Her face lit up. "Oh! There it is." She lifted the phone again. Kai flinched.
She was now standing on the chair placed opposite the kitchen counter, right near the stove, stretching upward with determined focus, phone raised high above her head as though the signal might descend from the ceiling if she reached far enough. The chair wobbled slightly as she shifted her weight, moving in small circles, turning the chair with her—round and round—completely absorbed in her mission.
Kai, meanwhile, was doing everything humanly possible to disappear. He leaned to one side, then the other, strategically positioning himself behind cabinets, utensils, and anything tall enough to block her line of sight. Every time he thought he was safe, she adjusted—unknowingly tracking him.
"Give me that," he said suddenly.
"Give what?" Alina asked, still looking up.
Kai stood below her, neck craned, one hand raised as if pointing toward the sky. "That," he repeated, gesturing upward with increasing urgency.
Alina glanced down at him, confused. He was looking up at her, and she was looking down at him. Their perspectives were completely misaligned.
"The… phone," Kai clarified, teeth clenched.
She tilted her head, innocent. "What phone?"
Kai stared at her.
"Alina," he said slowly, "give me—"
"Give you what?" she interrupted sweetly.
That's when it clicked. Oh.! She understood now. And instead of helping, she smiled a slow, deliberate, mischievous smile. She shifted the chair again, rotating slightly, lifting the phone higher, just out of reach. Kai followed instinctively, stepping forward.
"Alina," he warned, "don't—"
Too late. He jumped, reaching for the phone. His hand brushed her shoulder. The chair slipped. Time fractured. Alina gasped as her balance vanished beneath her. The world tilted sharply—and before she could hit the floor, strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her in with sudden force.
Kai took the fall. He twisted instinctively, turning his body into a shield, absorbing the impact as they went down together. His back and arms hit the floor hard, pain shooting through him, but he didn't loosen his hold—not even for a second.
Alina never touched the ground. She was cradled against him, protected completely, his arms locked around her like a reflex born of instinct rather than thought. One arm braced her back. The other curved around her shoulders, holding her close, steady, safe—like a parent shielding a child from harm.
For a moment, everything went silent. Alina didn't move. It took her a few seconds to realize she hadn't fallen, that she was still upright. That the solid warmth beneath her wasn't the floor. Slowly, she lifted her head. Her forehead brushed fabric. Her cheek rested against his chest. She froze.
The realization settled in gently, then all at once—she had been protected. Not by accident. Not by hesitation. But deliberately. Completely. By a man who claimed to hate her. By a man who always kept his distance, who avoided her, who ran from her presence as if it unsettled him. Her fingers curled unconsciously into his T-shirt.
Kai's breathing was uneven now, sharp where it shouldn't be. Only then did she notice the tension in his arms, the way he was still holding her, still bracing her weight, even though the danger had passed.
Slowly, carefully, she raised her head fully. Their eyes met. He loosened his grip just slightly—not letting her go, not yet—but enough to give her space. Neither of them spoke. Neither of them looked away. They were still on the floor. Still too close. Still caught in a moment neither of them had planned—but neither could deny.
As they remained on the floor, suspended in a quiet that felt heavier than sound. For a brief, unguarded moment, nothing existed beyond the space between them—no misunderstandings, no defences, no reasons to pull away. Just the slow realization that something fragile and unfamiliar had taken shape.
Kai searched her face, his expression no longer guarded, no longer sharp. There was worry there. Pure, unfiltered concern. And something else—something softer, something he hadn't meant to reveal.
Alina's breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. She felt it too. The way the air seemed to hum around them, the way his arms were still curved protectively around her, reluctant to let go. Her hair had fallen loose, soft strands brushing against her cheek, half-obscuring her face.
Without breaking eye contact, Kai lifted his hand. Slowly. Almost hesitantly. His fingers brushed against her cheek, warm and careful, as if afraid she might disappear if he moved too quickly. He gently tucked the stray strands behind her ear, his touch feather-light, reverent. His thumb lingered for half a second longer than necessary. Neither of them blinked.
Their breathing tangled, shallow and uncertain, as though even inhaling too deeply might break the spell. The world narrowed to the quiet rhythm of their breaths, the faint rise and fall of her chest beneath his hand, the steady warmth of him beneath her. Alina's lips parted slightly. Kai swallowed. And then—
Her phone rang. The sound shattered the moment like glass. They both flinched. Reality rushed back in, abrupt and unforgiving.
Alina pulled away first, scrambling upright, cheeks flushed a deep crimson. "I— I need to…" she gestured vaguely, already backing away as she answered the call and hurried toward the hallway.
Kai stood a second later, visibly rattled. He didn't look at her. He didn't trust himself to. Without a word, he turned and went upstairs, his ears burning red, heart pounding far harder than the fall had warranted. He shut his bedroom door behind him and leaned against it, exhaling sharply.
What the hell was that?
Downstairs, Alina pressed the phone to her ear, barely hearing a word being said. Her free hand rose unconsciously to her cheek, fingers lingering where his touch had been. Both of them were hiding something, and neither of them knew what to call it.
In his room, Kai paced. His mind replayed the scene on a relentless loop—her hair falling into her face, the softness of her lashes, the warmth of her breath against his chest. The way she had fit into his arms as though she belonged there.
"Uff," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"No," he said firmly. "She was distracting me. That's all." He stopped pacing.
She was hiding something. That thought anchored him.
Determined, he grabbed his iPad and opened the CCTV footage from the kitchen. He rewound the recording, zooming in carefully, eyes scanning every movement, every angle. He focused on Alina and her phone.
He expected to see a camera interface. A flash. A recording icon. There was nothing. No open camera. No photos. No videos. Just her staring at the screen, shifting positions, lifting the phone higher. Confusion crept in.
"What is she doing?" he murmured to himself.
A soft voice answered from behind him. "You need this?"
Kai spun around. Alina stood at his doorframe, one arm folded across her chest, the other extended toward him—holding her phone. She tilted her head slightly, brows raised in quiet challenge.
Then, as if that weren't enough, she added, "As far as I know… we have the same phone, right?"
Kai's mouth opened, then closed.
"I thought you were—" he stopped.
"What?" she asked calmly. "What did you think I was doing?"
She stepped closer, stopping near his bed. "Searching for network," she said simply.
Then, with a laugh that softened the tension, she added, "What—did you think I was taking pictures of you?"
His expression darkened. "You weren't?"
She turned the phone toward him. "I couldn't get a network anywhere in this house."
He took the phone from her hand. One lonely bar blinked on the screen. Silence.
"…You climbed onto a chair for the network?" he asked slowly.
"Yes."
"And moved every time I moved?"
"Yes."
He stared at the ceiling. "…I thought you were documenting my existence."
Alina stared at him for a moment. Then she burst out laughing. Not a polite laugh. A full, startled, breathless laugh that bent her forward slightly.
"Oh my God," she gasped. "You were hiding."
"I was protecting myself."
"From what?" she wiped her eyes. "A cooking scandal?"
Her laughter bubbled out again, unstoppable. She raised her phone playfully, pointing it at him now, clearly teasing him, but Kai didn't move. He didn't hide, he didn't flinch. He just watched her.
And for the first time, she noticed the way his gaze softened—not defensive, not guarded—just quietly aware. The laughter faded. Something unspoken lingered between them. And this time, neither of them ran.