Dinner was set like a scene—bright lighting, microphones clipped discreetly, dishes arranged in almost-too-perfect symmetry. We were seated around a low wooden table. Plates clinked. Laughter flared. Conversations splintered in every direction.
Michelle sat beside me. Close enough that our shoulders grazed each time we reached for the soy sauce. Close enough that I could feel the warmth of her thigh near mine whenever she shifted. But not close enough.
Across the table, Zack launched into another story—some gym anecdote involving protein powder, humidity, and shirtless camaraderie.
Michelle nodded, smiled. Perfectly polite. She responded just enough to keep things civil, never inviting more. Her tone was gracious, but her attention kept drifting—scooping rice onto my plate when she noticed I'd hesitated, adding more tofu because she knew my reach barely grazed the serving spoon.
"That one's good," she murmured, nudging the sambal closer. "Spicy but not evil."
I giggled—too loud, too real. She grinned.
Zi Qian, ever the methodical gentleman, asked Michelle what university she went to, then offered a careful compliment about her presentation skills. He even folded his napkin when he spoke, like every sentence needed its own ceremony.
But Michelle's responses stayed clipped. Gentle. Uninvested.
Meanwhile, to my surprise, Zi Yang had turned his attention toward me.
"You're from Penang, right?" he asked, eyes warm, voice low. "I visited once. Loved the street food… but the heat nearly took me out."
"Oh, you get used to the heat," I replied, smiling. "It's part of the charm."
He chuckled. "Yeah? You seem like you'd be great at introducing someone to all the best hidden spots."
I flushed. That wasn't flirtation—it was attention. From the hottest guy in the room. Zi Yang, whose cheekbones could cut glass. Who looked like he belonged in a commercial for perfect hair and smooth jazz. And here he was, talking to me—plain, modest me.
Pride curled softly in my chest. It was flattering. It made my posture straighten. Made me speak with a bit more rhythm, confidence. I wanted to bask in it. Wanted to enjoy this rare sunlit moment where beauty looked at me instead of past me.
But then…
Michelle leaned in, her voice chiming through our conversation.
"I bet Chloe's sarcasm is sharp when it surfaces—she's got that quiet bite."
Zi Yang smiled, amused. But it was me she looked at.
Her gaze lingered—soft, teasing. Possessive? Maybe. Or maybe just curious.
She reached for my plate again.
"You didn't try the fish. It's subtle."
And my heart… stuttered.
Zi Yang's attention was lovely. But Michelle's was intentional. Designed. Every scoop, every glance, every casual intrusion into my bubble—crafted just for me.
I nodded along to the jokes. I spoke when spoken to. I even laughed at one of Zack's punchlines (it was about chicken breasts and gym bros—don't ask).
But under the laughter, under the politeness, under the bright overhead lights—
I was restless.
I wanted escape. A corridor. A quiet balcony.
I wanted Michelle.
Not shared air. Not group attention. I wanted that hush between sentences. That moment when our eyes met and neither of us needed to explain why.
✧ Scene Shift: After Dinner
Chloe's laugh floats through the courtyard—clear and unburdened.
Zi Yang has just said something light, charming in his careless way, and Chloe responds with a tilt of her head Michelle hasn't seen before. Something soft. Familiar.
Michelle watches from the side, her fingers curled lightly around her coffee cup.
She didn't know Chloe laughed like that.
Zi Yang teases again, Chloe swats playfully at his arm. Michelle glances away, then back—caught between irritation and curiosity. She's not sure which wins.
"You two seem close," she says, careful to keep her voice neutral. But the words are brittle, like glass too thin.
Zi Yang grins, unbothered.
Chloe flicks Michelle a glance, brows lifted. There's nothing accusatory in it—but Michelle feels too seen.
✧ Scene Shift: Twilight, A Quiet Walk
They walk side by side, twilight brushing the pavement in quiet gold. Chloe's shoulder is just inches from hers. Michelle doesn't speak, but her thoughts are feral.
Chloe hums softly, seemingly at peace.
Does she smile like that for everyone? Or just the ones who don't stare too long?
Michelle finally says—softly, almost to herself:
"I think I need to stop pretending I'm not a jealous person."
She chuckles, but her laugh has no lift.
Chloe stops, turns. "Of who?"
Michelle shrugs, looks away.
"Maybe not who. Maybe what. Just… how easy it is, sometimes. For you."
Chloe gives a soft snort. "Easy? That's cute."
Michelle flicks her a glance, half-smiling despite herself.
"I bet Chloe's sarcasm is sharp when it surfaces—she's got that quiet bite."
Chloe arches a brow, and there's something unreadable in her expression.
She doesn't deny it.