Raven had left me with an uneasy weight in my chest, my mind tangled in the memory of his mischievous smirk. The thought of sleeping through the night had been lost to worry—whatever Raven was plotting, it couldn't mean anything good for me.
At some point, sleep finally claimed me, but it didn't last long. I stirred at the sound of a voice—soft, unfamiliar, and distinctly female—drifting in from the living room. My eyes shot open. A woman? At this hour?
I blinked at the clock on the bedside table. 7:30. Too early for a casual visit. My heart beat faster as the sound of footsteps faded, the voice trailing off until silence filled the apartment again.
Dragging the blanket around me like armor, I rose from the bed. Half awake, half asleep, I padded to the door and slowly pushed it open. The living room, which only minutes ago echoed with conversation, was now completely still. Empty.
Confused and still wrapped in my blanket, I shuffled toward the breakfast table and sat down, curling into the chair, legs crossed, arms folded over my chest. The blanket served as my robe against the morning chill.
The door opened again. Raven walked in casually, his expression unreadable—until his eyes landed on mine. I didn't speak, but my look said everything: Who was that?
"What?" Raven asked, feigning innocence, as if he could read the accusation in my eyes. He stepped closer.
"Who was that?" I asked outright.
"Who was what?" His tone was deliberately evasive, almost mocking.
"The person in this house—the one you were talking to." My voice was sharper now, demanding clarity.
"Leo," he sighed, tilting his head with exaggerated disbelief, "who would come to someone else's place this early in the morning?"
My curiosity simmered into irritation. "Don't play dumb with me. I heard a woman's voice. Who was she?"
He stopped just inches from me, eyes locking onto mine with unnerving intensity. Then, his lips curled into that same smirk. "No one was here. Maybe you didn't sleep at all last night? That would explain those dark circles under your eyes."
Before I could respond, he stepped back, his smug expression unshaken, and turned away.
"Oh, and right—" his voice called from around the corner, his head poking back out with that infuriating smile—"get ready. You're going to work today."
He disappeared again, leaving me sitting there, blanket-draped, simmering with more questions than answers.
Leaving Raven's endless smirks and mocking remarks behind, I managed to reach the office on time—or rather, before time. It wasn't just about work; I wanted to avoid running into Jake. Facing him now would only make things awkward. For him, and for me, it was better if we stayed out of each other's sight.
I leaned back in my chair, barely finding a moment of calm, when my secretary entered the room with a thick file in his hands. "Sir, these are the tasks that piled up during your absence," he said, his tone neutral but brisk. One by one, he laid out the work in front of me until the desk felt like it was drowning me. Going home tonight suddenly seemed impossible.
"And last but not least," he added, flipping through his notes, "you have a meeting scheduled with your father today. He's arranged for it near the White Beck River."
My brows furrowed. "White Beck River?"
"Yes. That's the information I received directly from him."
"Around what time?"
"In the evening."
I nodded silently, and he left me alone with the mountain of tasks.
As the sun dipped lower in the sky, so did the stack of papers on my desk. I worked quickly, managing to clear everything earlier than expected. It was good timing—my father hated tardiness. A quick glance at my phone told me it was already six. With my work complete, I decided to leave before Jake leaving, sparing us both the discomfort of crossing paths.
Reaching White Beck River earlier than expected felt like a small victory. The place welcomed me with its calm serenity—the gentle breeze brushing against my skin, the soft murmur of flowing water, and the stillness of stars slowly appearing in the sky. I sat down on the riverbank, the chill in the air wrapping around me. Oddly enough, it was… relaxing.
The cold and warm ripples of the river swirled around my ankles as I dipped them into the water. The night had its own symphony—the whisper of the breeze, the gentle murmur of the current, the stillness of the stars overhead. Together, they created an atmosphere that felt powerful enough to slow down the rush of the world, leaving only silence and calm around me.
I sat there, lost in the rhythm of the night, when suddenly a warmth brushed against me. It was subtle but unmistakable, as if the air itself had shifted, as if heat had found its way into the chill.
I turned, tracing the source of that presence, and my eyes caught on a pair of legs standing just a few feet behind me. My gaze lifted slowly—upward, steady—until it locked onto his eyes.
"Leo!"
The shock in his voice hit me harder than the winter wind. My body jolted, balance slipping, and before I could stop myself, I tipped toward the river. But before the cold water could claim me, a firm hand seized mine, pulling me back into safety.
I landed in Jake's arms.
For a few seconds, I didn't move. His warmth wrapped around me, banishing the chill, grounding me in a way that made my breath falter. When I finally found the strength to stand on my own, I looked into his eyes. They were steady, quiet—just like the river flowing behind us. I stepped back, reclaiming my spot on the bank. He followed, sitting beside me, both of us facing the endless stream of water.
Minutes passed in silence, our gazes lingering on the horizon. Then, I broke it. "You should go before my father comes."
"I can't," he said, tilting his head back to glance at the stars before his eyes returned to me. "I'm meeting someone here."
His words struck me with confusion. I pulled out my phone, checking the time. It was well past the hour my secretary had mentioned. Slowly, Raven's smirk, his mocking tone, his laugh—it all replayed in my head.
A laugh burst out of me, sharp and uncontrollable. Jake frowned slightly, his expression curious, but I couldn't stop. "No one's going to come," I managed to say between breaths, only for another wave of laughter to escape me.
He kept staring, trying to piece the moment together, until realization seemed to flicker across his face. My laughter grew louder, echoing over the river, and then—unexpectedly—his lips curved into a smile. Soon, his chuckle joined mine, and before long, we were both laughing.
The sound carried into the night, bright and unrestrained, a harmony that belonged only to us. Just laughter, just warmth, echoing through the stillness of the riverbank.