Zhan's Pov.
"What are you doing tonight?" Ziyi asked, her voice casual but her eyes sharp, testing.
"Nothing," Ezra said easily.
"Good." Her smile curled, red lips catching the light. "We can go to the club. See what happens from there."
Dre hissed so loudly I thought the whole restaurant heard. He shot to his feet, but Wang's hand darted out, gripping his wrist, pulling him back down.
"Relax, Dre," Wang whispered, his voice steady but low. "Ezra will take care of it."
Dre clenched his jaw, nostrils flaring. Then, with another hiss, he snatched his drink and downed half the glass in one gulp.
At Ziyi's table, the talk continued.
"I like you," she said suddenly, smiling in a way that might have looked sweet if I didn't know what lived under her skin.
"Any ex-boyfriend I should be scared of?" Ezra asked, his tone just teasing enough.
For the first time, her smile faltered. She reached for her glass, drained it halfway before answering. "No. I'm... unlucky when it comes to relationships. There was one, back in high school. I was in love with him, but he hated me me because I was a bit mean to him."
Ezra's expression didn't flicker. He just swirled his wine lazily, his voice calm, teasing. "His loss. If I'd been in your high school, you wouldn't have had to chase anyone."
She laughed, almost girlish, like the sound belonged to someone else entirely. "Flattery."
"Truth," Ezra countered smoothly. "But maybe I'm just lucky to be here with you."
At our table, I felt Wang's body stiffen. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed on Ziyi as if he could burn a hole through her with sheer will. His hand twitched on the table, curling into a fist before flattening again.
I reached over and laced my fingers through his, grounding him. "Easy," I whispered.
"We should go," he muttered, his voice rougher than I'd ever heard it.
Dre caught the look on Wang's face and rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't get stuck. "Oh, for fuck sake, he's playing her, Wang. Don't tell me you're jealous of that snake in a dress."
Wang didn't answer. He just squeezed my hand tighter, his knuckles white.
Across the room, Ziyi tilted her head, studying Ezra with new interest. "I like you," she said again, this time slower, more deliberate.
Ezra leaned in, his smile sly. "Tell me more."
Her lips curved. "Since we got here, you haven't touched your phone once. That's rare. Everyone's glued to their screens, but you, you're present."
Ezra let out a soft laugh. "That's because I don't have anyone worth talking to. No one who matters." he lied smoothly.
Ziyi's eyes glittered as she sipped her wine. "Good." The word was sharp, possessive. And I knew then that Ezra had her.
"Okay, we should go. I'm feeling irritated," Dre hissed, shoving his chair back.
Wang lifted a hand, calm but sharp, and the server was at our table in seconds. He slid his card across with barely a glance, his eyes fixed elsewhere, on the table where Ezra and Ziyi leaned close, their laughter clinking sharper than the wineglasses.
The bill was settled, and Wang rose smoothly, but his movements were stiff, controlled. Dre followed, muttering curses under his breath, and I trailed behind, the urge to smash Ziyi's smirk into the wall burning hot in my chest.
Outside, the air was cool, city lights scattered like fire across the night. The space bus waited, a quiet shadow among louder cars. Dre climbed in first and took the front seat, twisting back just enough to shoot me a look. A look that said you see it too, don't you? Wang's jealousy, sharp as a blade.
I exhaled, then stepped inside.
Wang sat all the way in the back, alone, his profile etched against the glass. The neon outside flickered over his face, but his eyes were far away, dark, storming.
I walked straight to him. Without a word, I slid into the seat, tugged him toward me, and pressed my lips to his.
But he didn't kiss me back.
His lips were there, but unmoving. His breath caught, but not for me. His hands stayed limp at his sides.
The rejection was soft but brutal, hitting me harder than any blade.
My chest tightened, the fancy red handkerchief in my pocket suddenly heavier. I pulled back slightly, searching his eyes, trying to read him.
But all I saw was glass and firelight, and the storm brewing inside him.
If he was going to be jealous about something that never happened, then fine. Let him.
I exhaled, slow and heavy, forcing down the sting in my chest. Without a word, I shifted away, sliding to the far end of the seat. The space between us felt wider than the aisle, wider than the whole damn bus.
My eyes locked on the windshield ahead, the blur of headlights streaking across the road as the engine roared to life.
Beside me, Wang stayed silent, his reflection ghosted against the glass. His jaw clenched tight, his hands fists in his lap.
I didn't push. I didn't speak. If he wanted to drown in jealousy over something that wasn't real, then I'd let him sit in it.
But inside, the ache pressed harder, cold and sharp, and the weight of his silence hung between us like another enemy we couldn't fight.
The bus hummed, tires eating the road, headlights cutting through the dark. I stared straight ahead, jaw tight, refusing to look at him.
The silence stretched, heavy, suffocating.
Finally, his voice cut through it, low and rough.
"You looked like you were enjoying it."
I blinked, turned my head slowly. "What?"
"With her." He didn't meet my eyes, still staring out the window. "The way you were watching. The way you—" He broke off, his fist tightening on his knee. "Maybe I'm a fool, bringing you here."
The words hit harder than I expected. A bitter laugh slipped out before I could stop it. "Enjoying it? Wang, are you serious? You think I was sitting there fantasizing while Ezra was feeding her lies?"
His jaw twitched. "I think you didn't look away."
That stung, but I leaned forward anyway, my voice sharp. "I didn't look away because I wanted to rip her throat out. Because I wanted to kill her, not flirt with her!"
His eyes snapped to me then, finally, raw and dark. "Then why does it feel like she still has you tangled?"
For a moment, I couldn't breathe. My chest burned with equal parts rage and hurt.
"If you can't tell the difference between me wanting her dead and me wanting her," I hissed, "then maybe you don't know me at all."
The bus swerved slightly as Dre cursed from the front seat, muttering, "God, can y'all not do this now?"
But neither of us looked away.
Wang's stare was fire and fear. Mine was ice and fury.
And the space between us had never felt so dangerous.
The bus rattled along the highway, but all I could hear was the hammering in my chest. Wang's eyes burned into me, his words still cutting.
"I don't know you at all?" he snapped. "I know enough. I saw the way you clenched when she talked about her 'high school love.' Don't lie to me, Zhan."
The name on his tongue, her story hit like a blade to the ribs.
I leaned closer, heat spitting from my voice. "You think because she dredged up some ghost from the past that I want her? That's what this is about?"
"She still gets to you," he growled, every syllable heavy with jealousy and fear. "She's poison, but you—" His hand curled into a fist. "You're still bleeding from her bite."
My throat tightened. I wanted to scream, to shake him until he understood. Instead, my voice broke sharp and jagged. "I'm bleeding because of what she did to me, not because I want her! You think I'd choose her over you? After everything?"
Wang's jaw locked, eyes glistening like he wanted to believe me but couldn't let go of the shadow in his chest.
I shoved a hand through my hair, laughing bitterly. "You're jealous of a ghost. A mistake. You're jealous of a monster who broke me."
"And maybe I'm scared," he hissed back, his voice cracking now. "Scared that one day she'll twist you again. That I'll lose you the same way she took everything else."
Silence slammed between us, harsher than the fight.
My breath shook. His hands trembled.
From the front seat, Dre muttered, "I swear to God, if you two don't kiss or shut the hell up, I'm throwing myself out this window."
But I didn't move. Neither did Wang.
We just sat there, hearts pounding, the truth raw between us.
And for the first time, I saw it, not anger, not mistrust, fear. Fear of losing me.
When we got home, Wang didn't say a word. He just brushed past me, straight to the bathroom. The sound of running water echoed down the hall, and by the time I peeked in, he was already stretched out on the bed, damp hair on the pillow, his back turned.
No "goodnight." No kiss. Just distance.
I didn't want to argue. Not again. So I left him there, swallowing the knot in my throat, and drifted back to the living room.
Dre was sprawled across the couch, a half-empty bottle already in front of him. He glanced up when I came in, then slid the bottle and a glass toward me without a word.
I poured, sat, and we drank in silence for a while. The city lights bled through the curtains, and the hum of the fridge filled the space Wang had left behind.
Finally, Dre snorted. "You look like someone just ripped your heart out and handed it back still beating."
I exhaled, tipping the glass back. "Feels about right."
Dre studied me, eyes sharp despite the alcohol. "You know he's jealous, right? Not stupid, not blind. Just... crazy jealous."
"I know." My laugh was bitter. "I just don't know what to do with it. He thinks she still has me, like I'd ever want her again after everything."
"Doesn't matter what you want," Dre said, swirling his drink. "It's what he feels." He shrugged. "Jealousy's like poison, you don't swallow it because it makes sense. You swallow it because it's there."
I stared into my glass, the amber liquid trembling. "I can't fight him and fight her at the same time."
Dre smirked, leaning back. "Then don't fight him. Show him. Remind him who the hell you belong to. Wang's the kind of guy who doesn't trust words, he trusts what he can hold."
I glanced toward the bedroom door, my chest heavy. "And if he won't let me close?"
Dre lifted his glass in a lazy toast. "Then you wait. He'll come crawling. Trust me, the ones who love hardest always crawl back first."
I clinked my glass against his, a small smile tugging despite the ache in me.
The front door creaked open, and Ezra walked in, looking like the devil had just fed him grapes and whispered secrets. He smirked at us, loosening his tie.
"Well," he drawled, "you two look like widows at a funeral. What'd I miss?"
Dre hissed so sharply I thought he'd break his teeth. You sound proud, Ezra. Like you enjoyed it."
Ezra smirked, unfazed. "Maybe I did. It's called acting, Dre. You should try it sometime."
Dre shot to his feet, glass clattering against the table. "Acting my ass! I saw the way she looked at you. I heard the way you talk to her. You were eating it up."
Ezra's smile only widened, infuriatingly calm. "Jealousy doesn't suit you, babe."
Dre's nostrils flared. "Don't 'babe' me right now. I don't care what excuse you make, if she puts her hands on you, I swear I'll—"
"You'll what?" Ezra cut in, eyes glittering. "Hit her? Kill her? Make a scene? That's what separates us, Dre. You burn hot. I play the long game." He leaned forward, voice dropping. "And right now, the long game means letting her think she can have me."
"That's bullshit!" Dre snapped, fists clenched. "You don't have to enjoy it to play your little game."
Ezra tilted his head, still smiling, but his voice sharpened. "And you don't get to tell me how to do my job."
The room went still.
Dre's chest heaved, anger pouring off him in waves. Ezra leaned back in the chair, casual, but his eyes flickered—testing, challenging.
I just sat there, glass in hand, letting the whiskey burn down my throat. My silence was the only thing keeping the room from shattering.
But the tension between them was a lit fuse, and I knew it was only a matter of time before one of them struck the match.
"She's not here and she's making a scene," Wang hissed from the doorway. His voice was low, dangerous. I hadn't even heard him come in, I was too lost in my drink, too lost in the ache inside me.
"Like hell she is," Ezra fired back, sharp as a blade.
Dre's head snapped toward him. "I still hate the way you talk to her," he hissed.
Ezra didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned forward, eyes cutting between all of us, and said the one thing he shouldn't have. "Maybe I should hate the way you talk to Zhan. Considering your past."
The words cracked the room in half.
I froze, glass halfway to my lips. Dre froze too, color draining from his face. The silence was brutal. Wang's jaw tightened, veins in his neck standing out, his hands curled into fists at his sides.
I didn't look at anyone. Not Wang, not Dre, not Ezra. Just my drink. Let them think what they want. I was too tired to defend myself.
Dre's voice broke first, ragged. "You... you bastard," he whispered, tears brightening his eyes. "You know damn well that was a lifetime ago. That's over. Gone. I don't have feelings for him!" He slammed his chest with his fist. "I only love you, Ezra. You!"
Ezra's smirk faltered, but only for a second. "Then why does it bother you so much, she's just a trap."
"Because—" Dre's voice cracked, raw and loud now, trembling with fury and heartbreak. "Because you never spoke to me like that! You don't fucking talk to me like that! You're so busy playing games, so busy letting it crawl over you, so busy being the clever one, while I'm here, tearing myself apart because I love you!"
His tears spilled, hot and ugly. "And now you're dragging Zhan into it? The one thing I swore I'd never let hurt us?"
Wang's breathing was heavy beside me, fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white.
Ezra's expression shifted, his confidence slipped, his smirk gone, something softer flickering in his eyes. But he stayed silent, too stubborn to answer.
Dre's chest heaved, his voice dropping to a whisper, thick with tears. "I'm done, Ezra. I swear to God, I'm done. You can chase your long game, your lies, your 'plans.' But I can't do this anymore. I can't keep bleeding for someone who doesn't care if I bleed."
The words hung in the air like a gunshot.
I stared at my glass, my heart breaking for him, for me, for all of us caught in this storm.
And for the first time since I met him, Ezra looked like someone had finally knocked the wind out of him.