Swoosh... swoosh...
The sound made Beom jolt. His heart skipped a beat as he turned toward the bathroom door. "Wait... is he taking a shower? But why didn't he just tell me?" Beom thought, feeling a flicker of suspicion. "Wait... what if it's not him?" The uneasy thought crept into his mind, making him tense. He had learned the hard way not to ignore his instincts.
Grabbing his gun from the nearby drawer, Beom held it firmly, his palms slightly clammy. He moved slowly toward the bathroom door, each step deliberate and silent. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he reached for the handle, ready to confront whatever—or whoever—was inside.
Just as he was about to push the door open, Sasha walked in from outside, a paper bag slung over his arm.
"Uh... what are you doing?" Sasha asked, raising an eyebrow as he took in Beom's defensive stance and the gun in his hand. "You look creepy."
Beom froze, turning to Sasha with wide eyes. "Wait... if you're here, then who the hell is in the bathroom?" His voice trailed off as realization hit him like a freight train. Slowly, he turned back toward the bathroom door, his grip on the gun loosening as the tension grew.
Before he could process it further, the door swung open, and a woman emerged, water dripping from her flawless, tanned skin. Beom's breath caught in his throat. She was stunning, like a goddess brought to life. Her dark hair clung to her shoulders in wet strands, glistening in the light. Her curves were accentuated by the droplets of water sliding down her skin, and her bare chest caught his attention instantly.
Her nipples were pierced, small silver bars glinting under the light, and her navel was adorned with a delicate charm. Beom felt a wave of heat rush to his face, and he instinctively lowered his weapon, unable to tear his eyes away. She looked confident and unbothered by his presence, as if she was used to being admired.
"Ah, Sasha, there you—oh," she began, her voice smooth and melodious, but she didn't get to finish.
Sasha moved in an instant, striding over and scooping her up into his arms. The woman let out a delighted giggle as Sasha carried her back into the bathroom. Beom stood frozen, his thoughts a chaotic mess as the sound of her laughter turned into soft, breathy moans.
Beom's jaw tightened, his head spinning. "Who the hell is she?" he wondered, struggling to make sense of what he'd just seen. His chest felt tight, and his stomach churned with emotions he couldn't quite name.
His mind raced. Where did she come from? Why is she here? And why does she act like she knows Sasha so well? Beom's thoughts swirled, torn between fascination and frustration. He hated feeling out of the loop, and yet, there was something about the woman that kept him rooted in place, unable to look away even as the muffled sounds of pleasure from the bathroom filled the air.
Beom let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "What the hell is going on in my life right now?" he muttered, feeling more confused and overwhelmed than ever.
Beom bent down and picked up the paper bag Sasha had discarded so carelessly. "Oh, food..." he muttered, his curiosity piqued. Opening it, he rummaged through the contents, pulling out a handful of snacks—chips, cookies, and a couple of protein bars. His stomach growled in response, and he couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. "Oh, it's snacks... I'm even starving," he added, ripping open a bag of chips and tossing a few into his mouth.
The satisfying crunch echoed in the quiet room as Beom sat on the edge of his bed, chewing thoughtfully. The tension from earlier still hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, but he focused on the food instead. It was easier to focus on something tangible than to deal with the confusing mix of emotions swirling inside him.
For the next few days, however, things didn't get any easier.
Aaliyah and Sasha were inseparable. Everywhere Beom looked, they were together, giggling, whispering, and exchanging subtle touches that made Beom's stomach twist—not out of jealousy, but from sheer irritation. They spent their mornings having coffee together in the train's dining car, their afternoons enjoying meals in the restaurant, and their evenings tucked away in conversations Beom couldn't hear but could always see.
He tried to distract himself, burying his nose in the same book he'd been reading for days. The words on the page blurred together, no matter how hard he tried to focus. Beom sat quietly at the corner table, occasionally lifting his gaze to observe them. Sasha leaned in close to Aaliyah, whispering something that made her laugh softly, her fingers brushing against his as if it were second nature.
Beom couldn't help but scoff under his breath. Really? Right here, in the open? he thought, shaking his head as he turned a page. He wasn't even sure why it annoyed him so much. Was it because Sasha had been so secretive about her presence? Or was it because Sasha didn't seem to care about boundaries at all?
Doesn't she have a husband waiting for her? Beom mused, his brow furrowing. The thought made him uneasy, though he wasn't sure if it was because of Aaliyah's casual attitude about it or Sasha's blatant disregard. It wasn't his business, he told himself repeatedly. Yet, every time he looked up and saw them together, he felt that familiar pang of irritation rise in his chest.
He sighed, setting the book down on his lap and glancing out the window at the endless scenery rushing by. The train rocked gently beneath him, the rhythmic motion doing little to soothe his restless thoughts.
Why am I even thinking about this? Beom wondered, leaning back in his chair. He closed his eyes for a moment, but the image of Aaliyah's warm, carefree smile flashed behind his lids. It wasn't just her beauty—it was the way she carried herself, the way she seemed so comfortable in her own skin. Her confidence was magnetic, and Beom hated that he'd noticed it.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He tried to focus back on his book, flipping another page as if he could will himself to care about the story again. But the sound of Aaliyah's laugh cut through his thoughts, pulling his attention back to the pair.
Sasha said something that made her laugh again, her head tilting slightly as she gazed at him with a softness that made Beom's stomach churn. He tightened his grip on the book, the paper edges crumpling slightly under his fingers.
Why am I the one stuck here reading while they get to act like nothing else matters? Beom thought bitterly. He didn't want to admit it, but there was something about their easy camaraderie that made him feel... out of place. He was the odd one out, the third wheel in a dynamic he hadn't agreed to.
Just a few more days, he reminded himself, taking a deep breath. He'd endure it. He always did. Whatever was going on between Sasha and Aaliyah wasn't his business, and he wasn't about to let it drag him into whatever mess it might create. But even as he turned back to his book, the words on the page still refused to hold his attention.
Beom sat cross-legged on his bed, his laptop perched on his thighs as his fingers tapped rhythmically on the keyboard. The soft glow of the screen illuminated his focused face, the occasional click of the mouse breaking the quiet atmosphere. He was absorbed in whatever he was doing, completely oblivious to the movement across the room.
Aaliyah, now clad in one of Sasha's oversized shirts that barely reached her mid-thigh, casually walked into the room. Her wet hair fell in loose waves, still slightly damp from the shower. She carried herself with an air of confidence that immediately commanded attention. Without a word, she crossed the room and sat on Sasha's bed, her dark, piercing eyes fixed on Beom.
He felt her gaze before he even looked up, the weight of it making his fingers falter for a split second. Trying to ignore her, he kept his focus on the screen, but the intensity of her stare was impossible to ignore. Finally, Beom glanced up, his expression neutral, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
"I've been watching you," Aaliyah said suddenly, her voice low and smooth, like velvet sliding against his skin. She leaned back slightly, propping herself up on her elbows, a smirk playing on her lips. "You have pretty eyes."
Beom blinked, caught off guard by her comment. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he settled for a simple, "Thanks." His voice was calm, but inside, he felt a slight flutter of discomfort.
Her smirk widened, and she shifted her position, leaning forward just enough to close the distance between them. "I'm Aaliyah," she said, her tone casual but laced with something deeper. "I'm going back home. I was on a business trip."
Beom nodded, finally shutting his laptop and setting it aside. "The name's Beom," he replied, meeting her gaze directly. There was something about her presence that felt both intriguing and unsettling, like she was testing him, waiting for a reaction.
"What does Beom mean?" she asked, tilting her head slightly as if genuinely curious.
"Tiger," he said simply.
Aaliyah's expression shifted, her smirk softening into something more mischievous. "Tiger," she repeated, as though savoring the word. Then, without warning, she reached out and began tracing slow, deliberate circles on the back of Beom's hand with her fingertip.
Beom stiffened slightly, his muscles tensing under her touch. His mind raced, unsure of what to make of the sudden intimacy. What is she doing? he wondered, his thoughts tumbling over each other in a frantic attempt to make sense of her behavior. Her touch was light but deliberate, her nails grazing his skin in a way that sent a shiver up his spine.
Her next words caught him completely off guard. "Does that mean you're a tiger in bed?" she asked, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, her smirk returning with a playful edge.
Beom's heart skipped a beat, his mind momentarily blanking. He stared at her, unsure of how to respond. What kind of question is that? he thought, his cheeks heating slightly despite his best efforts to stay composed.
Beom froze, his hands still resting on his laptop as Sasha strolled into the room with his usual air of nonchalance. The atmosphere shifted instantly, tension creeping in like an invisible weight pressing on Beom's chest. Sasha didn't say a word, didn't acknowledge Beom's presence, but instead went straight to Aaliyah.
Beom's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion prickling at the edges of his mind as he watched Sasha sit beside her on the bed. There was something about the way Sasha moved—calculated, deliberate, like he was putting on a show. Beom's unease grew as Sasha leaned in, capturing Aaliyah's lips in a deep kiss that made her giggle softly.