Accidentally Married

52. Move in

Zo sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly through the glass wall at the sprawling city night. The skyline glowed with scattered lights, the faint hum of traffic reaching him even this high up. His phone lay cold in his hand, the screen mocking him with the same message he had seen too many times already: Call disconnected.

It had been more than two hours since Nai left the apartment, and Zo hadn't been able to get in touch with him since. Each attempt ended the same way—Nai's phone switched off, unreachable. 

With each failure, Zo's chest tightened, his mind spinning with worry. Where had Nai gone? Was he safe? The city at night was unpredictable, and Nai had stormed out right after their argument, visibly upset.

Zo ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He regretted not stopping Nai at the door. He hadn't meant for their conversation to escalate into an argument. All he had wanted was to voice his concern, to stop Nai from supporting an engagement that he believed would hurt Saifah. 

He knew, perhaps better than anyone, how deeply his friend loved Jui and how Jui had always rejected Saifah's feelings. If they were forced into marriage, Zo feared neither would be happy. And it would be Saifah, his closest friend, who ended up the most hurt.

But had he been too harsh? The thought gnawed at him. Nai wasn't the enemy here. The engagement hadn't even been Nai's decision—it was arranged by the families. All Nai had done was point out that the person chosen was Jui, not that conniving cousin. Yet, Zo had lashed out, his words sharp, his emotions too raw.

He exhaled heavily and stood, his legs carrying him to the door almost of their own accord. If Nai wasn't answering his phone, then Zo would go and look for him himself. He couldn't sit here, paralyzed by worry, waiting for something bad to happen. His hand gripped the doorknob, determination in his chest—

The soft click of the front door's lock stopped him.

Zo froze. Slowly, the door swung open. Nai stepped inside, his face bathed in the cool glow of his phone screen, thumb scrolling as if he were replying to a message. He didn't even glance up as he slipped off his shoes, moving quietly towards his room.

Relief flooded Zo, so overwhelming it nearly buckled his knees. Nai was here. He was safe. That was all that mattered. Zo released the doorknob, his heart still hammering, and shut his door gently before leaning back against it. He pressed a palm to his chest, willing his racing pulse to calm down.

He needed to apologize.

The thought burned in his mind as he went into the bathroom, splashed his face with water, and forced himself to breathe. A quick shower followed, the cool spray easing the tension that had knotted his body. 

Changing into fresh clothes, he sat back on the bed with his phone in hand. His thumbs typed an apology before his better judgment kicked in.

I'm sorry for what I said earlier.

He stared at the words, chewing on his lip. It felt wrong. Too small. Too flat. Texting something like this—it lacked sincerity, lacked weight. No, Nai deserved more than just a hastily typed message. 

Zo deleted it and stood once again, heart heavy but resolved.

He padded softly through the hallway, stopping outside Nai's bedroom. His hand rose to knock, but he hesitated. The clock on the wall read past two in the morning. Nai had likely gone to sleep already. Disturbing him now would be selfish. Zo muttered to himself, convincing his guilty heart that it could wait until morning. They would talk then. They had to talk then.

But as he turned to leave, the door creaked open.

Zo's eyes widened as Nai stepped out, dressed in simple pajamas, his phone still in hand. Nai looked up, his expression calm, and asked, "Why haven't you gone to bed yet?"

Zo's throat went dry. Words stumbled awkwardly on his tongue. "I—uh, I was just...couldn't sleep" 

Nai didn't answer immediately. Instead, he brushed past Zo, his steps quiet but purposeful, heading straight into Zo's room. Confused, Zo turned, watching as Nai walked over to his bed, set his phone down, and pulled back the duvet as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Zo's mouth fell open. "W-what are you doing?"

Nai settled himself comfortably, his head sinking into the pillow. Then, turning his face to Zo, he said with calm finality, "I think it's better if we sleep in the same room. Like all other married couples do."

Zo stood frozen at the doorway, heart pounding so loudly he was sure Nai could hear it. Just hours ago, Nai had stormed out after a fight, and now—now he was lying in his bed. Voluntarily. Something Zo had secretly longed for, but never expected this soon. His world spun.

Nai's voice snapped him out of it. "Are you just going to stand there? Or do you not plan on sleeping?"

Zo nearly jumped. "N-no, I am coming." He scrambled inside, nearly tripping over himself as he slid under the duvet. He pulled the covers up to his chin, trying—and failing—to hide his shaking hands. The silence between them felt almost deafening, so heavy that Zo could hear the rush of his own blood in his ears.

Then Nai spoke. "I am sorry."

Zo's eyes shot to him in surprise.

"I shouldn't have left the house like that," Nai continued softly. "I know I worried you. I won't do it again." His voice held an unusual gentleness, a vulnerability Zo rarely saw.

For a moment, Zo couldn't breathe. He had expected anger, or at least distance. But Nai was apologizing first. His chest ached at the sincerity. "No, I should be the one apologizing," Zo said quickly. "I lashed out at you. I shouldn't have blamed you. The engagement—it wasn't your doing. I was unfair."

Nai turned his face toward him. In the dim light, his eyes seemed softer than usual. "It's alright. Honestly, I am glad you said what you felt. It's better than keeping it inside."

Zo blinked, stunned by the calmness of the response. Slowly, his shoulders relaxed.

"Communication is important in a relationship," Nai added. "That's how we will grow closer."

Zo nodded, relief swelling in him. The tension between them was melting away, replaced by something more intimate, something fragile yet real.

They lay facing each other now. Nai's voice dropped a little, almost conspiratorial. "Then let's take a step closer. We should go on a second date. Next weekend."

Zo's heart soared. "Really? Do you have a place in mind? What cuisine do you want? I can make reservations right away—"

Nai chuckled, cutting him off. "You don't need to do anything this time."

Zo tilted his head in confusion. "Why not?"

"Because," Nai said with a small smile, "this time, I will plan everything. It won't be at a restaurant."

A pang of insecurity flickered in Zo. "Didn't you like the date I planned?" He remembered every detail he had fussed over, every effort to make it perfect.

"It's not that," Nai assured him quickly. "I liked it. But that date showed me your world, the things you enjoy. Next time, I want to show you mine. Don't you want to know what I like?"

Zo's lips parted. He nodded so quickly it made Nai laugh. "Yes. Of course I do."

"Good," Nai said warmly. "Then leave it to me. I will make it memorable."

Zo smiled, his chest brimming with anticipation.

"Now sleep," Nai said gently. "It's already late."

"Good night," Zo whispered, his voice softer than usual.

"Good night."

Zo reached over and turned off the bedside light. Darkness filled the room, but inside, his heart glowed. For the first time in a long while, he felt that maybe—just maybe—Nai was opening the door to him, one careful step at a time.