Soraya dressed in silence. Reian offered her a lift out of habit, not intention.

She declined.

“I’m being picked up,” she said, tying her scarf.

By who, he didn’t ask.

But her phone had lit up earlier with a message from Victor: “Ready when you are. I’ll wait outside the faculty gate.”

---

Daelin City Event Hall – Afternoon

The event buzzed with academic energy — poster presentations, visiting faculty, eager students. Some entertainment figures had been invited for PR appearances, among them, Reian and his bandmates.

He came alone. Mina and Elia were arriving later. Sera had vanished again. Hana, to everyone’s relief, had finally left that morning.

Reian was flipping through a program leaflet when the event MC stepped onto the stage.

“Good afternoon. Our next panel features three exceptional guest lecturers: Professor Mi-Yeon from SNU, Professor Victor Nduka from UJC, and Dr. Soraya Martel from Daelin University of Pharmaceutical Sciences.”

Time slowed.

The room didn’t erupt. It paused.

Dr. Soraya Martel.

Zion, seated beside Reian, raised his brows. “Wait. Your wife is a doctor?”

Reian’s jaw worked before he spoke. “I knew she taught.”

“But not that she’s this kind of teacher,” Zion muttered. “Man... she’s not just living at the villa. She’s serious.”

Behind them, a few of the wives filtered in, drawn by the name. Mina blinked. “Did they just say Martel?”

“She’s on stage,” Elia whispered.

Sera stood off to the side, arms folded.

Soraya had taken the mic with the same collected grace she always carried. Her voice, when she spoke, was clear, calm, and not meant to impress.

But it did.

And standing just a few feet away, Victor watched her like a man proud to share the spotlight — not steal it.

---

Reian’s POV

He felt something stir in his chest. Not possession. Not anger.

Something else.

He recognized Victor instantly as the man from the café.

So that’s his name.

His eyes dropped to the program.

Victor , UJC, guest faculty. Visiting scholar.

Underneath the table in the greenroom earlier, he’d spotted a package — tissue-wrapped with a simple label:

“For Soraya. — V.”

The dress she wore on stage.

A clench took root in Reian’s chest.

---

After the Panel

People lingered after the applause. The wives didn’t approach. They watched.

“She didn’t even tell us she was speaking,” Elia whispered.

“She didn’t need to,” Mina replied. “Maybe we just never asked.”

Sera’s expression didn’t change. “She’s not like the rest of us.”

“And yet,” Mina said, “she stood beside a man like Victor and didn’t flinch.”

Backstage, Reian didn’t wait to be introduced.

He walked away before Soraya could notice.

Or before he gave in to the emotion clawing its way through his chest.

---

Later That Night – Villa

Reian sat in the living room, TV remote in hand, volume low.

Soraya returned close to 10. She didn’t speak.

Just passed by.

He didn’t stop her.

But upstairs, when he entered their room, the other side of the bed wasn’t cold.

She was there, in her robe, typing notes on her laptop.

He changed slowly, slipped under the sheets.

The silence stretched.

Finally, she spoke. “You didn’t stay for the closing panel.”

He glanced at her. “You didn’t tell me you’d be speaking.”

“I didn’t think it mattered.”

He watched her fingers hover over the keyboard. “It does.”

She looked over then. Not softened. Not smug.

Just... watching him back.

In that silence, something shifted.

Maybe not loudly.

But definitely.