Kiss & Tell ( Asa and Chiquita)

Chapter 28: The Crack in the Glass

Asa's POV

I hadn't meant to show up.

But when I saw the text from Chiquita — "I'll be at the event tonight. See you there, love" — something in me twisted. Maybe it was a little possessiveness, maybe a lot of curiosity. I've never been the kind to linger at social events, especially not the ones that swirl with laughter and high-end champagne. The endless smiles, the sharp eyes of people who want nothing more than to catch a glimpse of someone's fall.

I never cared for those games. But tonight, I cared.

I walked into the glittering ballroom, my heels clicking against the marble floor as I scanned the crowd, searching for her. The moment I spotted Chiquita, my stomach flipped. She was standing in the center of a group, effortlessly the center of attention, with her vibrant laugh that floated across the room like a melody, drawing people in.

She was beautiful — stunning, really — and it was impossible not to notice. But what caught my attention wasn't her smile. No, it was the woman standing next to her, a bit too close, a bit too eager in the way she touched Chiquita's arm. Her fingers lingered for a second too long. Her eyes, too bold, too intimate.

I didn't know why, but my heart rate picked up.

I didn't approach immediately, not wanting to interrupt her moment. She was a socialite, after all, a queen of these circles, and I knew the rules. I was used to the long glances and the polite distance, the way Chiquita could wrap people around her finger without even trying. But something about the way the woman leaned in, her lips brushing just a little too close to Chiquita's ear, made me feel like I was intruding on something private.

I watched for a moment longer, before I saw the woman's hand, grazing down Chiquita's side, as if claiming her.

My chest tightened, and for the first time since I met Chiquita, I felt something unfamiliar, something raw — jealousy.

And before I could stop myself, I was walking toward them, my heels clicking more forcefully now, my mind spinning. What was I even going to say?

I stopped in front of them, my gaze falling directly on the woman's hand on Chiquita's side.

"Is this how you entertain yourself, Chiquita?" I said before I could filter the words, my voice clipped, colder than I intended.

Chiquita's POV

I was talking, laughing, feeling the familiar hum of the crowd around me when I saw Asa.

She walked toward me with that deliberate, determined grace, her eyes locked on mine. There was a stillness in the air, a sudden shift that made everyone around us pause, as if they felt the tension ripple through the room. The sound of champagne flutes clinking, the low hum of conversation, seemed to fade to the background, leaving only Asa's piercing gaze.

I saw it immediately. The flash of something dark in her eyes.

I had been enjoying myself, surrounded by people who liked to talk, who liked to drink, but I wasn't the type to get too close to any one person. I wasn't even remotely interested in the woman who had leaned in a little too much, her hand grazing my side in a playful, but possessive manner. But it wasn't what you'd call seduction — not in the way Asa seemed to be thinking.

I was trying to enjoy the night, to remind myself that I had earned my place in these circles. But the second Asa appeared, her eyes locking on that woman's touch, the air between us changed.

I saw her approach, her face tight, her posture stiff, her gaze unyielding.

And then she spoke.

"Is this how you entertain yourself, Chiquita?"

Her voice — cold, sharp, cutting through the noise of the room like a blade — sent a shock of panic through me. My stomach dropped.

I didn't even have time to process the words before the woman I'd been talking to pulled back, a flustered expression on her face. She was quick to retreat, sensing the tension between us.

But I didn't need her to leave. I didn't need Asa's sharp words. I needed her to see the truth.

"Asa, wait," I said, my voice a little too frantic as I stepped forward, reaching out to her. "It's not what you think."

Her gaze flickered briefly to me, and I saw the hurt there. The hurt that I had caused. I'd never seen it on her face before, but now, I couldn't look away from it. She was hurt, and I couldn't fix it in the moment.

"What's not what I think?" she shot back, her voice now low, but so filled with an edge of accusation, I felt like I was being sliced open. She was angry, and I didn't know how to respond.

"You're so used to everything being perfect, to controlling everything," Asa continued, her eyes blazing, her voice getting louder despite the fact that we were surrounded by the elite of Seoul, "but what am I supposed to think when I see you so easily swayed by someone else's attention?"

I felt my stomach turn, and my hands shook as I reached out again, this time more desperately. "Asa, it wasn't like that. She was just... trying to make conversation. We're not... I'm not interested in her like that."

But she wasn't listening. Her back was turned to me now, her shoulders rigid. She was walking away.

"Stop," I called, panic rising in my chest. I was moving after her, trying to catch her wrist, but she shrugged me off.

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Chiquita," she said, voice tight, each word coming out like ice. "I saw enough. And maybe I've been fooling myself. You don't need me. Not when there's a line of women waiting for your attention."

I felt a sharp, bitter sting in my chest, and I wanted to scream at her, to tell her that she was wrong. That there was no one else. That she was the only one I wanted.

But I couldn't stop her. Asa was slipping away — emotionally, physically, maybe even for good.

I stared after her, heart hammering in my chest. My body was shaking now, not from cold, but from the realization of how fragile everything between us really was.

I needed to fix this. I needed to make her understand. But in that moment, I felt powerless, like I was already losing her.

Asa's POV

I couldn't stop myself. Every time I looked at Chiquita, I saw her laughing, talking to someone else, and that hurt burned in me. But when I saw her with that woman, with her hand so close to Chiquita's body, I snapped.

I wanted to leave. I wanted to escape the noise of the party, to take a breath and make sense of my racing heart. But as I looked around the room, the crowd of people who had once felt so distant now felt suffocating. I couldn't breathe. The last thing I wanted to do was confront Chiquita, but I had to. I couldn't let her slip away without telling her how I felt.

But now that I had confronted her, had thrown my anger and jealousy at her, I didn't know how to take it back. She wasn't just a socialite, wasn't just someone who flirted with people in passing. I knew that.

But tonight, I wasn't sure I could handle it. Maybe I wasn't ready for her to be so... wanted.

The pain in my chest was too much, and for the first time, I realized I was afraid.

Afraid that all of this — all of us — would crumble beneath the weight of everything we couldn't control.