Steamy Shower

Later that evening, they sat around the round glass dining table, half-eaten noodles forgotten as silence stretched between them like a taut wire ready to snap.

Malik sighed, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "Listen, Neve… you can't stay here. You have to leave South Korea. There's no life for you here anymore. You're… compromised."

Zina's eyes flashed dangerously, her pink curls falling over her face as she leaned forward. "No. Fuck you, Malik. This is my life. My job, my identity, my apartment… everything is here."

He clenched his jaw, trying to stay calm. "Your apartment's gone. Your job will get you killed. You have no identity anymore because everyone thinks you're dead. You can't stay."

She slammed her palms against the table, rattling the plates. "Don't fucking tell me what to do with my life! I built this from scratch, Malik! I clawed my way up here alone after losing you, and now you just come back and— and—" Her voice cracked, tears blurring her ruby eyes. "You just come back and try to take it all away again."

He shook his head, golden eyes narrowing with frustration. "I'm not trying to take anything away. I'm trying to protect you. If my boss finds out you're alive, he'll kill you, Neve. He'll torture you first and make me watch. You don't understand what you're dealing with."

Her chair screeched loudly as she pushed it back and stormed away down the glass hallway. "Fuck you, Malik," she spat over her shoulder before slamming her door shut.

Silence settled like ash.

Malik pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing circles into his aching skull. His shoulder throbbed under the fresh bandage, and exhaustion pooled deep in his bones.

"Damn it…" he whispered.

Across the table, Hana sipped her tea calmly, legs crossed under her oversized sweater. She'd been silent all through the argument, observing with sharp, cat-like eyes. Finally, she set her cup down and tilted her head at him.

"You need to calm down with her, Malik."

He looked up sharply, frowning. "What?"

"She's just… lost everything," Hana said softly, shrugging. "Her life. Her name. Her home. Her job. Everything she built is gone overnight. You could at least be a little nice about it. It's not easy."

His gaze dropped to his hands, curling into fists. "I know," he said quietly. "But… I'm doing this because I want to protect her. If she stays… she'll die. My boss… he'll kill her. He'll torture her first and make me watch. That's… that's my worst nightmare. That's why I stayed away all these years. To keep her safe. And now…" His voice cracked for half a second. "Now it's all coming true."

Hana watched him, her dark eyes softening as realization dawned. She rested her chin on her palm and asked quietly, "Do you love her?"

"Yes," he said immediately, without hesitation. The rawness in his voice surprised even him.

Her brows rose. "Let me rephrase that. Are you in love with her, Malik?"

He inhaled shakily, closing his eyes as he nodded. "Yes. I've always been. From the first day I saw her. She was… different. She was light. Even when we were kids, I'd imagined marrying her someday. Living in a quiet house with dogs and kids running around. I promised myself I'd take care of her forever… I'm in trouble, Hana, at this point.... I'd die for her."

Hana blinked, stunned. Then she leaned back with a teasing smirk. "So… you want to fuck her."

He frowned deeply, eyes narrowing in annoyance. "Well… that's a plus in love, isn't it?" he muttered. "But… I can't do that without her permission. And I'm sure she hates me now."

Hana chuckled softly. "No, you idiot. She doesn't hate you. She loves you too. She's in love with you."

His eyes widened, golden irises glowing under the kitchen lights. "What…?"

Hana nodded, her smile sad and fond. "She's never fully dated anyone before, you know? She's been hung up on you all these years. If she went on a date, she never went on a second one. Many guys have tried, but she never gave in. She doesn't even realize how much she loves you. But I know. She wants you, Malik. But she's conflicted."

He stared at her, stunned silent.

Hana smirked teasingly, flicking his forehead. "You two would make a good couple, though. Both intense, dark, chaotic gremlins. Very hot."

He shook his head slowly, his chest tightening painfully. "I… I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," Hana replied softly, standing and stretching her arms over her head. "Just give her time. Let her cool off. She'll come to you herself. You both need that talk… and you both deserve each other."

She left him alone in the dim kitchen, the lights flickering faintly against his golden eyes as he sat there, thinking of the girl with bubblegum pink hair who'd always been his entire world… and wondering if he'd ever be worthy of hers again.

†††† †††† †††† †††† †††† ††††

Zina slammed the door behind her, hard enough to rattle the art frames still clinging to the glass hallway walls. Her heart thudded violently in her chest, her breath coming in short, furious bursts.

How dare he.

How fucking dare he.

"Leave South Korea," he'd said. "There's no life for you here."

The words echoed in her head, slashing through her like jagged knives.

This is my life.

My city. My identity. My job. My bloody name.

He had no right to come back after six years of nothing—no calls, no letters, no body, no bones, no closure—and suddenly try to dictate her future like he never left.

She stormed across the room and ripped open her bag, grabbing a towel with shaking hands.

Her fingers grazed the necklace she wore—his old dog tag, long tucked beneath her shirt like a shameful secret. She yanked it off and tossed it onto the nightstand, chest heaving.

"Stupid Malik," she muttered under her breath. "Stupid muscles. Stupid... golden eyes... stupid fucking cheekbones—"

Her voice cracked.

Zina blinked fast, shaking her head. No. She wouldn't cry. Not again.

She grabbed her towel and marched into the sleek en-suite bathroom, steam already curling from the modern shower's rain head as she turned the tap on full blast.

The water thundered down around her, scorching hot, but it couldn't burn away the ache that had settled in her chest.

She leaned her forehead against the slick glass wall, water dripping down her back in rivulets.

Six years.

Six years since the boy she loved had vanished without a trace.

Six years since she cried herself to sleep every night whispering his name into a pillow.

Six years of pretending to move on.

And now, here he was—alive. Broader. Darker. Covered in scars and sadness. Golden-eyed and heartbreakingly beautiful, like a fever dream that stepped off the edge of her nightmares.

She clenched her fists against the wall.

He looked so different now—older, harder, his once-soft frame now carved with lean muscle, veined forearms twitching with restrained fury whenever he clenched his jaw.

God, those arms.....the face....

The way his voice dropped when he said her name. The way his eyes—those fucking eyes—burned when he looked at her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip.

Why do you still affect me like this?

Her fingers, almost against her will, slid lower, trailing across the wet curve of her stomach. She let out a soft gasp as she brushed the sensitive skin just above her thigh.

Stop.

But her hips bucked slightly as her body heated with every remembered image of him— That look he gave her in her room the other day, when he she helped him with his injury. The way he said her name like a prayer and a curse.

Her breath hitched as her fingers slipped lower still.

And then—

She stopped.

Her eyes flew open.

What the hell was she doing?

She yanked her hand back like she'd been burned, chest heaving in shock.

Zina. Get a grip. This is not a fanfiction. This is real life and you're… you're losing it.

Face burning, she turned off the shower and stepped out into the cold air, her heart still racing.

She padded back to her room, towel clutched tightly around her. She opened her bag again and reached for her spare clothes… only to freeze.

"What the hell…"

Her packed clothes were soaked through—all of them. Her water bottle had burst open during the ride, drenching everything inside. Jeans. Bras. Underwear. Even the backup hoodie.

"No no no no," she muttered, lifting a dripping black tank top with two fingers. "This has to be a joke."

Zina stared down at the soggy mess like it had personally betrayed her.

I can't wear this... Not unless I want to look like a wet dog with a wedgie.

She glanced at the clock. 1:07 a.m.

Biting her lip, she made a choice. A sneaky, shameful, desperate choice.