You're a good kisser, Leyla

Ozan smirked as he pulled away, his fingers brushing against Leyla's lips. His other hand lifted, revealing the ring—the same one she had been desperate to get back.

"You're full of surprises, Leyla," he murmured, twirling the ring between his fingers before finally pressing it into her palm. "And I must say… you're a much better kisser than I expected."

Leyla's fingers curled tightly around the ring, her jaw clenching. Anger bubbled inside her, but she refused to let it show.

Ozan chuckled at her silence, clearly amused. He stood up, straightening his shirt as he made his way to the door. "I'll see you soon, Leyla İskender," he said smoothly, as if promising this wasn't over. Then, without another word, he walked out, leaving Leyla sitting on her bed—ring in hand, heart pounding, and fury burning in her veins.

She had won. But why did it still feel like Ozan had the upper hand?