Ravi dragged them both to a small dinner party at a friend’s house in Palmiste. Just a handful of close friends, some drinks, music, good food. Nothing fancy.

  Kay didn’t plan to impress.

  She didn’t even try.

  Still, when she walked out her room in a fitted black dress, Zayn had to grip the keys harder. The sleeveless neckline hugged her shoulders, and the dress ended just above her knees, showing those toned legs he’d been trying hard not to notice. Her makeup was soft, her hair in waves, and the little chain on her ankle glittered as she walked past him like she didn’t notice the way his eyes trailed.

  She did.

  She felt it in her chest.

  At the party, people kept mistaking Zayn and Kay for a couple.

  “You brought your wife, Zayn?” someone teased, nudging Zayn.

  He scoffed. “She’s like my sister,” he lied. The words came out stiff.

  But then Kay laughed with some guy—Tariq, a talkative guy with dimples and way too much charm. Zayn watched her smile. He hated how pretty it looked.

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  “Where you working, Kay?” Tariq asked, stepping a little closer.

  “Clerk at the hospital ” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.

  "OH very nice" Tariq repleid

  Zayn’s jaw flexed.

  “She's not married,” Ravi jumped in, sipping his drink. “And no boyfriend either.”

  Tariq smiled wide. “Serious? You playing hard to get or you waiting for someone to approach right?”

  Zayn stood. "You could ease up now."

  Everyone turned.

  Tariq raised a brow. “What? We just talking, bro.”

  “Talk somewhere else,” Zayn said sharply, gaze hard.

  Kay stared at him. “Zayn—”

  But he was already walking out.

  She found him outside near the car, arms crossed.

  “You good?” she asked quietly.

  “You shouldn’t let random men touch your waist.”

  He didn’t touch me.”

  “He was about to.”

  “So?” she snapped. “You don’t get to control who talks to me. You’re not my—”

  “Exactly,” he cut in. “I’m not your anything.”

  Her heart ached for reasons she didn’t understand. “Then why are you angry?”

  He turned, eyes blazing. “Because I don’t like the way he looked at you. Like you were just another pretty face. Like you didn’t deserve better.”

  Kay stared at him, stunned.

  “You think I’m a pretty face?” she whispered.

  Zayn exhaled, looking away. “That’s not the point.”

  “No, I think it is.”

  Silence.

  Zayn stepped forward—too close, too fast. “Go inside, Kay.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if you don’t, I might kiss you.”

  Her breath caught.

  “I don’t want to want you,” he added, voice low. “I’ve tried not to. For years. But right now... it’s getting hard to remember why.”

  She turned, heart pounding, and walked away.

  He didn’t follow.