Airam sits on her bed, knees pulled up, still feeling the ghost of Harry's lips on hers.
She's smiling without realizing it, smiling in a soft, shy way she's never done before. She touches her mouth lightly, a little embarrassed at how warm the kiss still makes her feel.
Her phone buzzes.
She frowns, reaches for it lazily… then her expression drops.
It was a text from an unknown number. She opened to read the text.
Can we please talk? I'm sorry for everything, princess.
Her entire mood crashes. She doesn't need a name. She knows exactly who it is.
The weight returns to her shoulders like a punch. She locks her phone, drops it onto the bed, and slides under her blanket, turning away from the light.
"Not tonight," she whispers to no one. She forces her eyes shut and wills sleep to take her before the past can find a way in.
The days move fast, meetings, site visits, back-to-back tasks. And somehow, every time Harry tries to talk to Airam, real life gets in the way. Like when Airam steps out of her truck, helmet under her arm. She spots Harry across the site in a white shirt, rolled-up sleeves, clipboard in hand. He looks up at the exact moment she does.
Their eyes meet. It's soft. A little hopeful. A little unsure. Harry starts toward her.
"Airam..."
"Boss, we need you here!" a worker shouts, waving at him. He sighs, gives her a small apologetic smile. She nods slightly, pretending it doesn't disappoint her. He turns away.
Or when Airam enters with a file. Harry is already inside, holding the door open as if waiting for her.
"Hey," he says softly. The sound of his voice makes her heart skip.
"Harry…" she starts. But the project manager barges in. "Airam, the suppliers are on call two!" Harry clenches his jaw in frustration.
Airam gives him a look that says Later. But later never seems to come.
Harry and Airam pass each other in the hallway, both juggling documents. Their shoulders brush lightly. They pause, momentarily caught in the quiet of the empty corridor.
For a moment, it feels like the night of the kiss again. Harry smiles softly. Airam's lips part, as if she might say something.
"Team meeting in five!" someone yells. And once again, the moment slips away.
Tonight, they were finally launching the Acacia project, and everything seems to be going on well, the site is buzzing with lights, banners, press, partners, and investors. People are congratulating Airam left and right.
She looks radiant today, confident, glowing in her element. Harry watches her from across the room, pride clear in his eyes. But he isn't the only one watching.
One investor, a young, overly enthusiastic man, is far too close to her. He laughs loudly, leans in, and touches her arm more than necessary.
Harry's jaw tightens. His hands fist at his sides. When the investor places a hand on the small of her back, Harry has had enough.
He strides across the room, his steps sharp with jealousy and something deeper he can't hide anymore.
"Airam. A word," he says, his voice low and controlled but burning. Before she can answer, he takes her hand, not forcefully, but firmly, and pulls her away from the crowd.
They slip down a quiet hallway, away from the music and chatter. Harry opens a side door and nudges her inside. He follows and closes it behind them.
The lock clicks. Airam crosses her arms.
"Will you calm down? What happened?" she says, breathless, caught between annoyance and confusion. Harry steps forward close enough that she feels the heat rolling off him, but not touching her.
"No," he says simply. His voice is low, rough, and honest. "I've been trying to give you space. I've been trying to be patient. But then I saw him all over you and..."
He stops, runs a hand through his hair. "I couldn't take it."
Airam stares at him, stunned not by the jealousy but by the rawness in his voice.
"Harry… it was nothing, we were just talking."
"It didn't look like nothing to me." She sighs. "You dragged me away from a whole investor because you were jealous?"
He meets her eyes. "No. I dragged you away because I needed to talk to you. I'm done letting everything else get in the way."
She swallows. Her heart is pounding. The room feels too quiet, too small, too full of everything they haven't said.
"Then talk," she whispers. And the tension between them snaps like a live wire.