Whispers in the Mall

It had only been a week since Isabella signed the contract, yet somehow, everything had changed. Not just for her—but for Emily too.

Emily wasn't the type to blend into the background. She didn't do "quiet." She didn't do "calm." Her energy was thunder wrapped in a pink hoodie. And now, thrown into a world of expensive halls, tailored silence, and polished mystery, she found herself tethered—unexpectedly—to Xaren.

Xaren was the complete opposite of her in every way. Where Emily burst into rooms like a firecracker, Xaren slipped in like a shadow. He was tall, striking, unbothered by opinions or presence. He walked like the world belonged to him and yet didn't care enough to notice. People stared when he passed—but he never once looked back.

And for some inexplicable reason, he tolerated Emily.

It had started the day after Isabella's contract was signed. Emily had shown up at the mansion, storming in with her loud voice and louder fashion, complaining about how boring everything was and how no one in that massive house knew how to have fun.

Xaren had been there—leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, quiet as ever.

"You," she'd said, pointing at him. "You look like you haven't smiled since the Stone Age."

"I have no reason to," he'd replied flatly.

That was the beginning.

In the span of a week, Emily had dragged him into town four times. They went shopping, bought things he didn't need, tried on ridiculous outfits, and argued in public places about which sunglasses made him look more 'approachable'—a word Xaren claimed wasn't even in his vocabulary.

But the world noticed them.

Their first trip to the shopping plaza had been innocent. Emily had taken a photo of him trying on a ridiculous neon beanie while she made a duck face beside him. She posted it with a caption: "Look at this grumpy owl I found." It should have disappeared into the sea of her usual chaotic posts.

Instead, it exploded.

By the next morning, her phone wouldn't stop buzzing. Screenshots. Memes. Comments. People were obsessed. Who was the mysterious guy? Were they dating? Why did he look like he hated her and loved her at the same time? Pictures were shared. Theories spread. Hashtags popped up: #Xarenly, #ChaosAndCalm, #WhoIsTheHotGuy?

Emily pretended to hate the attention, but her smirk gave her away.

"You know we're trending, right?" she said one morning as they sat on a bench in front of a fountain.

Xaren didn't even look up. "You're trending."

"Nope. It's we. The people have spoken."

"I don't care."

"You're in denial."

That Saturday, they went to the largest mall in the city. Emily wore a ridiculous ensemble—lime green pants, a leopard-print jacket, and chunky white boots. Her earrings said "Loud" in glittery letters. Her hair was in two puffballs, bouncing as she walked.

Xaren wore black. Plain. Sharp. Effortless.

The contrast between them drew stares the second they stepped out of the car.

They made their way through the mall, past fountains, marble floors, and glossy storefronts. People turned. Some whispered. A few even tried to take pictures discreetly. Emily ate it up like candy.

She leaned closer to him, walking exaggeratedly slow. "We should fake a proposal. Just for the drama."

"No."

"Oh come on—just get on one knee and I'll scream."

"No."

"You have no imagination."

"You have enough for both of us."

They stopped at a designer store. Inside, a clerk greeted them with a tight smile. "Welcome. Can I help—" Then her eyes landed on Xaren. She blushed. "Oh. I didn't realize..."

"Don't worry," Emily said, throwing an arm around his neck. "He's shy, not dangerous."

Xaren raised a brow but didn't correct her.

Emily picked out the ugliest blazer she could find. "Try this."

"No."

"Try it or I'll wear it and tell people you bought it for me."

Xaren sighed, took the blazer, and disappeared into the fitting room.

Ten minutes later, they exited with two bags and a crowd of subtle cameras trailing behind them. People whispered louder now. A teenager walked past and gasped. "That's the couple from the post! I swear it's them."

Emily grinned at Xaren. "We're celebrities now."

"I want to go home."

"Too bad. You're mine for the day."

They walked into a café inside the mall, sat near the window, and ordered smoothies. Emily, as usual, did all the talking. Xaren listened, sipping slowly, his gaze drifting lazily through the glass.

Then came the girls.

Three of them. Early twenties. Dressed head to toe in pastel pinks and whites. Glossy lips. Oversized handbags. That distinct look of people who craved attention—and hated sharing it.

They approached the table like it belonged to them.

"Hi," one said, her voice honey-sweet and fake. "Aren't you that girl from the post?"

Emily didn't blink. "Probably. I'm in a lot of posts."

The girl's smile tightened. "Right. And is this your... boyfriend?"

Xaren didn't answer. Emily leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Why? You want him?"

Another girl giggled. "God no. I mean, he looks like he hasn't spoken since birth."

Emily's jaw twitched. "He speaks to me."

"Yeah? That's impressive. Most statues don't."

Emily stood slowly. "You're boring me."

The lead girl stepped closer. "Aww. Did I offend the internet princess?"

Emily didn't move, but her voice dropped. "If you don't leave, I'll turn this table over and ruin your face with this smoothie."

The girl laughed.

Xaren rose from his chair.

He didn't shout. He didn't push. He simply stood—tall, still, and silent.

The shift in the room was immediate. It wasn't what he said—it was what he didn't. His stare alone could've crushed glass. There was something in the way he looked at the girl—so calm, so detached, so cold—that the giggle died in her throat.

"I suggest you walk away," he said, voice low.

The lead girl hesitated, then scoffed. "Whatever. She's not even worth it."

"Three seconds," he said.

"Excuse me?"

"Two."

They turned. They didn't wait for one.

Emily watched them flee, then turned to him slowly. "You're terrifying."

"You attract people who deserve it."

"You just scared three grown women with your stare."

"You threatened them with fruit."

"I was being creative."

They left the café minutes later, the crowd still buzzing with murmurs and half-hushed excitement.

In the car ride home, Emily blasted music, sang off-key, and kept looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

Finally, she said, "You know they all think we're dating now, right?"

"I don't care."

"Good. Because I like it."

Xaren looked at her, expression unreadable. "Of course you do."

She winked, leaned back in her seat, and laughed.

They weren't together.

Not officially.

But the world believed what it wanted.

And so far, they hadn't done anything to stop it.