Yichen's POV
"Why are you answering her phone?"
Yiran's voice sliced through the speaker, sharp enough to draw blood.
I clenched my jaw. "Why are you calling her?"
A bitter laugh came from the other end. "Ha. I see you're still trying to steal everything from me. But let me tell you something—"
He paused, his tone trembling with anger.
"Hua's heart will never be yours."
The words hit harder than I expected. My grip on the phone tightened.
"Wait and see," I said before hanging up, pulse hammering in my ears.
I stood there for a moment, chest rising and falling too fast. The echo of his voice clung to the walls of my mind like smoke.
Her heart will never be yours.
We'd see about that.
Then—her voice broke the silence.
"Yichen? Where are the clean clothes?"
I turned around.
And froze.
She stood by the doorway, barefoot, wrapped in a white bathrobe that barely reached her knees. Her damp hair dripped tiny beads of water onto the floor, glistening against her skin.
My throat went dry.
She smelled like my shampoo. My shampoo.
I tried to look away, pretending to check my phone. "Uh—I'll get them for you. Just give me a second—"
But her gaze flicked toward the phone still in my hand. "What are you doing with my phone?"
Her voice wasn't accusing—just confused—but guilt still stabbed through me.
"Your ex called you," I said quietly, handing it back.
She frowned, checked the screen, and saw his name. "What did you two talk about?"
"Nothing," I lied. "Just a boring conversation."
She studied me for a moment, too perceptive for her own good. Then she sighed softly.
"Well, I should move on anyway… so I shouldn't ask too much."
My chest filled with something dangerously close to satisfaction.
Yes. Forget him. Forget everything.
She walked to the sofa and flopped down with a tiny sigh. "I'll wait for the clothes here," she murmured, curling up like a sleepy cat.
I smiled, unable to help it.
I went to grab her clothes from my dressing room, but when I came back—she was already asleep.
The city lights painted her face in silver. Her lashes trembled faintly, her breathing slow and even.
I stood there, watching her, an unfamiliar warmth blooming inside me. Carefully, I laid a blanket over her, slipped a pillow under her head, then dimmed the lights and closed the curtains with the remote.
The room fell into a hushed calm.
I sat down on the floor beside the couch. Her breathing filled the silence, soft and steady, like waves on a shore.
My chest loosened for the first time in days.
Before I knew it, my eyes drifted closed too.
The Next Morning
Something heavy pinned down my arm.
I blinked awake, dazed—and froze.
Hua.
She'd rolled off the couch during the night and was now half-leaning against me, her cheek resting on my arm. Her lips were parted slightly, her breath feathering against my sleeve.
My brain short-circuited.
Don't. Move.
Her scent—fresh soap and something floral—filled my head until I thought I might lose it.
Then her alarm blared, bright and obnoxiously cheerful.
She stirred, groaning, hair all tangled and messy, and sat up slowly. The blanket slipped from her shoulders.
I stretched and pretended to wake up too. "Morning," I said, voice rough from sleep.
She blinked, confused and flustered. "Uh—morning. I—did I fall asleep here?"
"Pretty much," I said, fighting a smile.
Her cheeks flushed a soft pink. She grabbed the clothes folded neatly on the armrest, muttered a quick "thanks," and scurried to the bathroom.
When the door closed, I finally exhaled the breath I'd been holding.
She left soon after—barely looked back.
Still, the faint scent of her lingered in the air, sweet and maddening. I chuckled under my breath, running a hand through my hair.
She'd fled like the place was on fire.
But the apartment felt colder without her in it.
Before heading out for work, I caught sight of the shirt she'd worn—the one with that tiny spicy oil stain. I picked it up and pressed it to my face.
Her scent still clung to it.
Warm. Soft. Addictive.
"You're going to drive me insane," I whispered.
Hua's POV
My alarm wouldn't shut up.
I groaned and reached to hit snooze—but stopped when my hand brushed something firm and warm.
This wasn't my bed.
My eyes flew open.
Gray sofa. Floor-to-ceiling windows. The faint smell of cedarwood and expensive cologne.
Oh no.
I was still in Yichen's apartment.
And worse—
I was lying on his arm.
How did that even—?!
I turned, slowly. Yichen was awake, half-lidded eyes meeting mine.
For a second, we just stared at each other.
His hair was messy. His collar slightly undone. He looked nothing like the cold CEO from the office—he looked softer, almost human.
And infuriatingly attractive.
Why did he have to look that good in the morning?
"Morning," he murmured, voice deep and raspy.
"Uh—morning." I was definitely panicking. "I—did I fall asleep here?"
"Pretty much." His grin was small but way too smug.
Why was he smiling like that?! Did something—no. No way. We weren't drunk. Nothing happened. Right?
My brain screamed run.
"I should—uh—get ready for work."
I grabbed the clothes from the sofa, muttered a tiny "thanks," and practically sprinted to the bathroom.
My heart wouldn't calm down.
I changed in record time, tied my hair, and slipped out of his apartment before he could say another word.
At the office, I prayed no one would notice what I was wearing.
Spoiler: they noticed.
"Hua?" One of my coworkers blinked. "You didn't go home last night?"
I froze. "Uh—well—"
A voice interrupted.
"Really?"
Yiran.
I turned and saw him standing a few steps away, his expression unreadable—but his eyes were anything but calm.
My throat tightened. "I just… crashed at a friend's place."
But as I hurried past him, I could feel his gaze burning into my back.
Later that morning, I slipped away to the restroom. The hallway was quiet—until a hand grabbed my wrist and yanked me into a storage room.
"Yiran—?! What—"
He shut the door behind us. The air turned thick.
"I told you not to trust my brother," he hissed. "Why were you with him last night?"
He stood too close. Too warm. Too intense.
"Where were you, Hua?" His voice was lower now, almost trembling.
It sounded less like an accusation and more like heartbreak.
"I—I was at a friend's," I lied, pulse racing.
"By friend, you mean Yichen?"
Damn it.
But maybe this was better than the truth.
"Yes," I blurted. "He's my fiancé now, so why does it matter?"
The words came out faster than I intended. His jaw clenched, fury flashing in his eyes.
Then the door burst open.
Yichen.
His expression was cold enough to freeze air.
He stepped forward and grabbed my hand—not harshly, but firmly.
"It only matters to a toxic, crazy ex like you," he said, his voice low, dangerous.
Yiran's fists balled at his sides. "You don't deserve her."
Yichen's smirk was razor-sharp. "Guess she doesn't agree."
Before Yiran could speak again, Yichen turned and pulled me out of the room.
The hallway felt blindingly bright after the dim storage closet. His grip loosened slightly, but he didn't let go.
My heart pounded so hard I thought he might feel it.
"You didn't have to do that," I murmured.
He looked down at me, eyes softer now. "On the contrary, that's exactly what I should do."
Something fluttered inside me.
No one had defended me like that before—not even Yiran when we were together.
I looked away, cheeks warm. "Still… you could've been less dramatic."
A small smile tugged at his lips. "You think that was dramatic?"
He leaned closer, just enough for his breath to brush my ear.
"You haven't seen anything yet."
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₍₍⚞(˶˃ ꒳ ˂˶)⚟⁾⁾ Tell me if you like having the ML's POV!!
Also… whose heart is racing more right now—Yichen's or Hua's? Be honest!