25 | ☕When the CEO Says Be My Girlfriend. ☕
As they stood there, a few inches apart, Anya felt a strange mixture of warmth and uncertainty settling in her chest.
She'd been so caught up in Kaia's carefree energy and the simplicity of just being with her friend that she hadn't really thought about how much Atlas's presence had become a constant in her life.
It wasn't just the closeness, but the weight of it—the way he always seemed to be there, his eyes watching, his words lingering like a soft whisper.
And yet, despite the occasional push-and-pull she felt, there was something undeniable about the pull she had toward him.
"I didn't think you'd be waiting for me," she said, trying to distract herself from the emotions swirling inside her.
Atlas's lips curled into a playful smile, though his gaze held something deeper. "I like being here when you get home. It feels right."
Anya let out a quiet breath, wondering how everything had gotten so complicated.
The man standing in front of her, so calm and confident, was everything she could've ever imagined in a partner.
And yet, the more time she spent with him, the more she wondered if she was truly enough.
Enough to stand by his side, to be a part of his world in a way that felt right for both of them.
It wasn't like she hadn't tried to convince herself she was, but there was a lingering doubt she couldn't shake.
"How about I make us something to eat?" she suggested, trying to fill the space between them with something practical, something safe.
Atlas's eyes softened, and he gave a small nod. "That sounds perfect."
As she moved past him toward the kitchen, he followed, slipping into the space behind her like it was the most natural thing in the world. It was funny, how even after all this time, his presence felt so effortless.
"Atlas, do you ever wonder if we're just... not the right fit?" she asked, her voice quiet but earnest. It wasn't the most comfortable thing to say, but something about his unwavering presence made her feel like she could be honest. Even if she didn't fully understand what she meant herself.
He paused behind her, and she felt his gaze on the back of her neck, warm and steady. "No," he signed simply. "I don't. I've never felt that way with anyone else. So why would I feel it with you?"
As Anya turned to face him, the question hung in the air between them—unspoken, yet present. Atlas stood close, his gaze steady and intense, like he was waiting for something, but she wasn't quite sure what.
"I guess I'm just trying to figure out what I'm doing," she said, almost absently, her mind still turning over her conversation with Kaia. Her hands fidgeted at the kitchen counter, unsure what to do with themselves.
Atlas was silent for a moment. His presence was so overwhelmingly steady, like a constant that both comforted and confused her.
"I don't want to disappoint you," Anya said quietly, her heart racing as she watched him carefully.
Atlas's usual playful expression disappeared, replaced by a rare seriousness.
He took a slow step toward her, his eyes searching hers as he reached out.
His fingers gently brushed her cheek in a soft, almost hesitant gesture.
The touch was tender, full of something unspoken that both comforted and unsettled her, like a thousand emotions were quietly unravelling between them.
He signed slowly, his hands fluid but careful, his movements deliberate. "You won't disappoint me, Anya. I don't need you to be perfect."
Anya's chest tightened at the sincerity in his eyes.
She wasn't sure how to respond, how to explain that she wanted more than just what they had, more than this vague space they found themselves in.
But the words felt caught in her throat, and she couldn't bring herself to push him.
They were always in this place—neither fully together, but never apart, either.
He signed again, pausing briefly to catch her eyes, his fingers making soft movements that seemed to carry all the weight of his emotions. "I just want... this. Whatever this is between us."
Anya felt her breath hitch. She opened her mouth to speak but found herself unable to. The rawness of his words, despite being unspoken, hit her deeply. It wasn't enough for her. She wanted more, craved more clarity, but she didn't want to scare him off either.
He took a small step closer, his hands moving again with the same careful deliberation, a quiet expression of vulnerability in his eyes.
"I know it's not simple. I know there's so much we haven't talked about, and I've probably made assumptions. But..."
He paused, his hands shaking slightly before continuing. "I never asked you—"
Anya's stomach clenched as her pulse quickened, the air between them charged with anticipation. She barely dared to breathe, watching him, hanging on his every movement.
He hesitated again before signing slowly, with an almost imperceptible falter in his hand motions. "I never asked if you even wanted this. If you wanted me."
Anya's voice caught in her throat, barely above a whisper. "What do you mean?" she asked, the question hanging in the air, fragile as glass.
He exhaled slowly, his eyes not leaving hers as he carefully signed, "I guess I assumed, with everything between us... we were already there. But now I see, I've never asked you directly. Not like this."
"Atlas, what are you saying—"
Atlas took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving her as he signed with careful deliberation, each movement deliberate and filled with meaning. "Anya... will you be my girlfriend?"
Anya's breath hitched. The words were so simple, but their weight was immense.
She had always known how much he cared for her, the quiet intensity in his touch, the way he was always there when she needed him.
But hearing those words—seeing them signed with such care, such sincerity—was like a sudden revelation.
Her heart beat in her throat as she searched his face for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. Only raw honesty. Only the kind of hope that made her feel both terrified and incredibly wanted.
She felt the tightness in her chest ease just slightly as she found herself meeting his gaze, her lips parting to speak, but no words came. She wasn't sure what to say at first. The enormity of the question swirled around her, making her feel like she was standing at the edge of something important.
Yes—it was the answer that was rising in her chest, but it was more than just that. It was everything she had been avoiding, everything she had been too afraid to admit to herself about how deeply she felt for him.
Atlas took a small step back, giving her space. "I'm not asking for a yes right now, Anya. I just... I just want you to know that if you're ever ready, I'll be here."
"I—" She stopped, biting her lip as her heart hammered in her chest. Was she ready for that? To take that step? To define their relationship in a way that made it real? "I don't even know if I can be... that person. For you."
Anya moved quickly around the kitchen, her hands working with a practiced ease despite the chaos of the morning.
The fridge, though sparse, had just enough ingredients for her to throw together something simple.
She cracked an egg, tossed in some instant ramen, and added a few extra ingredients she'd salvaged—soy sauce, a bit of leftover chicken, and some random vegetables that had been languishing at the back of the fridge for who knows how long.
When the ramen was done, she grabbed two bowls, pouring the steaming soup into each. The scent was comforting, and for a moment, Anya let herself focus on that instead of the too-close presence of Atlas still lounging on the couch.
She returned to him with a bowl in each hand, the warmth from the food seeping into her palms.
"Here," she said, offering one bowl to him. "Simple, but it'll get the job done."
Atlas took a bite of his ramen, his expression softening as he tasted the flavour. His eyes closed for a brief second, savouring the simplicity of it. Then, with a small but satisfied smile, he raised his hand.
He signed with a smooth, fluid motion, each gesture deliberate and clear.
"This ramen is amazing."
Anya blinked, glancing up at him. Her heart skipped a beat as she read his words in the air, his fingers tracing each sign with ease. The compliment caught her off guard, and she could feel her cheeks warming.
"Really?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual. "You're not just saying that to be nice?"
Atlas raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge in his gaze, before taking another bite, clearly enjoying the dish more than he let on. The way he signed the words so easily made Anya's chest tighten slightly, the quiet intensity of his praise hitting her harder than she'd expected.
"No need for niceties. It's just good."
"Well," she said, grinning at him as she picked up her own chopsticks, "I'm glad it's not just good then. At least I've got one thing going for me."
Atlas's eyes softened as he gave a small nod, then continued eating in silence, clearly content with both the food and the moment they shared.
The first thing Anya noticed as she drifted toward wakefulness was the warmth.
A deep, encompassing heat that pressed against her from all sides, cocooning her in a way that felt both comforting and suffocating.
It was different from the usual morning chill that seeped through her blankets.
Different from the crisp coolness she was used to.
Something wasn't right.
Her mind, still sluggish with sleep, struggled to process the odd sensation. A steady rise and fall against her back. The firm weight draped over her waist. The slow, rhythmic sound of breathing that wasn't hers.
Her lashes fluttered as her senses sharpened, awareness creeping in like the first rays of morning light slipping past a curtain.
Anya's breath caught.
Atlas's arm was wrapped around her, heavy and unmoving, the solid warmth of him pressing into her back.
His hold wasn't just casual—it was secure, possessive, as if even in sleep, he refused to let her go.