I See You’re Tired

Amara Cross POV

“And that’s why I didn’t tell you…”

I pretended to frown, placing my hand over my chest, letting my shoulders slump forward slightly.

“Does that mean you purposely ignored my question earlier to avoid the ones I might ask next?”

He answered simply while cutting a small piece of his food.

“I’m just taking the shortcut to peace.”

I laughed despite myself and noticed how his expressions softened, a hint of gentle warmth appearing. I felt the barriers between us begin to melt… not quickly, but like snow slowly dissolving on a cork.

“I’m not asking too many questions, am I?”

He looked at me with faint disapproval, then tilted his head, speaking in a quiet, mischievous tone:

“Most likely, you’d ask even in your sleep.”

I laughed, resting my cheek on my hand as I watched him.

“But I don’t ask without reason… maybe.”

The party ended, and exhaustion crept into my limbs slowly. The evening had been wrapped in soft music, and everyone danced elegantly, with dedication.

Dorian had told me earlier that this party was held every year to strengthen relationships between big company owners, where deals were made away from official offices… amid dancing, glasses, and polished courtesies.

He suddenly stood beside me and extended his hand gently.

“Come, let’s go, little one… I see you’re tired.”

I didn’t argue. I placed my hand in his calmly and rose on my tired feet. The pinch of high heels gnawed at my feet, so I removed them without thinking, holding them between my fingers.

He noticed me moving barefoot and turned to me. I was about to step forward, but his hand reached for my wrist, wrapped my arm around his shoulder, and in a sudden move, he bent down and encircled my waist and thighs with his arms… lifting me in a bridal carry.

I gasped sharply, my hands resting on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat.

“What are you doing, Mr. Dorian?! Everyone is watching… put me down immediately! This is completely inappropriate!”

He ignored my words, and the crowd whispering around us didn’t matter. He stepped confidently off the yacht, and as the night breeze brushed me, I realized we were actually outside.

He spoke in his calm, steady voice, eyes forward:

“Miss, do you want to soil your feet?”

I shook my head, pressing my lips together.

“Then… be quiet.”

He opened the car door… it wasn’t the same one that took me to college this morning, nor the previous one. Another car entirely, dark, luxurious… this man definitely owned a fleet.

He set me down gently, then leaned in to fasten my seatbelt with a tender touch, without a single word. I looked at him, and my lips curved into a faint smile, unsure if it was from fatigue, gratitude, or both.

He got in beside me, started the engine, and drove off without asking for my address… he already knew where I lived.

Minutes passed, engine noise covering the silence. Then the neighborhood houses appeared one by one.

The car stopped in front of my house, and I unfastened my seatbelt.

He whispered softly, eyes on the house number:

“The house number… interesting.”

I instinctively glanced at the metal plaque: 69. I understood immediately… I wasn’t naive about these things. I had secretly loved reading bold novels in my village, though no one knew.

My throat went dry. I held myself together, pretending innocence with skill.

“It’s just a normal number, Mr. Dorian… very normal.”

Then I added quietly:

“I think it’s time to go back… Asla must be very worried now.”

I opened the car door, pausing for a moment.

“Goodbye, Mr. Dorian.”

He didn’t reply. He only gave a long look, as if his voice had withdrawn, letting his eyes speak instead.

I closed the door behind me and walked calmly toward the house. I opened the door to a warm silence, lights off, the air heavy with the scent of cold coffee.

I glanced quickly and found Asla asleep on the couch, wrapped in a light blanket, her head tilted to the side, her soft snoring drifting lazily across the room.

I approached her, bending slightly.

“Come on, get up… you fell asleep on the couch. Go to your bed, girl.”

I whispered in a low tone. She moved slowly, her face scrunching in discomfort, mumbling something unintelligible while still half-dazed. She lifted her upper body, squinting one eye, the other almost closed from sleepiness.

She got up, holding the blanket, her hair messy like she had quarreled with her pillow, staggering with tipsy steps before disappearing into her room.

She soon flopped onto her bed, her soft snoring rising quickly in a funny way.

I approached her, kissed her forehead gently.

“Sleep well… dream of me… let your dreams be beautiful.”

She chuckled with her eyes closed, mumbling softly:

“Sleep well to you… too…”

If I didn’t know her well, I wouldn’t have understood a thing. I quietly closed the door behind me and left the room.

---

I tossed and turned in exhaustion. Thirst pricked my throat. I pushed the blanket away and got up, heading to the kitchen.

I glanced at the clock… eleven in the morning. I moved closer and noticed Asla wasn’t home. On the table lay a note in her handwriting.

“By the way, you didn’t tell me why you went to work? Today I have training. Is Layla, your friend, coming already?”

I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand.

“Oh my god… I forgot!”

My body tensed, I brushed my hair back, pacing anxiously.

“What am I going to do? What am I going to do?”

I rushed to my room, grabbed my phone… several missed calls from Layla!

I called her immediately. She answered after a few seconds.

“Hi, my little monkey… how are you? Good?”

Her voice sounded completely normal, as if nothing had happened.

“I’m fine… what about you?”

I asked, biting my nails nervously, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’m better. How about we meet now at a nearby restaurant?”

“If you’re free, I’ll come pick you up right away.”

I agreed immediately.

“Yes, no problem.”

I hung up and hurried to Asla’s closet, searching quickly. I put on a gray woolen shirt, a matching skirt, a sheer winter scarf, and long black winter boots that reached mid-calf near my knees.

I tied my hair in a messy chic bun and grabbed my bag. A message from Layla arrived:

“I’m outside, hurry up a little.”

I closed the door firmly and ran down the two stairs. I spotted her car parked from afar and rushed to get in beside her immediately.

“I’m sorry, Layla… last night I got a sudden invitation to a party… I forgot, but I… I’ll explain later. I couldn’t say no at all.”

My words poured out with regret, expecting a scolding. But she placed her hand on my shoulder, steadying me gently, looking at me calmly.

“Girl, I’m not upset at all. Asla told me. You had fun with the Ramians, and yes, she invited you without warning… you could have refused.”

I exhaled in relief… but her next words froze me completely.

“But she asked me then… did Amara spend last night at your place?”