Chapter 70: Entwined Echoes

The gala was a spectacle of wealth and influence, chandeliers casting golden halos over silk-draped tables, laughter ringing out in delicate notes that never quite reached the eyes of those who laughed.

Noor moved through the grand hall like a celestial being, untouched by the noise and opulence surrounding her. The air shimmered around her as if the world itself hesitated before daring to touch her.

She was dressed in white—pure, unblemished, yet commanding. The silk of her gown clung to her form with reverence rather than boldness, flowing like liquid moonlight with every step. She wore no jewelry, needed no embellishment. Her presence was enough to steal the breath of anyone who looked her way.

Men whispered. Women watched. Yet, Noor remained indifferent, a queen who reigned over an empire of solitude.

At her side stood an elderly philanthropist, Lord Delavaux, his voice thick with age yet still carrying the weight of influence.

Lord Delavaux: (smiling warmly) "Lady Noor, it never ceases to amaze me how much you do for those in need. And yet, you never ask for recognition."

Noor: (her voice smooth as silk) "Recognition does not feed the hungry, nor does it heal the broken."

Her words, calm and measured, sent ripples through the gathered crowd. Some murmured admiration. Others, discomfort. Noor was known for her directness, her refusal to engage in false pleasantries.

Among those watching, a man chuckled softly.

Maya, standing a few feet away, leaned toward Zeyla, her lips twitching in amusement.

Maya: (murmuring) "There she goes again, making billionaires feel like they should be groveling at her feet."

Zeyla: (dryly) "Maybe they should."

Meanwhile, across the hall, Sanlang was drowning in admiration.

He was surrounded by women—beautiful, sophisticated, each vying for a second of his attention. Dressed in a midnight-black suit tailored to perfection, he looked every inch the star he was. His blonde hair, effortlessly tousled, framed a face so striking that it bordered on cruel to those who beheld it.

They called his name, their eyes filled with longing.

Sophie: (laughing, touching his arm) "Sanlang, tell me, how does it feel to have every woman in this room sighing over you?"

Sanlang: (smirking, taking a sip of his drink) "I wouldn't know. I haven't noticed."

The laughter that followed was light, playful. But his words were true. He wasn't paying attention to them. Not truly.

Because his eyes had already found Noor.

Across the room, standing untouched by the chaos, she was a vision—graceful, untouchable. She wasn't looking at him, wasn't even aware of his gaze. But it didn't matter.

She was the only woman in the room.

His chest tightened. The attention suffocated him. The perfume, the laughter, the endless flirtations—it all blurred into noise.

Sanlang set down his drink.

Sanlang: (quietly) "Excuse me."

And he walked away, leaving his admirers blinking in surprise.

Sanlang was gone.

One moment, he had been the center of a dazzling crowd, flashing that effortless, devastating smile, indulging the endless flow of compliments. And the next—he had vanished.

Which left Ms. Li, his overworked and underpaid personal assistant, standing in the middle of the ballroom, trying to fend off a growing crowd of women who were treating his disappearance like an actual national emergency.

For the past five minutes, she had been dealing with very important individuals—heiresses, business moguls' daughters, and trust fund socialites—who were all convinced that their one true love had just been stolen from them.

Ms. Li: (muttering while checking her phone) "For the love of—this man better be having an existential crisis and not just admiring the moon."

Before she could try calling him again, someone cleared their throat.

She turned to find Celeste Lang, the only daughter of a multi-billionaire tech tycoon, standing there in a designer gown that probably cost more than Ms. Li's entire yearly salary.

Celeste Lang: (coolly) "Miss Li, you work for Sanlang, do you not?"

Ms. Li: (deadpan) "What gave it away? The stressed-out expression or the fact that I'm the only one not trying to marry him?"

Celeste ignored the sarcasm.

Celeste: "Where is he?"

Before Ms. Li could lie—or throw herself out a window—another voice cut in.

Vivian Cho, social media influencer and daughter of an oil empire, tossed her perfectly curled hair over her shoulder.

Vivian Cho: "He was just here, flirting with me." (pauses, dramatically) "And now, he's gone."

Ms. Li blinked.

Ms. Li: "Oh. So this is a missing persons case now? Should I call the authorities?"

Celeste: (completely serious) "It wouldn't be the worst idea."

Ms. Li sighed and resisted the urge to scream into the nearest champagne flute.

Before she could escape, yet another woman approached—Serena Luo, hotel heiress, dressed in designer perfection, wearing an expression of pure entitlement.

Serena Luo: "If Sanlang left, it's only because someone took him."

The group went silent.

Then—

Vivian: (gasping) "You don't think..."

Ms. Li was so done.

Ms. Li: "Oh, wow. A grown man walked away on his own free will? Impossible. Clearly, it must be kidnapping."

The women ignored her sarcasm, already spiraling into theories.

Vivian: "I knew there was something between them. He never looks at anyone like he looks at her."

Serena: "And she just sits there like she owns the world. No jewelry, no designer logos, and still—everybody stares at her."

Celeste: "Maybe she's doing some witchcraft or something."

Ms. Li wanted to correct them. But also... Noor was kind of unreal.

Before things could escalate further, a voice spoke from behind them.

Maya: "This is the best thing I've ever witnessed."

Ms. Li turned to find Maya and Zeyla standing there, both watching the chaos unfold with way too much amusement.

Ms. Li: (flatly) "Oh, fantastic. You two."

Maya: (grinning) "That's a lot of joy in your voice. You missed us, didn't you?"

Ms. Li: "Like I miss food poisoning."

Zeyla: (sipping champagne) "You're stressed."

Ms. Li: "Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. What gave it away?"

Maya: "The fact that you look like you want to throw your phone at someone's head."

Ms. Li: (grumbling) "Because I do."

Zeyla: "Well, don't look at us. We didn't take your prince charming."

Ms. Li: (pointing toward the gossiping women) "Tell them that."

Maya glanced over at the group still whispering Noor's name like she was some elusive goddess who had ruined their lives.

She smirked.

Maya: (whispering to Zeyla) "You know what would make this even better?"

Zeyla: "If we went to go watch whatever's happening?"

Maya: "Exactly."

Without another word, they turned and walked toward the garden.

Ms. Li groaned, running a hand over her face.

Ms. Li: "You two are menaces."

Maya: (cheerfully) "Thank you!"

And just like that, the trio made their way outside—where Sanlang and Noor stood beneath the moonlight, wrapped in a moment that would either shatter them or pull them closer than ever before.

---

The air outside was nothing like the stifling, perfume-laden heat of the gala. It was crisp, quiet—woven with the scent of night jasmine and something else, something untouched.

Sanlang exhaled.

Away from the flashing cameras, the murmured admiration, the unrelenting weight of being Sanlang, he could finally breathe.

Or at least, he should have been able to.

Because across the garden, sitting by the marble fountain, was the reason his chest was still tight.

Noor.

Dressed in a white gown that shimmered like stardust under the moonlight, she sat with a grace that was too perfect, too effortless to belong to this world. The silk draped over her like it had been designed for her, flowing as if even fabric itself knew it wasn't worthy of clinging to her skin.

She wasn't doing anything.

Not looking at him. Not acknowledging him.

And that was enough to ruin him.

Sanlang had been surrounded by beauty all his life. Adored. Worshipped. But this?

He walked toward her before he could think better of it.

Noor didn't turn, but he knew she was aware of him. She was always aware of everything.

Still, she let him break the silence first.

Sanlang: (low, measured) "You seem at peace here."

Noor finally moved—just slightly. Her fingers brushed against the stone ledge of the fountain, tracing its smooth surface.

Noor: (calmly) "Peace is borrowed. It doesn't belong to me. But I take it where I can."

Sanlang exhaled, tilting his head back toward the sky.

Sanlang: "I understand that more than you think."

For a moment, there was only the sound of the water gently spilling over the edge of the fountain, rippling into the moon's reflection.

Then—

Sanlang: (quietly) "This place reminds me of something. Or someone."

Noor's gaze remained on the water.

Noor: "Does it?"

Sanlang flinched. It was a question he didn't have an answer for.

Sanlang: (frustrated) "I don't know. But the feeling is there. It's like a shadow I can't step out of."

Noor's fingers curled in her lap, but her voice remained neutral.

Noor: "Perhaps the past is kinder that way."

Sanlang turned to her sharply, his dark eyes burning.

Sanlang: "Do you really believe that?"

This time, Noor did look at him. And that was almost worse than her silence.

Because her gaze was steady. Unshaken. Like she had already accepted something that he was still struggling to understand.

Noor: (softly) "I have to."

And that was the moment.

The moment Sanlang realized—

Noor knew.

She knew something.

Something about the hollow spaces in his mind.

Sanlang's hands clenched at his sides.

Sanlang: "You're not going to help me, are you?"

Noor's gaze didn't waver.

Noor: "Some things are meant to be found on your own."

Sanlang exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His pulse was hammering. He should walk away. Should leave this before he fell any deeper into whatever this was.

But he didn't.

Instead, he moved closer.

Sanlang: "And what if I don't want to?"

Noor remained perfectly still. But her fingers, barely visible beneath the folds of her gown, tightened ever so slightly.

Noor: (soft, unreadable) "Then that's your burden to bear."

Sanlang let out a slow, bitter laugh.

Sanlang: "You make it sound like I haven't already."

Noor didn't answer.

But she didn't deny it either.

Meanwhile… Watching from the Shadows

Maya, Zeyla, and Ms. Li had zero shame about spying on them from a safe distance.

Ms. Li, who had seen Sanlang charm his way through every situation imaginable, was currently watching him get emotionally obliterated and was absolutely fascinated.

Ms. Li: (whispering) "Are we sure Noor isn't some ancient being sent here to humble men?"

Maya: (grinning) "Oh, she definitely is."

Zeyla: (sipping her drink) "I've never seen him this frustrated. It's kind of beautiful."

They watched as Sanlang ran a hand through his hair, looking like he was about to either confess his undying love or throw himself into the fountain.

Ms. Li: "Oh, wow. He's actually malfunctioning."

Maya: (mock sympathy) "I'd say we should help him, but honestly, this is the best entertainment I've had all night."

Zeyla: (deadpan) "We could throw him a life jacket. Just in case."

Ms. Li had to bite down a laugh as Sanlang finally let out a breath and—against all reason—sat down beside Noor instead of leaving.

Ms. Li: (smirking) "And there it is. He's in too deep."

Maya leaned against the pillar, arms crossed.

Maya: "You know, for a guy who gets worshipped by everyone, it's kind of poetic that the only woman he actually wants doesn't give a damn."

Zeyla nodded, raising her glass in silent agreement.

Zeyla: "To our favorite fool."

Ms. Li & Maya: "To our favorite fool."

They clinked their glasses as the moon shone down on the two figures at the fountain—one hopelessly in love, the other keeping a truth that could break them both.

The night stretched long and silent, wrapping around the two figures by the fountain like a veil. Noor, sitting like an untouchable goddess, and Sanlang, close enough to feel the warmth of her presence yet miles away from ever reaching her.

He had convinced himself this conversation would bring him closer to understanding her.

But all it did was show him how much farther he had to go.

His fingers curled against the stone ledge of the fountain. His mind was spinning. The feeling, the memory, that had been haunting him for months—it was just out of reach.

She knew.

She was sitting there, calm as ever, her gaze resting on the rippling water, giving him answers that weren't really answers at all.

It was infuriating.

Sanlang: (low, frustrated) "I don't get it. Why are you like this?"

Noor finally turned to him, her expression unreadable.

Noor: (quietly) "Like what?"

Sanlang: (tension laced in his voice) "Like you already know the ending to a story I can't even remember."

A pause. A long, heavy pause.

Then Noor tilted her head slightly, studying him, the way one might study a painting too painful to look at for long.

Noor: "Some stories don't need to be remembered to be repeated."

Sanlang's breath caught.

His pulse roared in his ears.

There was something in her voice—something final, like she had already accepted whatever fate had written .

And for the first time, he realized something that nearly sent his entire world crumbling.

Noor wasn't just keeping a secret.

She was protecting him from it.

His chest tightened.

Sanlang: (hoarse) "Did I lost you?"

Noor stilled.

For a second—just a second—something flickered across her face. Pain. Longing. Something she buried just as quickly as it appeared.

Then—

Noor: (soft, steady) "Does it matter?"

Sanlang let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

Sanlang: "It does to me."

Noor turned away.

Noor: "Then perhaps that's the problem."

His jaw clenched.

He had never felt so powerless. So utterly lost.

Sanlang had built his life around being wanted. Admired. He was used to people looking at him with desire, with awe. But Noor—she looked at him like he was something she had already lost.

And he hated it.

Sanlang: (whispering) "I don't want to be a ghost of past."

Noor's fingers twitched in her lap.

For a moment, he thought—hoped—she might finally let something slip.

But then she did what she always did.

She smiled. A sad, quiet thing.

Noor: "Then stop chasing shadows."

Sanlang exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

He had spent his whole life chasing things that felt just out of reach.

And now, he realized—Noor would always be one of them.

---

Meanwhile… The Peanut Gallery Observes

A few feet away, Maya, Zeyla, and Ms. Li were still watching like this was the greatest reality show .

Maya took a sip of her drink, nodding to herself.

Maya: "Yep. He's done for. Someone get a shovel and dig him a grave."

Zeyla hummed in agreement.

Zeyla: "Tragic. He's never going to recover from this."

Ms. Li, who had seen Sanlang effortlessly seduce entire audiences, was struggling to process what she was witnessing.

Ms. Li: "So let me get this straight… Our dear, internationally beloved Sanlang, who could make women faint just by existing, is sitting there getting his soul shattered—"

Maya: "—by a woman who isn't even trying to reject him."

Zeyla: "Iconic."

They clinked glasses.

Ms. Li was so stunned she had to sit down.

Ms. Li: "You know, I was fully prepared to spend my night chasing down fangirls and making sure Sanlang didn't get photographed doing something stupid. I was not prepared for this level of cinematic heartbreak."

Maya smirked.

Maya: "Oh, honey. This is just the beginning."

And the night stretched on, as Sanlang sat there—his heart cracking open in ways he didn't understand —they all knew one thing for certain.

Noor wasn't just anyone to him.

She was the beginning.

And the end.