POV:{Jian}
He hesitated before pressing the call button.
It had taken him all day.
All day of pacing his office like a man standing at the edge of something inevitable. Like a man who'd finally run out of excuses for pretending not to care.
The phone rang twice.
Then her voice came through—cool, composed, and with just the slightest crack in the edges.
"Hello?"
"Yichen."
A silence stretched between them. The kind you only got when someone recognized your voice instantly—and wasn't sure whether to hang up or let it hurt.
8guide, you vanished right after lighting the path."
Jian closed his eyes briefly. "I didn't think my presence would help."
"Ah. You assumed again."
That stung, more than he'd expected.
Still, he swallowed his pride and said what mattered. "Where are you?"
"In the city," she replied carefully. "Staying with someone… for now."
He knew she wasn't the type to ask for help. Not even if she were cornered, bleeding, and the house was on fire. She'd just stand there, chin lifted, waiting for the flames to finish the job.
So he didn't ask why. He asked better.
"Is that wise?"
"What?"
"You...being where you are. You and Aaliyah. It's too exposed."
"Are you trying to help or judge?" she said, voice still calm, but he heard the underlying tension. "Because if it's the latter, you can save us both the awkwardness."
Jian exhaled slowly. "Yichen… I can get you somewhere else. Somewhere safe. Private. No questions asked. Just say the word."
Silence again. And then...
"Thank you," she murmured. "I'll think about it."
"I'd prefer if you didn't just think."
"You always did prefer control," she said, a bitter sort of laugh trailing her words. "Didn't work out well last time."
He winced. But this time, he wouldn't let silence end the call.
"I'm coming to see you. Now."
"Why?"
"You know why."
And with that, he hung up.
No permission needed. No agenda. Just the quiet resolve of a man who'd made a mistake once—and wasn't about to let the past repeat itself.
---
POV: {Li Yichen}
The evening light softened across the ivory curtains as she fastened the last button of her blac jilbab. A hush had fallen over the house, that strange in-between silence right before the hour of maghrib, when thoughts grew louder than sounds and time seemed to lean forward, listening.
She sat on the edge of the guest bed Aaliyah had insisted she take, palms resting on her knees, her heart oddly still. No excitement. No dread. Just… the weight of a memory making its way towards her present.
Professor Jian.
After all these weeks—after everything—she was about to see him again.
Her phone, screen-down on the side table, buzzed once, then stilled. She didn't pick it up. She already knew it was him. Probably telling me he was nearby. He had sounded so firm on the phone when he said he would come. So certain. Like all those days of silence never happened.
Like he never walked away.
A soft knock came on my door, light and polite. Aaliyah. She always knocked like she didn't want to break the air in a room.
She rose, straightened her sleeves, and opened the door.
She was already dressed in her casual homewear—a soft beige kimono draped over her innerwear, with her hair tucked in a scarf. Her expression was curious, not pressing. Just that look she wore when she knew something was happening and was patient enough to let her say it herself.
"Can I come in?" she asked gently.
She stepped aside. "Of course."
She walked in and settled on the rug beside the bed, folding her legs under her like it was her own room. She glanced at her, then at the neatly arranged prayer mat she had left near the window.
She sat opposite Aaliyah, her hands in her lap.
"I have someone coming," she finally said, voice low.
She tilted her head slightly. "Your professor? Here?" Her eyes widened a little, as if surprised at her own guess.
She nodded. "Yes. Professor Jian. He called a few minutes ago."
Her brows arched. "He called you?"
She caught the tone in her friend's voice—not judgmental, but quietly curious.
"No," she replied, meeting Aaliyah's gaze. "Not all this time. Not once."
She looked away for a moment, then back at Aaliyah. "And now he wants to see you."
"He offered to find me a safer place," she added quietly, "one that isn't occupied. He said this place might not be the best. I told him I'd think about it."
Aaliyah's lips pressed together in thought. "Do you want me to stay with you when he comes?"
She hesitated.
Then, she nodded.
She gave me a small, reassuring smile. "Then I'll stay but Chei Wei won't like this..."
"What does this have to do with your brother?"
" Well… Nevermind that. He doesn't like strangers around."
Li Yichen doesn't understand but she is not in the mood to push it.
They didn't speak much after that. Sometimes, silence between two women carried a language of its own. Aaliyah knew she wasn't ready to talk about what Jian's presence meant—about the ache he left behind and the apology he hadn't given.
The sound of a car door shutting outside made her heart thud once—sharp and sudden. She rose to her feet instinctively, pressing a hand to her chest. Aaliyah stood too, quietly adjusting her big scarf.
"Let's go," she said.
They made their way to the front door. I could already hear footsteps approaching on the gravel driveway. Familiar. Measured. His.
The last time she saw Professor Jian, she had walked away without turning back.
Tonight, he was the one coming toward me.
And she…
She wasn't sure if her heart was ready to ask why.
---
Next Chapter Sneak Peek;
POV:{Jian}
She looked the same.
Dignified. Distant.
Wrapped in black and silence, the way only Li Yichen could be—like a boundary no one had ever truly crossed.
But he wasn't here to admire her composure.
He was here to ruin it.
Or maybe… to beg for what was left of her trust.
Aaliyah watched him from the doorway, arms folded, clearly unsure if she was host or guardian. Jian ignored her for now. His eyes had already found Yichen.
He saw it in her gaze—the questions she didn't ask, the answers she wouldn't give. But tonight, he wasn't here to be safe.
Tonight, he was here to tell the truth.
About why he left.
About what he'd been doing all this time.
About why this woman...quiet, misunderstood, and too proud to beg—was worth burning every bridge he'd ever built.
And maybe, just maybe… to find out if she still believed he was worth saving, too.