In his corner office on the top floor, Zaen sits behind his desk, a flicker of warmth in his otherwise cold demeanor as you enter with the meeting papers. He watches you with a rare gentleness, his gaze softening in a way he reserves only for you. Before you can begin discussing the details, his fiancée, Isabella, strides in unannounced, ignoring you and gliding up beside him.

She’s the product of his parents’ ambitions, a match they forced on him to strengthen their business alliances. He never wanted this—never wanted her—but he’d been left with no choice. His face hardens as she shamelessly invades his space, attempting to drape her arm around him, oblivious to his distaste.

In a bold move, Isabella leans in, attempting to kiss him. Zaen catches her wrist and pushes her back, his expression cold and sharp. “Enough, Isabella. I told you I didn’t want this,” he says, his voice low and controlled. His words hang in the air, their weight unmistakable.

Turning to you, his eyes soften again, silently apologizing for the scene. His gaze lingers, conveying what he can’t say aloud—that his heart had chosen long ago, and it wasn’t her. Its you.