"Let's go then."
I rushed toward the room—but of course, *he* beat me to it.
I knew it. He'd try to get into the washroom before me.
So I increased my speed like a dramatic heroine racing for her rights.
But no luck.
The man was clever—*too* clever.
He reached the door before I could stop him, and just when he was about to close it, I grabbed the back of his shirt and yanked with all my might.
Bad idea.
I forgot one tiny detail.
I'm a weak little thing and he's…well… not.
So, instead of pulling him back, I ended up losing my balance and fell to the floor with a soft thud.
He turned around with widened eyes, surprised.
"Halime!" he murmured and quickly bent down to help me up, his arms gentle as he supported me.
His concern looked genuine, but I *knew* he was holding in his laughter like a criminal hiding evidence.
**Shameless.**
Still kneeling, he reached out and softly brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Halime…"
That voice. Lazy and sweet. Ugh, I hate how much I like it.
I swatted his hand away and took two firm steps back.
His eyes flinched, pupils shrinking slightly.
He wasn't expecting that.
Good. He deserved it.
Still... I liked it. The way he looked a little hurt.
Seconds later, he pulled me into a hug.
Ugh. This man. Always messing with my heart.
"Halime," he whispered again, this time with that half-teasing tone I was getting addicted to.
"Say it."
"Rule number two?"
"I haven't decided yet."
"Okay, then I'll decide—"
"Nope."
"Fine, here—"
He handed me a towel like a knight offering a sword.
"You go first."
"No. You go. *Now.*"
"…Okay, okay."
He raised his hands in surrender.
**Selfish. So selfish.**
And yet here I was, lying on the bed, waiting for him to come back from the shower like a Disney princess stuck between irritation and butterflies.
Ten minutes later, he emerged.
Fresh. Cool. And definitely unaware of my rule-following struggle.
I didn't even look at him.
Not once.
I was disciplined.
Now it was my turn.
After I showered, I stepped out and heard the buzz of the hair dryer.
He was drying his hair. I didn't look. I just *listened*.
He was blow-drying his hair when I stepped out of the bathroom. I didn't look directly at him — just enough to catch the faint whirring of the dryer and the scent of his cologne mixing with the steam in the air.
Then came his voice, a bit dramatic.
"I can't even help dry your hair. Your rules, remember?"
I rolled my eyes — not that he could see.
"Of course you can't," I said, brushing my damp hair over one shoulder. "You'd have to look at me for that, and unless you've mastered the art of blow-drying with a blindfold, you're out of luck."
He laughed — the kind of laugh that always made me want to smile too, even when I was trying to be stern.
"Just saying," he mumbled, "these rules are cruel."
My hair was long and thick. Holding the dryer too long would turn into an arm workout I didn't sign up for.
Still, I had to do it myself.
"Give me the dryer," I said.
"Hmm, take it."
He turned his back to me. I did the same.
Now we were awkwardly trying to pass the dryer behind our backs without seeing each other.
We looked ridiculous.
If anyone saw us, they'd think we were acting in a rom-com gone rogue.
He *deliberately* avoided placing it into my hand, clearly enjoying this game too much.
"Come a little closer, Halime."
"I *am* close. *You* come closer."
"Okay. I'll take one step forward… and then you do."
Oh God. Such a childish game. And yet, I was laughing inside like crazy. This was too much fun.
"Give it to me already! What are you doing?"
"One second."
I paused.
Then I heard him say, "Come here. Take it from my hand."
I turned halfway. He was standing there with his back still toward me, arms folded behind him. In his left hand, the dryer.
I stepped closer, not fully looking, keeping the rule sacred.
My hand brushed his.
I saw his fingers—long, elegant, and somehow glowing under the soft light.
I took the dryer with one hand… and held his hand with the other.
I think he smiled.
I couldn't see it, but I *felt* it.
He gently held my hand back, caressing my fingers softly.
Then I snapped.
"Where's the ring?"
He froze.
Still holding my hand, his thu
mb paused mid-stroke.
"…Hmm?" he said, like he'd just woken up from a dream.
Caught.
Red-handed.