Harry
In the middle of chaos, I searched for something beautiful — something untouched.
Torn open by my own emotions, with no future I could clearly see, one truth remained painfully certain:
You look the prettiest when you smile.
I confessed once, even knowing the situation you were trapped in.
But how was I supposed to know? You buried everything so well. Not a word. Not a flicker in your eyes. Not even a crack in your voice to betray that you were hurting too — maybe more than I ever was.
This time, I won't fail you.
Even if you never love me back, I will protect you from the ugliness of this world. That will be my redemption. If I have to manipulate people, if I have to wear a mask and become someone colder — so be it.
My love for you has no bottom.
And maybe that's what terrifies me the most.
Harry stepped into Lia's apartment building, exhaustion clinging to him from the flight. He unlocked his phone — 10 missed calls from her.
His chest tightened.
He called back.
Not reachable.
"She sounded fine this morning… she was laughing. Did something happen at the office? Den said everything was fine. Was it an emergency? But she knew I was on a flight…"
His thoughts overlapped, colliding.
He knocked.
The door creaked open.
It wasn't locked.
A cold wave rushed through him.
"Lia?" His voice dropped. "I'm coming in."
The apartment was too still. Too clean. Too quiet. No signs of struggle. No broken glass. No forced entry.
Just silence.
It was past 6 pm. The evening light was fading, shadows stretching longer across the walls like something alive.
Harry sat down for a second to steady himself.
Then he heard it.
A faint, broken sound.
Crying.
His body reacted before his mind did. He followed the sound to the bedroom.
"Lia?"
Nothing.
He checked under the table. Behind the door. Inside the cupboard.
And then—
A louder sob.
Behind the hanging dresses.
Curled into herself. Hidden between fabric and darkness.
His heart dropped so violently it almost hurt to breathe.
"Do you want to get down?" he asked softly.
No response. Just trembling shoulders.
"I'll get you some water."
He turned — but her fingers caught his shirt.
Weak. Shaking. Desperate.
He stopped immediately.
"Talk to me," he whispered. "Please."
He didn't move. Didn't rush her. Didn't push.
The room grew darker. Minutes passed. Maybe an hour. Her crying slowly cracked into exhausted breaths.
And then—
"He… he kissed me."
Her voice was dry. Scratched raw. Like each word tore her throat open.
Harry froze.
"They were kissing."
The world narrowed.
"Who?" His voice sounded unfamiliar to him. "Who kissed who?"
"Vick."
The name slammed into him.
His mind flashed back to the interview. He remembered thinking it would be funny if it was that Vick. But this one — this Vick — was different. Smiling. Harmless. Professional.
"I'm so sorry," Harry whispered, brushing her hair back. "I should've checked on you. I should've—"
"Jane," she breathed.
The name hollowed him out.
"What?" His voice sharpened. "Jane? What about Jane?"
Silence.
The silence said everything.
His stomach dropped.
"Lia… did you see it clearly?"
Her tears came harder.
"Yes."
And in that moment, she wasn't just crying for herself.
She was crying for him too.
Harry stopped asking questions. There were no answers that could fix this.
Thoughts flooded him like a storm. Betrayal. Rage. Regret. Jealousy. Guilt.
The room went completely dark.
Lia collapsed against him from exhaustion.
He caught her instantly.
Carefully, he laid her on the bed like she was something fragile that could break any second.
He couldn't sleep.
He sat on the balcony all night, rain soaking the railing, watching the city blur under grey skies.
Morning came too fast.
The couple next door started arguing.
"Just order takeout, you assholes!" Harry shouted hoarsely.
Silence followed.
For the first time in his life, he sounded bitter.
"Did you sleep outside?" Lia asked quietly the next morning. She was dressed for work, but her eyes were swollen.
Harry looked worse.
"You still look puffy," he said gently, grabbing an ice pack and handing it to her.
Their movements were mechanical. Slow. Heavy.
The drive to the office felt longer than usual.
Den greeted him enthusiastically, even arranged a small welcome setup to get on his good side.
Harry barely noticed.
He avoided looking at Jane.
At Vick.
Their first assignment: redesign the rooftop — safety and creativity combined. Harry assigned roles calmly. Too calmly.
During lunch, he stepped out of a meeting and saw them.
Jane and Vick.
Laughing.
Standing close.
They immediately stopped when they saw him.
"Had lunch?" Harry asked evenly.
"Yeah," Jane smiled. "We shared a sandwich."
Vick leaned slightly away from her.
Harry's jaw tightened, but he smiled.
"Good."
He walked into his chamber and closed the door.
Their laughter still filtered through the glass.
Each sound felt like a blade sliding under his ribs.
Moments later, Lia walked in.
No words.
Just understanding.
"You haven't eaten since yesterday," she said softly, placing a taco in front of him.
"Thank God it's not a sandwich," Harry let out a weak laugh.
His eyes glistened.
"We need to talk about work. Are you okay to handle it?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. Because what else could he say?
She placed a soda beside him and turned to leave.
"Are we ever going to get over them?" he asked suddenly.
Her back stiffened.
"I forgot him for a while," she admitted quietly. "When I started working here. I wasn't happy… but I was peaceful."
Peace.
That word hurt more than betrayal.
"Should I fire them?" Harry asked, voice low — dangerous.
"You know it's not that simple," she said.
He did know.
But knowing didn't make it easier.