"Are those for the boss?" I asked her.

"Yeah," she nodded.

"You can give them to me. I'll hand them to him," I offered.

"Thanks, Niran," she said with a faint smile and handed me the papers.

She rolled her eyes. "The boss is totally out of it today. This morning, when Chai and his boyfriend came by, he was already tense. Then they all left somewhere together..."

"To the lunch I cooked," I muttered quietly to myself.

I gave her a forced smile.

"How's Leo doing?" she asked, a bit concerned.

"He's fine," I replied.

"What was he doing when he broke his leg?"

I froze for a second. What should I say?

"He… fell out of a closet," I finally answered.

Amara raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. She just nodded and continued down the hallway.

I made my way to Chak's office. I knocked, but before he could answer, I opened the door and stepped inside.

He was standing in front of the large window, hands in his pockets, staring out at the city skyline.

"Why did you tell everyone Leo broke his leg? Why did you lie?" I asked directly, no filter.

Chak slowly turned and looked at me, his eyes calm and unreadable.

"Because I had to make something up about where you were," he said plainly.

"Why didn't you tell me what you said? So I could be prepared! Do you know how confused I was? I had no idea what they were talking about. And then they asked me how Leo broke his leg..."

"I forgot to tell you," Chak said.

"I don't understand why you're so upset," he continued, walking past me toward the door. As he grabbed the handle, he added, "We can go tell them the truth—tell them you were at my place, cooking lunch. That you're living with me now."

My heart was racing. Too fast. Too loud. I wasn't ready for that.

I stepped toward him, reaching to stop him—but in my rush, I lost balance and ended up wrapping my arms around him.

An accidental hug.

And yet, it froze me in place.

I could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt. My heartbeat echoed in my ears. Heat flushed through my face like fire.

Chak stood still.

He didn't say anything. He just slowly turned... and looked at me.

That look—slow, calculated, restrained. A flicker of doubt... and something I couldn't quite read.

I blushed, quickly stepped back, and with slightly trembling hands, walked over to his desk.

"These... the papers. For you to sign," I mumbled, placing them down.

Just before I could completely turn away, I glanced back at Chak. He was standing still, eyes fixed on me, his expression unreadable. For a moment, it felt like the air between us was charged, heavy with something unsaid.

I reached for the door handle, my hand almost closing around it, but before I could turn it, I felt a firm grip on my shoulder. Chak's hand was there, holding me in place.

"Niran," his voice was low, a warning, or maybe a plea—I wasn't sure.

I froze, my heart racing. Slowly, I turned back to face him, meeting his gaze. His fingers were still resting on my shoulder, his touch solid and grounding, but there was no softness in it. Just pressure.

"Don't go yet," he said, his voice barely a whisper, but it carried enough weight to make my breath hitch.

But before I could find the words, I gently pulled away from his grip, stepping back. The silence stretched between us again. 

I couldn't stay. I needed to get out.

I glanced at him one last time, then without another word, turned and left the office. I continued working, but one thought kept chasing me—what did he feel when I hugged him? Did I make a mistake? What if he punishes me at home with some complicated dish I don't know how to cook?

When I finished, I headed to the bus stop. While waiting for the bus, I received a message. It was from Chak. Short and to the point:

"Come to the car"

I turned around and saw him parked a few meters away. He was sitting in the car, watching me. I rushed over, got in, and buckled up. Without a word, he started the car, and we drove home.

I tried not to look at him. He was silent as well. The entire ride was wrapped in silence.

When we arrived at the driveway, I walked a few steps behind him. Inside the house, I went straight to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I heard his footsteps behind me. As I opened the drawer and took out a glass, I felt his presence. His warmth almost confused me. He took the glass from the drawer and without a word, took it from my hand. He opened the fridge, poured juice—first for himself, then for me. He looked at me, then turned and walked into the living room.

I drank the juice and headed to the laundry room. I ironed his clothes, folded them, and took them to his room. I knocked, but there was no answer, so I quietly entered. I placed the clothes on a small table by the wall and started heading for the door.

As I opened it, Chak was standing right in front of me. I flinched in surprise.

"What were you doing in my room?" he asked in a cold tone.

"I brought your clothes," I answered softly.  

"Thanks," he said, stepping past me.

"Can I ask you something?" I said gently.

He looked at me but didn't respond.

"Did I... pass the test? Are we... friends now?"

Chak looked at me and replied in a cold voice, "You passed the test."

I gave a small smile. "So... we're friends?"

Chak smiled—just for a moment, gently, almost invisibly. "That answer... you'll have to find on your own," he said and walked away.

I closed the door behind him and made my way to my art room. His words still echoed in my head: "You'll have to find that answer yourself." What did he mean?

I entered the room, sat down with my back to the door, took a sheet of paper, and began to draw. My hand moved on its own, lines and shapes taking form. I realized I had drawn Chak. He was just as I saw him.

"Nice drawing," I heard a voice behind me. I jumped. "What are you doing here? How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to see how you look at the paper, like it's about to come to life," he smiled slightly. "And, by the way... do you know this room exists just for you, right?"

I froze. "What?"

"This used to be my office. I had it remodeled because I knew you needed something of your own. Something where you don't have to hide who you are."

I didn't know what to say. I looked at him like I was seeing him for the first time.

"From now on," he continued seriously, "you can ask me one question a day. Only one. But only at home. And only when we're alone."

"Why?" I whispered.

"Because you've earned it."

I swallowed and barely gathered the courage: "Then... where do you keep the drawings I made of your tattoo?"

Chak looked at me with a spark in his eyes. "I'll show you. But not yet. When the time is right."

Just as I thought he would leave, he stopped at the door and turned back.

"Now, my turn," he said. "My question for you."

I nodded. My heart was pounding.

Chak slowly approached, looked me straight in the eye, and asked:

"When you hugged me... did you do it because you wanted to?"

I looked at him, surprised. I swallowed.

"No," I said quietly. "I hugged you by accident... I wasn't thinking. You were there. It just... happened."

Chak observed me for a few moments, then—without judgment—nodded. There was no disappointment in his eyes. Just something else... something I couldn't immediately read.

His gaze slid back to the drawing.

"This drawing... could I have it?"

"Even after that?" I asked cautiously.

"Exactly because of that," he replied calmly. "Because it was made without thinking. Because you drew me exactly as you see me. And because I trust you."

I handed him the sheet. His fingers gently touched mine.