The world had always admired Sanlang. Women threw themselves at his feet, directors fought for his time, and fans worshipped the ground he walked on. But none of it had ever truly mattered—until Noor.
And last night, she had been so close.
His body still remembered the warmth of her, the scent of jasmine tangled in his breath, the whisper of silk beneath his fingertips. The way her pulse had quickened beneath his touch, the way she had let him hold her for that brief, fleeting moment before reality snapped them apart.
Sanlang clenched his jaw as his assistant fixed his collar, adjusting his outfit for the next shot. The cool morning air did nothing to quell the fire burning inside him. His veins pulsed with a mixture of frustration and longing. Noor had disappeared before dawn, as if the night had swallowed her whole, leaving behind only a haunting absence.
And now, as he stood on set for Zedra's fashion campaign, the very project Noor had arranged, he felt the ghost of last night pressing against his chest.
"Sanlang, we need you near the waterfall," the director called.
He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. The cameras were ready, the set was in place, and yet his mind was elsewhere. He couldn't shake the way Noor had looked at him—like he was nothing but a passing wind, unimportant, forgettable.
But he would not be forgotten. Not by her.
"Sanlang," Zedra's voice pulled him from his thoughts. She walked over, clipboard in hand, her sharp gaze assessing him. "You're distracted."
He smirked, though it lacked its usual charm. "You're imagining things."
Zedra scoffed. "Noor is coming."
Everything inside him stilled.
His heart lurched against his ribs, the mere mention of her name enough to send a shockwave through him. He fought to keep his face neutral, but Zedra wasn't fooled.
"Pathetic," she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. "You're just like the rest of us."
Before he could ask what she meant, a hush fell over the set. Conversations dimmed, movement slowed, and an almost unnatural stillness settled over the scene. It was as if the air itself had thickened, waiting, anticipating.
And then—
She arrived.
Noor stepped into the clearing like a vision carved from divinity itself.
Dressed in a lavender silk gown that flowed like water around her form, she was an ethereal dream, untouched by the mortal world. The fabric clung to her frame in ways that defied reason—modest, yet unbearably alluring. Her long, dark hair cascaded freely, an endless river of midnight strands reaching beyond her thighs. The soft curls danced with the breeze, framing a face so breathtakingly perfect that even the morning sun seemed to hesitate, unsure if it could compete.
Sanlang's breath caught.
The trance was immediate.
He had seen her in countless gowns, veiled in silks and shadows, but today—today was different. She was not just Noor. She was something unreal, something that blurred the lines between a goddess and a phantom.
Every movement she made was poetry in motion—the gentle sway of her walk, the way her lashes lowered ever so slightly as she observed the set. She wore no jewelry, no embellishments, and yet every actress, every model, every woman in sight faded into irrelevance the moment she appeared.
Sanlang felt the world tilt, his vision narrowing until all he could see was her.
He swallowed hard, gripping the edge of his coat as his pulse thundered. The memory of last night rushed back with punishing clarity—her breath against his skin, the soft gasp when he had pulled her close, the way she had not pushed him away.
And yet, here she was now, as distant as ever.
Sophie, the lead actress, noticed the shift immediately. She had been preening for the cameras, feigning innocence as she flirted with Sanlang, but now—now, she might as well not exist.
She gritted her teeth, her gaze flicking between Sanlang's rigid stance and Noor's effortless presence. With calculated ease, she slid her hand onto Sanlang's arm, pressing her body against him.
"Sanlang," she purred, "we should discuss the scene together."
Sanlang didn't even glance at her.
Without hesitation, he removed her hand from his arm, his movements fluid yet final. His eyes, still locked onto Noor, burned with something raw.
Sophie stiffened. A flash of anger crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a forced smile.
Zedra chuckled under her breath. "Poor girl."
Sanlang ignored them both, already moving toward Noor. He didn't rush. He took his time, savoring the moment, watching the way she turned ever so slightly as he approached.
When he finally reached her, he lowered his voice, his tone smooth yet edged with something darker. "Good morning, Noor."
She glanced at him, her expression unreadable. "Good morning, Mr. Sanlang."
Formal. Detached. As if last night had never happened.
His fingers twitched at his sides. "You didn't stay long ."
Noor tilted her head. "Was there a reason to?"
Sanlang exhaled a sharp breath, a smirk tugging at his lips despite himself. "You enjoy running away, don't you?"
Noor's lips curved—just slightly. "And you enjoy chasing things that can't be caught."
His smirk faltered. His jaw clenched.
She remembers.
The way she had turned from him last night. The way she had whispered go to sleep, Sanlang like a command. The way she had slipped through his fingers again.
The director's voice interrupted them, calling for everyone to take their positions. Noor, ever composed, turned away, leaving Sanlang standing there with frustration tightening his chest.
But as she walked past, her silk gown brushing against his hand for the briefest second, he swore he heard her whisper—
"I wouldn't run if there was something worth staying for."
His breath caught.
Sanlang turned sharply, but she was already gone, moving toward Maya, her expression once again unreadable.
A slow, dark smile curled his lips.
Oh, he would make her stay.
And this time, he wouldn't let her slip away so easily.
----------
Sanlang barely heard the director call for action. His entire body was thrumming with a singular, undeniable truth—Noor had let something slip.
I wouldn't run if there was something worth staying for.
The words had been whispered so softly, as if she hadn't meant for him to hear. But he had. And now, they were lodged deep in his chest, burning him from the inside out.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides as he moved to his mark. The cameras rolled, the set fell silent, but his mind was not here.
She was watching. He could feel it.
Standing beside Maya, Noor observed the shoot with the same unreadable expression she always wore. But Sanlang wasn't fooled. He knew her too well—knew the slight tension in her posture, the way her fingers curled ever so slightly against her sleeves. She was composed, but she was aware of him.
And that was enough to drive him mad.
"Sanlang," the director called. "Tilt your chin slightly. Hold the expression."
Sanlang did as instructed, barely processing the scene unfolding around him. Sophie, still seething from his earlier rejection, moved into place beside him. The cameras captured them against the backdrop of the waterfall, the cascading water framing them in a cinematic glow.
She was supposed to lean into him.
She did.
She was supposed to place a hand on his chest.
She did.
She was supposed to gaze into his eyes with longing.
She did.
And Sanlang felt nothing.
Not a spark, not a flicker, not even the faintest irritation. It was empty, mechanical, a farce.
Because the only pair of eyes he wanted on him were the ones watching from a distance.
The scene ended, and Sanlang stepped back immediately, shaking off Sophie's touch. She let out a quiet huff, shooting a glare toward Noor, as if blaming her for his disinterest. But Noor… Noor wasn't even looking at them anymore.
Instead, she was walking away.
Sanlang reacted without thinking.
"Director, take five," he announced, already striding off set.
Sophie gaped at him. "What—?"
But he was gone, moving with a determination that sent crew members scrambling out of his path.
Maya, seeing him approach, stepped forward as if to intercept him, but he didn't slow down.
"Noor," he called, his voice smooth, controlled.
She paused but didn't turn.
His eyes darkened. She was always doing this. Always slipping away, always forcing him to chase her like some fool.
But not today.
"Are you avoiding me, Noor?" His voice was low, just for her.
She finally turned, her gaze steady. "I have no reason to ."
The title. Mr. Sanlang. It was deliberate. A boundary she was trying to set.
He stepped closer, closing the space between them. "You didn't answer my question."
Noor held his gaze, unshaken. "Do I owe you answers ?"
Sanlang exhaled sharply, a dry chuckle escaping him. "You really don't make anything easy, do you?"
She tilted her head. " Should I?"
His fingers twitched at his sides. Damn her. She was always so calm, always so in control, while he was left drowning in his emotions.
But two could play this game.
Sanlang leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. "Last night."
Noor's expression didn't change, but he saw the way her breath hitched.
Sanlang smiled. Slow. Dangerous.
"I remember everything."
For the first time, her eyes flickered. It was brief—so brief that anyone else would have missed it. But Sanlang caught it, and God, it was intoxicating.
Noor schooled her features back into indifference. "I assumed as much. You weren't that drunk."
Sanlang hummed, studying her. "No, I wasn't." He let the words hang, their meaning heavy in the air.
Noor remained silent.
Sanlang took another step, forcing her to tilt her chin up to meet his gaze. "Tell me, Noor," he murmured, "when you turned away last night… was it because you didn't want it, or because you did?"
The question lingered between them, charged, dangerous.
Noor exhaled slowly. Then—
"You should return to set, Sanlang."
Sanlang laughed softly. "Of course. Always deflecting."
She said nothing.
He studied her for another beat, then leaned in—so close that his breath ghosted over her ear.
"One day," he murmured, "I'll get the truth out of you."
Then he pulled back, his eyes searching hers one last time before turning and walking away.
Maya, who had been watching the exchange from a distance, let out a slow breath as Noor remained still, staring after him.
But Noor didn't move. Didn't react.
At least—not until Sanlang was out of sight.
Only then did she release the breath she had been holding, her fingers tightening against the folds of her gown.
-------
The shoot had wrapped. The crew scattered like a swarm of bees, leaving the set behind, all the hustle and bustle gradually fading into the distance. Sanlang had driven away with the rest of them, his mind still buzzing with the intensity of what had happened earlier. But something, some magnetic pull deep inside him, urged him to turn around.
The evening sky hung heavy with twilight, the city lights beginning to flicker to life in the distance. He couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to go back. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white as he fought against the impulse. But the feeling only grew stronger, and before he knew it, he was steering his car back toward the waterfall, the place where everything had seemed to shift earlier.
The pull was undeniable. His heart thudded in his chest as the minutes stretched, each second feeling heavier than the last. He didn't know what he was going to find when he arrived, but some part of him knew that he had to go back there.
When he reached the waterfall, the scene before him was hauntingly still. The mist hung thick in the air, the water cascading over the rocks in a rhythmic flow, almost hypnotic.
And then he saw her.
She was standing at the water's edge, her figure silhouetted against the dimming sky. The ethereal glow of the twilight cast a soft light over her, and for a moment, Sanlang couldn't breathe.
Noor.
She seemed like a vision—too perfect, too breathtaking to be real. Her silhouette was framed by the water, her long hair cascading down her back like dark silk. Her gown shimmered faintly in the fading light, a deep shade of blue that seemed to melt into the very landscape around her. She stood so still, as if she were a part of the world around her—timeless, untouchable.
Sanlang's pulse quickened as he took a step forward, his feet moving on their own. Her back was turned, but he could feel her awareness of him.
"You came back," her voice called softly, breaking the silence between them.
Sanlang stopped in his tracks, his heart pounding. "I couldn't stay away." His words were raw, heavy with the truth that had been building in him all evening.
Noor didn't turn to face him immediately. She kept her gaze fixed on the water, her expression unreadable. "You shouldn't have."
He took a few more steps toward her, his eyes never leaving her. "Then why did you stay?" His voice was barely a whisper, but the weight of the question lingered in the air between them.
Noor's shoulders tensed slightly, but she remained still, her hands clasped in front of her. "I didn't ask for this," she said, her tone quieter now, almost regretful. "I didn't ask for any of this."
Sanlang's chest tightened, his steps now bringing him right in front of her. He reached out, his fingers grazing the edge of her sleeve, feeling the coolness of her skin beneath the fabric. "I don't care about what you asked for. I care about now."
Noor slowly turned to face him, her expression calm, but there was something in her eyes—something vulnerable that she couldn't hide, no matter how hard she tried. The look in her eyes was enough to make Sanlang's heart skip a beat.
For a long moment, they stood there in silence, the sound of the waterfall filling the space between them.
Sanlang reached for her hand, his touch tentative, unsure, but the moment their fingers brushed, Noor's gaze flickered, and she pulled her hand back.
"You don't know what you're asking for," she murmured, her voice strained.
Sanlang took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving hers. "I know exactly what I'm asking for, Noor. I'm asking for you."
The words hung in the air, thick with meaning. Noor's breath caught, her chest rising and falling as if she were struggling to breathe. There was a conflict in her eyes—something he couldn't quite place, but it was there. A war between desire and something else. Something she had buried so deep inside her.
"You should leave, Sanlang." Her voice was softer now, almost pleading.
Sanlang shook his head slowly, his grip tightening. "I don't care who you were. I care about who you are."
Noor swallowed hard, her jaw tightening as she fought to hold onto her composure. But in that moment, she didn't look like the cold, untouchable goddess he had first met. She looked human—flawed, vulnerable, real.
"You're not the first one to say that," she whispered, almost to herself.
Sanlang's breath caught. "And what happened to them?"
Noor didn't answer. Instead, she looked down at her feet, the weight of unspoken history pressing down on her.
He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek gently, lifting her face to meet his. "I'm not like them, Noor." I'm not leaving until you tell me to go."
She stood still for a long moment, her eyes searching his, looking for something—anything—that could convince her to push him away. But she found nothing. Only the depth of his gaze, the raw sincerity in his voice.
---
The world around them seemed to disappear as Noor stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Her presence enveloped him like a wave, pulling him in until nothing else mattered. Her eyes, dark and guarded, flickered with something fragile—something unspoken that was now aching to be set free.
Sanlang's breath hitched, his heart racing. There was an undeniable connection between them, one that neither time nor distance could sever. It was as if the universe had orchestrated this very moment, their paths converging like the falling stars in the sky above them.
Noor's gaze dropped to his lips, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The air was thick with anticipation, and Sanlang's fingers twitched, aching to reach out and touch her, to make this moment real.
And then, he closed the space between them. His lips brushed against hee in a gentle, fleeting touch, a whisper of something more.
Sanlang's pulse skyrocketed, his mind spinning. He had dreamed of this moment, fantasized about it for so long that now that it was finally happening, he couldn't believe it. His hand found her waist, pulling her closer, his heart pounding in his chest as he deepened the kiss.
Noor hesitated, but only for a second. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her body pressing into his, as if the world had ceased to exist outside of them. The kiss was slow, tender at first, but as their bodies seemed to sync, the intensity built. Her lips were like fire against his, igniting something in him that he couldn't control.
Sanlang's hands roamed over her back, feeling the soft curve of her body beneath the delicate fabric of her gown. The sensation was intoxicating—she felt like silk, smooth and soft, but there was a strength to her as well, an unspoken power that left him breathless.
Noor's fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her body responding to his touch as if it had always been meant to. She let out a soft gasp as his lips trailed down her neck, his breath hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.
But even in this moment of heat, something held her back. The weight of her own restraint, the years of keeping herself hidden beneath layers of control, began to pull at her. She pulled away, breathless, her chest rising and falling as she searched his face.
"No, Sanlang," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.
Sanlang's eyes darkened, his desire for her more palpable than ever. "I know exactly what I'm asking for, Noor." His voice was low and raw, every word dripping with longing.
She stepped back, her chest tightening with a mixture of frustration and something else—something she couldn't name. The vulnerability she had shown him, the moments of softness, all seemed to clash against the cold walls she had built around her heart.
"You don't understand," she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I can't be the woman you want me to be. I can't give you what you're looking for."
Sanlang reached for her hand, pulling her back toward him, his eyes unwavering. "Noor," he said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. " You just have to be..You.. Just you..."
For a moment, Noor stood still, her body frozen, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and emotion. The walls she had carefully constructed around her heart began to crack, piece by piece, as she looked into his eyes.
Sanlang could see the turmoil in her eyes, the inner battle she was waging, and his heart clenched. He wasn't asking her to throw away everything she had built. He was asking for a chance—just a moment of peace, of happiness, together.
He gently cupped her face, lifting it so that their gazes locked once more. "I'm not asking you to change, Noor. I'm asking you to let me in. Just for a moment, let go of everything and be with me."
The words hung between them, both a plea and a promise. His heart was laid bare before her, and in that moment, she knew—whether she accepted it or not, this man had already chosen her.
Noor closed her eyes, her breath shaky, trying to steady herself. The truth was, she had never been able to resist him—not truly. Not for long.
And as she opened her eyes, her hand found his, gripping it tightly, not wanting to let go. The pull between them was too strong, the attraction too undeniable.
"I've never been good at this," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waterfall.
Sanlang's thumb brushed over her knuckles. "Neither have I. But we'll figure it out together."
And in that moment, beneath the moonlit sky, everything seemed to pause—the world, the noise, the chaos of their lives—all of it fading away until there was only the two of them.
------
As Sanlang leaned in, something shifted in his eyes—something dark, ancient, and almost otherworldly. A flicker of something he couldn't control, a hunger that surged up from deep within him, threatening to consume everything in its path. It was as if a shadow had crossed over him, pulling him toward the abyss. The passion in his gaze became tinged with something far more dangerous, something he couldn't quite recognize.
Noor felt the change in him instantly. The air around them thickened, the energy shifting, like an ancient force had awakened. His eyes glowed with a primal desire, far darker than anything he had ever witnessed himself .It wasn't just lust; it was something else entirely.
Sanlang's hand trembled as it reached for her again, but this time, she didn't pull away. Instead, she locked eyes with him, her expression cold and unyielding. Her body was still, her mind focused .
"Enough," she whispered, her voice low, her tone laced with authority.
Sanlang froze, his breath ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears. His lips parted, but the words died in his throat. Something about the way she spoke held him captive, rooted to the spot, unable to move.
His mind was in a haze, confused, fighting against the strange pull in his chest. He had never felt this way before, as if something was urging him to claim her, to never let go. The darkness inside him, something buried so deep that even he didn't understand it, clawed to the surface, threatening to break free.
But Noor's voice cut through the madness like a blade, sharper than anything he had ever experienced.
"No," she said, a single word laced with an immeasurable weight. It was a command, not a plea.
The world around Sanlang began to fade, his knees buckling as a sudden wave of exhaustion hit him like a force he couldn't fight. The darkness, the hunger—everything that had been consuming him—faded into oblivion.
He stumbled backward, his vision blurring as his body gave way, and before he could even understand what was happening, he collapsed onto the ground, his consciousness slipping away.
Noor stood above him, watching silently as the man , lay in a crumpled heap before her. There was no softness in her gaze, no pity, only the cool distance of someone who had seen far too much to be surprised by what had just unfolded.
Her eyes hardened as she spoke, her voice cold and final.
"This is why you can't have me, Sanlang," she said, her words lingering in the air like a death sentence. "Not again. Not this time."
And with that, she turned away, leaving him lying in the moonlight, alone with the darkness that had momentarily overtaken him, unsure of what had just happened—or what would come next.