A biting cold climbed rapidly through my body, spreading everywhere and dragging the nausea back with it, especially at the sight of my colleagues’ sneers.
Idiot. I should’ve known. Aditya hadn’t told anyone he’d given me this position.Not a single soul.
My oxygen dwindled, my breath caught and jagged.
I had to speak. I had to explain. But—
“It was Mr Bakti Danudara who recommended her directly.” Again, Zioh intervened—calm, deep, and firm. Every eye turned to him now. “He reviewed the team profiles for this project and was impressed by Tshabina’srecord here. So, you prove it to me, right, Miss Tshabina?” His voice cut through as he stood tall, looming above me. Forcing me to look up into those obsidian eyes; they were so dark and consuming.
And strangely, I was calm again. My breath returned. I wassafe.
Safe, just like Sophie felt ten years ago, believing nothing bad could touch me while he was here.
Like a hero. Only for me.
At last, after so long a silence, he smiled. Faint, but real. “We can discuss the press conference brief privately and let the team rest for lunch. So, shall we, Tshabina?”
13
Tshabina
Past
“Don’t you ever get bored listening to that?” Zioh asked me.
I looked up from the sheets he had been explaining, staring at him in disbelief. He was seated across from me, eyes fixed, waiting for my reply. Bored? At One Direction?!Please don’t tell me Zeraiah’s cloned himself. “Is there even such a thing as a boring One Direction song?” I shot back, scowling.
Zioh smiled, ruffling my hair, mischief glowing in his face,ugh. “If Zeraiah hears you play this again, we’re in for another episode.” He brushed his fingers against my cheek.
We were in the Danudara family room at Zioh and Zeraiah’s home. The plan was to study, hopefully, before Zeraiah turned this place into an amusement park again. He and Tsabinu had gone out for snacks thirty minutes ago, and God knows what spontaneous scheme had delayed them.
Huffing, I turned back to my homework. “Tsk. Why is it so hard to make Zeraiah into a Directioner?” This was our endless war. Wherever and whenever we fought over whose playlist would win: my full One Direction album or his endless rock bands.
Zioh gave me a quiet laugh, leaning over my sheets. “That star boy loves his rock, Sophie, let him be,” he murmured, as if reminding me.
Oh, I knew. Everyone knew.
But this was about pride. Defence.
“Tsk.” I rolled my eyes. “Zeraiah is boring,” I muttered, chewing the steak Zioh had made for me earlier.
Grinning, Zioh leaned closer. “Don’t let him hear you say that,” he whispered, his eyes mischievous.
Right. Because if Zeraiah did, it would be a war.
Chewing slowly, I caught Zioh watching me again. “If you don’t like it, don’t force it.” He gestured toward the table. “Aunt Enda made dim sum.”
“I like it. Really. I’ve started liking all things UK, you know?” I mumbled through a full mouth. I didn’t hate it, but I wasn’t a fan either. Years ago, I’d seen Zioh eat still bloody-red steak, which made me curious. I tried. And yes, I vomited.
Since then, he had always made mine perfectly cooked. Even Tsabinu was baffled, since I had never ordered steak in restaurants. But when Zioh cooked it, well, it wasn’t bad. Still, without chillies, it felt incomplete.
I looked at him again. “Besides, I have to practise.” I shrugged, warmth slowly rising to my cheeks. “Hm… if one day I ever went to the UK with you, I wouldn’t be homesick for Mum’s cooking. I mean, if the chance ever—”
“Hey.” He cut me off, his gaze locking with mine, voice soft. “Notif, butcertain. Because I’ll take you there, and we’ll do whatever you want.” He smiled, warmth softening his eyes. “Start making a list, write everything you want to do in the UK, and we will do it together.” His words were calm, but resolute. My cheeks burned, and I nodded.
A tender smile touched his lips, and I cleared my throat to hide my nerves. “Can we… eat steak with chillies, then?” I asked.
I really asked, though.
