Bael's POV
The image loads clearly on the dark glass screen.
Runze poses right beside the open takeaway box, his eyes bright with playful mischief and a soft, lingering smile curving his lips.
Below the photo, a single line of text sits in the chat bar:
*What looks more delicious, me or the dish?*
A sudden flush spreads straight to Bael's ears as he stares at the screen and reads the line again.
The pure, unadulterated boldness of his husband's message catches him completely unprepared. His fingers tighten around his phone so hard the joints of his knuckles turn pale. For a second, he almost slams the phone down on the desk.
"Fuck," Bael mutters under his breath, his voice low and scratchy in the quiet room.
