I sit in the back seat of the car, the leather cool beneath my palms. Outside, the city glows—streetlights stretching into long, blurred lines against the night. The driver doesn't speak. The silence presses in, heavy, suffocating.
It's been one week.
One week since Rion left the country on a business trip.
One week since Arem stopped coming to the office.
No messages.
No calls.
Nothing.
After he saw the footage… what did he think of me?
The thought tightens my chest. My fingers move to my temple, rubbing slowly, as if I can erase the memory by force. The embarrassment still clings to my skin, sharp and humiliating. He must hate me. Or worse—look at me differently now.
I glance at my phone, the screen dark.
Should I call him again?
My thumb hovers, then retreats.
No.
I should give him space. Time.
When he comes back to the office… I'll talk to him then.
