7 – Sweetness Tainted by Shadows

Days slipped by after their first encounter, but the memory of her—her voice, her smile, the tremor in her hands when their eyes met—clung to Hastan like a second skin.

And today, fate brought her back.

The corridors of Bhayangkara Central Military Hospital felt different when she walked through them. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but every sterile light seemed to dim against the radiance she carried.

In his office, where discipline ruled every surface, she sat beside him. The dark wood of the desk reflected the glow of monitors, and the quiet hum of machinery merged with the low warmth of freshly brewed coffee.

He explained the system with the patience of a teacher and the confidence of a man who knew he commanded an empire unseen. His voice was smooth, baritone, deliberate.

“Data from the BioSync ICU Monitor is encrypted here, before it touches the central server. The firewall remains alive, breathing with the system. And should anyone attempt to trespass…” His fingers tapped across the keyboard, sharp and precise. “…the AI anomaly detector hunts them before they even realize they’ve been caught.”

Meira leaned forward, her brows narrowing in focus. “And firmware updates? Won’t integration risks cause a system crash?”

A small smile curved his lips, one meant more for himself than for her. “Already patched. Synchronization runs beneath the surface—you’ll never feel the disruption.”

She jotted her notes with meticulous grace, her pen gliding like silk across paper. “And redundancy?”

“Three mirrors,” Hastan replied, his gaze shifting, not only to the monitor but to the slight tilt of her neck, the sheen of her hair beneath sunlight streaming through glass. “If one dies, another takes its place. Always.”

For a moment, silence lingered. She pressed her fingers against her temple, the motion delicate, almost weary. Heat had crept into her cheeks, though the air-conditioning whispered steadily in the corner. She fanned herself lightly with her hand, a small, unconscious gesture of vulnerability.

Hastan’s eyes caught every movement. The flutter of her lashes. The faint sheen of her skin. The woman before him was not the girl who once abandoned him—she was more, and yet… she was still his.

He set his pen down, tone steady yet commanding. “Let’s get some air. Lunch.”

She blinked, startled, then offered a small nod. “Yes… I think I need it.”

---

The restaurant was a quiet alcove within the hospital complex, known for its artisan gelato—a simple, almost innocent indulgence in the middle of their shadowed reunion. The air carried vanilla and sugared fruit, a sweetness almost mocking compared to the tension between them.

He ordered without hesitation, his voice low, deliberate. “Two. Strawberry Basil. Pistachio Rose.”

Her lips parted, surprise flickering. “You… remember?”

His smile was faint, unreadable, but his eyes burned. “Of course. I ordered it for you every time. You don’t remember?”

She lowered her gaze, cheeks tinged with embarrassment. “I… I guess I’ve forgotten some things.”

They sat by the window, sunlight spilling across the table. The gelato melted slowly, cold sweetness touching her lips. Yet even in this softness, there was an undertone of something darker—because Hastan remembered everything.

Her voice wavered as she broke the silence.

“I should apologize. Back in high school, I was… childish. We lasted barely a week. I ended things so abruptly. Disappeared. I wasn’t ready, I was just… a silly girl.” She laughed lightly, hoping to soften the confession.

But Hastan’s reply was nothing but a low hum, a sound laced with weight. His jaw clenched, and beneath his calm exterior, an old wound pulsed—fresh again under her words.

His hand slipped into his pocket, retrieving his phone. Without expression, he spoke:

“Give me your phone.”

She blinked, confused but compliant. “Oh—sure.”

No suspicion crossed her face as she handed it over. To her, this was harmless. Perhaps he wanted to save his number, or share a file.

But beneath the table, Hastan’s fingers worked with precision. His device synced with hers in silence, embedding codes she would never recognize. A single heartbeat, and the gates of her private world—her messages, her whispers, her life—were his to open.

When he slid the phone back, his eyes lingered on hers, dark and unreadable. The sweetness of strawberry and rose lingered on her lips, but all Hastan could taste was the bitterness of power.

The gelato melted too quickly, dripping against the spoon. A contrast so sharp, so cruel—cold on the tongue, yet the air between them grew hotter, heavier, as if the walls were closing in.

Meira swallowed hard, a ripple of unease crossing her chest. She did not yet know what he had done, but she felt it—the shift, the quiet danger beneath his calm exterior.

And Hastan…

He allowed himself one more look at her—this woman who thought she could forget him.

'No, Meira. You won’t forget. Not again. This time, even your silence will belong to me.'