She crossed paths with Reian in the hall near the kitchen. He was in sweatpants and a hoodie, headphones slung around his neck.

He nodded, as if filing that away. “Need a ride?”

She blinked. “I’m used to commuting.”

Reian didn't press. “Alright. Be safe.”

But as she stepped out, he moved to the front window, watching from a distance.

Outside, the gates had paparazzi camped like vultures. Two black cars pulled up as she stepped past them — men from other agencies tried to hand her cards, one shouting that they “could build her image globally.”

Soraya ignored them all.

---

Evening arrived and dinner was light-hearted at the villa. The members were relaxed, joking about their rehearsal and laughing at Zion’s clumsy guitar string mishap.

The sound of the front door swinging open cut through the warmth.

Soraya stepped in, eyes sharp, expression thunderous. Her blazer was draped over one arm, her movements precise but restrained. She didn’t acknowledge anyone as she passed through the room.

Silence.

Zion lowered his fork. Raze set his drink down. Jaycee blinked at her retreating back.

“She looks like she could break a table in half,” one of them muttered.

Reian had already risen.

---

He found her in their room, slipping out of her heels and rubbing her temple.

“Rough day?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

She glanced at him. “I couldn’t breathe without a camera flashing. I couldn't walk without someone offering a contract. One woman tried to shove a mic in my face—outside my faculty building.”

“You went to the university?”

“I teach there. Just assisting, part-time.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Still a student?”

“Graduated. I work at a company too.”

“What company?”

She looked at him evenly. “Just a company. I'm a contract worker.”

The term made him pause. Contract worker? One of those yearly renewals? Or something more precarious? He didn’t ask. She wasn’t offering specifics.

She continued, dropping her bag. “Some contracts renew yearly. Some don’t. That’s the gamble.”

“You could’ve told me you’d be home late.”

“I didn’t know I would be. The exit was blocked. I couldn’t even get on the bus.”

He hesitated. “You could’ve called.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Would you have answered?”

A beat passed.

“I would've picked up,” he said, quieter.

She let out a slow breath. “Noted.”

They stood in silence for a moment.

“You’re not just quiet,” he said. “You carry everything like it’s nothing.”

“I don’t see the point in broadcasting my weight.”

His mouth tugged into a dry line. “Still. Next time, text me.”

“Fine.”

Another pause.

“I don’t know what to do about your popularity,” he muttered.

She looked over, finally cracking a tired smile. “Don’t worry. I don’t know either.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Great. That makes two of us.”

Outside, the villa settled into night. Inside, something barely perceptible had shifted — not affection, not closeness. But maybe... awareness.