Fifteen minutes later, Chak opened his eyes and asked, "Have you rested?"
"Yes," I replied softly.
"Get back to work," he ordered, his voice as cold as ever.
I stood up, straightened my shirt, and returned to my desk. I could feel Chak's presence across from me, even without looking. He was focused on his work, his eyes moving smoothly over the documents. I, on the other hand, struggled to concentrate.
Why did he bring me lunch? The thought kept circling in my mind. Does he think I can't take care of myself? Or… does he actually care?
I shook my head, trying to chase away those ridiculous thoughts.
At that moment, Chak's deep voice cut through the silence. "Is everything okay?"
His sharp gaze was on me, and I stiffened.
"Yes, sir," I answered quickly. "I just mixed up some numbers."
Chak sighed, leaning back slightly. "Stay focused, Niran."
"I will," I mumbled, gripping my pen tighter.
The hours passed painfully slow. The only sound in the office was the occasional flipping of papers and the faint clicking of my keyboard. Every now and then, I found my eyes drifting toward him—his strong posture, the way his fingers moved effortlessly over the documents.
Get a grip, Niran.
When the clock hit 8 PM, Chak finally closed his files. "We're done for today. We'll continue tomorrow."
"Understood," I said, stretching my arms.
I caught a glimpse of something unusual—a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. Was that… almost a smile? No, I must be imagining things.
I got up, said goodnight, and left.
The night air was cool as I walked toward my apartment. The streets were quiet, with only a few people passing by. But as I got closer to my building, I noticed a figure standing outside. My steps slowed.
Chak?
What was he doing here?
I approached him cautiously. His expression was unreadable as he turned toward me.
"I rang the doorbell, but no one answered," he said flatly.
I frowned. "Well, of course no one answered—there's no one home."
Something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe?
"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice quieter than before.
He hesitated. Just for a second. Then, with a dismissive wave of his hand, he muttered, "I needed something. Never mind."
And just like that, he turned to leave. As he passed me, his shoulder brushed mine—just a light touch, but enough to send a shiver down my spine.
"See you tomorrow," he said, his voice low, almost too soft to hear.
I stood there, watching as he walked away, disappearing into the night.
My heart was racing.
What was Chak doing here? And why does it feel like he wanted to say something… but didn't?