"Looks like you have to pick up our dear Sasha. See she's sleeping like baby. Isn't she?," Anne said, as she looked at me and leaning towards Samuel and encircling her hands around his arms like a happily married couple. Meanwhile, Sasha's head unconsciously rested on my shoulders which made Anne smile and continue her harmless tease., "Oh how cute!"
"She's so short when I first saw her she looked like a school girl in college dress.," Samuel remarked, his smile grinned widely. He sipped his champagne feeling a little tipsy. Even he had a low alcohol tolerance but not as bad as Sasha's.
Anne gulped her champagne and added, "yes, she gives those no nonsense but approachable good girl vibe."
"Hah, yes does.," Sam added, "But she's quite unapproachable to me... or maybe it's all fun."
"I can imagine you have been quite troublesome to our poor Sasha.," Anne laughed leaning a bit.
I looked at Sasha whose head was still on my shoulders. She had grown a little vellus hair, her skin was flawless maybe all asians had skin like this, but it was adorned with few freckles on her nose.
I shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of Sasha's head still resting on my shoulder, her breath slow and even. The subtle shift in her demeanor made the moment oddly intimate, and I found myself studying her face more closely. Her head tilted slightly in sleep, and I noticed how her dark lashes fanned out against her pale skin. Her skin—flawless, almost luminous—but it wasn't without character. A few faint freckles dotted her nose, and I couldn't help but admire the small, delicate detail.
Anne's voice broke through the quiet again, smooth and teasing. "I can imagine you've been quite troublesome to our poor Sasha," she added with a soft laugh, leaning in slightly, her eyes lingering on me with that same sharp glint.
Samuel chuckled, taking another sip of his champagne, his smile wide and light despite his words. "Oh, I'm sure she'd say the same about me," he said, his tone casual, almost playful. "She always looks a little irritated around me, but... it's all fun, isn't it?"
Anne scoffed lightly, rolling her eyes but still smiling. "Yes, fun for you," she teased. "She's got that no-nonsense, but approachable good girl vibe. You two could not be more opposite."
I didn't respond right away, my attention flicking back to Sasha. Even in sleep, she seemed so calm, unbothered by the world around her. Her hair had a hint of softness to it, fine little vellus strands brushing lightly against my skin. I found myself studying her features more closely—the small curve of her lips, the gentle slope of her nose, the quiet serenity in her expression. She had a warmth to her, something subtle but undeniable.
Anne's gaze caught mine, sharp and expectant. "So, Detective... what do you think of our little Sasha? She seems to have you wrapped around her finger already."
I glanced at her, my expression neutral, but the undercurrent of her words wasn't lost on me. "She's sleeping," I said, my tone steady, masking any reaction. "She looks comfortable."
Anne's smile widened, though it still held that edge—like she was watching for something I wasn't ready to give away. She sipped her champagne again, and for a moment, the air grew thick with unspoken tension.
Samuel, unaware of the silent exchange, sipped his drink, clearly enjoying the playful banter, but I could feel Anne's eyes lingering on me, reading too much into what should've been an ordinary interaction.
I kept my focus on Sasha, letting her presence ground me—her warmth, the softness of her against me. There was something delicate about her, and it struck me how she seemed both fragile and resilient at the same time. It made her feel... different from everyone else in the room.
Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that Anne's words hung heavier than they should have.
"She should have been a little more careful about… umm… alcohol," I muttered, brushing a hand through my hair. My silent thought lingered, though, unwelcome yet undeniable: Although she looks irresistibly cute with her childish breathing.
Anne's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing. She grinned, her voice dripping with teasing amusement. "Oh, look! Our stoic Detective Loren is all red and blushing. Who knew you had a soft spot?"
"Stop it…" I started, cutting myself off as my eyes drifted back to Sasha. Her peaceful expression, the faint rise and fall of her breath—it wasn't funny. It was… grounding, somehow. I sighed, lifting her head gently and resting it against the high back of the chair. It was tall enough to support her without slumping.
Samuel, of course, couldn't resist jumping in. "I can't imagine him getting all fluff and soft," he said with a wide, mischievous grin. "Quite the opposite of his legendary stoic reputation of a head detective, isn't it?"
I rolled my eyes at him, trying to brush off his comment as I leaned back in my seat. "You're imagining things," I said dryly, but even I wasn't convinced by my own tone.
Samuel laughed, his shoulders shaking slightly as he sipped what little was left of his champagne. Anne, on the other hand, continued to smirk knowingly, her eyes flitting between me and Sasha as if she were piecing together some grand mystery.
"It's not like that," I added, this time more firmly, but Anne just waved a dismissive hand.
"Of course, of course," she said, her tone lilting with sarcasm. "I'm sure it's purely professional—just you being the gentlemanly boss, right?"
I didn't bother replying. There was no point when Anne was in one of her moods. Instead, I focused on adjusting Sasha's jacket slightly so she wouldn't catch a chill.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Samuel's grin widening. "You're too easy to wind up, Loren," he said with a chuckle.
"Maybe," I muttered, leaning back into my seat. But in the quiet that followed, I couldn't help but glance at Sasha again. Her peaceful face, free of the usual seriousness she wore while awake, made me wonder just how much of her she kept hidden.
And for some reason, I found myself wanting to know.
I looked at the clock hanging just above the fireplace, its steady ticking blending with the soothing crackle of the burning wood. It was nearly midnight, a quiet marker of time slipping into a new chapter. The year 2004 was just minutes away, and I had no idea what it had in store for me.
Anne's voice broke the comfortable silence. "Almost time for cake," she announced with a hint of anticipation, glancing toward the kitchen.
Samuel, leaning back in his chair with an impish grin, couldn't resist. "It's made by Anne," he warned, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. "Might be hazardous."
I pursed my lips, fighting the urge to laugh at the exchange. The situation itself was amusing—Anne's narrowed eyes, Samuel's exaggerated theatrics—but mostly, it was Anne's determined effort that made it endearing.
"Oh, ha-ha," Anne retorted dryly, crossing her arms. "You'll be the first one to ask for seconds, you ungrateful buffoon."
Samuel gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest like she'd struck him. "I'd never! Though, to be fair, last year's was... memorable."
"Memorable in a good way," I interjected, though the corner of my mouth twitched with a suppressed grin.
Anne pointed a finger at me. "See? Loren has manners."
Samuel snorted. "Loren's just too polite to say otherwise."
The tension dissolved into light chuckles, the warmth of the fire wrapping around us as if the world outside didn't exist. Midnight would arrive any second now, and for this fleeting moment, it felt like nothing else mattered but the company and the banter we shared.
The clock struck midnight, and Anne returned triumphantly from the kitchen, holding a slightly lopsided chocolate cake with candles flickering on top.
"Happy New Year!" she declared, placing the cake on the table.
Samuel leaned closer, squinting at the creation. "It's… uh… unique," he said, earning a playful slap on the arm from Anne.
"Make a wish!" she said, ignoring him and looking at me expectantly.
I hesitated but leaned forward, blowing out the candles. The room erupted into cheers, Samuel clapping loudly while Anne beamed.
"Alright, first slice for the birthday boy," Anne teased, handing me a plate with a generous piece.
I took a bite and paused. It wasn't bad—surprisingly moist, even.
Samuel raised a brow. "Well?"
"It's… good," I said honestly.
Anne smirked victoriously. Samuel, reluctantly taking a bite, groaned. "Fine, it's not hazardous. But don't let it go to your head."
We laughed, the sound mingling with the crackling fire. For a brief moment, the world felt simple, even if I knew it wouldn't stay that way.