After some time, I finished drawing and stared at my sketch in surprise. I hadn't expected it to turn out this well. With slight uncertainty, I quietly said:
"I'm done, sir."
Chak stood up, stepped closer, and his hand gently touched mine. In an instant, I felt my heartbeat speed up. His gaze stopped on the drawing, observing it in silence as if absorbing every detail.
'"This needs a little adjustment," he finally spoke.
I picked up my pencil, ready to correct whatever detail he found unsatisfactory, but before I could touch the canvas, Chak grabbed my hand. His palm was strong yet warm. Together, we started making adjustments to the picture. My hand was slightly sweaty, and at one point, it trembled. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but I knew he could feel even the slightest movement.
When we finished, we admired the final result in silence for a few moments. I tilted my head back slightly and accidentally leaned against his bare chest. I flinched and looked up at him in alarm. Chak was watching me, a faint smile on his lips. This smile was different—warm, almost playful.
Without a word, he reached for the shirt draped over a chair and slowly put it on, deliberately taking his time. His fingers moved elegantly over the buttons.
"Come on, I'll drive you home,"he said.
I sighed. "That's not necessary, sir, I live really close and—
I didn't even get to finish my sentence before he interrupted: "I insist, Niran. Besides, it's already late."
I had no choice. He took the canvas, turned off the light, and we left together toward his black Mercedes car. I sat in the passenger seat and closed the door. The air inside was thick with tension. Every now and then, I stole glances at him. I was captivated by the way he drove—one hand on the wheel while the other casually rested on the armrest. He exuded confidence that both confused and intrigued me.
When we arrived, I unfastened my seatbelt and said quietly: "Thank you."
"Thank you, Niran. See you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, sir,"I said as I stepped out of the car.
As I climbed the stairs, a strange feeling washed over me. Maybe I was imagining it, but it felt like Chak was still watching me.
I entered my apartment and slowly got ready for bed. My mind refused to quiet down. Every moment we had spent together replayed in my head—his touch, his gaze, his smile.
The night passed quickly, and soon it was morning. I felt exhausted. I put on a dark red shirt and, catching my reflection in the mirror, wondered how Chak had felt last night when he undressed in front of me.
When I arrived at work, my colleagues looked at me curiously.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, just tired," I replied.
"Tired from what?"
I didn't get a chance to answer because at that moment, Chak walked in. We all greeted him. Our eyes met, and I secretly gave him a small smile.
"Niran, in my office. Bring me coffee, he ordered in a cold tone.
"Yes, sir."
I quickly went to the mini kitchen and prepared his coffee. When I stepped into his office, he was sitting at his desk. I placed the cup in front of him and was about to leave when he surprised me with a question.
"How are you?"
I met his gaze and, slightly surprised, replied: "A little tired."
"I believe you are," he said in an unexpectedly soft voice.
I stood there for a few moments, then gathered the courage to ask, somewhat nervously:
"Can I ask you something?"
"Of course," he said, looking at me.
I swallowed. "Why did you get an eagle tattoo?"
Chak smiled slightly and then replied in a serious tone: "I'll answer that question in time, but not today."
His mysterious tone only intrigued me more. I knew it was time to leave.
"I'll patiently wait for your answer,"I said and turned towards the door.
When I returned to my desk, I noticed my colleagues greeting someone. I glanced quickly toward the entrance and saw a young man walking into Chak's office without hesitation.
Confused, I asked Non: "Who is that?"
He looked at me as if I had fallen from the moon. "You're joking, right?"
"No, I really don't know."
"That's Chak's brother, Chai. I think he's two years younger than him."
Amara joined our conversation and added: "Did you guys know that Chak and Chai didn't speak for almost a year?"
I perked up. "Why not?"
Amara shifted uncomfortably. "Chai is gay," she said with a hint of hesitation. "Some time ago, he told Chak that he had a boyfriend, Lemoi."
I watched her intently. "And what happened?"
"Chak got furious. He couldn't accept that his brother was gay. So, he cut ties with him."
"Then why are they talking now?"
Amara lowered her voice. **"Their family is wealthy. Last year, their father was dying, and his final wish was for them to reconcile. Chak finally agreed, but if you ask me... I think he still hates gay people. He only speaks to Chai because of their father's wish."
Hearing this, a thousand thoughts ran through my mind. Could this be true? If Chak really despises gay people… what does that mean for me?