3: The Language of Touch

The lobby of Prakoso Development felt like a vacuum, the air sucked out by Haris Danuarta’s presence. Galen’s hand tightened on Nurin’s arm, his knuckles white against her blazer.

"Nurin?" Galen’s voice was a low, dangerous vibration. "What is he doing here?"

Haris stepped forward, the lilies catching the light of the high-ceilinged lobby. "I thought I made that clear, Galen. I’m here for Nurin. It’s been a long day, hasn’t it, Nurin? You look exhausted."

Nurin’s voice was barely a whisper. "Haris, you shouldn't have come."

"I told you I’d see you soon," Haris said, his smile widening into something sharp. "I’m a man of my word."

"Get out," Galen said, stepping in front of his wife, his body a physical barrier. "Now. Before I have security throw you through that glass door."

"Always so aggressive, Galen. No wonder she looks so stressed," Haris chuckled, setting the flowers down on the reception desk. "I’ll leave these here. Nurin, I’ll call you later. When you’re... less occupied."

He turned on his heel and walked out, the automatic doors sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss. The silence that followed was worse than the confrontation.

"Did you know he was coming?" Galen asked, not turning around to face her.

"No," Nurin said.

"Did you know he was back in the country?"

"Galen, please—"

"Did you?"

"I heard rumors. I didn't think he’d actually show up here."

Galen finally turned, his eyes searching hers with a terrifying intensity. "The text this morning. It was him, wasn't it?"

Nurin looked down at her shoes. "Yes."

"And you lied to me. You looked me in the eye in our own home and told me it was spam."

"Because I knew you'd react like this! Look at you, Galen. You're ready to burn the building down."

"Because he’s a vulture, Nurin! And he’s circling my wife!"

"I’m not a prize to be won, Galen. I’m a person. And right now, I’m a person who needs to go home."

"Fine," Galen snapped. "Go. Take your car. I’ll see you there. And don’t even think about answering your phone."

*

The drive home was a blur of neon lights and simmering rage. Galen pulled his SUV into the driveway just as Nurin was stepping out of her sedan. Neither spoke as they entered the house. The click of the front door lock sounded like a gunshot in the quiet foyer.

"Are we going to talk about it?" Galen asked, tossing his keys onto the console table.

"I have nothing more to say," Nurin replied, heading straight for the stairs. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Nurin, stop." Galen caught her at the base of the stairs, his hand firm on her waist.

"Let go, Galen. I'm tired."

"I don't care how tired you are. You’ve been keeping him a secret for how long?"

"I haven't been keeping him! He just started messaging me a few days ago."

"And you didn't think that was something your husband should know? The man who tried to bankrupt my family's firm? The man who almost ruined us?"

"I thought I could handle it! I didn't want to add to your stress."

"By lying to me? That makes it better?"

"Nothing I do is ever better for you! It's always about what you want, what you feel, how you're being disrespected."

"It's about our marriage, Nurin!"

"Is it? Or is it about your ego?"

Galen pulled her closer, his breath hot against her temple. "You think this is about ego? It’s about the fact that I can feel you slipping away. I can feel him pulling at you, and I can feel you letting him."

"I'm not letting him do anything," she breathed, her voice losing its edge, replaced by a weary tremor.

"Then prove it. Tell me you don't want him here. Tell me you don't want him anywhere near you."

"I don't want him here, Galen. I just want... I just want some peace."

"You want peace? Or do you want to be left alone so you don't have to face this?"

"I can't do this right now. I'm so drained."

"Look at me, Nurin."

She finally lifted her gaze. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her expression a mask of pure, raw vulnerability. "What do you want from me? My blood? My soul? You already have everything else."

"I want you to stay," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I want you to be here with me. Not just in the same room. Here."

He reached up, cupping her face with both hands. His thumbs traced the line of her jaw, his touch transitioning from demanding to desperate.

"You're mine, Nurin. Tell me."

"I'm here, Galen. I'm right here."

"Say it."

"I'm yours," she whispered, the words sounding like a surrender.

He kissed her then, a hard, bruising collision of lips that tasted of salt and frustration. It wasn't gentle. It was a reclamation. He lifted her easily, her legs wrapping around his waist by instinct, and carried her up the stairs.

The bedroom was dark, save for the moonlight filtering through the curtains. He set her down on the edge of the bed, his hands moving with a frantic energy as he shed his jacket and tie.

"Galen, wait..." she murmured, though she was already reaching for the buttons of his shirt.

"No more waiting. No more secrets."

"I'm not a secret," she said, her voice muffled as he pressed his face into the crook of her neck.

"Then show me. Show me you’re still mine."

The encounter was a storm of unspoken words and physical demands. Galen moved with a possessive intensity, his touch leaving marks he knew would fade, but wishing they wouldn't. He wanted to brand her, to fill her mind so completely that there was no room left for Haris, for work, or for the doubts that had been festering between them.

"Does he touch you like this?" Galen growled, his voice low against her ear.

"No... no one does, Galen. Only you."

"Tell me again."

"Only you. It’s only ever been you."

"Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?"

"You're not losing me. I'm right here. Please, Mas... just be here with me."

For a while, the world outside the room didn't exist. There was only the heat of their bodies and the rhythmic sound of their breathing. But as the fire died down into embers, the cold reality began to seep back in through the cracks.

Galen lay on his back, his arm draped over Nurin as she curled against his side. Her head was on his chest, her hair fanned out across his skin. He felt the steady beat of her heart, but it didn't bring him the peace he expected. The physical closeness felt like a bridge made of paper—too thin to carry the weight of the silence between them.

"Nurin?" he whispered into the darkness.

"Hmm?"