Breakfast unfolded slowly, in that quiet, almost unfamiliar way where no one felt the need to rush. The table filled with warmth, with the soft clink of plates and cutlery, with the occasional laughter that slipped out more easily than expected. Sunlight stretched further into the room now, wrapping everything in a gentle glow that made the moment feel softer than it should have been.
I sat between them, still not entirely used to how natural it all felt. Nira was talking—of course she was—throwing comments here and there, clearly enjoying herself far too much, while my mother listened with a small, knowing smile. And Chak… Chak moved like he belonged there, calm and steady, placing dishes down, sitting across from me like this wasn't something new, like this wasn't something that should feel as significant as it did.
Every now and then, his eyes would find mine, brief but certain, like a quiet reminder that nothing from earlier had changed.
If anything, it had settled deeper.
We ate, talked, lingered longer than necessary, until eventually the moment had to move forward.
Chak was the one who broke it.
"We should go," he said calmly, setting his utensils down. "We need to get to work."
I blinked, the words pulling me back into reality faster than I liked. "Wait—" I looked down at myself, then back at him. "I can't go like this. I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes."
Chak didn't even hesitate.
"You won't," he said simply.
I frowned slightly, confused, but before I could ask anything more, my mother spoke up from across the table.
"Come for lunch later," she said, her tone gentle but certain, like it wasn't really a question.
Chak turned to her without pause. "I was actually planning to invite you to lunch."
That caught me off guard.
I glanced between them, then let out a quiet breath. "Mom, don't worry about it."
She looked at both of us for a moment, thoughtful, measuring, then smiled softly.
"Alright," she said. "I accept the invitation. But when you two come to visit, I'll prepare lunch for you."
Chak nodded once, a faint smile appearing on his lips. "Deal."
Something about the ease of that exchange settled warmly in my chest.
It felt… right.
After breakfast, things moved quicker.
Chak stood first, already shifting back into that composed, focused version of himself. "We should leave now," he said, glancing at me. "We need to get there early."
I sighed but pushed myself up anyway, following him.
We said our goodbyes by the door. Chak turned to my mother, his expression softening just slightly before he spoke. "We'll come pick you up around twelve."
She nodded, stepping forward and pulling him into a brief hug again, as natural as if she had known him for years.
I watched, narrowing my eyes slightly.
"…Why do I feel like you like him more than me?" I muttered.
That earned an immediate reaction.
Nira laughed first, loud and unrestrained. My mother followed, shaking her head, amused.
Chak didn't say anything—but I caught the faintest hint of a smile.
"Go," my mother said, still smiling. "Before you're actually late."
We stepped outside, the air cooler than inside, grounding in a different way. The walk to the car was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Just… steady.
We got in, and Chak started the engine without a word.
The drive to the office was calm, the city slowly coming to life around us, but my mind stayed somewhere else entirely, replaying moments I didn't quite know what to do with.
We arrived earlier than usual.
Of course we did.
Chak parked, then glanced at me briefly. "We're going to my office."
I raised an eyebrow but didn't question it, just followed him inside.
The building was quieter at this hour, the halls not yet filled with movement. Our footsteps echoed softly as we made our way through, straight to his office.
He opened the door and stepped inside like it was second nature. I followed, closing it behind me.
Without saying anything, he walked over to a large шкаф, opened it, and reached inside.
Then he pulled out clothes.
Two shirts.
Two pairs of pants.
I blinked, staring at them for a second before looking back at him.
"…Why do you have my clothes here?"
Chak didn't even look surprised by the question.
"For situations like this," he replied calmly.
I stared at him a moment longer.
Then shook my head slightly, a quiet exhale escaping me.
Of course.
Of course he did.
For a moment, I just stood there, still holding the clothes, still trying to process how effortlessly he had planned for something like this.
Then I exhaled softly and moved.
"Fine," I muttered, though there was no real resistance behind it.
Chak didn't say anything, but I caught the faint shift in his expression, something quieter, almost satisfied, before he turned slightly, already starting to unbutton his shirt.
I hesitated for half a second.
Then stepped closer.
"Here," I said, reaching out before I could overthink it, helping him with the last few buttons. My fingers brushed against the fabric, then his skin, the contact brief but enough to make something tighten in my chest.
He didn't stop me.
Didn't move away.
Instead, his hands found the hem of my shirt, pulling it up slowly, deliberately, his touch steady, familiar in a way that still felt new.
We moved around each other like that, quiet, close, helping without asking, as if this had already become something natural between us.
No awkwardness.
No hesitation.
Just small touches, brief glances, the kind of silence that wasn't empty, but full of things neither of us said out loud.
When we were done, the room felt different.
Closer.
He adjusted the cuff of his shirt, then looked at me, his gaze lingering for a second longer than necessary.
"Fifteen minutes," he said.
I raised an eyebrow slightly. "For what?"
His eyes didn't leave mine.
"For us."
Something in my chest shifted again, softer this time.
I didn't even think about it.
"Always."
The word slipped out easily, like it had been waiting.
Chak stepped closer, closing the space between us without hesitation. His arm slid around my waist, pulling me back against him, firm and certain.
I let myself lean into it, my body relaxing as I tilted my head back, resting it lightly against his shoulder before turning just enough to look at him.
Our eyes met.
Close.
Too close to pretend anything.
He didn't say anything.
He just leaned down—
and kissed me.
Slow.
Unrushed.
Like he had all the time in the world, even when we both knew we didn't.
I let myself sink into it for a moment, just a moment, before pulling back slightly, my breath quieter but uneven.
"I should go down," I murmured. "Act like I just got here. So no one starts asking questions."
Chak didn't move away.
Didn't let go.
Instead, his grip tightened slightly around my waist, his gaze steady, unbothered.
"I don't care if they ask," he said calmly. "I don't care if they suspect anything."
There was no hesitation in his voice.
No doubt.
"As long as you're with me," he continued, quieter now, closer, "nothing else matters."
My chest tightened at that, something warm and heavy settling deep inside me.
Before I could respond, his expression shifted just slightly, something almost thoughtful flickering through his eyes.
"Do you know what I want?" he asked.
I blinked, caught off guard by the question. "No."
A faint, almost dangerous softness touched his voice.
"I want you here," he said. "All day."
His hand moved slightly, anchoring me closer as he spoke.
"In my office."
My breath slowed.
"Sitting on my lap while I work," he continued, his gaze never leaving mine. "Like you belong there."
My heart skipped.
"And every now and then…" his voice dropped just enough, "I'd steal a kiss."
For a second, I just looked at him, my thoughts scattering somewhere between disbelief and something warmer, something that made it hard to breathe properly.
"…You're impossible," I muttered softly.
But I didn't move away.
Not yet.
For a moment, I just looked at him.
Really looked at him.
At the way he said it so easily, so naturally, like it wasn't something impossible or distant, but something he could already see, already imagine as real.
Something about that pulled at me.
Softened me.
Before I could overthink it, I reached for his hand.
His fingers stilled slightly in mine, but he didn't resist. He never did.
"Come here," I said quietly.
He let me guide him without question.
Step by step, I led him back toward his desk, toward his chair. There was something almost ironic about it, the way someone like him—always in control, always steady—allowed himself to be moved so easily when it came to me.
I pressed gently against his shoulder, and he sat.
His chair shifted slightly under his weight, and for a brief second, he looked up at me, a hint of curiosity in his gaze.
I didn't give him time to ask.
Instead, I stepped forward—
and sat down in his lap.
The movement was natural. Unforced. Like it had already happened a hundred times somewhere in the future.
I adjusted slightly, my hands resting lightly against his shoulders as I looked down at him.
"So," I said softly, a faint smile touching my lips, "this is what you meant?"
There was something warm in his eyes now.
Something deeper.
Before he could answer, I leaned in and kissed him.
Slow.
Certain.
Not rushed, not hesitant—just real.
For a moment, everything else disappeared again. The office, the time, the world outside the door. It all faded into something distant and unimportant.
When I pulled back, I stayed close, my forehead almost brushing his.
His hands had settled at my waist, steady, grounding, like they belonged there.
A quiet breath passed between us.
Then Chak spoke, his voice lower, softer, but filled with something unmistakable.
"My husband is the best."
The words hit differently.
Deeper than they should have.
I let out a quiet breath, my fingers tightening slightly against his shirt as I held his gaze.
"I'm like this," I said softly, honestly, without hesitation, "because I love you."
There was no teasing in it.
No deflection.
Just truth.
And for a moment—
that was everything.