The second task was about to begin when an idea slipped into my mind.
A terrible idea.
A brilliant one.
I glanced toward Chak, who was standing a little apart, watching the teams with that focused, composed expression of his. The same one he wore during meetings. During decisions. During moments when he pretended nothing could touch him.
I knew better.
If I wanted his attention—real attention—this was my chance.
Before I could overthink it, I took a step forward.
Then another.
And then—
I let my foot twist slightly in the sand.
"Ah—!"
I stumbled, my balance giving way as my foot caught in the uneven ground. I went down harder than I planned, landing on my side with a sharp intake of breath.
"Shit—!"
Everything happened at once.
"Niran!"
"Are you okay?"
"What happened?"
People rushed toward me from all directions, voices overlapping, feet kicking up sand.
I stayed still, one hand pressed to my ankle, my face twisted just enough to sell it.
And then—
Chak was there.
He dropped to his knees in front of me so fast it barely registered, his usual control cracking instantly. His brows were drawn together, eyes dark with something unmistakably close to fear.
"Niran," he said urgently, his voice low but tight. "Can you move?"
I looked up at him, blinking.
"I—I think I twisted my ankle," I said, letting my voice waver just a little.
His jaw clenched.
"Can you try to stand?" he asked, already reaching out, careful but firm.
I nodded.
With his help, I pushed myself up—only to deliberately lose my balance again, my body tipping sideways.
"Whoa—!"
Taeng caught my arm instinctively, steadying me.
But Chak reacted faster.
"That's enough," he said sharply.
Before anyone could say another word, Chak slid one arm under my knees and the other around my back.
And then—
He lifted me.
Gasps and surprised laughter broke out around us.
"Chak—!" someone started.
He didn't look at them.
"Continue with the task," he said firmly, already turning toward the resort. "I'll take him back."
No discussion.
No argument.
I felt my heart slam against my ribs as I instinctively wrapped a hand around his shoulder. His grip was strong, secure—protective in a way that made my chest ache.
As he walked away from the beach, carrying me like it was the most natural thing in the world, I dared to look up at him.
His expression was tight. Focused. Concern written all over his face.
And for a brief, dangerous moment—
I forgot the game.
The teams.
The wedding.
Everything.
All I could think was:
I got your attention after all.
And Chak?
Chak never once loosened his hold on me.
Chak didn't say another word as he carried me into the resort.
Straight to his room.
He nudged the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside, closing it behind us with his foot. The moment the door shut, the noise of the beach disappeared—replaced by quiet, air-conditioning, and the sound of our breathing.
Carefully, almost reverently, he set me down on a chair.
"Sit," he said, already turning toward the cabinet.
I watched him move—controlled, tense, worried—as he pulled out the first-aid kit and knelt in front of me. His hands were steady, but his jaw was tight.
"Where does it hurt?" he asked, eyes lifting to meet mine.
I didn't answer right away.
Instead, I leaned forward slightly.
Lifted my hand.
And pointed—slowly—to my chest.
"Here."
He froze.
"What?" Chak frowned, confused—then suspicious.
Before he could say another word, I reached for him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, and pulled him closer.
Our lips met.
It was soft at first—then deeper, familiar, full of everything we hadn't said since the beach. His surprise lasted only a second before he kissed me back, his hand instinctively coming up to my waist.
When we finally pulled apart, my forehead rested against his.
"I just wanted your attention, Chaky," I whispered, a small smile playing on my lips.
Silence.
Chak leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing as he studied my face.
Slowly, suspicion replaced concern.
"You made all of this up," he said flatly.
I shrugged.
"Yeah."
Then—just to make my point—I stood up.
No hesitation.
No limp.
I took a few steps across the room, perfectly fine.
Chak stared at me.
Then he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.
"You're unbelievable," he muttered.
I turned back to him, grinning.
"But you carried me all the way here," I said lightly. "So it worked."
He looked at me for a long moment—then stepped closer.
His hand came up, gripping my chin gently but firmly, forcing me to meet his eyes.
"Do you have any idea," he said quietly, "how scared I was?"
My smile softened.
"I know," I said. "That's why I did it."
His thumb brushed my jaw, conflicted—torn between frustration and something much deeper.
"You're dangerous," he said.
I leaned into his touch.
"Only for you."
He didn't deny it.
He stared at me for a long second longer, his hand still on my jaw, thumb warm against my skin.
Then he let go.
He turned away, pacing once across the room, dragging a hand down his face like he was trying to get himself back under control.
"You can't do things like that," he said finally, his voice low. "Not to me."
I followed him with my eyes, my chest tightening.
"I wouldn't have," I said softly, "if it were anyone else."
That stopped him.
Chak turned back to me slowly.
"You scared me," he admitted. "For a moment, I thought you were actually hurt."
"I know," I said again, quieter now. "And I'm sorry."
I stepped closer, carefully this time—no games, no pretending.
"I just…" I hesitated, then met his eyes. "Out there, you look at everyone. You take care of everything. But sometimes I need to know you still see me."
His expression cracked.
Just a little.
He reached out, pulling me closer—not rushed, not rough. Just firm, like he needed to feel that I was really there.
"I always see you," he said. "That's the problem."
My breath caught.
"You don't make it easy," he added. "You smile, you joke, you pull stunts like this—and then you look at me like I'm the only person in the room."
I rested my hands on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath my palms.
"You are," I said simply.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Chak leaned down, pressing his forehead to mine.
"Stay," he murmured. "Just for a minute."
I nodded.
We stood there, quiet and close, the world outside reduced to nothing more than distant sound. No expectations. No lies. Just the truth sitting between us—heavy, warm, impossible to ignore.
Eventually, Chak exhaled and straightened.
"We should go back," he said, reluctant but steady. "They'll start asking questions."
I smiled faintly. "You carried me away. They already are."
A corner of his mouth lifted despite himself.
"Next time," he said, "if you want my attention—just say so."
I leaned in, brushing my lips near his ear.
"Where's the fun in that?"
He shook his head, but his hand found mine as we headed for the door.
And he didn't let go.
By the time we stepped back onto the beach, the atmosphere had shifted.
The teams were already gathered again, voices louder, energy higher. Someone was laughing, someone else was arguing over an answer, and the staff were setting up the last station.
The third game had already begun.
I slowed instinctively, taking it all in, still feeling slightly off-balance—not from my ankle, but from everything that had just happened.
Amara appeared at my side almost immediately.
She looked at me once.
Then twice.
And then she grinned.
"Oh my God," she whispered, leaning in close, eyes sparkling. "You just lived through a real BL moment."
I blinked. "What?"
She tilted her head toward Chak—who was already back in front, calm, composed, giving instructions like he hadn't carried me away ten minutes ago.
"You disappear."
She ticked one finger.
"You come back together."
Second finger.
"He looks like he almost lost his mind."
Third finger.
She clasped her hands dramatically.
"Straight out of a drama."
I groaned softly. "Amara…"
She laughed. "Relax. If this were a series, the comments section would already be on fire."
I risked a glance toward Chak.
He wasn't looking at the teams.
He was looking at me.
Just for a moment.
Then he turned back to the group.
"For the final task," Chak said clearly, his voice cutting through the chatter, "you'll be working as a team to answer ten questions about the company."
The staff handed out tablets and answer sheets.
"This round isn't about speed," he continued. "It's about understanding. Discuss quietly. One final answer per question."
People nodded, suddenly more serious.
"This will decide the final score," Chak finished.
Amara nudged me with her elbow. "See? Even the plot pacing is perfect."
I shook my head, but I was smiling despite myself.
As we took our places, I felt it again—that strange pull between what everyone could see and what only Chak and I knew.
The game continued.
The laughter returned.
The competition heated up.
But underneath it all, something had shifted.
Because no matter how hard we tried to pretend this was just another team-building exercise—
It wasn't.
Not anymore.
And Chak knew it.
So did I.