Chapter 203: I Realized It From The Beginning…

Then—

The door opens.

No knock. No warning.

Footsteps echo across the marble floor—sharp, sudden—shattering the silence like glass.

We both freeze.

I turn toward the door, my heart still racing, my lips still warm from the kiss.

Angel stands in the doorway.

His golden eyes are wide, his lips slightly parted, his chest rising and falling like he’s been running—though I know he hasn’t. He’s perfectly still, but something in him is shifting.

Something in him is cracking.

His gaze drifts—from Deniz, still too close, still caught—to my hands on his waist, to the space between us that leaves no room for explanation.

His expression is unreadable.

Not anger. Not hurt. Just… shock.

Like he’s walked into a room and found everything changed—familiar, but no longer the same.

Deniz stands quickly, nearly stumbling. His hands find his glasses on the desk; he slips them on with trembling fingers, his face flushed, his composure cracking at the edges.

“I should go,” he says, his voice tight—too fast, too strained.

He leaves without looking back.

The door closes behind him with a soft click—quiet, but it echoes—sealing Angel and me in a space that suddenly feels far too small.

Angel’s eyes remain on me.

I keep my gaze on the door a moment longer—on the rich wood grain, the polished brass handle, the place where Deniz disappeared—before I slowly turn back to face him.

He’s shocked. And he has every right to be.

I’ve been so caught up in everything—Moon, the hospital, the tests, the uncertainty, the slow unraveling of my body and my future—that I never found the right moment to tell him about Deniz. About us. About the shape my life has taken while he wasn’t looking.

I didn’t mean for him to find out like this.

My face burns with embarrassment.

Neon, you idiot. You should have locked the door. You should have been more careful. You should have—

I smooth my coat, my fingers clumsy against the fabric, and force a small smile. It feels thin—fragile, like it might crack if I hold it too long.

“Angel.” My voice comes out too bright, too light. “When did you get back?”

He doesn’t answer. He just walks forward, his steps slow and deliberate, and takes the seat across from me. His golden eyes stay on my face, unblinking.

“I came straight here,” he says quietly. “To see you.”

I nod, grasping for something normal. “Is that so? How was your shoot? I saw some posts—the place looked beautiful. Hills, lakes… Did you get to see them?”

He nods once, his voice flat, stripped of its usual warmth. “It was nice. Ziya showed me around. Took me to a lot of places.” A pause. “He said it was his hometown. He even introduced me to his parents.”

“That’s good.” I keep my voice light, though it feels like I’m carrying something heavy. “I’m glad you enjoyed your trip.”

He nods again. No excitement. No details. No warmth.

I look down at my hands, fingers twisting in my lap, knotting together like they’re trying to hold onto something.

“Are you angry with me?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

The silence stretches between us—thin, fragile, like a thread about to snap.

“Why would I be?” he says at last.

I don’t look up. “Because I didn’t tell you about Deniz. About us.”

I force myself to meet his eyes. “Angel, I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I was going to tell you, but—”

“Zyren.”

I stop.

He looks at me, his expression calm, his voice even. “I already knew.”

I blink.

“You remember,” he continues, “when you told me you had a crush on him. That day in your office.”

A pause.

“After that, I started noticing the way Secretary Deniz looks at you.”

Another pause—softer now.

“He likes you too. It wasn’t surprising.”

I stare at him, trying to process it. He knew. All this time, he knew—and never said anything.

He looks away, his golden eyes catching the light, turning distant.

“I realized it from the beginning. When you started…” He trails off.

I lean forward slightly, my voice quieter now. “When I started what?”

He doesn’t finish it.

He just says, softly—

“When you stopped giving me your time.”

The words land softly—but they hurt. They settle in my chest like stones dropped into still water, sending quiet ripples through everything.

“Angel.” My voice is weaker now, stripped of its false brightness. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. These past few months…”

I trail off, my gaze dropping to my hands—fingers twisting, searching for something to hold onto.

“It’s been hard. I was dealing with something… something I couldn’t talk about. But it’s better now. Everything is clearer.”

He nods slowly, his expression softening—just a fraction.

“It’s okay. I’m not angry.” A pause. “I was just surprised. I didn’t think things had gone this far.”

My cheeks are still warm. My voice comes out careful, measured—like I’m stepping through glass.

“We’re together now.”

He looks at me, and after a moment, a small smile touches his lips—faint, but real.

“I’m happy for you. For both of you.”

I smile back, genuine this time, the fragile thing in my chest finally settling. “Thank you, Angel.”

He stands. “What about dinner tonight?”

“That’s a good idea.”

He smiles. “Then come home early. I’ll cook your favorite dishes.”

I nod quickly, a small spark of warmth returning. “Don’t forget the desserts.”

His smile widens.

He nods and turns toward the door. Then he stops, his hand resting on the handle, his back still to me.

“You can invite Deniz,” he says quietly. “If you want.”

“Okay.”

He opens the door and walks out. It closes behind him with a soft click.

I lean back in my chair and let out a slow breath, my body sinking into the soft leather, my eyes closing against the light.

Thank God. He’s not angry.

But something in him has changed.

The softness in his eyes feels different now. His voice, too—quieter, more distant.

Maybe he’s just a little upset that I didn’t give him enough time.

He’s right.

I didn’t.

From now on, I promise silently—to myself, to him, to the empty room—I’ll give him that time. I’ll make it right.

I open my eyes and stare up at the polished ceiling, the recessed lighting washing the space in a soft, even glow.

The office is quiet again.

But something feels unsettled—something I can’t name.

Something that lingers… even in the silence.

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