What are you up to?

In the hotel's corridor, Jamal's eyes are stuck on his phone, while walking Myla towards their lodged room.

The stranger who was secretly watching the couple at the restaurant, matches past, living an eerie presence.

Myla aviates attention to this person; like coming across someone familiar.

“I need to return to meet with the manager. Just get our stuff ready. I'll be back with someone to take down the luggages.”

She darts her gaze to her gorgeous husband, completely forgetting the scene just now as they stop at the door.

“Ok, don't take too long.”

He pecks her lips and walks back to their previous direction. She opens the door, steps in and scans properly for a minute, before packing their belongings.

Moments later, Jamal enters with a young man in uniform, who moves to where she gathered their stuffs, and starts taking them out into a carriage.

“Hope we left nothing. I'd get mad if my gifts are not in there.” Myla says, pointing at the luggages.

Suddenly, Jamal remembers the small black box he hid in his accessories. He secretly hopes she didn't see it, but he doesn't ask as he walks over her shoulder, into their room.

Seconds later, he comes out, questioning, “Did you- see my blue shirt?”

“Yeah? Is that what you wanna wear?”

He shakes head. “Nope. Just making sure you took everything.”

She squints her eyes towards him as he motions his hands to his hips, rest assured she didn't find the package.

Suddenly, one of the bags fall and dresses pour out on the floor.

He rushes over to arrange them before she does, mostly because his blue shirt is among the clothes which are dispatched.

Myla notices the weird gesture just now, when she sees the same shirt he asked about, having something tugged into its pocket.

He stoops down and blocks her sights from catching what he hid by puting it into the pocket of his pants.

The hosteller sees this movement, and meets Jamal's gaze, doing a non verbal communication. He smiles a bit and stands up with Jamal, who goes back to meet his wife.

“Shall we?”

She looks at him with intensiveness, and he raises a brow, waiting for her response, which comes in after seconds.

They move ahead while the hosteller follows behind, wheeling the carriage closely.

A driver waits at the private lot below the building and they join him into the vehicle after their luggages are set in.

...

These personalities had taken a private jet. Now, they are descending the steps of the plain, and as they walk further towards a black Benz, a man comes ahead, handing over the car key.

Jamal catches it, strolls ahead, and opens the door for his wife. She hoops in gracefully, whereas he rounds the vehicle and sits next to her on the driver's seat.

At once the car kicks off, traveling out the place. During their journey, Myla notices a change in her environment.

Narrowing her eyes towards him, she asks, “What are you up to, Jamal?”

Since he's a good player, he feigns a confused look to her direction. “Are you ok?”

She blinks at his throw back and rechecks her surrounding. Is she misunderstanding a concept, here?

Jamal peeps at his wife through the rare view, amused by his game, while she studies the environment, querying her thoughts.

Her gaze fling to him speedily and he diverts his focus at the road.

“Quit playing, babe. This isn't the way home. Except, we're going to see someone you're not telling me about.”

He shrugs, because actually, there's nothing to talk about. Like, what can he say, than driving faster to expose that hidden agenda he has had in mind for a month now.

“What does that even mean?”

She seems a little frustrated and he feels guilty, though off course he's supposed to be, but... how can he make it better?

She surrenders in trying to pry into what her husband has been keeping from her, and looks at the window.

When he sees her silence, his lips curve up into a sweet smile. Nothing looks so adorable to his eyes, more than the way she looks now.

He wants to straight up pull her into his arms, and tell her everything, yet, it's only going to spoil the plan.

Being very much aware that his wife has internal conflict about what is cooking underground, he decides to let out, “You'd know once we get there.”

She remembers her manager telling her this same statement on her wedding day, and anxiety settles in. What can he be planning this time around?

“Finally, you admit you're up to something,”

He sits quite, and she proceeds, “You know... I saw that thing in your blue shirt.”

Her voice sounds into ears like a drum. He darts his gaze to her at once. “What thing?”

They are staring at each other now, and she's trying to search any form of nervousness in his eyes, while he's trying to see if she actually saw the 'thing' inside the small black box.

It last for just seconds as he has to pay attention to the high way.

“You know it better.”

“If this ‘thing’ doesn't have a name, then I don't know what you're talking about.”

And actually, the ‘thing’ has no name to her. She just saw something puff in his shirt. But she's not sure what it is.

She rolls her eyes, and looks at the window, again. He looks at her for a second and back to the road, with an answer.

She didn't see it.

There is stealness, few moments before they arrive their predestination. The surrounding is modified by a huge, modern architectural structure of wide transparent glass windows, varieties of beautiful flowers, enough space for packing (Garage)… Myla's dream house.

Her mouth parts in awe and she descends the vehicle before Jamal opens up for her.

Jamal is proud of himself. The success he wanted, the expression he thought of, everything he imagined she'll feel this day, and he made that happen.

She's so much interested in the view in front of her so much so that she doesn't notice Jamal's presence being close.

“Whose house is this? It's damn classic.”

He chuckles, and pinches the bream of his nose, “Can we just go in first and meet our guests.”

She faces him properly with cringed eyebrows, “Guests?”

He sighs, “Yeah. We have guests. Come on.” and holds her hand towards the main entrance.

She laughs out and he looks down at her with concern.

“Are you throwing us a surprise come back party or something? I actually smell it right now.”

He just keeps moving, while she stares at him, waiting for an answer.

“Off course you're going to say nothing. You thought I won't know.”

He smirks at her efforts as they climb the patio. He presses a button by the side wall, and hauls her small hand up towards a machine, which scans, registers her finger print.

She frowns at that, and the door opens. A woman welcomes both of them inside; the interior looking just as luxurious as the exterior.

Myla watches the house meticulously, though Jamal walks further to talk with the lady just now.

“Thanks. You can tell everyone to come out.”

Myla finally looks at her husband since her entry. “Are you going to tell me why we're here, and whose house this is, because I'm super jealous.”

“Like you said, we're here to celebrate. So, welcome to us! And welcome, to our house!" he says, opening his arms, broadly.

Myla stiffens, trying to gather up her thoughts. What the heck did he just say?

She looks behind him and sees her Mother-in-law coming forward, with her mom next to her, and then her friends, co-stars, manager, someone she met during their honeymoon.

Her mind takes her back to when Jamal talked to this woman as though they knew each other and when she approached him about the subject, he didn't give her a clear response.

“Welcome, child.” Mrs. Mehdi, kisses Myla's cheeks, followed by her mom, and she goggles the older women, absentmindedly.

“My goodness, what is going on here? I knew there's gonna be some sort of party, but then, what the hell is up with the house!”

Patricia, Tiffy, and Brenhilda surround their friend with hugs, but she's more shocked about Jamal's statement than seeing their faces.

The lady in question comes forth, and sends an open hand. “Well, I'm Ms. Cristina, the architect of this house. And I believe we've met before.”

Myla looks at her husband, then the lady, before accepting the handshake. “Yes, we've met. Nice to meet you, though my husband...” she looks at him, “told me he doesn't know who you are. So, I'm wondering why he lied...” her gape diverts to the room.

“I didn't say that.”

She meets his gaze. “Yes, you did. Don't deny it.”

“I said she wasn't familiar. And I was right, since we just met.”

“This is your house now, Mrs. Jamal. I guess your husband wanted to keep this a surprise.”

“Yes, my love, I wanted this to remain confidential,”

Myla is speechlessly staring at her spouse who comes forth to hand to her the small black box.

To be continued...