Unexpected sight

Zamian finally spoke, his voice low and steady, "I will be leaving tomorrow."

Mira's mind raced to catch up with the words that had just been spoken. "Leaving?" she whispered, the word barely escaping her lips as disbelief washed over her. For a moment, the shock of his announcement left her speechless. She had anticipated feeling relieved at the prospect of him leaving. She had thought that his departure would finally give her the space she so desperately needed, an opportunity to breathe and distance herself from the complicated feelings that had started to brew between them.

But now, as the reality of his leaving settled in, Mira found herself feeling something she hadn't expected—sadness. It crept over her slowly, almost imperceptibly, until it engulfed her in an overwhelming sense of melancholy. Why was she feeling this way? Why did his departure suddenly seem like a loss, rather than the relief she had been expecting? The confusion swirled in her chest, making it harder to breathe. She couldn't understand it—wasn't she supposed to be glad that he would be gone, allowing her to clear her mind and find her footing?

Zamian's gaze remained fixed on her, sharp yet calm. He reached out and gently placed his hands on her waist, pulling her ever so slightly closer. His touch was light, but it sent a jolt through her, snapping her out of her thoughts. "Are you not going to leave, or do you enjoy the comfort of sitting on my lap?" he asked, his voice tinged with subtle amusement.

Mira's face flushed with embarrassment as she realized she was still perched on his lap. Her body tensed, and the heat in her cheeks deepened. How could she have let herself become so lost in her thoughts, so vulnerable in front of him? Without saying another word, she quickly stood up, her movements awkward and stiff. She didn't dare meet his gaze as she turned to leave the room, retreating to the safety of her own space.

As she closed the door behind her, the awkwardness of the moment still lingered in the air. Mira leaned against the door for a moment, her heart racing as she tried to collect herself. The sensation of his hands on her waist still lingered on her skin, the warmth of his touch mingling with the emotional confusion that was now swirling in her chest. She felt overwhelmed, unsure of what to make of the strange, conflicting feelings that seemed to be growing inside her.

She walked to her bed and sat down at the edge, pulling her phone out of her pocket in a feeble attempt to distract herself. Opening the Hellogram app, she started scrolling through her feed, her thumb moving idly across the screen. But the posts that filled her feed—the usual flood of selfies, food photos, and vacation snapshots—couldn't hold her attention. Her mind kept drifting back to Zamian, to the way he had looked at her, the way he had spoken, the way his voice had wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

Why did the thought of his leaving affect her so much? She had been looking forward to the space, the distance, the time alone. But now that it was happening, all she could feel was an unfamiliar ache in her chest. The idea of his absence seemed both like a relief and a complication. She tried to push the feelings away, but they clung to her, refusing to leave her in peace.

Dropping her phone onto the bed beside her, Mira lay back, staring up at the ceiling. The hum of the air conditioner filled the silence of her room, its rhythmic sound a small comfort against the storm of emotions swirling inside her. She closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would come quickly and offer her an escape from the turmoil. But her mind refused to quiet down. The memories of her interactions with Zamian—their proximity, his touch, the subtle tension in the air between them—kept replaying in her mind, a relentless loop that wouldn't stop.

She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her waist, the steadiness of his voice as he spoke. It was maddening, the way these small moments seemed to burrow into her, taking up more space in her thoughts than they should. Why did he affect her this way? Why did his presence seem to unsettle her so deeply, and why did the prospect of his leaving fill her with an inexplicable sense of loss?

Eventually, exhaustion began to take over, and her thoughts became slower, more fragmented. Mira's breathing steadied, and she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Mira woke up slowly, the events of the previous day still fresh in her mind. It was the weekend, and she had already sent Zack a message the night before, letting him know that she would talk to him on Monday. For now, she had decided to stay home, using the weekend as a chance to clear her head and try to make sense of everything.

As she lay quietly in bed, the familiar creak of the door opening caught her attention. She didn't bother to look up, assuming it was Nana coming to announce breakfast. But when no words were spoken, she lifted her head slightly, her curiosity piqued.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw who was standing there.

Zamian.

He was standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist, his hair still wet from the shower. Water dripped down his neck, trailing over his chest, and his usually composed expression seemed slightly different—more intense, more raw.

Mira's eyes widened in shock. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him, even though every part of her screamed to look away. His presence was so unexpected, so jarring, and yet... there was something undeniably captivating about the sight of him standing there. The tension from the previous night returned in full force, settling heavily between them as they stood frozen in place.

Zamian's eyes met hers, and for a brief moment, neither of them moved. Then, a soft chuckle escaped his lips, low and quiet, but undeniably there. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but rather something softer, more amused, as if he was just as caught off guard by the situation as she was.

Embarrassment flooded Mira, and she quickly turned away, her cheeks burning with heat. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she covered her face with her hands, trying to block out the image of him standing there, looking so effortlessly handsome. The awkwardness of the moment was almost unbearable, and all she wanted to do was disappear.

Zamian's voice broke the silence. "I'm done. You can sit up now."

Mira sat up slowly, her movements tentative and unsure. "Good morning," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.

Zamian responded in kind, his voice softer than usual. "Good morning."

Without waiting for another word, Mira practically bolted for the bathroom, eager to escape the intensity of the moment. Inside, she leaned against the sink, her heart still racing, her thoughts spinning wildly. The unexpected sight of Zamian, his sudden departure, and the confusing emotions that had surfaced were almost too much to handle.

Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Mira whispered to herself, "What is happening to me?" She splashed cold water on her face, hoping it would help clear her head. But as the water dripped down her skin, she couldn't help but wonder if maybe—just maybe—she was starting to feel something for him.

The question lingered in her mind as she dried her face with a towel, her reflection staring back at her with wide eyes.

Did she like Zamian?