Chapter 29
Tshabina
We stepped out of the lift into a lavish space. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across every wall, offering sweeping views of Jakarta’s glittering skyline. The marble beneath our damp shoes gleamed in the muted light.
I trailed Zioh step by step into the living room. We stood beside a vast sectional sofa in muted grey. The chandelier above glowed, its golden rings cascading light across the sleek, minimal interior. Upstairs, more hallways and doors lined with glass walls stretched into the shadows.
When Zioh stared out at the city, I turned my gaze to the city, too. Then, he turned, his gaze softened on me. His voice was low, roughened but gentler than before. “I’ll call someone to bring you some clothes.”
My eyes dropped to myself, my drenched hoodie clinging, outlining every curve. Heat surged up my neck, and I folded my arms over my chest.
He watched me for a beat longer, then pulled his phone from his pocket, stepping aside as he made the call. I sank onto the sofa, wrapping my arms tighter around myself.
I couldn’t help but glance at him again. He was still on the phone, his voice quiet, his face set in shadows. Zioh ended his call and drifted toward me. “My room’s upstairs,” he murmured, lowering his gaze toward me. “Go on up, I’ll make us some tea.”
His tone was softer, more composed than in the park. I hesitated, glancing up at the stairs. There were so many doors and rooms… why had he pointed me to his room so directly? My heart stuttered with unease, but his careful, almost cautious expression pulled me back.
“This penthouse belongs to Zaeem,” he explained, seeming to notice my unease. “Most of the rooms are locked. At least in mine, you’ll find warm clothes, towels, and you can take a hot shower.”
He swallowed, his eyes steady on mine. “First door, black frame, down the first hallway.” He pointed. “Use whatever you need, make yourself warm. I’ll join you with tea—or hot chocolate, if it’s in my kitchen.”
I nodded, unable to meet his gaze for long. My steps felt heavy as I passed him and ascended the wide staircase. The second floor opened into another elegant lounge; the walls were lined with framed sketches.
Drawings. His drawings.
London Bridge, Tower Bridge, and other skylines from around the world—sketches that were mainly etched in black and white, with the odd flicker of surreal color—pink roads, violet skies, crimson towers, golden mountains.
But a frown deepened my brow as a single frame caught my eye, lying on the floor in the corner of the hallway. The frame was turned to face the wall. I strolled towards the frame, but my attention was diverted by a black door next to me. Zioh’s room.
My whole body shook, dampness seeping deeper into my bones. I reluctantly abandoned my intention to look at the frame and entered the room beside me.
Inside the room, his scent washed over me: cedarwood and vetiver, sharp yet warm. A vast room surrounded me, lined with dark tones. The closet door stood open, revealing rows of his monochrome clothes. The king-sized bed dominated the center, surrounded by simple furnishings.
I searched for the bathroom and found it hidden within the seamless wall design. The moment I stepped inside, I paused.
An enormous room greeted me; it was so vast I couldn’t take it all in at once. A bathtub and shower stood poised against the glass walls, framing Jakarta’s skyline. Marble floor. Chandeliers. Wrapped in a black-and-white mood.
It had been years—maybe a lifetime—since I’d stood in such opulence.
Shivering uncontrollably, I hurried to the shower and turned on the hot water. Steam began to rise, and as the heat poured over me, my body sighed in relief. I had just begun to undress when a knock on the door startled me. “Tshabina, are you there?” It was Zioh.
With a bit of stuttering, I answered him. “Y-yes... I’m sorry. I came in without permission,” I replied. I swallowed as I waited for his response, and my feet even moved under the shower.
“I myself told you to come here, no need to apologise,” he replied in a low voice. He was silent for a moment before continuing in a calm voice. “Your clothes might take a while to arrive. Take your time, and when you finish, I have some hot chocolate.”
I opened my mouth to reply, but Zioh interrupted again. “Thanks, Tshabina…” he said after a pause, each word slow and tender.
I pursed my lips as my chest felt warm. “You’re welcome, Zi.”
Letting out a short breath, I began stripping off my clothes again, pulling down my shorts, hoodie, undershirt, and underwear. Now my naked body was directly meeting the warm water falling from the shower above. I closed my eyes to feel the sensation.
But suddenly, the darkness turned to pitch black behind my eyelids. My eyes shot open, and I was right. Only the city skyline remained beyond the glass, a sprawl of glittering lights against the void.
Not only that, a loud noise erupted from the walls, startling me. What was this? The song “Spark” filled the entire room, making me step back in fear.
My toes hit something on the floor, and I groaned in pain.
“Hey, are you alright?” Zioh’s voice called from beyond the door; his words quavered.
“Y-yeah, just—” My words cracked as my hand groped blindly along the wall. “Z-Zioh, the lights went out and… And the music came on by itself!”
Then his voice came again, lower. “Damn it,” he muttered, as if he knew exactly what had happened.
“It’s alright, don’t be afraid.” His voice dropped.
“It isn’t completely dark…” He paused, then gentled his tone.
“There’s a panel by the entrance, next to the door. You can control the lights from there.”
I immediately looked to the right and left, but I couldn’t see anything. “W-which side, Zi?”
“Next to the door,” he replied.
The problem was that the door wasn’t even visible now. The darkness in this room obscured the color of the door.
I was quiet for a long time, and Zioh called out again. This time, his tone wavered. “Are you okay? Did you find it, Tshabina?”
“I—I can’t see anything, Zi!” The trembling in my body escaped through my mouth, and a frantic thudding erupted behind my ribs. I was never good with pitch-black darkness.
Another pause, and his voice came softer, almost careful. “Is it all right if I come in?”
My breath caught. I hesitated, then with a careful movement, I felt along the wall until my hand found a coarse fabric, something I believed to be a towel, and clutched it tighter around me. “Y-yes, Zi.”
The door opened, spilling faint light into the far end of the bathroom. His shadow crossed the room, his tall frame moving towards the wall panel, and I released a shaky breath.
The lights flared back, too bright against my stinging eyes, making me squint. And there he was, Zioh, clear now, with his gaze fixed wholly on me.
My body stalled, locked in place, clutching the towel desperately to cover myself. Cold rushed through me despite the hot water still dripping from my hair. My heartbeat pulsed through my hand, gripping the towel’s edge.
Swallowing hard, I forced myself to move a few steps. “The lights… they just went out,” I stammered. My eyes darted away from him. “And the music started playing on its own.”
Zioh’s eyes flicked around the room, then back to me. “Yeah... that’s for the—” He paused. “Relaxation.” He swallowed. “It’s automatically set like that, every midnight.” He pointed to the smart panel beside him, embedded in the wall.
When my gaze returned to him, I realized he wasn’t just looking at my face.
His eyes lingered, sliding lower over the towel clutched tightly to my body.
His dark pupils remained fixed on me, wide and unblinking.
It wasn’t the kind of look that made me want to hide.
It made me feel such warmth, setting my heart stirring with a feeling I couldn't name.
My knees weakened.
Then, he moved. Slowly. Closer.
My breath hitched as he approached. His step grew louder and louder in my ears, making my heart feel as if it was about to jump out of my chest. My fingers gripped the edge of the towel tighter, terrified it might slip.
When he finally stopped, his presence washed over me. I held my breath as he kept moving his body closer, narrowing the distance between us, allowing me to feel the heat from his body.
The scent of his body wafted towards me, making my entire body tremble. I reflexively closed my eyes.
But after closing my eyes for a long time, nothing happened. Feeling confused, I blinked. His smile was the first thing to greet me. Zioh looked down at me with his gentle, deep eyes. His hand held a bathrobe, and he held it out to me.
Oh...
My body jolted, mortification flooding me.
Damn brain. An absolute, stuttering mess.
His voice dropped low, amused. “Why did you close your eyes?”
The faintest smile curled his lips. My cheeks flamed as I snatched the bathrobe from his hand and wrapped myself in it. I fumbled so badly I nearly lost the towel.
Heat swelled through me as I tried to edge past him, but the marble beneath my feet betrayed me. My leg slipped, and a sharp cry escaped my throat.
His arm caught me before I could fall, strong and steady around my waist. He hauled me upright, but the movement pulled us both beneath the shower again. Warm water cascaded over us, soaking him and me, plastering his shirt to his chest.
Our breaths shallowed, uneven. His grip on my waist was firm, scorching even through the bathrobe. I swallowed. Our faces were so close I could see every drop of water trembling on his lashes, every flicker of turmoil in his eyes.
We froze.
The air between us tightened, thrumming with something dangerous and magnetic. He opened his mouth, his breath warm against my skin. I trembled. His eyes burned into mine, dark, deep, as if I might vanish if he blinked.
Neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke.
And then, softly, a new song flowed through the hidden speakers. “Light” by Sleeping At Last. Its notes echoed in the mist, weaving around us like a spell.
Zioh’s hand now reached out to caress my eyes, and his skin felt uneven and calloused as it brushed against mine. I couldn’t tear my gaze away, and my breath faltered at his touch. His gaze roamed to my face, lips, and soaked skin until he leaned closer. His breath was ragged against mine.
“I’m cold…” he whispered. His voice frayed, aching. “Instead of waiting for you to warm up, can I…” He locked his eyes with mine. “Warm up with you?”
The words seared through me, catching fire in every nerve. My mind went blank, and my lips parted, but no words came out. His hands slid down, gripping my arms and urging me to look at him.
His dark eyes were as deep as the ocean, drawing me into them. “Does your silence mean yes?” His voice cracked, almost pleading.
I didn’t know when my eyes drifted shut. I allowed my heart to take over again, one more time. I gave him a nonverbal answer.
I nodded.