Anamarija POV:
The evening air in Chak's garden felt softer than it had a moment ago, yet my heart was anything but calm.
"How did you know I fell in love with you?" Vikran asked.
His voice wasn't teasing this time. It was careful. Almost vulnerable.
"Chak told me," I answered shortly.
It had been that simple. Or maybe not simple at all. Chak never spoke lightly about emotions — especially not about someone falling in love with his sister.
"And do you feel anything for me?" he asked.
There it was. The question he had been circling around.
"Not yet," I said honestly.
I watched his expression closely. No anger. No disappointment. Just focus.
"But," I continued, "I'll give you one chance. Only one."
"One chance?" he repeated, and then he smiled — that confident, almost dangerous smile of his.
"One," I confirmed. "There won't be a second. And you'll have to try very hard if you want to win me."
"Seriously?" he said, but there was amusement in his voice.
"Yes. Very."
He stepped a little closer, not enough to invade my space, just enough to make me aware of him.
"Believe me," he said with quiet confidence, "one day you'll become my girlfriend."
I lifted an eyebrow. "We'll see."
But I smiled.
And I hated that I smiled.
"Let's take a walk," he suggested.
We started walking slowly through Chak's garden. The lights along the pathway cast a warm glow over the trimmed hedges and white flowers. It was peaceful — almost too peaceful.
An awkward silence settled between us.
I could hear our footsteps on the stone path. My heartbeat felt louder than both of them.
Then suddenly, Vikran spoke again.
"Do you know when I fell in love with you?"
"No," I answered shortly.
"The first time we met. When you walked into the meeting room with Niran."
I remembered that day clearly. I had walked in confident, calm, completely unaware that someone in that room would look at me like that.
"I had to play a role that day," he continued. "But during the entire meeting, I kept secretly looking at you."
I didn't look at him. I stared ahead, pretending the roses were suddenly fascinating.
"Something about you captivated me," he said. "And when you gave me that icy look… something shifted inside me."
I almost laughed. Of course he would fall for the one person who didn't care about his charm.
"And then your smile," he added more softly. "That was it."
His voice had changed. It wasn't playful anymore.
"When I got home, I sat on my couch and tried to find you on social media. I searched everywhere. But I couldn't find you."
That surprised me.
"And when I told Chak how I felt about you," he continued, "he told me not to play with you. That it would be a waste of time."
I knew Chak well enough to imagine the exact tone he had used.
"At first, I thought he was jealous," Vikran admitted. "I thought he didn't like that I fell for you."
He glanced at me.
"But when I found out you were his sister, I understood."
Of course he did.
Silence followed again, but this one felt different. Warmer. More honest.
"Vikran, give me your phone," I said suddenly.
He blinked. "Why?"
"You'll see."
There was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, but he handed it to me anyway.
I opened Instagram, searched for my account, and turned the screen toward him.
"Now we follow each other."
He looked at the screen. Then at me.
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
He smiled — not the arrogant smile. Not the teasing one.
A real one.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
As we continued walking, I realized something dangerous.
I had given him one chance.
But maybe…
Just maybe…
I was the one stepping into something far more uncertain than he was.
I stopped walking.
"Vikran," I said calmly, holding up his phone, "what is this?"
On the screen was a photo of him. Shirtless. Sunlight hitting his skin. Perfectly aware of the camera.
"Without shame," I added dryly.
He leaned closer to look at the screen, though he clearly knew exactly which photo it was.
"Oh, that one," he said casually. "Do you like it?"
"No."
His lips twitched. "You don't?"
"No," I repeated. "But I can see girls are practically falling for you in the comments."
There were hearts. Fire emojis. Shameless compliments.
He suddenly stepped closer — too close.
"So," he murmured, lowering his voice, "are you jealous of them?"
I turned my head slightly to look at him directly.
"Jealous? Never."
He smiled slowly.
"Great. Because if you're not, I might post a new picture like that."
"You wouldn't dare," I said immediately.
"Watch me," he replied with a grin.
I narrowed my eyes at him, but he just chuckled.
"But," he continued, "I know what I'll post when we're together."
My eyebrow lifted instantly.
"Oh really?"
"This."
He turned the phone toward me.
My breath paused for a second.
It was a picture of me.
I was asleep.
My head resting on his shoulder in his apartment. My expression soft. Peaceful. Completely unaware he had taken it.
The light from the window had fallen gently over my face.
It was… beautiful.
I swallowed.
"That's a nice photo," I admitted quietly.
He didn't speak. He was watching me instead.
"But if you post it," I continued, regaining my composure, "those girls will attack you the moment they find out you have a girlfriend."
He didn't hesitate.
"Let them."
I looked at him.
"None of them are like you," he said, serious now. "Not even close."
The teasing tone was gone.
And for the first time that evening, I felt something dangerous flicker in my chest.
Not jealousy.
Not yet.
But something that felt like the beginning of it.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
The garden suddenly felt smaller. Quieter. As if the world had taken a step back to watch us.
"You're very confident," I said, crossing my arms lightly — more to protect myself than to challenge him.
"I have to be," Vikran replied. "You don't make it easy."
"That's the point."
He laughed softly, but his eyes didn't leave mine.
"You know," he said, lowering his voice, "I didn't take that photo to post it."
I looked at him again.
"Then why did you take it?"
He hesitated for the first time tonight.
"Because you looked peaceful," he admitted. "And I liked that you trusted me enough to fall asleep like that."
That caught me off guard.
"I didn't plan to fall asleep," I muttered.
"I know."
There was something gentle in the way he said it. Something that didn't match the shirtless-photo-posting, arrogant version of him.
We started walking again, slower this time.
"Can I ask you something?" he said.
"You already are."
He smiled. "Why are you so guarded?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was simple.
Because I grew up without a father.
Because hiding my emotions has always been my instinct.
I only show them to the few people who truly earn their place close to me.
Because being a Phansprasit meant never showing weakness.
"Because I don't give my heart to someone who isn't sure," I finally said. "And I don't compete with crowds of girls in your comment section."
He stopped walking again.
"I'm sure," he said.
"You're confident," I corrected.
"No," he replied quietly. "I'm sure about you."
The way he said it made my pulse quicken.
Dangerous.
"You only have one chance," I reminded him again.
"And I'm not wasting it."
He slipped his phone back into his pocket, then looked at me with that unreadable expression.
"Tell me something honestly," he said.
"What?"
"If I hadn't told you how I felt… would you have ever looked at me differently?"
That question hit deeper than I expected.
I thought about our first meeting.
His presence.
His eyes on me.
The way he carried himself.
The way I had noticed him — even when I pretended not to.
"I don't know," I answered truthfully.
He studied my face, searching for more.
"But," I added softly, "I'm looking now."
His expression shifted.
Not victory.
Not arrogance.
Something warmer.
"Good," he whispered.
We resumed walking, our shoulders almost brushing.
Not touching.
But close enough to feel the heat between us.
And for the first time, the silence between us didn't feel awkward.
It felt like the beginning of something neither of us was ready to name.
I slowed my steps and looked at him more seriously.
"Let's start with friendship," I said. "If something more grows out of that… then let it grow naturally."
The words felt safe. Controlled. Logical.
Safer than love.
Vikran stopped walking.
He turned fully toward me, the garden lights outlining his face. For a second, he didn't say anything. He just looked at me — not playfully, not teasingly.
Seriously.
Then he stepped closer.
Too close for "just friends."
Slowly, carefully, he reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers barely touched my skin, but the contact sent warmth straight through me.
"I won't give up," he said quietly.
His voice had changed again. No arrogance. No jokes.
"Anamarija… one day you'll be mine."
My heart skipped, but I refused to show it.
"That sounds very sure of yourself," I whispered.
"It's not ego," he replied. "It's intention."
His hand lingered for a second near my cheek before dropping back to his side.
"For you," he continued, "I would go to your country. I'd cross continents if I had to. Just to be with you."
He didn't even hesitate.
The fact that he would even say that — knowing I belonged somewhere far from here — made something inside me soften.
"You say that now," I said quietly. "But distance changes people."
"Not when they're certain," he answered immediately.
I searched his face for doubt.
I didn't find any.
"Friendship, then," he said finally, extending his hand toward me.
I looked at it.
Strong. Confident. Steady.
After a brief pause, I placed my hand in his.
"Friendship," I repeated.
But when his fingers closed around mine, it didn't feel like something simple.
It felt like the first line of a story neither of us would be able to stop writing.