Chapter 3:The Unexpected Return

The café was nothing special. Dim lights, mismatched furniture, and the lingering scent of burnt coffee beans. A place where people came and went, drowning their exhaustion in caffeine and pretending they had their lives together.

And behind the counter? Noor.

Now, that was something special.

It was almost funny. A woman like her, standing there wiping down tables as if she belonged. As if she were just another nameless face in the crowd. As if her mere presence didn't turn heads.

And oh, did she turn heads.

Her colleagues had made it their favorite pastime—watching her, whispering about her, trying (and failing) to make sense of why someone like her worked here.

"She's unreal," one of the waitresses muttered, not even pretending to be subtle. "I mean, look at her. Tall, like a damn goddess, and that figure? I swear, I've never seen a woman built like that in real life."

"Forget the body. Her hair alone should be illegal," another chimed in. "Have you ever seen hair that long? It's like silk. Black, glossy—goes all the way down to her thighs."

"And her face," the barista whispered, eyes darting toward Noor. "It's ridiculous. Who looks like that? It's almost… unfair."

"Not just the beauty," the first waitress sighed dramatically. "It's the way she moves. Like she owns every step she takes. Like she's too good for all of us."

"Well, she is," the barista pointed out. "Have you seen her? She doesn't even flinch when guys try to flirt with her. Doesn't even look interested."

"She's not interested in anything."

It was true. Noor never engaged. Never laughed at their jokes, never entertained the attention. She just did her job, her expression always unreadable, her dark eyes carrying something too heavy for a place like this.

And yet, she stayed.

Mysterious. Untouchable. Unfazed.

But tonight… tonight would be different.

The bell above the door jingled, cutting through the low hum of conversation. Someone entered. Someone who wasn't a regular.

Noor didn't react, but the shift in the air was immediate.

The man who stepped in didn't belong here either. He was tall, well-dressed, and carried himself with the kind of arrogance that only came from knowing things other people didn't. His eyes locked onto Noor instantly, and a slow smirk tugged at his lips.

The waitress nearest to him took one look at the tension in the air and decided her shift was over.

The man approached the counter, resting his hand on the polished wood. He didn't bother with pleasantries.

"Hiding, are we?"

Noor kept her expression blank. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "You always were'nt a good liar." His gaze flickered over her, calculating. "Tell me, Noor… do you really think he won't find you?"

For the first time that evening, something in her jaw tightened.

The man noticed. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "You can pretend all you want, but you and I both know the truth. And when he finds you—" He tilted his head. "I wonder what you'll do then."

Noor said nothing.

The man exhaled as if bored, then straightened, glancing toward the door. "Well, I've delivered my message. Enjoy playing house while it lasts."

And just like that, he turned on his heel and left, the door jingling softly behind him.

Noor let out a slow breath, her fingers tightening around the counter.

The rain drummed against the glass windows, a steady rhythm that filled the near-empty café with an eerie stillness. Noor wiped down the last table, exhaustion pressing against her bones. The dim glow of the streetlights outside cast flickering shadows across the polished floor, and she let out a slow breath, ready to lock up for the night.

But then—

The bell above the door chimed.

But just as she began to collect herself—

The door opened again.

Her heart stilled.

She turned, and for a split second, the world collapsed around her.

Sanlang.

He stood in the doorway, his body drenched from the rain, dark strands of hair plastered against his forehead. His white dress shirt clung to him, soaked through, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each breath. His gaze locked onto hers with an intensity that sent a sharp ache through her chest.

She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe.

This wasn't possible. He wasn't supposed to be here.

Sanlang took a step forward, and the café felt too small, too suffocating.

"Noor," he breathed, his voice raw, strained—as if just saying her name hurt him.

A shiver ran down her spine. Her hands trembled against the counter. She had spent months convincing herself that she had done the right thing by leaving. She had built walls, wrapped herself in layers of cold detachment, and convinced herself that he would move on.

But here he was. Standing in front of her. A man who had never once belonged to the past, but had always been the one thing she couldn't let go of.

"Noor," he repeated, his voice cracking.

The emotions she had buried clawed their way back to the surface, unraveling her piece by piece.

Her throat tightened. "Sanlang… you shouldn't be here."

A humorless smile touched his lips, but his eyes burned with something else—pain, betrayal, longing. "But I am."

His voice was steady, but there was something desperate about the way he looked at her.

"I had to find you," he said. His fists clenched at his sides as if he was holding himself back from reaching for her. "I couldn't just let you disappear. Not without knowing why."

Noor sucked in a breath, fighting the urge to cry. "You don't understand, Sanlang. It's not safe."

"I don't care about safe." His voice was sharp now, edged with frustration. He took another step forward, the space between them vanishing. "I care about you."

No. No, no, no.

This was exactly why she had left. Because the moment he got too close, she wouldn't be able to push him away. And she had to.

Sanlang saw the conflict in her eyes. He reached out, his fingers brushing against hers, and she flinched at the warmth of his touch.

"Noor," he whispered, "tell me the truth."

Her breath hitched.

She wanted to lie. She wanted to push him away, to make him hate her, because that would be easier than letting him stay.

But she couldn't.

Because looking into his eyes, she saw it—

Tears burned her eyes as she finally whispered, "I left to protect you."

Sanlang inhaled sharply, his whole body going still.

"From what?" he demanded.

She shook her head, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. "From me."

His jaw clenched, and something dark passed through his expression—anger, disbelief. "That's bullshit."

She flinched at the sharpness in his tone, but he wasn't done.

"You don't get to decide what I need protecting from. You don't get to walk away and leave me behind without a damn word. Do you know what that did to me?"

Her heart twisted painfully.

She had imagined this confrontation so many times. She had prepared for his anger, his questions, his frustration. But she hadn't prepared for this.

For the raw, aching vulnerability in his voice.

"I couldn't risk losing you," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Sanlang exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "But you did."

Those words shattered something inside her.

"I never stopped looking for you," he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost broken. "Not once."

Noor's chest ached, her hands curling into fists.

"Sanlang… I'm dangerous." The words barely made it past her lips.

"I don't care," he said immediately.

"You should."

He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Noor, listen to me. There is nothing in this world that scares me more than losing you. Not danger. Not death. Nothing."

A sob caught in her throat.

His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones, wiping away the tears that spilled over. "Let me in," he whispered. "Please."

She had been strong for so long. She had built walls so high that even she had begun to believe they were unbreakable.

But with Sanlang standing here, holding her like she was the only thing in his world—

She couldn't keep fighting.

With a broken sigh, she nodded.

Sanlang exhaled in relief, his forehead pressing against hers.

And for the first time in months, Noor let herself breathe.

As Noor and Sanlang sat across from each other, their conversation flowed in measured tones, tension simmering beneath every word. But in the background?

Complete and utter devastation.

The moment Sanlang stepped into the restaurant, the air shifted. Conversations halted. Trays were nearly dropped. And then—like a perfectly synchronized disaster—every waitress in the vicinity simultaneously lost their minds.

One stood frozen by the counter, gripping a glass so tightly it was a miracle it didn't shatter.

Another, pen in hand, forgot how to write.

A third leaned heavily against a chair, whispering to her coworker, "Oh my God. He looks illegal."

"Right? Like—like a crime against humanity kinda hot."

"I swear I've seen him somewhere before…"

A waitress nearby gasped, clutching her chest. "Is he—oh my God, is he a celebrity?"

Another waitress let out a tiny, strangled sound. "He just ran his fingers through his hair. I think I just got pregnant."

Her coworker, gripping the counter like it was her lifeline, exhaled shakily. "I think he broods."

A third waitress, eyes wide, nodded in complete seriousness. "That's not a man. That's a walking Renaissance painting."

Noor's lips twitched—but she didn't look away from Sanlang.

Sanlang, on the other hand, could hear every word and was rapidly regretting his existence.

The boldest of the waitresses clutched her notepad. "I think I saw him in a dream."

Another sighed wistfully. "Forget that. I saw him in my past life."

A third held a hand to her chest, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I saw him in heaven."

One of them, in a last-ditch effort to keep her sanity, weakly mumbled, "Maybe he's just a regular man…"

The entire group turned to her in horror.

"Regular? REGULAR?"

She shrank back. "I—I take it back."

The leader of the chaos squad solemnly nodded. "You'd better."

Sanlang let out a sharp breath, dragging a hand down his face. "Are they seriously whispering about me like I can't hear them?"

Noor, barely containing her amusement, sipped her tea.

Behind him, a waitress whimpered, "Oh God. He has veins on his hands."

Another choked on air. "I need to go outside. I need air."

Sanlang shut his eyes for a long, suffering moment. "I hate it here."

---

The rain had stopped by the time they left the café, but the streets shimmered under the golden glow of the streetlights. Sanlang guided her through the empty roads, his hand wrapped around hers, refusing to let go.

When they reached his hotel room, Noor hesitated. She shouldn't be here. This was reckless. This was dangerous.

But Sanlang opened the door, waiting.

And she walked inside.

The silence in the room was deafening.

They sat on the edge of the bed, the weight of everything pressing down on them.

Sanlang turned to her, his eyes serious. "Tell me everything."

Noor's hands trembled in her lap. The truth was a wound she had kept hidden for too long. But she had no choice now.

So she told him.

Everything.

About the people who had pulled her into their world. About the smuggling, the trafficking, the lives at risk. About the decisions she had made to survive, to protect the ones she loved.

Sanlang listened, his fists clenching, his jaw tightening, but he never interrupted.

When she finished, she let out a shaky breath. "Now you understand why I left."

Sanlang didn't speak for a long time. Then, finally—

"We're leaving."

She blinked. "What?"

"First thing in the morning." His voice was steel, unwavering. "We can't stay here."

Her heart pounded. "Sanlang—"

"I'm not losing you again." His grip on her hand tightened. "We'll find a way out of this. Together."

Tears filled her eyes again, but this time, they weren't from fear.

She nodded.

And for the first time in a long time—

She wasn't alone.

But neither of them knew that outside the hotel, the shadows were already watching.

Waiting.

Their fight wasn't over. It had only just begun.