Night fell. The city glimmered after rain.
Inside the dim study, the only light came from a floor lamp—its glow touching scattered books and two steaming cups of coffee.
Parin leaned against the desk, her face half in shadow, eyes fixed on Manida.
"You've been distracted lately," she said quietly, her tone edged.
Manida flinched. She remembered the letter, the chill of that black paper. She forced a faint smile. "You worry too much."
"Too much?" Parin's eyes darkened. In one swift motion, she grasped Manida's chin, forcing her to look up.
The tension crackled like static.
"If you won't tell me," Parin said, voice low, "I'll find out myself. I won't let anything happen to you."
The words broke something inside Manida. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes. She pushed Parin away—but was caught again, pulled into a fierce embrace.
The world blurred.
Lips met. The war between them dissolved into something raw, consuming.
Books slid from the table. Glasses clattered to the floor.
Their shadows merged beneath the lamplight—breathing, trembling, alive.
Later, silence fell.
Manida lay against her, still trembling slightly. "Was this… too fast?" she whispered.
Parin brushed her hair tenderly. "No. I've waited a long time for this."
Outside, on a dark street corner, the black sedan idled.
Inside sat a man, fingers tapping the steering wheel, eyes cold as steel.
"So, you're finally together," he murmured, a cruel smile twisting his lips.
The engine roared to life.
Danger was coming—
And this time, it would not stop.