81 - Aftermath of the kiss
The studio buzzed with a subtle aftershock, the kind that lingers when something unspoken yet electric happens.
Andrian stood rooted, his jaw tight, fists loosely clenched by his side.
His eyes followed Ethan like a hawk, but they briefly flicked toward Scarlett—enough to catch her flustered walk as she retreated toward the changing room.
Catherine, equally stone-faced, stood off to the side, arms folded, her manicured nails digging into her sleeves as she watched it all unfold.
Inside the changing room, Scarlett moved as if on autopilot.
She stopped in front of the mirror, exhaling shakily.
Her fingers lifted, almost hesitantly, grazing her lips—the memory of Ethan's kiss still vivid, warm, and inexplicable.
Her brows pulled together. What just happened?
She couldn't place the reason—there'd been no lead-up, no chemistry before. .. and yet, the moment had felt real.
The door creaked open, and it swept Linda like a warm breeze. "Scarlett!" she gasped, her voice bouncing with excitement. "Girl. That shot was fired! You and Ethan? Literal magic."
Before Scarlett could say anything, Linda enveloped her in a tight hug. "You should've seen the crew's faces—every shot, pure gold. And the photos? Stunning. Like, magazine covers are stunning."
Scarlett managed a tired smile but collapsed onto the nearby couch. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck."
Linda snorted. "More like being hit by your own emotions. You were so red after that kiss. You looked like someone caught making out with their secret lover."
Scarlett groaned. "Can we not?"
But Linda just winked. "Come on, Scar. Don't pretend you didn't feel something."
Scarlett opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure what to say. Instead, she let Linda help her change out of the heavy gown and back into something more comfortable. They walked out into the hallway just as Ethan, Andrian, and the director were reviewing the shoot.
"The shoot exceeded expectations," the director announced. "You two delivered something... electric. I'll send final edits next week. Thank you both."
Scarlett's eyes locked on Ethan. She took a step forward.
"Ethan," she started, voice low, uncertain.
But he didn't even glance at her. He picked up his ringing phone, tone cool and indifferent. "Yeah? I'm on my way."
Then, without looking back, he walked away.
"Ethan—" she tried again.
For a fraction of a second—
He almost stopped.
Her voice did that to him.
It slipped under his skin before he could block it, before he could prepare, before he could rebuild the walls he'd spent years perfecting. His fingers tightened imperceptibly at his side.
Don't turn around.
Because if he did...
He might see her lips again.
Might remember exactly how they felt against his.
Might forget that the kiss wasn't supposed to happen.
Wasn't supposed to matter.
He didn't understand it.
Didn't understand why his body had moved before his mind.
Didn't understand why that moment kept replaying behind his eyes like it was burned there.
Didn't understand why the thought of explaining it to her felt more dangerous than the kiss itself.
So he chose the only thing he trusted—
Distance.
Control.
Escape.
"Not now, Scarlett. I've got things to take care of," he said over his shoulder.
His voice came out calm.
Even.
Untouched.
But he didn't slow down.
Didn't look back.
Because if he looked at her—
He might not leave.
–
Ethan's stride cut through the air like a blade, each step precise, calculated, but the tension around him crackled and hummed. Catherine followed, heels sharp on the floor, but his focus didn't linger.
Andrian stepped into his path.
Not aggressively. Not recklessly. Just enough to say: I'm here. You will acknowledge me.
A silent standoff. Two men, two pressures, one unspoken challenge.
Andrian's hands rested in his pockets, posture casual, expression neutral—but his eyes betrayed a sharp, careful observation, cataloging every movement.
She deserves better than him, Andrian thought bitterly. No, she deserves better than anyone who would leave her breathless in confusion... leave her wanting something she can't take. She deserves someone steady. Someone who sees her. All of her.
"The shoot looked intense," Andrian said lightly, conversational, but loaded. "Scarlett seemed a little... shaken."
Catherine's gaze flicked between them.
Ethan didn't blink.
Didn't shift.
Didn't soften.
"There's no need to worry about Scarlett," he replied coolly. His voice was smooth, flat, controlled. "I'm sure she's fine."
Andrian tilted his head slightly. "Good," he said. "I'd hate for her to be affected by something... unnecessary."
The word unnecessary lingered.
It didn't sound accidental.
It sounded placed.
Deliberate.
Something inside Ethan snapped taut.
Not outwardly.
No one watching would notice.
But his jaw tightened a fraction. His shoulders squared just enough to sharpen his silhouette. His gaze lowered slightly toward Andrian—not submissive.
Predatory.
"It's quite common husbands have effect on wife," Ethan said, voice quieter now, edged with something cold and possessive. "Especially a man like me."
The words landed between them like a blade sliding onto glass.
Catherine's lashes flickered.
Andrian's smile didn't fade—
—but it still did.
Just slightly.
Ethan leaned closer by half an inch. Not enough to be obvious. Enough to be felt.
"Worry about yourself, Andrian."
Silence followed.
Not empty.
Loaded.
Andrian held his gaze for one second longer... then two.
Andrian's gaze lingered for two heartbeats before a faint nod curved his lips. "Of course."
She trusts me. She doesn't even know how much I'd go through to make sure she's safe. To make sure she's not broken again, he thought, voice silent in his mind. And she has no idea how much I'm already caught in her gravity... how much I can't stop noticing, thinking, wanting.
Ethan didn't wait for anything else.
He stepped past him.
Catherine followed immediately, though her eyes lingered on Andrian for a moment before she turned.
Behind them, Andrian remained where he stood, watching Ethan's back with an expression that had lost its casual warmth.
Something thoughtful.
Something assessing.
Something newly aware.
—
The noise of the studio faded into a dull hum in Scarlett's ears.
"Scarlett! Hey, where's your mind wandering?" Linda's voice brought her back.
"Oh. Sorry, Linda," Scarlett muttered.
"You look completely drained," Linda said, concerned about touching her voice.
"I am drained."
"Well," Linda winked, "maybe you need a little recharging. What do you say?"
A faint, weary smile tugged at Scarlett's lips. "Yeah... recharge sounds good."
"Then let's go plug you in, darling."
Scarlett and Linda stepped out of the studio into the warm night air, the glass doors sealing shut behind them with a soft hush that felt almost like the world exhaling. The city greeted them with a gentle breeze scented faintly of street food and asphalt still warm from the day's sun.
Scarlett rolled her shoulders as if shedding invisible weight, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. The silence between them wasn't uncomfortable—it was the kind that comes after a storm, when the sky hasn't quite decided whether it wants to clear.
Linda glanced sideways at her, studying her face. "You sure you're alive in there?"
Scarlett huffed faintly. "Barely."
A shadow shifted near the edge of the building. Not lurking. Waiting.
Andrian stood beneath a streetlamp a few steps away, hands tucked into his pockets, posture relaxed but eyes attentive.
He'd stepped out moments earlier, intending to leave, but when he'd seen Scarlett emerge—shoulders slightly slumped, expression far away—he hadn't been able to walk off.
Something about the way she carried exhaustion made his chest tighten.
He hesitated, watching them laugh softly together. Then he made his decision and stepped forward.
"Would you mind if I joined you girls?"
His voice was gentle, careful—like someone knocking rather than entering.
Scarlett blinked, surprised. "Andrian?"
Relief flickered across her face before she could hide it. "Of course. Come with us."
Linda wiggled her brows. "The more the merrier. Especially if you're buying snacks."
Andrian chuckled. "I walked right into that trap, didn't I?"
They strolled beneath rows of amber streetlights until the glow of the open-air market came into view—a lively pocket of color tucked between two old brick buildings. Neon signs buzzed overhead. Smoke curled from grills. Oil crackled. Laughter bounced from stall to stall.
The moment they stepped inside, the world shifted.
Noise replaced silence.
Warmth replaced tension.
Life replaced thought.
Linda inhaled dramatically. "Ahh. Smell that?"
"Grease and garlic?" Scarlett guessed.
"Exactly," Linda said reverently, pressing a hand to her heart. "The perfume of happiness."
Andrian laughed under his breath, watching Scarlett as she smiled—really smiled—for the first time all evening. The tightness that had shadowed her since the shoot loosened, just a little.
They claimed a plastic table beneath a red paper lantern that swayed gently overhead. The surface was slightly sticky. The chairs wobbled. None of them cared.
They ordered skewers dripping with sauce, dumplings steaming in bamboo baskets, and tall glasses of iced tea that sweated in the warm air.
Linda snatched the first skewer the second it arrived, took a dramatic bite, and closed her eyes. "God," she sighed. "If heaven isn't this, I'm not going."
Scarlett laughed softly. "You'd haunt the afterlife complaining about the menu."
"And you'd design their outfits," Linda shot back. "Ghost couture."
Andrian leaned his elbow on the table, chin resting on his knuckles, amused. "You two always like this after work?"
"This?" Linda gestured to herself grandly. "This is us being tame."
Scarlett nodded solemnly. "You should see her when caffeine is involved."
"Traitor," Linda gasped.
They dissolved into laughter, the sound light and unrestrained.
A vendor nearby shouted an order number. Oil hissed. Someone dropped chopsticks. A child ran past chasing a balloon.
Life moved.
And for a while... Scarlett forgot to think.
She told them about the time a model's dress zipper broke seconds before runway call and she'd had to staple it shut with office supplies.
Linda countered with the infamous story of spilling an entire latte across a designer's sketchbook and trying to dry it with a hairdryer—which only melted the ink into abstract art.
Andrian listened, smiling quietly, occasionally adding a soft comment that made Scarlett glance at him with surprised amusement. He never interrupted. Never dominated. He simply filled the spaces gently, like background music that somehow made everything warmer.
At one point, Linda pointed her skewer at him. "You're suspiciously calm. Tell us something embarrassing about yourself."
Andrian raised a brow. "Why would I do that?"
"Trust exercise," she said solemnly.
Scarlett tilted her head, curiosity glinting. "Yes. Trust exercise."
He pretended to think, then sighed. "Fine. When I was ten, I cried because my goldfish ignored me."
Linda slammed her palm on the table. "No."
Scarlett covered her mouth, laughter slipping through her fingers. "Ignored you?"
"I was convinced it loved my sister more," he said gravely.
Linda wheezed. "I can't breathe—"
Scarlett leaned forward, eyes bright, shoulders shaking as she laughed. Andrian watched her quietly, something soft settling in his chest at the sound.
For the first time that night, she didn't look haunted.
She looked... alive.
Time stretched, easy and golden. Plates emptied. Ice melted. The lantern above them swayed like a slow heartbeat.
Eventually Andrian stood, brushing his hands together. "Let me drive you both home."
Linda checked her phone and shook her head. "I'd love that, but I've gotta swing by my cousin's place first. Family emergency involving burnt cookies."
Scarlett hesitated, fingers tracing condensation on her glass. "I... actually left something at the office."
She swallowed, a small, uneasy weight settling in her chest. She didn't want to go alone with him—not yet.
Not like this. I'm not ready. Not in this state.
I might say something, do something... expose everything to him.
Her pulse picked up. The thought of vulnerability, of unguarded truth spilling out, made her stomach twist.
Andrian's voice softened, patient and gentle. "I'll take you."
Her gaze lifted to his, caught in the streetlight. Fragile. Grateful. Cautious. She gave a small nod, the tiniest concession to trust in a moment that felt both safe and dangerous.
Linda waved dramatically from the curb, already halfway into another call, and Scarlett allowed Andrian to guide her down the quiet street.
The city hummed softly around them, warm and alive, yet charged with tension—an invisible thread connecting them, taut and unspoken, dangerous in its subtle pull.