"Why don't we stay here for the night?" Mira suggested, her voice soft but carrying an edge of practicality.
Zamian paused, his usually unreadable expression flickering with something almost imperceptible before settling back into its familiar, stoic calm. He gave a brief nod, acknowledging her suggestion. But then, as if suddenly remembering, he added, "I have nothing to wear."
Mira, thinking quickly, walked to her bedroom and opened the wardrobe. Her fingers traced the hangers, and her eyes landed on a set of clothes she had taken from him two years ago. The sight brought a smirk to her lips. Who would have thought that those clothes, taken on a whim so long ago, would now serve such an unexpected purpose? The irony was almost too much, and she had to suppress the urge to laugh out loud. Instead, she quickly pulled out the well-folded garments and handed them to Zamian.
He took the clothes from her, his expression remaining impassive. It wasn't gratitude she saw in his eyes; instead, his gaze hardened slightly, and his posture became even more rigid.
"What's wrong?" Mira asked, her voice tinged with concern as she noticed his reaction.
Zamian's eyes narrowed as he regarded the clothes. "So, during the three days you've been here, you've been living with someone else?"
The subtle accusation in his tone was unmistakable. Mira's eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly shook her head, realizing that he had misunderstood the situation entirely. "No, these are the clothes I took from you that night," she clarified, her voice earnest and a little pleading.
For a moment, Zamian's eyes widened in recognition, but then his usual composed demeanor returned. He stared at the clothes, and something seemed to click into place. He recalled the events of that night, the letter she had written, and the gratitude she had expressed. But rather than dwelling on it, he chose to remain silent. He could see an unusual expression flicker across Mira's face—an expression that suggested she was remembering that night too. Deciding it was best not to bring it up, he simply nodded and headed toward the bathroom.
The bathroom in Mira's apartment was much smaller than the luxurious facilities Zamian was used to in the mansion. As he turned on the shower, the water cascaded down, and he let the warmth seep into his muscles. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of relaxation, savoring the contrast between the stress of the day and the soothing heat.
Meanwhile, in the dining room, Mira was deep in thought. She glanced around her modest apartment, trying to decide what to offer Zamian for dinner. The fridge was almost empty, and the only thing she had was a few snacks. She sighed, realizing that it wasn't much, but it would have to do. As she stood up to search for something to serve, the sudden ringing of the doorbell startled her.
"Who could that be at this hour?" she murmured to herself, her brow furrowing as she made her way to the door.
When she opened it, her eyes widened in surprise. "Zack!" she exclaimed.
"Oh my goodness, Mira, you're back!" Zack said, a broad smile spreading across his face. "I went out for a snack and some fresh air. When I came back, I saw the light by the door. That's when I realized you were here." He pointed toward the corner of the door, where the small light was indeed shining. "How have you been? It's been so long, even though we've chatted a few times."
His words trailed off as he noticed something behind her. Mira followed his gaze, turning to see what had caught his attention. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized what—or rather who—he was looking at. There, at her back, was Zamian, toweling his wet hair, water droplets still sliding down his face.
Zack's expression froze, his eyes widening in shock. The casual smile he wore faltered as his brain tried to process the scene in front of him. Zamian, in Mira's apartment, freshly showered—this was not something he had expected.
The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a knife. Mira, sensing the awkwardness, quickly turned back to Zack. "Um, see you tomorrow," she blurted out, her voice hurried as she shut the door before Zack could utter another word.
As she turned around, her forehead collided with something solid—Zamian's chest. The impact made her gasp, and she instinctively took a step back, her heart racing. How had he managed to move so quietly? And more importantly, why did her heart skip a beat at the closeness?
Zamian looked down at her, his eyes cold and probing. His voice was calm but carried an edge that made Mira's stomach twist. "Who is he?" he asked, his tone betraying a hint of the discomfort she couldn't quite place.
Mira hesitated, trying to gather her thoughts. "He's my coworker. We somehow ended up as apartment neighbors," she explained, but even as she spoke, she couldn't shake the feeling of vulnerability. Why did it matter so much to her what he thought?
Zamian didn't respond immediately. His eyes lingered on her face, as if searching for something. Finally, he nodded, accepting her explanation without further comment. The silence that followed was heavy, laden with unspoken words and unresolved tension.
Mira quickly turned away, trying to compose herself. "I'll see what snacks I have," she said, moving toward the kitchen, needing a moment to collect her scattered thoughts.