holding finally easing, and without thinking too much about it, I reached for his hand, my fingers slipping into his like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He didn't hesitate.
He held on.
Firm.
Warm.
Grounding.
"I was… thinking too much earlier," I admitted quietly, my voice lower now, more honest than before. "In the car."
His thumb moved slightly over my hand.
"I know," he replied.
"You didn't say anything," I added, glancing at him.
"I wanted you to say it first," he answered calmly.
That made me pause.
Then I nodded slightly.
"That's fair."
A small silence settled again, softer this time, easier to stand in, until my gaze dropped briefly before lifting back to him.
"I didn't like seeing them look at you like that," I said, not hiding it anymore.
His expression didn't change much.
But his grip on my hand did—just slightly.
Stronger.
"They can look," he said evenly.
I frowned faintly.
"That's not the point."
"I know," he replied.
A short pause.
Then, quieter—
"They don't matter."
I held his gaze, searching for something more, something that would settle everything still lingering in my chest.
"And me?" I asked, softer now.
His answer came without hesitation.
"You matter."
Simple.
Direct.
But there was something else in the way he said it this time—something steadier, something that didn't feel like it needed to be hidden, at least not here.
My chest tightened again, but not painfully.
Just… full.
I stepped closer without realizing it, closing what little space was left between us, my free hand lightly resting against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm beneath it.
"Then don't push me away like that," I murmured.
His gaze dropped briefly to my hand, then back to my eyes.
"I wasn't pushing you away," he said. "I was making sure you were safe."
I let out a quiet breath.
"I know… but it didn't feel like that."
That seemed to land.
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his hand moved, lifting slightly to rest against my cheek, his touch gentle but firm enough to keep my attention on him.
"Next time," he said quietly, "I'll say it first."
A small smile appeared on my lips.
"Good."
I leaned into his touch just a little more, my eyes softening as I looked at him, everything else fading again, piece by piece.
"Now," I added after a second, a hint of warmth returning to my voice, "I want to try that chocolate again… properly this time."
That earned the faintest hint of a smile from him.
And just like that—
the night shifted again.
Back to us.