I leaned in again, my lips trailing lower, the world narrowing down to skin, breath, and the quiet truth between us.
The waves kept moving.
And for that moment—
nothing else existed.
I stayed close, my lips brushing along his skin—slow, deliberate, reverent.
Each kiss was light, almost careful, as if I was memorizing him. The strength beneath my mouth. The warmth. The way his breath changed every time I lingered just a second longer.
Chak's hand slid into my hair, not pulling—just there. Grounding me.
I lifted my head and looked at him.
His eyes were dark, focused only on me.
And then we kissed again.
Deeper this time. Familiar. Dangerous. The kind of kiss that made you forget where you were—and why you shouldn't be doing this.
When I finally pulled back, my forehead resting against his chest, reality rushed in all at once.
The lights.
The people.
The distance we couldn't afford.
I inhaled slowly.
"We have to go back," I whispered. "To the group."
Chak didn't answer right away.
Then he nodded, once.
"I know," he said quietly.
His thumb brushed my cheek—brief, careful—before his hand dropped away completely.
Before I could say anything, Chak leaned in.
His lips found my neck—slow, warm, deliberate.
I inhaled sharply, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as his mouth traced the sensitive skin just below my ear. It wasn't rushed. It wasn't careless. It felt like he knew exactly what he was doing to me.
"Chak…" I whispered, more breath than sound.
He didn't answer.
Instead, his fingers slipped under the hem of my shirt, lifting it just enough to bare my shoulder. The afternoon air kissed my skin—and then his lips followed.
A soft kiss.
Then another.
Right on my shoulder.
My head tilted back without me meaning to, my body responding before my mind could catch up. Every place his lips touched burned in the best possible way.
"You have no idea how hard it is," he murmured against my skin, "to stand there and not touch you."
I swallowed.
My hand slid over his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles, the restraint he was barely holding onto.
"I know," I said quietly. "I see the way you look at me."
He kissed my shoulder once more—longer this time—before resting his forehead against mine.
For a moment, the world disappeared.
Then it came crashing back.
I exhaled, my fingers tightening in his shirt.
"We really should go back," I said softly. "Before someone notices."
Chak hesitated.
Then, reluctantly, he nodded.
"Tonight," he said under his breath. "Eight. On the yacht."
My heart skipped.
He let my shirt fall back into place, his hand dropping away like it cost him something to do it.
When we stepped apart, the space between us felt heavier than before.
And as we walked back toward the others, my neck still burned where his lips had been—
a secret only I carried.
When we returned to the group, I immediately noticed something had changed.
Everyone had already split into teams.
"Niran, over here!" Amara called out, waving at me from a few steps away.
I walked toward her, sand shifting beneath my feet, and stopped when I saw the rest of the group. There were a few unfamiliar faces among us.
"They mixed the teams on purpose," Pim said with a small shrug. "To keep it fair."
I nodded slowly, still adjusting to the noise and movement around us.
"I hope we win," Non said dramatically, clasping his hands together.
Then he added, louder than necessary, "I really want to see how my future husband is going to marry someone else."
He pressed a hand to his chest and made an exaggerated, heartbroken expression.
"It's going to destroy me emotionally."
I snorted before I could stop myself. "Non, don't be so dramatic," I said with a smile.
He grinned, clearly pleased with himself.
I turned without meaning to.
And there he was.
Chak stood a short distance away, arms relaxed at his sides, posture calm—but his eyes were fixed on us.
On me.
My stomach tightened.
I knew he had heard Non's comment.
His gaze didn't soften.
It sharpened.
Then Chak took a single step forward.
The movement was subtle, but it pulled everyone's attention toward him instantly.
"Now that you're all divided into teams," he said evenly, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the waves, "we can begin."
The chatter died down.
"This will be a multi-stage challenge," Chak continued. "First, a relay."
A few people exchanged excited looks.
"Each member of the team will carry a full glass of water," he explained, "and pass through the obstacle course. Your goal is to pour as much water as possible into your team's bottle."
He gestured toward the clear plastic bottles standing in the sand.
"When the bottle reaches the marked level," he went on, "you'll move to the second stage."
Somewhere behind me, someone muttered, "This already sounds stressful."
Chak didn't react.
"The second stage will test your knowledge of our products," he said calmly. "One team member will wear a label on their head. You'll need to describe the product without naming it, until they guess correctly. Then you switch."
A few groans followed, mixed with laughter.
"And finally," Chak added, pausing just long enough to let the murmurs settle, "there will be a company quiz."
A few surprised reactions followed.
"A quiz?" someone repeated.
"Yes," Chak confirmed calmly. "Ten questions."
He glanced over the group, his gaze steady, assessing.
"These questions will test how well you actually know this company," he continued. "Our values. Our products. Our history. Not just what you see on the surface."
The beach grew quieter.
"You'll answer as a team," Chak said. "Discuss quietly. One final answer per question."
He lifted a hand slightly, emphasizing his next words.
"No phones. No hints. Just what you know."
A few nervous laughs escaped the group.
"When the ten questions are done," he went on, "the answers will be checked immediately. Each correct answer earns you one point."
His eyes swept across the teams once more.
"The team with the highest score wins."
A beat.
"And yes," Chak added, his voice even, "this will determine who attends the wedding."
That got their attention.
Completely.
I knew Chak was watching me.
Silence hung in the air for a beat.
Chak's gaze swept over the teams once more.
"Are you ready?"
A chorus of voices answered back.
"Yes!"
"Let's do this!"
"We've got this!"
Chak's eyes met mine again—just briefly.
"Then," he said, his voice steady, "let the games begin. Now."
My pulse picked up.
This wasn't just a game anymore.
Not for me.
Before anyone could move toward the obstacles, I took a step forward.
"Hey," I said, lifting my glass slightly. "Before we start—"
A few heads turned toward me.
I wasn't usually the one who spoke up like this, but something about the atmosphere made it feel right.
"No matter how this ends," I continued, offering a small smile, "it's just a game. What matters is that we have fun."
For a second, there was silence.
Then Pim smiled. "That's… surprisingly wholesome coming from you."
Non gasped dramatically. "Excuse me, are you saying winning isn't everything?"
I laughed. "I'm saying if we're going to lose, we might as well lose laughing."
That earned a few chuckles.
"Fair enough," Amara said, adjusting her grip on the glass. "I'm in."
Non lifted his own glass like it was a champagne flute. "To fun. And to me not spilling all of this in the first ten seconds."
Someone snorted.
Across the sand, Chak watched us.
He didn't interrupt. Didn't comment.
But his lips curved just slightly—as if he liked what he was seeing.
"Alright," one of the coordinators called out. "Teams, line up!"
We took our positions at the starting point of the obstacle course. The sand was uneven beneath my feet, the glass of water cool in my hand.
The bottle stood at the end of the course, half-buried in the sand, waiting.
I took a slow breath.
Fun, I reminded myself.
Not pressure. Not expectations.
Just this moment.
I glanced once more across the beach.
Chak met my eyes.
My fingers tightened around the glass.
and suddenly we were moving—
laughter, splashing water, shouted encouragement filling the beach as the first task began.
The moment the signal was given, the beach erupted into movement.
Laughter, shouts, and splashing water filled the air as the first runners took off.
"Careful, careful—don't spill it!" someone yelled.
The obstacle course looked simple from a distance—wooden beams, low nets, uneven sand mounds—but the moment you stepped onto it, everything became harder. The sand shifted underfoot, the glass felt heavier than it should have, and every small movement threatened to send water sloshing over the rim.
Our first teammate barely made it past the second obstacle before a wave of water spilled over the side.
"Hey! That was like half the glass!" Non shouted, horrified.
"Shut up and focus!" Pim called back, laughing as she waited for her turn.
When the glass was passed to me, it was still more than half full.
I took a steady breath.
Okay. Slow. Careful.
I stepped onto the beam, arms slightly out to balance myself. The water trembled, rippling dangerously close to the edge.
"Don't look down," Amara said. "And don't think about falling."
"Great advice," I muttered.
I moved forward, step by step, heart pounding louder with each second. The net was next—I crouched, lowering myself carefully, holding the glass as steady as possible.
A drop of water spilled.
"Hey!" Non protested. "That was valuable!"
I shot him a look. "I'm still alive, aren't I?"
That earned a laugh from our team—and from somewhere nearby, I heard Chak's voice.
"Focus, everyone," he called out calmly. "Control over speed."
I knew that comment was for all of us.
But it still felt like it was meant for me.
When I finally reached the bottle, I exhaled in relief and carefully poured what remained of the water inside. The level rose—but not by much.
I winced.
"Not great," Pim admitted.
"But not terrible either," Amara said encouragingly.
Non crossed his arms. "We can still recover. As long as no one trips and dumps the whole glass."
As if on cue, someone from another team slipped, water splashing dramatically into the sand.
The beach erupted in laughter.
When the relay continued, the pressure built. Some team members did better, others less so. By the time the last person poured their water into the bottle, we all leaned in to look.
The water level stopped just short of the mark.
A coordinator stepped closer, checking it carefully.
"Team three," he announced, "you're just under the line."
A collective groan escaped us.
Non dropped his head back. "I knew it. This is my tragic villain origin story."
I laughed despite myself, brushing sand off my hands.
I glanced across the beach.
Chak was watching again.
His expression was unreadable—but his eyes softened slightly when they met mine.
We hadn't won the first stage.
But somehow, it didn't feel like we'd lost either.