Chapter 76: Silent Tides

Sanlang paced around his penthouse, restless. Hours had slipped by with nothing but the hum of the city outside, and the silent, mocking glare of his phone. No call. No text. The emptiness gnawed at him.

And then—finally—the doorbell rang.

With a breath that bordered on desperation, Sanlang rushed to the door, looking as if he had been starved of a meal for days. He opened it—

Only to be greeted by Ian.

"Look at this," Ian drawled, taking in Sanlang's disheveled state with a smirk. "The prodigal son, in the flesh. What's this? Personal crisis? You look like you've been ghosted."

Sanlang, visibly trying to keep his cool, didn't respond immediately. Ian breezed past him and sprawled across the couch like it was his own home.

"You seem a little too comfortable," Sanlang bit out, his patience thinning. "If you're done making yourself at home, I'll be in the other room."

Ian, however, didn't take the hint. "What's with the penthouse, then? I was expecting something a little more… lavish. The rumors don't do this place justice." He threw himself back into the cushions, eyes scanning the room, then smirked. "Where's the decadence? The gold-plated everything?"

Sanlang barely resisted the urge to snap. "If you're finished inspecting my 'luxury,' I have things to do."

Ian waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, please. We're not done. So, tell me, what's really going on? The city's been buzzing. Some say you're joining a cult. Others say you've gone off the deep end over a certain woman. Care to confirm ?"

Sanlang's jaw clenched. "I've just been 're-evaluating' things," he said coldly, trying to mask the stirrings of a deeper unrest. "Money, fame... none of it came with a damn manual."

Ian leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "Ah, so it's a woman, huh? She's either too perfect and you're terrified of ruining it, or she's out of reach, making you spin in circles like a dog chasing its tail."

Sanlang's nostrils flared, and his voice dropped an octave, dangerously low. "You think you know me, Ian? Or are you just here to play the 'life consultant'?"

Ian raised an eyebrow, not backing down. "I know you, alright. You'll avoid facing it. You'll throw some parties, fake a smile, and pretend you're too busy to deal with it."

Sanlang's tone was sharp, cutting through the tension. "I think you're done now, Ian."

Ian, clearly amused, leaned back and stretched. "Yeah, I'm done. Unless you need me to map out your next step to screw things up."

Sanlang let out a low laugh, his patience finally cracking. "You're right. I'm great at messing things up. Especially with her."

Ian's eyes widened in surprise. "No way... You actually admitted it?"

Sanlang's eyes flashed dangerously as he took a step forward, his voice dropping to an almost dangerous whisper. "Is that enough of a show for you, or do you want me to give you a full performance?"

Ian's hands shot up in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I'll let you ruin your life in peace."

But just as the words settled, Sanlang's phone buzzed. He grabbed it like a lifeline, almost too eagerly, and his heart raced at the message that appeared on the screen: "I'm free now. Meet me at the usual place."

A smile tugged at his lips, genuine and soft for the first time in hours. "Holy shit," Ian muttered, leaning over to peek at the phone. "Look at you. You're practically trembling."

Sanlang barely noticed Ian's words. He was already halfway out the door. "I have to go," he muttered, his entire demeanor shifting from cold, distant superstar to someone desperate to claim what he desired.

Ian chuckled behind him. "Go on, Prince Charming. Don't keep her waiting."

______

Sanlang stepped into the riverside café, irritation flashing through him the moment his eyes landed on Yilan. There she was, sitting and grinning like she knew she had him on the hook. He was supposed to be with Noor. And yet, here he was, dragged into another one of Yilan's mind games.

Her laughter reached him before she did, and as she saw him, her grin widened. "Sanlang! Finally! Thought you'd ditch me like last time," she chirped, leaping into his arms as though this was a scene in some rom-com. The sweet, overwhelming scent of her perfume almost made him gag.

Sanlang didn't return her enthusiasm, forcing a tight smile. "I'm here now. Let's keep it simple."

Yilan, as usual, didn't take the hint. "Oh, perfect! Let's sit," she cooed, draping herself all over him.

But it wasn't Yilan's touch that made his chest tighten. No, it was the woman standing at the door, her figure commanding the room without a single word. Zeyla. The woman he hadn't expected to see today, not when his mind was still racing with thoughts of Noor.

Before Sanlang could even greet her, Yilan's voice broke through, high-pitched and possessive. "Oh, hey, you're admiring him too?" She purred, her gaze turning sharp as she caught the way Sanlang's attention had latched onto Zeyla.

Yilan placed herself firmly between them. "Sanlang's mine," she cooed, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness. "We've been together for ages, haven't we, darling?" Her hand slid possessively down his arm, the smirk on her face growing with every second.

Sanlang opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Zeyla's eyes met his. And that's when the air between them crackled—charged, heavy, almost suffocating. Sanlang's heart beat in a double time as he tried to keep his cool.

Yilan, oblivious to the tension, kept on. "Don't worry, darling, he's all mine tonight."

But Zeyla, with a simple look that could freeze hell over, turned and walked away without a single word.

Yilan, of course, wasn't about to let her off so easily. "Oh, no! You're not leaving that easily!" she called after her, but it was too late. Zeyla was already gone, leaving nothing behind but an echo of her silent, unshakable presence.

Sanlang's thoughts were a whirlwind. But Yilan, still grinning, leaned into him. "See? She couldn't even handle you," she said with a laugh, her fingers trailing lightly across his arm. "She's not into you."

Sanlang clenched his jaw, fighting to control the sudden fire that flickered to life inside him. "Don't you have someone else to harass?"

Before he could continue, Yilan's attention shifted again, and she pointed to a woman sitting a few tables away. "And here's Leyla. She's perfect for you."

Leyla stood and made her way over with a slow, predatory smile. "Sanlang," she cooed, her voice like silk. "I've seen you around. Quite the star, aren't you?" She leaned in just a touch closer, her breath warm against his ear. "You're even more handsome in person."

Sanlang stiffened but tried not to show it. "Tell me, do you always look this intense?" she teased, her fingers brushing lightly over his wrist. "Maybe we should make this evening a little more interesting?"

His pulse raced, the irritation still there, but now something darker flickered under his skin. He was hardly listening to her words. His mind? It was already elsewhere. With someone else.

The café hummed with quiet chatter — until the low roar of engines shattered it. A black fleet of Mercedes glided up, their imposing forms catching the last glimmers of streetlight. Conversations faltered. Eyes darted. Everyone knew someone important was here.

Maya stepped out first, the embodiment of control. But it was Noor who commanded the room. She stepped out of the car, her silk dress catching the wind, an ethereal figure cut from another world. The air seemed to thicken. The café went silent, as though everyone collectively held their breath.

Noor's eyes flicked toward Maya. "Are the papers ready?"

Maya, unfazed, nodded. "Everything's set. The owner's waiting."

Noor barely acknowledged her, gliding forward, her presence like a force of nature. As she moved past, her eyes met Sanlang's, and for an instant, time seemed to stop. His heart slammed against his ribs. She was here. Here, of all places.

The café owner rushed to meet them, her hands trembling. "Ms. Noor, it's an honor. Everything's prepared for_____."

Noor didn't even look at her. She tilted her head slightly, and her voice, low and measured, sliced through the silence. "Close it."

The owner quickly stepped forward, trembling slightly as she addressed the patrons. "I—I'm afraid we have to close early tonight," she stammered. "If everyone could please gather their things and head out, we're… closing for a private event."

Yilan's voice broke the stillness. "Bold move," she muttered to Sanlang. "Seems like she bought the whole place."

Before he could respond, Maya raised her hand. "Not you," she said, her voice firm, cutting through the murmurs. "Ms. Noor has business with him."

Yilan blinked. "What business?"

Yilan, completely unaware of Noor's identity, leaned over to Sanlang and smirked. "Looks like royalty is gracing us tonight. Do you know her?" she teased.

Sanlang swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure.

Noor stepped inside the café, her gaze briefly flicking toward Sanlang's direction before focusing back on the owner.

There were murmurs of confusion, but no one dared to argue. One by one, people began to rise from their seats, collecting their belongings, sensing that something far beyond their understanding was happening.

Sanlang stepped closer, his heart hammering in his chest. "How could I stay away," his voice low, almost hesitant. He paused, taking a breath to steady himself. "Not when you're here. Not when…"

Noor's eyes finally turned to meet his, cool and unreadable. Her gaze flickered across him, taking in his every movement.

"I can't walk away," his voice barely a whisper.