FORBIDDEN

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

Yibo woke to the faint scent of bananas and something slightly sweet wafting through the air. He blinked at the soft light filtering through the dark curtains in his room. Everything about the morning was peaceful-the kind of peace he hadn't felt in days.

But where was Zhan?

Sitting up, Yibo scanned his elegant but simple room. It wasn't much: clean lines, a modern black-and-gray theme, and just enough minimalistic decor to make it feel personal. The shadows of the dark walls felt familiar and comforting, not oppressive, but there was no sign of Zhan.

His heart skipped.

Was Zhan gone?

Had he just left in the night?

Yibo flung the covers aside, heading toward the living room. But as he passed the hallway, the clatter of dishes and faint humming stopped him in his tracks.

In his sleek kitchen-an area Yibo rarely used himself-stood Zhan, wearing Yibo's apron, which somehow looked both ridiculous and charming on him. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing toned forearms, and he was flipping pancakes with surprising skill.

Yibo leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching quietly. The sight was almost too domestic. It didn't match the Zhan who had revealed a world of secrets just hours ago.

"Are you planning to just stand there and stare at me?" Zhan called without turning, his tone laced with amusement.

Yibo smirked, pushing off the frame. "You're making breakfast in 'MY' kitchen. I'm entitled to be suspicious."

Zhan glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. "Suspicious? I'm saving you from whatever you usually eat for breakfast. Do you even have a clue what's in your fridge?"

"I'm a cereal guy," Yibo shot back, walking closer.

"Of course, you are." Zhan grinned, flipping another pancake onto the stack.

Yibo hesitated, watching him. This wasn't the man who had looked so serious, so conflicted, the night before. There was something lighter about him now. It was disarming.

"I didn't know you could cook," Yibo said finally.

"There's a lot you don't know about me." Zhan's voice held a teasing edge, but something darker flickered behind his smile.

Yibo's chest tightened. "You're not going to start with the cryptic stuff again, are you?"

Zhan placed the spatula down and turned to face him, crossing his arms. "Depends. Are you going to keep looking at me like I'm some puzzle you're trying to solve?"

"I'm not-" Yibo started but stopped when Zhan arched an eyebrow.

"Relax, Yibo." Zhan's voice softened as he reached out to nudge Yibo's arm. "This morning isn't about questions. It's about pancakes. You like pancakes, right?"

Yibo sighed, letting the tension drain from his shoulders. "Fine. But if they're terrible, you're ordering delivery."

Zhan laughed, a sound that felt almost foreign after the intensity of the night before. "Deal."

*****

The pancakes, to Yibo's surprise, were good-great, even. They sat at the small dining table, the stack of golden treats topped with strawberries and syrup.