After all the working and stress, it was finally time to launch their project which was a success. The launch was spectacular. Months of preparation, dedication, and sleepless nights had culminated in a flawless presentation. Influential clients, investors, and media personalities filled the hall, all buzzing with excitement.
Rylan, dressed impeccably, moved through the crowd with his usual calm authority. Every handshake, every explanation, every smile was measured and perfect. The project was a success. Everything went smoothly.
Even the staff couldn't stop whispering their admiration.
Kia, standing a few steps behind, watched Rylan command the room effortlessly. But instead of just admiring him, a mischievous thought crossed his mind: "Maybe if I make him jealous, he'll finally look at me…"
Just then, Rylan's older brother, Jalen, appeared, his formal fiancee who was the cause of all of this in the first place, he even have the audacity to step into this place, in go gave him the invitation. He entered as usual, Loud, brash, and utterly shameless, he immediately started working the room, joking with the staff, and — deliberately — leaning a little too close to Kia, acting as if they were close, patting him on the shoulder, laughing at his awkward attempts at charm. Instead of kia to flip everything and make him pay for even coming there, he played a lot just because he wanted to make Rylan to as much just look at him, or even get jealous.
Kia's eyes flicked to Rylan, expecting that flash of jealousy, the subtle tension that would give him a reaction.
But Rylan didn't flinch. He didn't tighten his jaw, he didn't glance in Kia's direction. His expression was perfectly neutral, calm, and unreadable.
Inside, Rylan felt a flicker of hurt—he had known Kia would be playful, maybe even manipulative—but he refused to let it show. Showing any reaction now would be letting his guard down, and he wasn't going to do that in front of the staff, the clients, or even Kia.
Kia, on the other hand, continued his little game, leaning into Jalen's antics, hoping Rylan would react, hoping to draw out some emotion, some spark.
But nothing came.
Finally, Rylan excused himself. His voice was polite, smooth, but carried that underlying sharpness that warned anyone not to get in his way:
"Thank you, everyone. The project has been successfully launched. I will be leaving now."
Kia's chest tightened. He immediately moved to follow him, trying to catch up, trying to play catch-up like he always did—but Rylan's strides were long, decisive, and calm.
"Kia… wait—"
Rylan didn't look back. His steps didn't falter.
By the time Kia reached the exit, Rylan had already opened his car door. Kia called after him, but Rylan's cold, controlled voice carried only a hint of distant amusement:
"Goodnight, Mr. Kia."
Before Kia could say anything else, Rylan slid into the driver's seat and started the engine. The hum of the car swallowed any remaining words.
Kia could only watch, helpless, as the man he had loved, the man he still longed for, drove off with perfect composure.
Inside the car, Rylan exhaled quietly. Yes, he was a little hurt—the cold mask couldn't erase the flicker of feeling Kia's little game had triggered—but it was okay. He had maintained control. He had kept the image, the power, the calm that no one, not even Kia, could touch.
The project was a success. The clients were satisfied. And Rylan… had stayed untouchable. He still haven't forgotten what his so called brother and parents did to him, he will let bygones be bygones if they don't offend him again. But he prays they cross paths again, cause a part of him didn't want to forgive