The party hall was glowing with soft lights, laughter echoing from every corner—but none of it reached me.
I stood near the side table, gripping my glass tighter than I should have. The juice was bitter, or maybe it was just my mood. One empty glass. Then another. I didn't remember finishing them.
"Wow, Rozze," Jiya said, rushing toward me. "You changed and came back so fast."
I looked at her sharply.
She froze for a second, then forced a smile. "What happened to you? You've already had… what, three juices?"
My eyes drifted past her—straight to him.
"Look at that CEO," I muttered. "I don't know who made him one, but he looks like he's frozen in a snowstorm. Doesn't even know how to talk to people."
Jiya laughed softly. "Your opinions change very fast."
Before I could reply, the sharp clink of a spoon against a glass cut through the hall.
The Managing Director stood at the center, drawing everyone's attention.
"Everyone, look here," he announced, smiling. "This is our new CEO. Tonight's party is in his honor. And honestly, if we don't play a game with Mr. Rahil today, this party will feel incomplete."
A few people cheered.
"No, I won't play. You all enjoy," he said, already turning away.
The MD caught his wrist. "Oh no, not so easily."
Jiya looked at me, eyes sparkling.
"I have to go. If I don't play a game with Mr. Handsome, I'll regret it later."
"And what about me?" I snapped.
She grabbed my hand. "Miss Miren, I'm not going alone."
"I'm not playing with that rude man," I said firmly.
Jiya lowered her voice. "Rozze… you came here to enjoy, right? If you step back now, he wins without even playing."
That stopped me.
"…You're right," I sighed.
She dragged me toward the crowd.
A large table stood at the center. Slips of paper were placed inside a box.
"Pick one," the MD explained. "Matching colors become teams."
Jiya immediately whispered, "You keep red. Give me blue—it's my lucky color."
I handed it over without interest.
Then I looked up.
He was holding a red slip too.
My breath hitched.
"What…?"
An employee laughed loudly. "Miss Miren and Mr. Rahil—same color! Red team!"
I tried to give my slip back to Jiya. "Please. Take it. Play with your Mr. Handsome."
She shook her head dramatically. "No no. He's too handsome. My eyes will burn. You keep him."
I stared at her, stunned.
The MD clapped. "Everyone, go to your partners. Let's start!"
I walked toward him.
Awkward. Forced. Inevitable.
The bottle spun. Laughter filled the air. Truths. Dares. Teasing.
Then the bottle stopped.
Right in front of me.
"And it's Miss Miren and Mr. Rahil again!" someone shouted. "Truth or Dare?"
"Truth," I said instantly.
"Dare," he said calmly.
Our voices clashed—stubborn, sharp.
Like this wasn't a game… but an old war.
"Toss?" the MD suggested.
The coin flipped.
I won.
For the first time that night, I smiled with confidence.
The MD cleared his throat. "Personal question. You may skip—but there will be punishment. Have you ever… loved someone?"
Silence fell.
My heart pounded. I lowered my gaze.
"Yes," I said softly. "I loved my husband deeply."
People whispered. Sympathy passed through the room.
Then all eyes turned to him.
He adjusted his tie, voice steady.
"No. I don't believe in love."
The hall buzzed again.
"Alright!" the MD laughed nervously. "Next round!"
The bottle spun—and stopped at me again.
A dare.
"You both have to dance," the MD announced.
Cheers erupted.
I looked at Jiya. She leaned close. "Go. Take your revenge."
"Dance isn't revenge," I muttered.
Lights dimmed.
Only us—under a single spotlight.
Music started.
I placed my hand on his shoulder. He pulled me closer. His hand rested at my waist.
The dance began—slow, controlled.
Then faster.
"Slow down," I whispered. "I'll fall."
He didn't.
My grip tightened. My nails dug into his shoulder.
He smiled.
Spun me harder.
On the last move—his foot crushed mine.
Pain shot up my leg. Tears burned my eyes, but I didn't scream.
I dropped to the floor, clutching his hand.
People laughed. "New dance move?"
He crouched beside me, eyes cold.
"If you don't know how to dance," he said quietly, "don't pretend."
He helped me up.
Nothing more.
Next round, the bottle stopped me again.
An employee leaned forward, peering under the table and then over it, a half-amused, half-confused smile on his face.
"Did someone cast a spell on this bottle… or is it just obsessed with them?"
Later, another game.
Water. Stairs. Balance.
I climbed carefully, glass trembling.
He stood above me, bucket in one hand, arrogance in the other pocket.
I finished.
Applause.
On the way down, my foot slipped.
I reached out.
Grabbed his blazer.
He stepped back.
The brooch snapped free.
And I fell.
I lost my grip.
The brooch slipped from my fingers—and so did I.
As I fell, I heard Jiya gasp. She had already started running toward me, panic written all over her face. The world tilted, lights blurring, voices fading into noise.
Then—movement.
Saim stepped down the stairs.
For a second, hope surged inside me.
I looked up, my heart pounding, and saw him bend forward, extending his hand toward me. Instinctively, I reached out too—my fingers trembling, desperate for support.
But suddenly, he stepped closer.
Too close.
His face came dangerously near mine.
I leaned forward without meaning to, my breath catching, my balance gone—
And in that fragile moment, suspended between the fall and his touch,
I couldn't tell whether he was about to save me…
Or let me fall.
________________________________________
Rozze had survived grief, loneliness, and nights that never seemed to end.
But standing this close to him, she realized — some wounds don't heal.
They wait.
They return.
And when they do, they hurt deeper than before.
As the world spun around me, only one thought echoed in my mind—
this game was never meant to be harmless.