Chapter 26:The Veiled Emotions

The door to the dining room opened with a soft creak, and Sanlang stepped in, a vision of disheveled beauty that commanded the attention of everyone in the room. His dark hair was tousled from sleep, falling carelessly over his forehead, the strands wild yet somehow perfect. His emerald green eyes sparkled, intense and vibrant, their gaze sweeping across the room in a way that made everything seem to pause for a moment.

Sanlang's tall, lean frame stood in stark contrast to the perfectly set table before him. His shirt—carelessly unbuttoned at the collar—revealed a hint of his broad chest, the pale skin glistening softly in the morning light. The soft fabric of his shirt clung to his muscles, highlighting the sculpted lines of his torso and the subtle flex of his lean waist. His every movement was fluid and effortless, and his presence—utterly magnetic—seemed to shift the atmosphere in the room.

Maya, standing by the side, felt her breath catch in her throat, her cheeks flushing a soft shade of pink. Zeyla, who was at the table adjusting the cutlery, subtly looked away, trying to mask her reaction. Both women, usually so composed and unflappable, found themselves momentarily lost in his striking appearance, unable to hide the flush of warmth that crept up their necks.

Zeyla, not one for overt displays of emotion, cleared her throat awkwardly and looked down at her plate. "Maya," she murmured under her breath, trying to regain her composure, "Did you see him?"

Maya blinked, flustered. "I... I did. He's—"

Before she could finish her sentence, Sanlang's eyes locked onto Noor, who was seated at the head of the table, deep in conversation with Heath. His gaze became fixed, as if nothing else existed in the room except for her. The world faded away as his focus tightened solely on Noor, who seemed utterly unaware of the attention she commanded.

Sanlang moved toward the table, his gaze never wavering from her, the connection between them invisible but undeniable. His every step was deliberate, slow, as if he were caught in a dream.

"Sanlang, good morning," Heath said, breaking the trance. His tone was warm, almost welcoming as he gestured for him to join them. "Please, take a seat."

Maya quickly looked away, flustered by the electric tension in the air. She cast a quick glance at Zeyla, who was pretending to be engrossed in her coffee, both of them still caught in the web of Sanlang's presence.

Sanlang approached the table, but his attention was unwavering. "Good morning," he said to Heath, his voice steady but slightly hushed as he finally seated himself beside Noor, his eyes lingering on her for a fraction longer than necessary.

Noor shifted her attention slightly, just enough to acknowledge him. Her eyes met his for a brief moment, before turning back to Heath. The change was subtle, but Sanlang caught it—Noor's usual calm demeanor softened, almost imperceptibly, in the brief exchange.

"Please, join us," Noor said, her voice gentle but commanding, as though she had read his mind. "You're just in time."

Sanlang nodded, unable to tear his gaze away. "Thank you, Noor." The way her name rolled off his tongue felt almost foreign to him, a secret he wasn't sure he understood.

"Sanlang," Heath continued, focusing now on his medical notes, "I was reviewing your history with your doctors, and it seems you had an accident almost four years ago. It's a possibility that some memories were lost during that time. Do you have any other symptoms—headaches, dizziness?"

Noor's expression remained neutral as she listened to Heath, though her hand subtly tightened on the edge of her tea cup. Her fingers, pale and delicate, betrayed the tension that crept into her.

Sanlang looked at Heath, then at Noor, before answering. "I've had moments... flashes of things I can't place," he said, his voice low. "But I try not to dwell on it."

"Sanlang, if there's anything affecting your health, you should let us know," Heath continued, concern lining his voice.

Before the conversation could deepen, Noor's soft voice interjected, cutting through the rising tension. "Let's pause for now, Heath," she said calmly, turning toward Maya with a subtle gesture. "Maya, bring the breakfast."

Maya quickly complied, her hands slightly shaking as she moved to signal the servants. She couldn't help but notice how Noor seemed completely unfazed by the discomfort Sanlang's presence seemed to cause. It was a power Noor exuded, a sense of control that was almost too perfect.

As the servants laid out the food, Sanlang glanced over the spread, his eyes narrowing in surprise at the familiar yet comforting arrangement. "This... this is the breakfast I usually have," he said, his voice thick with a mix of curiosity and gratitude.

Noor, however, seemed indifferent. She had already begun eating, a simple, austere vegetarian meal that stood in stark contrast to the lavish spread before the rest of them. "I thought you would prefer something familiar," she said, her tone matter-of-fact, not meeting his gaze.

Maya noticed the look on Sanlang's face as he observed Noor's meal. It was so simple compared to the extravagance she herself would expect for someone of Noor's status. But Noor's restraint, even in this small detail, was something Maya admired—something she'd never quite fully understood.

"Maya," Noor said, turning to her, breaking the silence. "How are the preparations going for the ad shoot?"

Maya, who had been caught up in her thoughts, snapped to attention. "Everything is going according to schedule, Madame. We're ready for your arrival in two hours."

Sanlang remained silent, his eyes flicking between Noor and Maya. There was a subtle weight in the air, an unspoken tension that seemed to grow thicker with every word spoken.

"Good," Noor replied calmly, finishing her meal with a graceful, controlled motion. "We'll leave shortly. Please make sure everything is ready."

Maya nodded quickly, though her mind was still swirling. She had never seen Noor so focused, so commanding.

As the table cleared, a stylist entered the room, carrying a range of outfits for Sanlang to choose from. Noor barely spared a glance, though her presence, as always, loomed over the room like a quiet storm.

"Pick whatever you like," she said to Sanlang, her tone distant, as though she were discussing an insignificant matter.

Sanlang, though, was not concerned with the clothes. His eyes—once again—drifted back to Noor. "Thank you, Noor," he said softly, his words almost a whisper.

Maya watched, her confusion growing. She had known Noor for years, but she couldn't deny the shift in the air between her and Sanlang. She knew Noor had always kept others at a distance, but something about the way she looked at him... it was different.

------

Sanlang took a slow breath, his chest rising and falling with an almost imperceptible tremor. His emerald eyes, once bright and sharp, seemed distant as he stared into the empty space before him. The fragments of his past—painful and elusive—clung to him like a heavy fog, and he knew he couldn't avoid them any longer.

"If you're not feeling well," Noor's voice cut through the silence, gentle yet firm. "You can rest, Sanlang. There's no need to push yourself today. "

Her words, though calm, carried an unmistakable undercurrent of concern. It was rare for Noor to show any vulnerability, but this... this moment, as Sanlang opened up to her, had exposed something in her—perhaps an echo of her own wounds, or simply a deep empathy for the pain she saw in him.

Sanlang's gaze flickered toward her. He could feel the weight of her words, the invitation to retreat into safety, but it only made him more resolute.

"No," he said firmly, a quiet intensity in his voice. "I'm fine. I've been working for months toward this. It's not the time to back out. I've got to see this through."

There was a moment of silence as Noor regarded him, her eyes softening slightly, but her expression remained unchanged. She didn't press him further, though a flicker of something—perhaps understanding or concern—passed through her eyes before she nodded, acknowledging his decision.

Sanlang stood up, towering above the others with his lean, tall frame. Even Maya and Zeyla, who had seen him countless times, couldn't help but blush for a moment, their eyes inadvertently drawn to his striking presence. But despite the awareness of his beauty, Sanlang's eyes remained locked only on Noor. He didn't notice the others—only her.

Taking a deep breath, Sanlang began, his voice more subdued this time as he began to speak of the past. "Four years ago... I had an accident. I was on set, doing one of those shoots. Everything was fine, and then... it wasn't. One minute, I was there, and the next, everything went black. I woke up in a hospital, but nothing felt familiar. Nothing felt... right."

He paused, his hand instinctively pressing against his chest as if trying to calm the storm of memories swirling inside him. "The doctors told me it was bad. A head injury. And when I woke up, I didn't know where I was. I didn't know... who I was. Nothing made sense."

There was a subtle tremor in his voice now, his grip tightening on the edge of the table as he tried to ground himself in the present. "I couldn't remember... anything. Faces. Places. The years. It was like waking up in a different life—one that wasn't mine. And the pain... it wasn't just physical. The memories—they would come and go, like waves crashing down on me, but none of it fit. I couldn't place it. I couldn't understand it."

He exhaled slowly, his eyes clouding as fragments of those lost years surfaced again. The flashbacks were brief but sharp, like shards of glass stabbing into his mind. "It's better now... but it doesn't always stay that way. Sometimes, it comes back, like an echo, a fleeting image that fades as quickly as it appears. But it hasn't happened as much in recent years. I thought I was... getting better."

A flash of discomfort crossed his face, his words faltering as the weight of his admission settled between them. "But I still don't know what happened during those lost years. What I did. Who I was. It's like a hole in my life that I can't fill."

Noor, who had been silently listening, didn't interrupt him, though the expression in her eyes shifted subtly. She was no stranger to lost memories, and the weight of Sanlang's pain wasn't lost on her. But she remained silent, her face an unreadable mask.

"Over time," Sanlang continued, his voice quieter now, "I started recognizing people. My manager. My friends. People who were familiar, but... something still feels off. There's always that part of me that feels like I'm just playing a role—like I'm not really me." His eyes drifted to the floor, as if searching for some answer in the void.

Maya, who had been quietly observing, now stepped forward, her face etched with sympathy. She knew what it was like to live with memories that were incomplete, with pieces of yourself that didn't fit into place. But she said nothing. She only watched Sanlang, her heart aching for him.

Noor finally spoke, her voice soft but firm. "You've carried this for so long," she said, her gaze unwavering. "But you don't have to carry it alone."

Sanlang's gaze lifted to meet hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to fall away. It was just the two of them—Sanlang, with his broken past, and Noor, with her quiet strength. There was no need for more words. In that silence, they both understood something deeper than what could be said aloud.

"I'll be okay," Sanlang said, his tone finally steady again. "I've learned to live with it. But today... I'm here. And that's all that matters."

Noor nodded, her eyes lingering on him for just a moment longer before she turned her attention back to the others. No more words were needed. Not now.

The tension in the room seemed to ease, though the weight of Sanlang's revelation still hung in the air. It wasn't just his past that had been revealed; it was a piece of him, one that he had kept hidden for so long, now shared with those who cared enough to listen.

---

Sanlang took a slow, steadying breath as he stepped out of Noor's estate. The morning sun was sharp against the horizon, casting a golden glow on the cobblestones beneath his feet. He didn't notice the warmth of the day, didn't notice the breeze that ruffled his hair. His thoughts, like fragments of shattered glass, kept slipping from his grasp, falling through the cracks and into the chasm of his memory.

But one memory, one image, was so clear, so vivid, it refused to leave him.

Last night.

The pain had come like a storm—sudden, merciless. It struck him so fast that his legs had given out from under him, and he was collapsing, sinking into the darkness. The air had felt thick, suffocating, and everything around him had blurred, but one thing had remained sharp through the haze: her voice.

Noor's voice.

He hadn't even realized when they'd brought him to the room. He only remembered the the sterile smell of antiseptic in the air. But there was something else—a presence. Her presence.

He could hear her, even then, her words cutting through the fog like a lifeline. She was giving orders—calm, firm, decisive. Her voice had been so steady, so sure, that it had somehow reached him despite the chaos in his head. Her tone never wavered, not for a second, even when he could feel the weight of her concern threading through her words.

"Doctor, you need to stabilize him now.."

Even then, his mind had been a whirlpool of confusion, of fragments he couldn't piece together. But his heart—his heart had known her. Somehow, in the midst of his pain, in the storm of his fractured memories, his heart had recognized her presence. Recognized her voice. She's here, it whispered, and his chest had tightened in a way he couldn't explain.

It wasn't just the sound of her voice—it was the warmth behind it. The care. The way she had stayed with him, silent, unwavering. He could remember the soft touch of her hand on his forehead, the way she had stayed by his side, watching over him as the doctors worked. As if she had always been there, as if she had always been the one to tend to his wounds, both physical and emotional.

His breath hitched, the memory of that moment crashing into him like a wave. He remembered the quiet hum of the room, all he could focus on, was the sense of familiarity that radiated from Noor. It was something deeper than memory, deeper than understanding. Something his heart had recognized before his mind could catch up.

The memories may be lost, but the heart remembers the emotions.

Noor's words echoed in his chest like a quiet drumbeat, and he couldn't shake the intensity of them. There was a truth in them, one he hadn't fully understood until now. The memories might have slipped away from him—pieces of his past, moments with her that were lost to time. But the feelings? The emotions? Those stayed. They clung to him, wrapped around his heart like a thread that refused to break.

Sanlang's steps slowed as he walked toward the car, the weight of the memory lingering. He reached out, hand brushing the cold metal of the door, but it felt distant, like he wasn't fully connected to the world around him. His thoughts kept returning to Noor. Her calm composure, her quiet strength, the way she had held it together when he couldn't.

He could still hear the steady cadence of her voice, could still feel the warmth of her presence, even now. His heart throbbed in his chest as the car door clicked open. He sank into the seat, his mind still lost in that moment. The fragments of memories kept drifting away like smoke, but the feeling of Noor—of her presence, of the way she had anchored him—remained.

She's always been here, he thought, leaning his head back against the seat, eyes closed. Even if I don't remember, even if I never fully understand, she's always been here.

The car began to move, and as it sped away from the estate, Sanlang let his mind wander. The roads blurred outside the window, but inside him, a quiet realization grew. No matter how much time had passed, no matter how much he had forgotten, one thing was clear: Noor was tied to him in a way he couldn't explain.

His heart knew her. His heart remembered her. Even if his mind could never catch up.

And that, he thought, was enough.

Noor sat alone in the quiet solitude of her study, the weight of the morning's events pressing down on her. The room, with its walls lined with books and soft lighting casting gentle shadows, felt like the only place where she could momentarily escape the swirl of emotions threatening to overwhelm her. She had always found peace in the quiet corners of her home, in the stillness that allowed her mind to settle.

The door to the study creaked open, and Heath entered, his usual composed demeanor only slightly disrupted by the faint trace of a smile. He stepped forward with a careful, measured grace, a hint of familiarity in his gaze.

"Good day, Madame," he greeted softly, his voice warm but formal. "I trust you've had a restful morning?"

Noor didn't immediately look up, her fingers tracing the edge of a book she hadn't opened in weeks. "Restful enough," she replied, her tone neutral, betraying nothing of the quiet turmoil within. "But I doubt you came in here to inquire about my morning."

Heath chuckled under his breath, a sound that held a note of knowing. "True. Though I did want to wish you a belated happy birthday." He stepped closer, lowering his voice just enough to convey the weight of his words. "I know you prefer silence on that day, but I couldn't let it pass without saying it."

Noor's gaze flicked up to meet his. It was a rare occasion that Heath showed any true affection for her—he was always the professional, the quiet confidant who carried out her wishes without question. But he had always been the one person who understood her in a way few others did.

Her lips curled into a faint smile, one that barely touched her eyes. "You're the only one who knows, Heath."

"It's hard to forget someone who rarely lets anyone in," he replied, his voice soft but carrying an undeniable depth of emotion. "I know you're not one for celebrations, but even the strongest of us need reminders that we're still alive."

Noor nodded, her fingers still tracing the book, her thoughts drifting. "I don't need reminders. I carry my burdens, my pain, every day. It's enough."

Heath, watching her intently, took a step closer. "I understand," he said quietly. "But even those of us who carry the heaviest weights sometimes need someone to lift them, if only for a moment."

Noor's expression didn't change, but there was a subtle flicker of something deeper in her eyes. "You always know what to say, Heath. But you also know why I don't allow anyone to help."

A long silence stretched between them before Heath finally spoke again. "I know," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "But you also know what I'm about to say."

Noor looked up at him, the flicker of emotion turning into something more. "You brought him here. Sanlang. I know you did."

Heath's gaze softened slightly, but there was no hesitation in his voice. "Yes, I did. You knew where to bring him, didn't you?"

Noor's jaw tightened as her fingers stopped their restless movement over the book. She knew exactly what Heath was referring to, but hearing him say it aloud made her feel exposed in a way she wasn't ready to admit. "I couldn't let him suffer any longer," she said, her voice quiet, almost lost in the weight of her own words.

Heath nodded, a brief flicker of understanding passing through his eyes. "Only your presence, your scene, could placate his pain. You are the only one who has the power to calm him, to bring him peace, even if it's just for a moment."

A flicker of something—vulnerability, perhaps—crossed Noor's face before it was carefully concealed. She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "I didn't want to get involved again."

"But you did," Heath replied, his voice gentle but unyielding. "And I think, in his own way, he already knows he's not alone anymore. Not with you."

The silence that followed was heavy, as if both of them understood the depth of what had just been said, yet neither was ready to fully acknowledge it. Noor turned her attention back to the book in front of her, as if the answer she sought lay within its pages.

"He'll leave soon enough," she said, her voice distant. " Just as he always does."

Heath didn't respond immediately. He simply stood there, waiting for her to look at him again. When she finally did, there was a flicker of something unspoken in her eyes, something she couldn't—or wouldn't—let go of.

"Maybe," Heath said softly, "but maybe not."

Noor didn't answer. She simply allowed the silence to stretch between them, her thoughts a tangled web of emotions that she could never fully untangle. She had made a choice, one that she knew would have consequences, but in that moment, with Heath's quiet presence beside her, she allowed herself the smallest measure of peace.

For once, she let herself believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.