Chapter 21: It Would Be Someone Like You

My footsteps echo softly against the cold marble as I walk ahead. Deniz follows a step behind, silent as ever.

We enter the elevator—he steps in after me, presses the button, and the doors slide shut with a quiet clink.

I stand straight, hands relaxed at my sides, then steal a quick glance at him.

He’s standing a little apart, eyes lowered, posture stiff.

…Why is he like this?

Did I make him uncomfortable earlier?

My gaze drifts away. I didn’t mean to. I really didn’t.

Should I say something? The silence feels heavier than it should.

The elevator stops.

We step out into the brightly lit hallway, then pass through the doors where guards open the way. The moment we step outside, the night air crashes against my face—sharp, freezing, unforgiving.

Winter really doesn’t show mercy.

Deniz keeps following me quietly. I glance back over my shoulder.

His eyes are still lowered, his steps slow, as if his mind is somewhere far away.

I suddenly stop.

He doesn’t—

and bumps straight into my back.

He flinches, immediately stepping away, bowing slightly.

“I’m sorry, sir.”

I turn around and look at him. Really look at him.

For a moment, I say nothing.

Then I speak softly, “We’re outside the office.”

He straightens slowly, blinking—as if the words finally register. His gaze lifts to the building, to the night around us, realization dawning. The cold breeze stirs his black hair, brushing it across his forehead.

He looks at me again, hesitant, unsure what he’s allowed to say.

I smile gently.

“What are you thinking about?”

He opens his mouth. “Nothing. I’m just—”

“Aah—choo!”

The sneeze escapes him before he can stop it.

I blink—then my lips curve upward.

His cheeks flush instantly, red blooming across them.

…Adorable.

I step closer without thinking. With an easy motion, I slip my long coat off my shoulders and drape it over his.

He looks up at me, eyes widening in shock.

“S-sir—”

I smile. “Don’t forget—we’re outside.”

He nods, a little stiff, a little flustered.

I adjust the coat properly, making sure it covers him well. Watching him blush like this…

It’s dangerous. And strangely fun.

“You should take care of yourself,” I say softly.

“Yes,” he replies, voice quiet.

I take a step back, then turn away.

“If you don’t… it’s okay,” I add calmly. “I’m here to take care of you.”

I don’t turn around to see his face.

I don’t need to.

I can already feel the warmth of his shy silence behind me.

The car cuts through the night smoothly, the city lights sliding past the windows like distant stars.

Inside, it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Deniz sits beside me, posture straight, hands resting neatly on his lap. His presence is controlled, disciplined—silent again.

I hate silence.

It presses against my ears, crawls under my skin. I turn my head toward him and pout slightly, irritation creeping onto my face like a sulking child.

“Why are you so quiet today?”

The question breaks the stillness.

He flinches—just a little, but I catch it. His eyes shift toward me, caught off guard, as if he’d been pulled out of his own thoughts.

For a second, he doesn’t answer. Then, carefully, as if choosing the safest path, he asks,

“What… should we talk about?”

I study him, really look at him.

“We’re friends,” I say, my tone serious now. “What do friends usually talk about?”

He thinks for a second. “Friends talk about things like… how their day was.”

A small smile curves onto my lips. “Then tell me. How was your day?”

He blinks, then looks at me as if the answer is obvious.

“We were together the entire day,” he says honestly. “So there’s no point in talking about it.”

I blink.

Then again.

…Unbelievable.

Is he bad at talking?

Or does he just not want to talk to me?

Is he serious?

I turn my face away, staring out the window. He just doesn’t want to talk to me.

“It’s fine,” I say quietly. “If you don’t want to talk, I won’t force you.”

“It’s not like that,” he says immediately, his voice tighter now.

I don’t look back at him.

Maybe I always make things uncomfortable. Maybe I don’t know how to make people feel at ease. The thought settles uncomfortably in my chest.

I take a slow breath.

Then—

“Zyren…”

My heart pauses.

I turn my head.

Finally —

He said my name.

His gaze drops—not to my eyes, but lower. To my lips. His jaw tightens, and he hesitates before finally speaking.

“Who did this to you?”

I blink.

So that’s what he wants to ask.

“If I answer your question,” I say calmly, “you answer mine. Properly. Honestly.”

He blinks once, then nods. “Okay.”

“Zyke did this.”

His eyes widen instantly. “Why?”

I lean back against the seat, exhaustion seeping into my bones.

“I don’t know. I didn’t do anything. I was just walking with my sister-in-law. We were talking about flowers. I even gave him one.”

A bitter chuckle escapes me.

“And that crazy, pathetic S-class alpha decided I was flirting with his wife.”

I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair.

“Seriously. He’s lost his mind. I told him clearly—I respect him like family. I had no bad intentions at all.”

My fingers brush my lip again, the soreness still there.

“But he punched me anyway.”

Deniz doesn’t blink.

He just stares.

I glance at him. “Did you freeze? You look like you’re in shock.”

I lean closer instinctively, curiosity winning over caution.

He immediately leans back.

I tilt my head. “What? Are you trying not to laugh?”

“No,” he says quickly. “I’m just thinking… why Mr. Zyke would think you were flirting with his wife.”

I nod slowly, eyes wide, genuinely puzzled.

“Exactly. That’s what I don’t understand either.”

Then, softer—almost casual:

“Or maybe he just wanted a new excuse to hit me.”

I continue, voice thoughtful.

“I even told him—if I were to flirt with someone, I wouldn’t choose my sister-in-law.”

I lean closer again.

This time, closer than before.

Deniz’s breath stutters. His cheeks flush red instantly. The space between us shrinks until I can feel his warmth.

“If I flirted with someone,” I murmur, voice low, unhurried,

“it would be someone like you.”

His eyes widen.

Red spreads across his face, all the way to the tips of his ears. Our gazes lock, tension tightening the air between us—sharp, fragile, electric.

Then I straighten back, the moment snapping like a thread.

Then I straighten back with a satisfied smile.

“Kidding.”

Deniz immediately looks away, fingers reaching for his tie as if it might anchor him back to reality. He adjusts it unnecessarily, jaw tight, refusing to meet my eyes.

…..Cute

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