The night had finally settled over the resort, gentle and still. The laughter and chatter from earlier had faded, leaving behind only the distant hum of crickets and the occasional rustle of the trees outside.
Flora sat on her bed, hugging her knees, the soft yellow light of the lamp brushing against her face. Her roommates were asleep, their quiet breaths filling the room. But sleep refused to come to her. Her thoughts kept circling back to what had happened earlier Grace's cutting tone, the accusing eyes, and the way the entire hall had gone silent.
And then; Shane, stepping in, calm and unwavering, his voice low but sharp enough to silence the entire group.
Her chest tightened at the memory.
She slipped on her cardigan and quietly stepped out to the balcony. The night air was cool against her skin, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. The stars above shimmered faintly, scattered across the dark sky like bits of silver dust.
Flora leaned against the railing, exhaling slowly. The night was peaceful, yet her mind refused to be.
"Why does he always do that…" she murmured to herself. "Acting like nothing touches him."
"You talk about me often when I'm not around?"
Flora startled her heart skipped a beat. She turned and saw Shane standing on attached balcony next door, one hand tucked in his pocket, a faint trace of amusement playing at the corner of his lips. The light from the room haloed behind him, outlining the lean edges of his frame.
"Y–you scared me," she whispered, pressing a hand over her chest.
"I didn't mean to." He stepped closer, his voice dropping softer. "Couldn't sleep either?"
She shook her head. "Too much… noise in my head."
He hummed, walking over to stand beside her. For a while, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable, it was gentle, filled with the sound of wind brushing through leaves and the faint lapping of water from the lake below.
Flora sneaked a glance at him. His usual cold expression was still there, but it was softer tonight. His eyes, under the dim light, looked more thoughtful than distant.
"You shouldn't have done that earlier," she said quietly.
"Done what?" he asked, though she could tell he knew what she meant.
"Stepped in like that. Grace will only make things harder for you."
A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I've dealt with worse."
"That's not the point," she said, frowning. "Everyone already thinks I get special treatment from you."
"Maybe you do."
Her breath caught. "What?"
He turned to her, meeting her gaze. "Maybe I don't care what they think."
The words hung in the air, warm and dangerous. Flora looked away, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks. "You shouldn't say things like that," she mumbled.
He tilted his head slightly, watching her; his voice dipped into that teasing tone she was far too familiar with. "Why not? You get flustered too easily."
"I do not."
"Really?" His smile deepened just a little. "Then why can't you look at me right now?"
She turned back toward the railing, trying to hide her reddening face. "You're impossible."
"Maybe," he said, leaning against the railing beside her. "But I meant what I said earlier, Flora. You don't owe anyone an explanation. Especially not someone like Grace."
His tone was steady, calm — yet something in it made her chest feel tight. She wanted to tell him she wasn't used to people defending her. That it scared her how much his words mattered. But she couldn't bring herself to say it.
So instead, she whispered, "Thank you."
He glanced at her then not the cold, unreadable vice president everyone else knew, but someone gentler. Someone whose gaze lingered just a little too long.
The air between them shifted, growing softer, heavier.
Their hands brushed on the railing just for a second, but it was enough to send a tremor through her. She didn't move away. Neither did he.
The world seemed to shrink to just the space between them. The night faded the stars, the wind, the distance all of it quieted.
"Flora," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
She looked up at him. His eyes were steady, his expression unreadable yet full of something she couldn't name. He lifted his hand, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face. His fingers lingered near her temple, tracing the faint tremble in her breath.
Her heart pounded wildly.
He leaned closer, and for a heartbeat, the world stopped. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin, see the reflection of stars in his eyes.
But instead of claiming her lips, he lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead light, deliberate, and unbearably tender.
Flora's breath caught. The touch was fleeting, but it felt like it branded something deep inside her.
When he drew back, his voice was low and husky. "Get some rest," he murmured. "You've had a long day."
She looked up at him, still dazed. "Shane…"
He smiled faintly that rare, crooked smile that always seemed to disarm her completely. "Goodnight, Flora."
And then he turned and walked away, his footsteps fading down.
Flora stood there for a long time after he was gone. Her fingers brushed the spot on her forehead where his lips had been. The night breeze stirred her hair, and she closed her eyes, a soft smile curving her lips.
Something had changed tonight quietly, irrevocably.