She hadn't said a word since Aran pulled her into the car and drove her away from that house. Her hands were still trembling in her lap, and her eyes stung from the tears, but she didn't let them fall. Not again. Not in front of him.
But what shook her more than her father's cruelty was… Aran. The way he had looked at her. The way his voice had trembled....not with fear, but with fury. For her.
He hadn't even hesitated.
He had left an important meeting, risked his position, manhandled her father in front of her. Aran, the cold, emotionless, distant Aran… had put everything at stakes just to reach her.
She glanced at him sideways, noting the way his jaw was clenched, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. There was something different in the way he looked at the road. Protective. Possessive. Like he'd kill anyone who even looked at her wrong.
And suddenly, her heart ached all over again.
Aran didn't say a word. He couldn't. His hands were shaking with the need to go back and finish what he started. The memory of her voice...choked and terrified played on a loop in his head.
He had always stayed away from her because he thought it was the right thing to do. Because he thought she deserved someone better, someone whole.
But seeing her like that?
No. No one deserved her. No one except him.
And he wasn't going to stay away anymore.
LATER THAT WEEK
The shift started small.
When they arrived back at the office, Jack was the first to notice it.
Aran's usual stony expression softened....only a little when Kanya walked into the room. He didn't speak to her, didn't look too long, but there was something different in the air.
June noticed it next.
During a team lunch, when someone casually asked Kanya if she was okay, Aran had stepped in before she could even open her mouth.
"She's fine" he said simply.
But the glare he gave the guy who asked? That was the kind of glare that said, she's mine to protect.
June raised his brows and sipped his drink. "Damn. Someone activated the dragon."
Jack smirked. "You noticed it too, huh?"
"Oh, babe, even the ceiling fan noticed."
But Kanya didn't think anyone would notice. She still barely spoke to Aran at work. Still kept her head down. Still acted like nothing happened.
But she felt it.
Every time she turned around, he was there. Not in an overbearing way. In a way that said he knew her. Knew her triggers. Knew her silences. Knew what she needed before she could even name it herself.
When she dropped her coffee, he was there before she could even blink, helping her clean up.
When she got overwhelmed with the scripts, he stepped in quietly and reviewed them for her, not saying a word.
He didn't push. He didn't ask questions. He just… stayed.
And maybe that was what broke her most of all.
_
_
_
"You think they're finally getting together?" June whispered, dramatically stirring his boba tea with a suspicious grin.
Jack tilted his head. "Nah. Not yet."
"But the tension's there" June whispered. "Like—'I'd-die-for-you-but-still-won't-admit-I-love-you' kinda tension."
Jack sipped. "Yup. Classic slow burn."
_
_
_
It hit the studio like wildfire.
A viral thread on Twitter/X claiming June had a sasaeng...a stalker fan who had allegedly been following him home for weeks and leaking location details. The thread was detailed, terrifying, and picking up traction by the second.
The higher-ups were panicking. Fans were rioting online. Sponsors were threatening to pull out.
Korn had barely breathed the words."We need crisis control" before everyone's head turned to the woman walking in with her hair tied up and heels clicking like war drums.
"No one posts a word unless it goes through me. Delete the drafted apology and cut the damage control bullshit" she said, pulling off her coat and tossing it onto a chair. "We don't apologize for being stalked. We take control of the narrative."
She opened her laptop with one hand and dialed the legal team with the other.
She called for a background check on the account spreading the rumors.
Pulled CCTV access.
Drafted a statement that didn't grovel...It asserted.
Protected June's image. Protected Jack. Protected the brand.
She was fire in a human shell.
11:37 PM
The room was empty now.
The PR statement had gone live and was already getting praise. The media had backed off. The police were involved quietly, and June and Jack were safe.
Only one light remained on.
And in its soft yellow glow sat Kanya, her blazer off, sleeves rolled up, typing the last part of a follow-up report. Her face was calm, but the bags under her eyes said otherwise. The coffee beside her was cold.
She didn't even hear the door open.
Didn't realize he was there until she felt something warm brush against the top of her head.
A pat. Gentle. Familiar. Reassuring.
She looked up—and there he was.
ARAN.
In a fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled, a second cup of coffee in hand.
"You're the only one I know who looks this calm while putting out a PR fire."
She exhaled a laugh. "This is me calm?"
He placed the coffee beside her, sat on the edge of the table, not saying much. He never needed to.
"I saw the statement" he said softly after a moment. "That was... surgical."
She offered a tired smile. "It's not the first fire I've walked through."
He looked at her for a beat, his gaze unreadable. Then he reached out and adjusted the lock of hair falling across her face. It wasn't intimate. Not really.
But it was.
"Go home, Kanya."
"I will" she lied.
Aran didn't call her out. He just nodded, like he already knew. He turned to leave, then paused at the door.
"If it ever gets too heavy" he said, voice low, "don't forget...
I'm still here."
She blinked.
She had handled a national crisis, commanded a room, shielded her team.
But that sentence?
That nearly undid her.
_
_
_
The lobby was buzzing.
A string of hopefuls queued up for the open audition.....a new BL drama series. Some were rookies, others influencers, and a few had faces that screamed trouble. The staff was busy organizing, directing, filtering…until it happened.
Kanya walked in.
White pencil skirt, sleek half-coat over a black shirt, hair pinned into a sharp bun. Elegance and power in motion. She was there for a quick PR check, clipboard in hand, when he noticed her.
A sleazebag. Known in indie circles. His smile oozed trouble as he stepped into her path.
"Well, well. Didn't know Mind Entertainment came with… this kind of service. You look like you belong in my bed, not behind a desk."
Kanya didn't even blink.
"I didn't know garbage could talk. What a discovery."
Gasps rippled around them.
He leaned in closer. "You should learn how to smile. Pretty faces like yours look better when they're begging....."
She didn't let him finish.
SMACK.
A clean slap echoed through the floor.
"Beg for your dignity. I won't give you that either."
The man tried to grab her wrist, and that was the last straw.
Kanya's knee flew up.....straight into his balls.
"AARGH—!"
He collapsed.
"OH MY GOD—YES!" Jack said as died laughing on the floor.
Kanya straightened her skirt like nothing happened.
But chaos had officially erupted.
_
_
_
"Boss! Uh—you need to come downstairs. Now. Kanya might've—uh—kicked someone's balls into another dimension." Korn said bursting through Aran's office.
"What?"
He arrived to find a crowd, a writhing sleazebag, and Kanya ready to go another round.
She'd taken her coat off. Hands on her hips. Pure rage and elegance.
"I'm not done yet. Come here, you piece of shit"
"Kanya." Aran said sternly.
She ignored him.
"Kanya. Let it go."
She took a step forward.
"Kanya."
No response.
"That's it."
He strode forward...and lifted her over his shoulder like a sack of flour.
"WHAT THE HELL—PUT ME DOWN!"
"WHY AM I STILL LAUGHING—" if you haven't guessed.....yes.... it's Jack.
The sleazebag, despite all the pain, muttered loudly—
"Bitch needs to be taught a less—"
CRACK.
He didn't get to finish.
Because Aran had put Kanya down gently, turned around slowly, and punched the guy straight in the face.
Gasps. Screams.
The man flew back into a chair, dazed and broken.
"…I think June might have a competition."
"OH MY GOD. HOW DO I DO DAMAGE CONTROL FOR THIS?!"
Aran wasn't done—he stalked forward, jaw tight, fury in every step, but not a single word.
Cold. Quiet. Deadly.
The man whimpered. Everyone held their breath.
Until—
A soft hand pressed against Aran's chest.
Kanya.
Her eyes met his. Not in anger. Not in fear.
Control. Warmth. Connection.
"Aran. That's enough. He's not worth it."
His breathing slowed.
He nodded once.
Turned around.
And walked away with her.
Jack, June, Korn, even the interns—everyone was shook. The cold CEO had just snapped. And the only person who could pull him back?
Kanya.
Suddenly, coffee runs, lunch breaks, and meeting schedules all revolved around those two.
The air had changed. So had the looks they gave each other.
No one could quite say it out loud…
But something was burning between them now.
And no one—not even Kanya and Aran—knew where it would go next.
_
_
The city shimmered below, lights blinking like fireflies across the skyline. The chaos of the day had died down. Korn had somehow spun a press-friendly version of the brawl along with Kanya. The sleazebag had been blacklisted. Everyone had gone home.
Except two people.
Kanya stood alone, her arms folded across the railing, staring at the city she'd once run from.
Footsteps.
She didn't need to turn.
"I'm fine. You don't have to check on me."
"I know. I still wanted to." He said as he stood beside her.
She exhaled slowly. A breeze lifted a few strands of hair from her bun.
"You didn't have to step in today. But… you stopped me." Aran said his hands still in a fist.
"You would've ruined your career. I won't let anyone destroy what you built. Not even you."
There was a beat of silence between them. One heavy with meaning.
"And what about you, Kanya? Who protects you?"
She didn't answer.
But he turned slightly, watching her features under the moonlight. There was strength there, always—but now, he saw the quiet cracks in her armor. Not weakness. Just… pain. Long buried.
"I meant what I said. I care. Maybe I didn't show it right before. Maybe I was a goddamn coward. But I never stopped caring. And today...seeing him touch you—"
He clenched his fists tightly.
She turned to face him finally, leaning her back against the railing.
"I know." Her voice was gentler now.
"I saw it. The way you looked. The way you moved. You didn't think. You felt. For me."
That admission hung in the air.
He didn't try to deny it. Just stepped closer, so close her perfume reached him.....familiar and sharp and addictive.
"So... do I get to hope, Kanya?"
Her lips twitched. Not quite a smile. But the closest thing in five years.
"I don't know."
Pause.
"But Maybe… maybe it doesn't feel wrong anymore."
That did something to him. Not victory. Not triumph.
Hope.
Real, delicate, dangerous hope.
He didn't press further. Just stood beside her, shoulder brushing hers.
And for the first time in years, Kanya didn't step away.
_
_
_
The next few weeks were a spur.
He started bringing her coffee without asking how she liked it—and got it right every time.
She called him by his first name in front of others once. He didn't react. But Jack almost choked on his soda.
She left a file on his desk with a post-it: "Fix the third paragraph. It's unlike you to sound sloppy." He smiled for the first time in a meeting.
At late hours, she stayed behind in the office lounge. He didn't ask her to leave. He just worked across from her, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The walls were still there.
But they were thinner now.
And he.....who'd once given up on ever hearing her laugh again—was starting to believe he might.