Finally, after this whole-ass long day ends, I step out of the evil research org.
Cold air hits my face. Freedom. My phone is finally back in my hand like a long-lost lover.
I unlock it.
…Oh.
Few messages from him.
And—damn it—missed calls.
He did call back. Right after I went in.
Tsk.
I should've eaten slower. Why do I inhale noodles like my life depends on it?
I open his messages.
Photoshoot updates.
"Busy but okay."
Then—bam—photos.
I swipe.
Oh.
Oh wow.
They really dressed him aesthetic aesthetic. Soft tones. Clean cuts. Loose layers. Hair styled just enough to look effortless. Studio lights making him look like he stepped straight out of a magazine.
He sends another pic of the set.
Big lights. White backdrop. Crew everywhere.
…And him.
Standing there. Calm. Confident. Way too handsome for my blood pressure.
My lips curve up without permission.
So this is what you were doing, huh.
Being pretty.
Being busy.
Being mine.
