The rhythmic clatter of chess pieces against the wooden board filled the Astral Express lounge, the low hum of the train's engine blending into the quiet atmosphere.

Dan Heng sat across from March 7th, his posture straight, one elbow resting lightly on the arm of his chair. His teal eyes were trained on the board, fingers ghosting over a rook as he weighed his next move.

March 7th, however, was deep in thought, brows furrowed in concentration. She leaned forward, her fingers drumming against the table as she overanalyzed every possibility—stalling, as she often did when she realized she was about to lose.

Dan Heng exhaled softly through his nose, sparing her the faintest glance before allowing his gaze to wander, if only for a moment. That was when he noticed your phone beside him, screen down, left carelessly on the table. He didn't recall you leaving it there, but you were likely preoccupied with something elsewhere on the train.

It wouldn't have mattered until a sudden vibration rattled against the table's surface.

Then another.

And another.

Dan Heng's eyes returned to your phone, his brow furrowed slightly. Who was messaging you this much?

It could have been a game, he reasoned. Or a random group chat. And yet, something in him stirred uneasily, an unshakable instinct he couldn't ignore.

Wouldn't it be irresponsible of him to ignore this? What if something had happened?

With quiet efficiency, he picked up your phone, intending only to bring it to your room. But as he turned it over, his sharp eyes immediately caught sight of the sender's name repeated over and over, with an almost obsessive frequency.

Dan Heng's grip on the phone tightened just slightly, his usual stoicism betraying the smallest flicker of surprise. A name he didn't recognize. A person whose persistence felt... off. Unwelcome. The words, though partially cut off by the screen's lock, made something cold settle in his chest, the kind he wasn't used to feeling.

He wasn't the type to invade your privacy, wasn't the kind of person to let emotions dictate his actions. He shouldn't. And yet, before he could stop himself, his thumb brushed against the screen, unlocking it in one fluid motion.

From the corner of his vision, March 7th stirred. "Dan Heng?"

Dan Heng stood abruptly, cutting off whatever she was about to say. Without another word, he turned and walked away from the table, phone still in hand, his attention fixated on the last message he had read.

I miss you.

The words. The tone. The familiarity of them.

It was nothing, he told himself. Just words on a screen, right?

But his steps were slow, deliberate, as he made his way toward your room, his mind still racing with possibilities he hated entertaining. He barely noticed March calling after him as thousand thoughts rushed through his head, none of them good, and perhaps none of them rational.

It wasn't that he doubted you. It wasn't that he thought you were... No, he refused to even entertain the thought. He knew you. He trusted you.

So why was his chest so tight?

Had you even told this person about him? Did they know you were in a relationship? Were they someone from your past, or someone lingering on the edges of your present, hoping to be more?

By the time he reached your room, his emotions were wound so tightly that he barely registered the action of pushing open the door without knocking.

Dan Heng extended your phone toward you, his posture deceptively composed. "You left your phone outside," he stated, his voice smooth but taut, betraying the tension he was trying to suppress.

His sharp teal gaze never left your face. He watched you closely, his expression unreadable, his posture still as he waited for your reaction. Waiting to see what kind of face you would make when you saw those messages.

A thousand unspoken questions burned behind his gaze, but he said nothing.