It was time for dinner
Naya knew the dinner wasn't just a dinner.
It was a test.
A silent agreement that she and Kian had crossed an invisible line—something unspoken, undefined, but very much there.
The dining table was set simply but tastefully. No help, no fancy arrangements, just Kian, a homemade meal, and Tami chattering about school while occasionally pausing to steal glances at Naya. She was already acting like they were a family.
Kian passed Naya a glass of wine, and their fingers brushed. Just for a second. But it was enough.
"Chicken's not burnt this time," he said casually, taking his seat.
Naya smirked. "So you can cook and make sarcastic comments. Impressive."
Tami giggled. "Daddy always burns the first one. He says it's the 'sacrifice.'"
Kian raised an eyebrow. "I've been exposed."
Naya relaxed, just a little. It wasn't the kind of home-cooked chaos she was used to, but it was... normal. Comforting, in a way that left her unsettled.
---
Halfway through the meal, Tami leaned over her plate and whispered loudly, "Are you going to stay the night again?"
Naya nearly choked on her wine. Kian shot Tami a warning look.
"She's just visiting," he said calmly.
But Tami wasn't done. "If she sleeps over, can she read me a story? I like her voice."
Naya's face flushed, and this time, Kian smiled—genuinely. "You're not supposed to manipulate guests."
"I'm not! I just like her."
That night, Naya did read the story.
She sat on the edge of Tami's bed, the child tucked under a pink blanket, eyes wide with joy. And as Naya read, something caught in her throat.
She couldn't remember the last time she felt needed without being used.
When Tami drifted off, Naya gently pulled the blanket up and kissed her forehead, not thinking, just moving on instinct.
As she stood to leave, she found Kian leaning against the doorframe, watching her. His expression unreadable.
"That was... nice of you," he said.
Naya folded her arms, trying to shield herself. "She asked."
"She always asks. You just said yes."
Naya swallowed, brushing past him. "It doesn't mean anything."
Kian followed her down the hallway. "Maybe not to you."
She turned sharply. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means maybe you don't realize how easy it is to become part of someone's life," he said, voice low, intense. "One day you're a guest. The next, someone draws you into their world and you forget how to stay out."
She stared at him, breath shallow. "And what if I don't want in?"
He didn't blink. "Then you shouldn't have kissed her goodnight."
Silence.
The kind that says too much.
---
Later that night, Naya stood on the balcony of the guest room, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. Her mind was a mess. The contract was clear. The arrangement was temporary.
But Kian's words weren't part of any deal.
And neither was the ache growing inside her—the one that whispered she might already be in deeper than she realized.