The soft sound of heels echoed through the marble floor of the office corridor.
Each step Aanya took carried both hesitation and courage as she walked toward Zain's cabin.
Through the glass wall, she saw him — her husband, her boss — deeply focused on a file, his sharp jawline tense, his expression unreadable. The faint glow from the laptop reflected against his eyes, highlighting the man she both feared and couldn't stop caring about.
Aanya stood silently by the door, her heart beating fast. Then, in a quiet voice, she murmured to herself,
> "Sometimes I wonder…
In dramas, the CEO husband always loves his wife more than his own life.
He worries for her, even when he's angry…
He loves her, even while pretending to hate her.
But in real life, my CEO husband gave me everything — except love.
He was right that day, on our wedding — this marriage really is a prison where we're both trapped."
Before her thoughts could drift further, Zain's voice broke the silence.
> "The door's open, Miss Lu. How long do you plan to stand outside?"
His tone was calm but carried a quiet knowing — he had recognized her footsteps.
Aanya opened the door. A cool breeze from the air conditioner brushed past her as she stepped inside. She placed a file on his desk.
> "This is Huan Jing's file," she said softly. "She told me to give it to you. Please check it once. I'll leave now."
But as she turned, Zain stood up. His fingers brushed her wrist, stopping her gently.
His voice dropped to a softer, deeper tone.
> "Do you remember what happened last night… or have you forgotten already?"
Aanya blinked in confusion. "What are you talking about? I don't remember anything. Did I— hit you or something?"
His brows furrowed. "No."
"Then did I scold you? Or annoy you again?" she teased lightly, trying to hide her nervousness.
He took a step closer, his eyes locked on hers.
"No. None of that."
The air between them tightened. She stepped back instinctively, but he followed — his tall frame shadowing her smaller one.
Zain leaned slightly forward, voice low and teasing.
"So, you really don't remember anything… or are you just pretending?"
Her heartbeat quickened. "I… I really don't remember," she whispered. "But if I did something wrong, I'm sorry."
Zain sighed, brushing a hand through his hair.
She truly doesn't remember… he thought. While I spent the whole night thinking about it.
He stepped forward again, until her back met the wall. His hands rested on either side of her, caging her gently.
> "Maybe I should just… remind you," he murmured, leaning in — his breath warm against her lips.
Aanya froze, her eyes wide, her heart pounding.
Then, suddenly, she blurted out —
> "I remember now!"
Zain stopped mid-motion, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? You do?"
She nodded quickly. "Yes! Last night when I texted you that I'd have dinner at Huan Jing's house… you made me promise that I'd cook fish for you next time. That's what you meant, right?"
For a moment, Zain's confident expression vanished. His smirk faltered.
"Y–Yes… that's exactly what I meant," he said awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Good. You remember."
"Of course," she smiled sweetly. "I'll make it tonight."
"Fine," he muttered. "Don't forget."
"I won't. May I go now, sir?"
He stepped back, forcing a calm expression. "Go."
Aanya left, closing the door behind her.
Zain ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply.
"She remembered the fish… but not the kiss," he murmured under his breath.
Just then, Tiang entered.
Zain quickly straightened, pretending to look busy.
> "What happened to you?" Tiang asked, raising a brow. "You look… off. Why are your hair messed up?"
"Nothing," Zain replied, clearing his throat. "Why would anything be wrong?"
Tiang smirked. "Sure. Anyway, it's time for the interview. Everyone's waiting."
Zain picked up his coat and nodded. "Let's go."
But as he walked out of the cabin, a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Fish, huh? Fine, Mrs. Yan… let's see if you can escape remembering it for long.
Anya stepped out of the elevator, her hand pressed against her chest.
"This man… my husband and my boss—what does he even think of himself?" she muttered under her breath. Taking a deep sigh, she rubbed her forehead. "God, what did I even do yesterday that I can't remember now?"
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I wish I could remember…"
And then—just one memory flickered in her mind:
"My dear husband… will you make noodles for me?"
Before she could think any further, she bumped into someone. He was slightly shorter than Zain but had the same fit build.
"Oh! I'm so sorry," Anya said quickly, holding her forehead. "I wasn't paying attention."
The man gently placed his hand on her head. "Annie, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?"
That voice—she knew that voice.
Anya's eyes widened as she looked up. "Daichen? You?"
Daichen smiled, a little shy but warm. "Yeah, it's me. What a coincidence, right? We meet again! I'm actually here for an interview. Wish me luck—if I get the job, we'll be seeing each other every day."
Anya's lips curved into a soft smile. "Then I'll definitely pray that you get selected."
Just then, someone appeared at the door. "Mr. Daichen, your turn's coming up. Please come in."
Daichen nodded. "Alright, I'll be back."
"Good luck!" Anya called out.
He turned around once, smiled faintly. "Thanks."
And as he walked away, his thoughts lingered—
I came here just for you, Anya.
---
Anya sank into her chair, exhaling deeply. Across the room, Huan Jing was watching her with a teasing smile.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Anya frowned.
"Because you took forever! Don't tell me…" Huan Jing raised a brow playfully.
Anya smacked her shoulder lightly. "Hey! Nothing like that happened. I just ran into Daichen."
"Daichen?" Huan Jing blinked. "Wasn't he supposed to be abroad? He's back?"
Anya nodded. "Yeah. I met him after you and the others left the café."
"Are you two still in touch?"
"Sort of. I have his WeChat."
Huan Jing's eyes sparkled mischievously. Here we go, she thought. Every good drama gets interesting when the second lead shows up.
---
The Interview Room
Zain sat straight in his chair, dressed in a deep navy suit—composed, unreadable.
Beside him, Tiang sipped his coffee, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"Next candidate," Tiang called.
The door opened.
A tall young man walked in, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black blazer. Confidence followed him like a shadow. He smiled politely, placing his file on the desk.
Zain opened it, scanning the first page. His eyes lingered on the name.
"Daichen…" he murmured under his breath, his tone unreadable.
"A good name," he said aloud.
"Thank you, sir," Daichen replied calmly.
Tiang leaned forward. "So, Daichen, why do you want to work for Yan Empire? There are bigger companies out there."
Daichen's smile didn't waver. "Two reasons, sir. One—I want to become the best designer in the industry. And two… to be honest, I came here for someone special."
Zain's brow arched slightly.
"We're hiring professionals," Zain said flatly. "Not Who has come for someone
Daichen didn't flinch.
"Yes, sir. I'm someone who doesn't just dream—I make things happen. I know how to separate work from personal life. But that person… she's my biggest motivation."
Silence filled the room.
Tiang leaned back, an amused glint in his eye. "Interesting," he murmured.
Zain closed the file, thinking for a moment before speaking.
"Alright, Daichen. You can start from tomorrow."
Daichen's lips curved into a small smile as he bowed slightly.
The door clicked shut behind him.
Tiang chuckled. "So tell me, did we just hire a designer—or the lead of a love story?"
Zain didn't answer. His gaze drifted toward the window, lost in thought.
"I don't know why," he muttered quietly, "but his voice… it felt strangely familiar. Like I've heard it somewhere before… maybe over the phone."
He frowned, the thought echoing in his mind like a half-forgotten melody.