Secret reward

"Come to me, baby," Chak said softly, arms outstretched.

I didn't hesitate. I jump into his embrace, letting his arms wrap around me like a protective shield. Without warning, he lifted me effortlessly, and for a brief second, I forgot everything my doubts, my worries, the world.

He carried me to the couch and gently lowered me onto the cushions. Then he sat beside me and began stroking my hair, each movement slow and deliberate. His fingers wove through the strands with care, like he was reminding me I was safe.

"You couldn't help but eavesdrop, could you?" he teased, voice low and amused.

I smiled sheepishly.

"Mhm… I didn't mean to. I just wanted to warn you about my phone," I lied.

That wasn't the whole truth. I wanted to hear what are they talking about. I wanted to feel close to him even if only from behind a wall.

"You lied to Vikran to protect us ?" I asked, my tone is shaking.

I looked him in to eyes and smirked.

"So… will I be fired if I admit I'm in love with you?" I teased.

His lips curled slightly.

"If you say it now, within one minute, you get a reward. If not, you'll be punished. Time's ticking."

I leaned in slowly, our faces just inches apart.

"I love you, Chak."

"That was quick," he chuckled and pulled me closer.

I let my fingers trace his features~his eyes, his nose, his lips. When I reached his mouth, he parted his lips slightly and kissed the tip of my finger. That one kiss sent a thrill through my entire body.

"What's my reward?" I asked, curious and breathless.

"Me. And… you can sleep in my room again," he said, smiling.

"I couldn't wish for anything better," I said with a grin.

Then my eyes drifted toward the kitchen. Piles of dirty dishes waited for us like silent witnesses of our shared evening. I sighed.

"I'd like to stay with you, but the dishes won't clean themselves…"

I stood up and headed to the kitchen. I began unloading the clean plates from the dishwasher when Chak appeared beside me.

"Let me help."

"It's okay, I'll do it," I said.

"I'll help," he insisted.

And I let him. Because as much as I said I could do it alone, the truth was I didn't want to. Together, we finished quickly. When we were done, I took his hand and smiled.

"Now it's time for your reward I whispered to his ears.

We go to my art room, my heart pounding. This wasn't just about art it was something more. A silent confession. A way to show him how deeply I saw him.

I opened the door and stepped inside, offering him a chair without a backrest. He sat down, a puzzled look on his face.

"What are we doing?" he asked.

"You'll see."

I looked at him. His white shirt clung softly to his back, the fabric outlining the faint shapes beneath. I'd seen the tattoo twice , but I remembered it vividly. Sharp lines, subtle curves—a symbol of something strong and hidden, just like him. But still I don't know why he has eagle tattoo.

"I want to draw your tattoo," I whispered.

Chak started opening his shirt.

You don't need opening your shirt. I said.

How then you draw. He raised an eyebrow. "Through my shirt?"

I nodded.

"I want to capture it… without exposing it. Like how you are. Always there, always real but not fully revealed."

He didn't speak. He just watched me with a softness I rarely saw. Then he turned around, giving me his back. Trusting me.

I took the water sprayer and lightly misted the back of his shirt. The fabric clung to his skin, revealing the full shape of the tattoo underneath. My breath caught in my throat.

It was beautiful. Mysterious. Powerful.

I picked up a pencil and began tracing the shape of the tattoo through the damp fabric. I worked slowly, letting my fingers follow every line with precision and care.

My hand moved on its own, almost in sync with the quiet rhythm of his breathing. Every curve and edge told a story. I imagined what it meant to him.

Once the pencil outline was done, I took a fine black marker and carefully went over each line. The fabric trembled under my hand, but Chak didn't move. He stayed still, letting me trace his eagle tattoo through the fabric something I had never done before

Then I dipped my brush into the textile paint. I chose muted tones deep blue, ash gray, a touch of crimson. I painted over the lines delicately, letting the color blend into the folds of the shirt.

As the color soaked in, the tattoo came to life. Not in bold contrast, but in quiet depth like a secret tension between us.

I lost track of time. It was just me, him, and the artwork between us.

When I finished, I stepped back and admired the soft shadow of the tattoo painted through his shirt. It was no longer just an image it was a memory now. Our moment.

He turned slightly, trying to catch a glimpse.

"Can I see it?"

I gently guided him to a mirror. He stared at his reflection, lips slightly parted.

"You painted it… through the fabric," he said softly.

"I wanted to show the version of you that the world doesn't always get to see."

He turned to me, his eyes shining.

"No one's ever done something like this for me."

I swallowed the lump in my throat.

"You deserve to be seen, Chak. Even the parts you keep hidden."

He took a step toward me, cupped my face, and pressed his forehead to mine.

"And you're the only one who's ever made me want to be seen."

We stayed there, breath mingling, silence speaking louder than words. His shirt still damp, his back warm through the paint, and his heart finally open, if only for me.