THE NEXT DAY...
I woke to the soft hum of the city beyond the curtains, but my calm was shattered the moment my eyes opened. There he was—Alexander—sitting at the side of the bed, watching me with that soft, knowing smirk he sometimes wore, the one that made my stomach tighten in ways I couldn't fully explain. For a heartbeat, I froze, caught between embarrassment and the strange, fluttering warmth that always accompanied his gaze.
"Morning," he said, voice low and casual, but that smirk betrayed amusement.
I jerked back, my body stiffening involuntarily. "I… I didn't expect you to be there," I whispered, trying to mask the rapid thump of my heart.
He chuckled softly, leaning back on his hands, a flash of playful light in his eyes. "You look like someone just scared you," he said, and the sound of his laughter made something inside me twist. Part relief, part irritation—I wasn't sure which.
"And its true, are you feeling okay now. Last night...."l trailed off brushing off the thought because l thought maybe he didnt want to talk about it.
"Yeah, am all good now, thanks for being there at that moment. But you do really look like an angel. Your eyes, your soft fair skin...."
My heart skipped abit and for a moment l thought l was going to have a heart attack. Why is he suddenly acting like he is into me.
"What are you saying right now?" l said throwing a pillow at him. And he laughed.
"So, you do get shy...well l guess that's it for now." he chuckle getting up from the bed and turned around and left the room, closing the door behind him.
And like that he left leaving me in another world, these past few days he had been warmer to me different from the first time.
I swung my legs out of bed, wrapping the blanket around me like a shield, though I could feel his eyes following every move. My mind was spinning faster than my body: Why is he acting like this? So… soft. So… affectionate. And what happened to Lila? Why does it feel like he's… mine now?
The morning passed in a strange haze. Alexander moved around the room with his usual grace, brewing coffee, adjusting his jacket, occasionally glancing at me as though expecting me to comment on nothing at all. Every time our fingers brushed while I reached for the cup he handed me, a spark of tension shot through me. My chest tightened, and I could feel the warmth pooling in my stomach, betraying the calm, collected image I tried to project.
I wanted to scold him, to tell him to stop acting so… stupid, so disturbing, but the words died in my throat each time his smirk deepened. There was something almost magnetic about it, something that made it impossible to resist the urge to laugh or return his teasing. And yet, my mind kept circling back to Lila, to the questions I hadn't dared ask, to the tiny knot of jealousy that refused to leave.
He leaned closer when I bent to pick up a pen I'd dropped, his fingers brushing mine so casually it should have felt innocent. But it didn't. It felt electric, like an unspoken claim, a silent pull I couldn't resist. I jerked my hand away, trying to hide the blush creeping across my cheeks. Alexander noticed, of course. He always did. His smirk widened, almost triumphant, and my pulse spiked.
"What?" I asked, attempting casualness but failing miserably.
"Nothing," he replied smoothly, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Just… you're cute when you think I don't notice."
I bit back a retort, because honestly, there was no winning with him. And part of me didn't want to win, didn't want the moment to end. But other parts of me—the mission, my focus, my own tangled emotions—were screaming at me to stay alert, to remember why I couldn't just lose myself in these stolen moments.
By midday, Alexander had fully slipped into his playful, teasing self. He tripped over nothing while handing me a folder, pretending to lose his balance, making me laugh despite the nagging worry in my chest. Every small interaction felt like a battle between wanting to enjoy the warmth and remembering the stakes.
And then, inevitably, my mind wandered to Lila again. Questions bubbled unbidden. Where is she now? What happened between her and him? Why is he acting like this with me all of a sudden? The thoughts twisted into a dull ache in my chest, a reminder that nothing was ever simple. I loved this closeness, the quiet intimacy of our shared morning, but I couldn't ignore the fact that his feelings—or his actions—might be complicated by her memory.
I tried to focus on Alexander again. His laugh echoed in the room as he nudged me lightly with his shoulder, teasing me about something trivial, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the storm inside me. I could feel my own laughter loosening the tension slightly, a fragile bridge between the warmth of the moment and the chaos of my thoughts.
But even as I laughed, I couldn't stop my mind from replaying last night. My chance to check his room had slipped through my fingers. A simple peek, a few quiet moments to understand him better—but it was gone. And now, every glance at him, every playful smirk, every casual touch reminded me that there were pieces of him I still didn't know. Pieces I couldn't reach—not yet.
The day dragged on, a strange mix of connection and conflict. Alexander was by my side constantly, leaning close in conversation, brushing against me as if it were entirely natural. He offered gentle jokes, small gestures of care, and I found myself leaning in, smiling, laughing—all while my mind silently weighed the mission, Lila, and the storm of feelings I couldn't sort.
I caught myself staring at him at one point, really looking. Not the Alexander everyone saw—the untouchable, perfect, slightly dangerous figure—but the man beneath it all. The warmth in his eyes when he laughed, the small soft movements that betrayed patience, the almost imperceptible twitch of a shoulder when something made him uneasy. And I realized, with a pang, how much I had taken for granted the moments I did have with him.