Chapter 149: Dreaming With Open Eyes…

I stand beside the big glass wall of my office, hands buried deep in my pockets, staring out at the city sprawled below me like a glittering carpet of lights.

The darkness has fallen completely now, transforming the familiar skyline into something magical—thousands of tiny lights twinkling against the velvet black, cars moving in slow, glowing rivers along the streets below.

The buildings across the way are outlined in gold and silver, their windows small squares of warmth in the cold night.

My reflection stares back at me from the glass, pale and tired, a ghost superimposed over the city. But I barely see it. I’m somewhere else entirely.

In my mind, I’m walking down a quiet street I’ve never seen, hand in hand with Deniz. The city lights shine above us, casting everything in warm gold, making the ordinary extraordinary.

Street food vendors call out to us from small carts, the smell of something delicious—spicy, savory, sweet—filling the air and making my stomach rumble. We stop at a small cart with a flickering light and buy ice cream.

Two cones, one for each of us. His is chocolate. Mine is something colorful I can’t quite name.

We walk slowly, sharing bites, laughing at nothing, smiling at everything.

His hand is warm in mine, his shoulder brushing mine with every step. The street is quiet, just us and the lights and the night.

A soft smile spreads across my lips, unbidden and warm. It feels so real I can almost taste the ice cream, almost feel his fingers laced with mine.

It feels like dreaming with my eyes open.

But even as the image plays in my mind, something darker flickers at its edges.

A shadow. A doubt. A cold whisper I can’t silence.

I don’t know if I can ever have that. Not truly. Not without losing him.

My smile fades.

Why does my heart always do this? Why can’t I just be happy?

Why can’t I just trust, just believe that things will work out?

Every time I let myself hope, every time I let myself want, something inside me waits for the other shoe to drop. Waits for him to leave. Waits to be alone again.

It’s like breathing—this fear. It’s always there, in the background, waiting for the moment I forget so it can remind me.

A knock on the office door pulls me from my thoughts. I blink, the city coming back into focus, the reflection in the glass becoming just a reflection again. I turn.

Deniz enters, a soft smile on his lips.

He walks toward me, and I watch him come—this beautiful, gentle man who somehow chose me.

The way he moves, calm and unhurried. The way his dark eyes find mine and hold them. The way his presence makes the room feel warmer.

I want to smile back. I try.

But my face won’t cooperate. I’m so tired. So heavy. The weight of the day, of Moon, of the deal, of this fear I can’t shake—it all presses down on me.

He stops in front of me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. His dark eyes search my face, moving slowly, taking in every detail.

Concern softens his features.

Slowly, he lifts his hand and touches my temple. His fingers are cool against my skin, a gentle contrast to the heat I’ve been carrying.

“Why do you look so pale?” he asks softly.

I shake my head, a small, tired movement.

“I’m fine.”

His gaze lingers a second too long, like he’s memorizing the lie and choosing to keep it anyway.

He could press harder. He doesn’t.

He nods, accepting something he doesn’t quite believe.

“I finished wrapping up all the work for today.” A pause.

“I’m going to head home now.”

I look down at the polished wood floor, at the small space between our shoes.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. The words feel small, inadequate.

“I really wanted to spend time with you tonight. But something urgent came up.”

His finger lifts my chin, gentle but insistent. I meet his eyes, and he’s smiling—that small smile meant only for me.

“I know.”

His voice is warm, understanding, forgiving me for something I haven’t even explained.

“My boyfriend is the best businessman in the country. It makes sense that he’s always busy.”

I blink at him.

He steps closer and presses a soft kiss to my temple. His lips linger for a moment, warm against my skin.

“I’ll wait until you finish your work,” he murmurs against me.

“And then I’ll give you one more surprise.”

I stare at him, unblinking, my heart swelling and breaking at the same time.

A surprise. He’s planning another surprise. For me.

He steps back, his smile still in place, warm and steady.

“I should go now. Don’t work too hard. Eat dinner properly.”

A pause.

“And get some rest.”

I nod slowly. Silently.

He gives me one last smile and turns to walk away.

Before he can take a step, before I can stop myself, before I can think—my hand shoots out and grabs his wrist.

He stops.

Turns.

Looks at my hand, then at my face.

Confusion flickers in his dark eyes, a small furrow between his brows.

But then his smile returns, quiet and knowing. He steps back toward me, closing the distance.

His hands cup my face, gentle and sure. He leans in and kisses me.

Soft at first. A whisper of contact. Then deeper, warmer, pulling me into the moment, into him.

I grip his sleeves, my fingers twisting in the fabric, kissing him back with everything I have—all the fear, all the love, all the desperate hope I carry.

He pulls back just enough to look at me. His eyes are soft, shining in the dim light.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I forgot our goodnight kiss.”

He presses another soft kiss to my lips.

“Love you.”

A small smile finally breaks through my exhaustion. It’s fragile, but it’s real.

“Love you too.”

His thumb brushes my cheek one last time, tracing the curve of my skin like he’s memorizing it.

He nods, a small, satisfied movement. Then he turns and walks away.

I watch him go. Watch the door open, watch him step through, watch it close behind him.

The soft click echoes in the silence.

I stand there for a long moment, staring at the wood, at the space where he was.

The warmth of his kiss still lingers on my lips. The sound of his voice still echoes in my ears.

Then I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

It’s time.

I walk to my desk and pick up my phone. The screen glows in the dim office.

8:50 PM.

My thumb moves over the screen.

Me: Where are you?

The reply comes instantly. Too fast. Like he was waiting.

Moon: Almost there.

I stare at the words for a long moment. Then I turn off the screen. I grab my coat from the stand and shrug it on, the fabric heavy on my shoulders.

Neon. You’re strong. It’s just dinner. Nothing more.

I repeat the words like a prayer as I walk to the door.

Like if I say them enough, I might believe them.

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