Sleep didn't come for either of them.
Ayan sat on his bed, the city lights painting restless shadows across the floor. He could still feel the heat of Kairo's hand on his wrist — the one he'd sworn he wouldn't let touch him again.
But it wasn't the touch that haunted him.
It was the way Kairo had looked at him.
Like he already knew.
Like the secret wasn't safe anymore.
He clenched his fist, trying to shut the thought out, but it kept crawling back, whispering that this time, he'd gone too far.
Across the city, Kairo wasn't doing any better.
He'd thrown his jacket somewhere on the floor and sat staring at his own reflection in the dark window. His pulse still hadn't slowed, the scent of adrenaline and something softer clinging to him.
He hated it.
He craved it.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Ayan's face — calm, defiant, just a little too shaken.
"What are you hiding from me…" he muttered to himself, the words echoing in the stillness.
He didn't like not knowing. He didn't like needing to know.
But curiosity had already turned into obsession.
And obsession… was something Kairo had never been good at controlling.
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