Chapter 8:The Morning After, With Extra Chaosd

Sunlight filtered through the giant windows of Zayan Khan's penthouse apartment. The minimalist black-and-white decor looked like a page out of a luxury magazine—immaculate, sharp romantic, and emotionless.

Except today, one thing was very out of place.

Andaleeb Shah.

Snuggled up like a sleepy cat under the satin blanket, half her body tangled with Zayan's. Her head rested gently on his arm, and his hand—somehow, impossibly—lay across her back in a surprisingly soft, almost protective hug.

The room was still. Peaceful. Romantic.

Until—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The alarm exploded like a siren in a warzone.

Zayan's eyes fluttered open groggily. He hugged the warm softness beside him again, mistaking it for a pillow.

And then the realization hit.

His eyes flew open.

"WHAT THE—!?"

His voice echoed through the penthouse like a thunderclap.

Andaleeb jolted upright, the blanket flying off as she sat up, her hair a wild mess in all directions. She blinked furiously like a confused baby owl.

"Are we under attack?! Where's the fire?!" she yelped.

Zayan sat up and pointed at her like she was some kind of intruder.

"What. Are. You. Doing. In. My. Bed?!"

She blinked. Then blinked again, slower this time. "You're asking me? You made me read you a bedtime story, clung to my arm like a lost teddy bear, and cried like a baby about how no one celebrates your birthday!"

His jaw dropped. Then closed. Then opened again.

"Ahh—shut your mouth!" she snapped, waving her hand like he was a buzzing mosquito.

"I was drunk! That didn't happen!" he shot back.

"Oh, it happened, Mr. Heartless," she said, folding her arms. "You told me about your lonely childhood. You made me sit on the sofa, then dragged me to your bed and lay in my lap like a three-year-old. You even cried when I said I had to leave."You hugged me forcefully.

Zayan looked like someone had sucker-punched the air out of him.

She stood up, brushing her tangled hair with her fingers. "Also, you hugged me. Twice. And you snored, loudly."

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "This is a disaster."

She smirked. "Don't worry. I'll keep your cute bedtime meltdown a secret."

He narrowed his eyes. "If you say one word about this at the office—"

"Then what? You'll fire me for cuddling with the CEO?" she teased, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

His glare could have melted steel.

She dramatically placed a hand on her stomach. "Ugh. I'm starving. If I die of hunger, I'm haunting you."

Behave yourself Miss shah!

This sentence don't suit you after the what happened previous night:she said

---

🍳 Breakfast of Champions (and Chaos)

Zayan stormed into the kitchen, still fuming and still red-faced. Andaleeb followed behind, hopping onto one of the sleek black stools like she owned the place.

"I'm so hungry I could eat your expensive Italian plates,and drink tea" she announced.

"Do I look like your personal chef?"

"You did say you're perfect at everything. Including cooking."

He muttered something under his breath but pulled out ingredients anyway. Within minutes, the penthouse was filled with the rich aroma of toasted bread and sizzling cheese.

He slid a plate toward her—a perfectly toasted sandwich, sliced into triangles.

And make a cup of tea for her and black coffee for him

She took a bite and gasped. "Whoa. Mr. Heartless has golden hands. This is delicious!"

Zayan ignored her, sipping his black coffee.

"You should quit being a CEO and open a sandwich shop," she added with a grin. "I'd visit every day."

"You'd be banned on day one," he said coldly.

---

⏰ Morning Banter & Return to Reality

As she got ready to leave, Zayan walked toward her, holding out a sleek protein bar.

"For lunch," he said. "You always skip meals."

She stared at him. "Wow. Mr. Heartless noticing my eating habits? Should I cry again?"

"You always cry. Loudly. And dramatically."

"Only when working under emotionally constipated CEOs."

He opened the door for her. "You're late. Again."

"It's your fault!" she said. "You kidnapped me for a bedtime story!"

He smirked—the tiniest twitch of his lips.

She gasped, eyes wide. "That was a smile. A real one. Someone alert the media. Mr. Heartless cracked."

He shook his head. "Out."

She giggled all the way to the elevator.

"I'm going," she said over her shoulder. "But your habit is becoming mine!"

He rolled his eyes. "Still taunting me... Ahh, Miss Disaster."

She made a mock angry face. "Still calling me names, huh? I liked 'Miss Sunshine' better."

Can we go to work now Miss Disaster

---

🛸 Meanwhile, at Zareen's Café…

Eman sat in the cozy pink room, combing her short hair while scanning holographic data on her secret alien device.

"Emotional Log Entry 7," she said to herself. "'Zayan cried like a space infant.' Noted."

The door burst open.

"EMAN!" Andaleeb rushed in, breathless. "You won't believe what happened—"

"Let me guess. Human birthday. Human sadness. You got emotionally hijacked. Again."

Andaleeb froze. "Okay, that's freaky. Stop reading my brain!"

"I don't read vibes. I read patterns. Now spill it."

Andaleeb dropped her bag and paced around, narrating the entire saga—Zayan's emotional breakdown, the bedtime story, the cuddling, the sandwich and tea...

Eman listened, her expression softening. "He's not as cold as he pretends to be."

"He's really not," Andaleeb mumbled. "He shows the world he's strong—cold as ice—but he's just… broken. He needs someone."

Eman's eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you okay?"

"What?"

"You're thinking about him. A lot. You hate him, right? So what's bothering you?"

"I don't care!" Andaleeb snapped. "Why would I care? He always makes me angry. Good for him. He deserves it."

Eman tilted her head. "Are you sure?"

"100% sure"

---

🛰️ Far Above Earth...

In orbit, the alien satellite blinked again.

"Emotion surge detected."

"Subject: Andaleeb-01."

"Human exposure at 48%."

Another ping pulsed across space. Dangerously close to the threshold.

And yet, Andaleeb didn't even notice.

She was too busy staring at the ceiling, her heart quietly betraying her.