" Kai…" Her eyes flew open.
The sound of his name cut through him like a blade. His eyes snapped open instantly, and reality crashed back in. Kai pulled away as if burned. He stepped back, breaking the closeness, the heat, the fragile spell that had wrapped around them both. His hand dropped from her waist. His palm left her cheek. The absence of his touch felt louder than its presence ever had.
Alina swayed slightly, her breath uneven, her eyes still searching his face, as though trying to understand where he had gone.
Kai turned his head away, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling too fast. His fists tightened at his sides as if holding himself in place required effort.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them was thick with everything that hadn't happened—and everything that almost had. When he finally looked back at her, his expression was unreadable. But his eyes betrayed him—dark, unsettled, still burning with the echo of what he had almost allowed.
Kai was the one to break the silence. His voice was steady again—controlled, composed—as if nothing fragile had almost slipped through his fingers moments ago.
"You can stay here," he said
Alina looked up at him. He didn't meet her eyes immediately. His gaze fixed somewhere past her shoulder, as though addressing the room instead of the woman standing in front of him.
"You made me your housemate, so now it's my turn to pay you back," He finally looked at her then.
"You don't need to search for houses or apartments anymore," he said. "Stay here. For as long as you want."
His tone left no room for argument. No emotion leaked through it—not anger, not softness. Just a decision. Alina's chest tightened.
"Until you decide otherwise," he added, already turning toward the door, as if the matter were settled.
She followed him instinctively; her steps were light, almost hesitant. When he reached the door, he took a pause as if he already knew that she wanted to say something. She stopped just behind him, close enough to feel the faint movement of air when he breathed.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
Kai's hand paused on the handle. For a fraction of a second, his shoulders stiffened—just enough to betray him. Then he opened the door and stepped out. The door closed between them with a soft click. On either side of it, they stopped.
Kai leaned back against the door outside, his spine pressing into the wood as if it were the only thing holding him upright. He exhaled slowly, deeply, staring up at the ceiling of the hallway. His face was warm. Too warm. He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, jaw tightening as a faint, disbelieving smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Inside, Alina stood frozen with her back against the door, her palms flat against the wood behind her. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat still lingering in her body. Her cheeks burned.
She closed her eyes, pressing her forehead lightly against the door as if she could still feel his presence on the other side.
For a full minute, neither of them moved. Separated by a door connected by something neither of them dared to name. Alina finally pushed herself away and turned toward the mirror.
She barely recognized the woman staring back at her. Her eyes were brighter. Her lips slightly parted. Her breathing is uneven. She lifted her hand slowly, staring at it as if it didn't belong to her. She could still feel him. The warmth of his palm against her cheek.
The way his fingers had traced her hand—slow, unhurried, as if time had bent around the movement. She remembered the exact pressure of his thumb as it brushed over her skin, the way his touch had been firm yet impossibly gentle. Her fingers curled reflexively. She remembered how he had held her waist, drawing her closer without force, without words and how safe it had felt.
Her breath caught as her mind replayed it all in fragments—the steady intensity of his eyes, the way he hadn't looked away even once. The way the air between them had seemed too thin, too fragile to survive another breath.
She touched her cheek lightly. The warmth was still there. And then— His thumb. Brushing over her lips. The memory sent a rush of butterflies through her stomach, sudden and overwhelming. Her chest tightened as heat bloomed beneath her ribs, spreading slowly and uncontrollably.
She pressed her palm against the mirror, grounding herself. Her reflection stared back, flushed and undone.
"This didn't happen," she whispered to herself.
But her body didn't believe her. Her heart was still racing. Her skin still remembered. She closed her eyes again, and the sensations came rushing back—the way his presence had wrapped around her, the way his breath had mingled with hers, the unbearable closeness of his lips hovering just a breath away. One step closer. One second longer. She exhaled shakily. Her lips curved into the smallest, most helpless smile. Butterflies fluttered wildly in her chest, refusing to settle.
Somewhere outside the door, Kai straightened and finally pushed himself away, schooling his expression before anyone could see the crack in it. Inside, Alina rested her forehead against the mirror, smiling softly, hopelessly.
They would pretend. They would deny it. But neither of them would forget because some touches don't fade. They linger. And quietly, impossibly, change everything.
Ryan had been in the study room for almost an hour, surrounded by the quiet order that always seemed to follow him wherever he worked. Files were stacked neatly on one side of the wide wooden desk, documents arranged in precise rows, a laptop open before him, and his phone resting near his right hand—vibrating every few minutes with calls and notifications.
The room itself was dimly lit, the afternoon sunlight filtering through tall glass windows, falling in long golden streaks across the polished floor. A faint smell of paper, leather, and coffee lingered in the air.
Ryan leaned back slightly in his chair, one hand holding his phone to his ear, the other flipping through a document as he spoke in a calm, professional tone.
"Yes, reschedule the meeting for tomorrow… No, not in the morning. Afternoon will be better… Yes, send me the revised file before evening." His voice was steady, composed, entirely focused—at least on the surface.
The door to the study opened quietly. Kai stepped inside. Ryan didn't look up immediately. He was still on the call, eyes scanning the lines of a contract, pen tapping lightly against the table. But Kai's presence… it was something one could feel even without seeing.
Kai closed the door softly behind him and walked in. There was something different about him today. He moved more slowly than usual, as if distracted by his own thoughts. His posture, normally so straight and controlled, seemed more relaxed. And on his face…
There was a smile. Not the sharp, brief curve of lips he gave when something amused him for a second. Not the polite expression he wore in meetings. This was softer, quieter—almost absentminded.
And there was colour on his face. A faint blush warmed the sharp angles of his cheekbones and crept toward the tips of his ears. Kai sat down in the chair across from Ryan, leaning back slightly, one hand resting on the armrest. He tried to compose himself, to let his face settle into its usual calm indifference. But he didn't realize how badly he was failing.\
Ryan, still holding the phone to his ear, finally lifted his gaze. And everything else disappeared. For a brief second, he forgot what the person on the other end of the call was saying. His eyes stayed on Kai.
Kai Arden… blushing? Ryan's mind, which had been occupied with schedules, contracts, and meetings only moments ago, shifted entirely.
What is going on?Kai looked… lighter. Softer. Almost… happy.
And that was rare enough to be unsettling. Ryan forced himself to finish the call, though he barely registered what he was saying.