ᴛᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʙʏ ʜᴇʀ

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ

Akira's eyes fluttered open as a soft ray of sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a golden hue across the room. Stretching languidly, she arched her back, letting out a quiet sigh. But as her mind cleared from the haze of sleep, memories of last night came rushing back. Her heart clenched, and she sat up abruptly, eyes darting to the empty space beside her.

The sheets were cold.

Frowning, she ran a hand through her tousled hair before swinging her legs off the bed and making her way to the bathroom. Under the warm spray of the shower, she tried to push away the nagging thoughts creeping into her mind. She brushed her teeth, threw on a pair of shorts and a fitted tank top, and made her way downstairs, still feeling the weight of unease in her chest.

A loud clatter echoed from the kitchen, followed by a sharp curse.

Curious, she peeked in and found Ciel standing by the stove, an apron clumsily tied around his waist, a spatula in hand, and an unmistakable look of frustration on his face. He was struggling—miserably—to flip a pancake. His lips moved as he squinted at the instructions on the box, his brow furrowed in determination. But every few minutes, another failed attempt earned him a muttered curse.

Akira couldn't help but smile at the sight. He looked adorable, so out of his element yet so determined. But just as quickly as the warmth spread through her, the memory of yesterday—him with her—flashed through her mind. The smile vanished, replaced by a frown.

She straightened her posture and marched into the kitchen, pulling out a stool at the island.

"Morning," she greeted, her tone neutral.

Ciel turned, startled. "Mo—shit!" he cursed as he knocked over a cup, nearly sending it off the counter.

Akira raised an eyebrow, watching him scramble to steady it. "You're clumsy in the kitchen," she observed, folding her arms.

"Sorry," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. His gaze softened as he turned off the stove. "I just... wanted to make you breakfast." His voice held a quiet sincerity. "We should talk."

She hummed in response, watching as he hesitantly took the seat beside her.

"Did you mean it when you said you genuinely like me?" he asked, his voice laced with uncertainty.

Akira's eyes narrowed. "What do you think? I already told you how I feel, yet you didn't want to hear me out. And then you left," she said, her voice tinged with frustration.

"I'm sorry," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have listened to you, but I just—I got angry, and I... shut down." His hands clenched into fists on the counter as he exhaled sharply. "What did you want with my father's company?"

Akira looked away, shame flickering in her eyes. "It wasn't me," she said quietly. "I had to do it. It's not like I wanted to. And I don't even know what they wanted with your father's company. But... it seems like they're no longer after it." She swallowed. "I'm sorry, Ciel. I shouldn't have done it. I never expected to fall for you, and when I did, I realized I couldn't go through with it anymore."

Silence stretched between them before he finally spoke. "Interesting," he murmured.

Her jaw clenched. "Who was she?"

Ciel blinked. "Who?"

"The girl you were with," Akira said, looking away, her chest tightening. She hated this feeling. She hated how her heart betrayed her, how much it hurt.

He frowned, trying to piece together what she meant. "Who are you talking about?"

"Don't play dumb. The brunette. At the college. I saw you two sitting way too close," she accused, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms.