Chapter 13 

The next morning felt different. 

Kim was already up when I came downstairs, standing by the counter with a mug of tea. He looked… normal. Calm.

When he noticed me, he gave a polite nod instead of his usual half-smile.

“Morning,” he said.

“Morning,” I echoed, trying not to stare too hard.

He didn’t ask if I slept well.

He didn’t tease me for being slow.

He didn’t mention the call, or anything that happened last night.

Just… silence.

Ethan came down a minute later, yawning dramatically, and the moment broke. Kim poured him tea, the two of them muttering about weekend chores, and I stood there feeling like I was watching from the outside.

When Ethan left to take a shower, the silence between me and Kim came back — thick enough to touch.

I swallowed.

“About last night…”

I began.

Kim looked up sharply, surprised, his voice was gentle, but distant.

“You don’t have to explain,” he said.

I blinked. “Explain what?”

He lowered his gaze, fingers tightening slightly around his mug.

“Whatever you heard.”

Ah.

So he knew.

He knew I heard him talking about going back. About “her.”

But instead of clearing anything up, he looked like he was building walls around himself one brick at a time.

The urge in my chest — to ask, to understand, to tell him I wasn’t trying to pry. But before I could say anything, his phone buzzed on the counter.

The name on the screen lit up.

Yan.

My stomach dipped.

Kim stared at the phone for a moment — long enough to be noticeable — before turning it over to silence it.

“You’re not going to answer?” I asked, trying to sound casual

.

“It’s not important,” he said.

But the way he avoided my eyes told a different story.

Before either of us could speak again, Ethan came back downstairs, cheerful and loud, and the moment dissolved like smoke.

Later, when I slipped into the hallway to grab my jacket, my own phone vibrated.

A message.

From Yan.

Hey Ray, had fun last night.

I hesitated, staring at the screen.

Yan was friendly.

Funny.

Easy to be around.

But the first thing I thought about wasn’t the message.

It was the way Kim had turned his phone face-down.

My fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure of what to reply.

Before I could decide, I heard Kim’s footsteps behind me. He wasn’t trying to sneak up — but I still jumped a little.

His eyes flicked down just enough to see the name on my screen.

The change was subtle — so subtle most people would have missed it.

A shift in his posture.

A tiny crease between his brows.

A second of stillness.

Jealousy is a quiet thing when it belongs to someone who doesn’t show much.

But I felt it.

Only for a moment — and then he looked away, expression smooth again.

“I’ll be in the yard,” he said, voice neutral.

He walked off before I could say anything.

Before I could ask him what he wanted to say.

Before I could even breathe right.

I lowered my phone.

Yan’s message was still open.

Waiting.

But my thumbs didn’t move.

All I could think about was Kim’s eyes.

The way they reacted before the rest of him could hide it.