Guard of heart

The rain

Later that night, after the game ended, I found myself on the balcony, staring at the stars but not really seeing them. My mind was still running in circles, trying to piece together Aby’s strange behavior. Why had he acted so cold after that phone call in the storeroom? One moment we were stuck together, and then, after he took that call, his mood shifted completely.

And the door… He had a phone. He could have easily called for a handyman to get us out, but he didn’t. He just said he “forgot.” Aby doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who forgets something like that. What was his deal?

I rubbed my temples, frustrated. Maybe this was what working in a powerful family’s orbit did to people—it made them cagey, hard to trust. Or maybe I was projecting.

The stars above twinkled faintly, but their light felt hollow. My fingers tightened on the balcony railing. I wasn’t here for stargazing, anyway.

Footsteps broke through my thoughts, and I froze. I didn’t need to look back to know who it was.

“Thinking too hard again?” Aby’s voice cut through the silence, calm and unbothered, as if he’d been watching me for a while.

I spun around, startled. “what are you doing here?”

He shrugged, stepping onto the balcony, hands casually in his pockets. “Just needed some air. Looks like I’m not the only one.”

My heart raced a little faster at his sudden presence, but I wasn’t about to let him know that. “Well, I was enjoying the quiet until someone decided to interrupt.”

“Right,” he said, his lips curving into a half-smile. “That’s probably why you were staring off into space, lost in your thoughts.”

I crossed my arms, feigning nonchalance. “I wasn’t thinking about anything. Definitely not about you.”

His smirk deepened. “Didn’t say you were.”

My fingers drummed lightly against my arm, a nervous habit I caught myself doing too late. It was small, but the rhythm I tapped out was deliberate—precise, like muscle memory. The kind of pattern one might use to memorize something or signal it.

I dropped my hand quickly. “Actually, there’s one thing I need to know.”

Aby tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. “And what’s that?”

“You said you forgot you had a phone back in the storeroom,” I said, watching him carefully. “Why? You could’ve just called a handyman and gotten us out of there. Instead, you acted like it wasn’t a big deal.”

His lips twitched into that infuriatingly faint smile. “Do you always analyze everything to death, or is that just reserved for me?”

I frowned. “It’s a valid question.”

“Maybe,” he replied, his tone light but evasive. “Or maybe I just enjoy watching you squirm when you overthink.”

I glared at him, frustration bubbling up. “That’s not an answer.”

“Maybe I don’t owe you one,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but edged with something sharper.

Before I could fire back, he added, “And if it makes you feel better, next time I’ll call. Would that satisfy your curiosity?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but his smirk deepened, cutting off my train of thought. There was no point in pushing him further; he wasn’t going to give me a straight answer.

“Whatever,” I muttered, turning on my heel. “I’m going inside. It’s late.”

The slick balcony floor had other plans. My foot slipped, and I gasped, arms flailing as I lost my balance.

Before I could hit the ground, Aby’s hands shot out, gripping my waist and pulling me against him. His hold was steady, his hands firm.

For a moment, I couldn’t move.

I looked up, and his face was inches from mine, his dark eyes searching mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. The world around us faded—the rain, the cold, even the stars. It was just him, holding me like I wasn’t a complete mess.

Neither of us moved.

His grip didn’t falter, and my mind screamed at me to pull away, but my body didn’t listen. The air felt charged, thick with unspoken tension. His gaze softened, and for the briefest moment, I thought he might lean in closer.

And then, like the universe was mocking me, a loud crack of thunder echoed above us. Within seconds, rain poured down in heavy sheets, drenching us both.

The cold water jolted me back to reality, but Aby didn’t move, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

“Careful next time,” he said, his voice low and controlled, though there was an edge to it I couldn’t quite place.

I blinked, pulling myself free from his hold. “Y-Yeah, thanks,” I mumbled, stepping back.

Without another word, I hurried inside, my heart racing, my clothes drenched. I paused at the doorway, glancing back at Aby still standing in the rain, watching me with that unreadable expression.

Inside, I shook off the water as best as I could, my hands brushing over my damp clothes in what could’ve been mistaken for fidgeting—but there was a purpose to it. It was as if I was checking for something, though I wasn’t sure what exactly. Whatever it was, I satisfied myself with the result and headed upstairs, my steps quick but measured.

In my room, I changed into fresh pajamas. The soft fabric of the loose shirt felt comforting against my skin, but the cold air in the room didn’t help calm the storm brewing inside me. I paused in front of the mirror, fingers running through my damp hair, staring at my reflection, trying to make sense of the evening.

Why had I let him hold me? Why didn’t I pull away the second his hand was on me? His touch, deliberate yet unsettlingly careful, lingered far longer than it should have. Aby—he was... different. The more I thought about it, the more his aloofness, his smirks, and that carefully controlled demeanor seemed like a mask. A mask I couldn’t seem to tear away.

What was he hiding?

It was hard to shake off the feeling that I was missing something crucial. He spoke in riddles, avoiding my questions with an ease that suggested practice. Everything about him was measured, calculated.

I turned away from the mirror, the questions in my mind spinning like a whirlwind. Was I being played? Was I the one chasing him, or was he chasing me, waiting for me to slip up and show my hand?

I could almost feel the weight of his gaze, that unsettling way he’d studied me, as if he was waiting for something, anything, to give me away.

I paused, my thoughts quieting for a moment. Who was playing whom? Was I the mouse, caught up in a game I didn’t fully understand, or was I the cat, trying to track down the hidden truths behind that quiet, guarded exterior?

I crawled into bed, wrapping myself in the warmth of the blankets, though it didn’t quite soothe the restless feeling gnawing at me. The questions still lingered in the back of my mind, unanswered and unresolved.

Who was the cat? And who was the mouse?

I didn’t know. But somehow, I felt as if the game was only just beginning.