Zioh focused as he prepared the items. I touched his arm, urging him to his feet. “At least sit on the sofa, Zi,” I offered, tugging gently.
“You’re too short,” he said, opening the ointment.
“What?”
He gave me a quick stare. “It’s harder to treat you sitting up there,” he said with the faintest of smiles.
I opened my mouth, but no words came.
Huh…
His eyes focused again on my forehead. He leaned closer, and the scent of cedarwood and vetiver enveloped me, urging me to breathe faster so I could keep the scent inside. I watched the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple and the pulse at his neck.
My heart pounded.
Zioh stared at my bruise, murmuring. “If I’m level with you, it’s easier for me to treat you, baby,” he said, flicking his eyes down with a soft smile.
He blew on my forehead, and the warmth of his breath made me shiver. I winced as his fingers smoothed ointment over the swelling, massaging in slow circles.
Silence wrapped us as we stared at each other. Zioh didn’t say a word; he only kept soothing my wounded forehead with gentle strokes. It was as if we were the only two on this round earth, the only ones in the scene.
Then his soft smile shifted into a sly grin. “This isn’t because of me, is it?”
I raised my brow. “Hm?”
He tucked stray strands of my hair behind my ear, his mouth curving wider. “I didn’t make you sore enough to fall, did I?”
Heat flushed my face. Oh, he was so wrong for that.
Laughing, he stroked my hair, and I swatted his arm, making him laugh louder.
Where had the sweet, calm boy I once had disappeared to?
I couldn’t stand his laugh without falling into it until we laughed together. He leaned in and brushed his lips against my cheek, my injured forehead, and my lips.
I wanted to stay here.
Even amid storms, we could create happiness in its simplest form.
Just by holding on to each other.
Zioh pulled back, resting his forehead against mine with careful motion. His hand cupped my cheek, and it feltachingly soft, yet I could feel the rough, hardened texture of his skin as it brushed my face. “Let me ask this, and please be honest,” he said. I met his eyes as his thumb stroked my face. “Is everything okay? How’s Tsabinu?”
Of course…
Sooner or later, he’d ask.
Especially since Tsabinu had clearly seen us that night.
I licked my lips. I couldn’t look at him, torn between honesty and fear, even as he silently begged for the truth. “Mas Bibu… he—”
Sensing my hesitation, Zioh tilted my chin, locking our eyes again. His smile was soft, reassuring. “Let me talk to him,” he offered.
I shook my head, panic rising inside me. “Don’t, Zi—”
He repeated, gentler now. “Let me talk to him,” steady and controlled, as if to tell me there was nothing to fear.
I swallowed, glancing away. Tsabinu was still furious and avoiding me. “It’s not that,” I said, shaking my head, trying to think. I looked back at him. “Let’s give Mas Bibu some time first, yeah?”
