I yelped as a black Mercedes screeched to a stop before me. My phone slipped from my hand, skidding across the asphalt. “Aw…” I hissed, crouching down, rubbing my palm where it had scraped the ground.
Before I could straighten, a voice tore through the air. “Tshabina?”
I held my breath and looked up.
Zioh.
He was already kneeling in front of me, his face pale and his hand steadying my shoulder. “What are you doing here?” he asked, gripping my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Are you okay?” His eyes scanned me from head to toe, sharp and searching.
I brushed off my palm and nodded. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I texted you.” I bent down to take my phone, but he reached it first and picked it up for me. “We were supposed to meet at the cafe.” I glanced back toward my house gate.
He frowned. “I don’t check my phone when I’m driving.”
We stood there in silence until he slowly reached out and took my bags from me. I found myself looking at him. He looked devastatingly handsome, dressed in a black knit shirt and white pants, every ounce of elegance set on his frame. My heart hammered harder, my cheeks burning, and I glanced at my phone. “It’s only 7:45. We still have fifteen minutes,” I said, trying to hide my nerves.
“This is Jakarta,” he said. “Traffic. I left an hour ago to make sure I arrived on time.”
Then his gaze sharpened, piercing me. “You still haven’t answered me. What are you doing here?” he pressed. “You look like you’ve run away from something.”
Cold prickled my skin. “I told you, we were supposed to meet at the cafe—”
“Why?” His tone cut deeper, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at my gate. “That’s your house. Why at the cafe?”
“I—” I faltered. “There’s Mas Bibu in there—”
“So?” His voice dropped. His brow arched. “What does it matter if he’s there?”
My throat closed up. “Just… so we wouldn’t be disturbed. He just got home.”
His stare grew colder, freezing me where I stood.
Had I… triggered his dominant black phase?
Then, he spoke, cold and deep. “Don’t tell me you’re trembling like a scared rabbit because you don’t want Tsabinu to know you’re coming to my place?”
Busted.
I froze. My mouth opened, but before I could speak, his hand seized mine.
“Come.” He held my hand, guiding me toward the gate.
“Wait! Zi!” I yanked back with all my strength.
He stopped, his eyes blazing down at me. “Don’t,” I begged, shaking my head, my breath coming fast. “He’s exhausted, Zi. He’s been buried in work, and he might already be asleep.” I sputtered. “Please, d-don’t. I texted him earlier anyway.”
He stared at me for a long, piercing moment. His eyes were shaking and burning.
Then, at last, he let go.
Without a word, he turned, walked back to the car, and got in. I swallowed hard, following, but I knew I’d just awakened something I’d been avoiding these past weeks.
The silence inside the car made the air thick. His jaw tightened, and his grip was white-knuckled on the wheel.
The black phase of him was here again.
My heart slammed so hard it hurt.
The rest of the drive blurred. He said nothing, neither did I; the only sound was the city traffic outside. His chest rose and fell with a fast motion, and his eyes locked on the road.
