Untitled Episode
1384 Words
Chapter 3 — Close Calls
I was exhausted but restless.
Another day of rehearsals and fan meetings had drained every ounce of energy from me, yet my mind refused to settle. Every creak of the apartment, every hum from the air conditioner made my shoulders tighten as though danger hid in the silence.
Krit sat in the living room, legs crossed, tablet glowing in his hands. He didn’t glance up when I padded in barefoot, but I could feel him watching—quietly alert, the way a cat pretends to sleep but never truly does.
“Any updates from the agency?” I asked, forcing my voice to sound casual.
He lifted his gaze, calm as always. “Nothing unusual. Security rotation is confirmed. You’re safe tonight.”
Safe.
That word had lost its meaning after the last incident—the anonymous package with a photo of me taken from outside my bedroom window. Even now, I can still feel the echo of that chill.
Krit’s voice pulled me back. “You should rest.”
“I will,” I lied, glancing at the tablet. “You review schedules even at night?”
“It’s my job to be prepared,” he said without looking up.
“Do you ever get bored watching me?” I teased, trying to lighten the tension.
He paused, then replied, “No. It keeps me focused.”
I wanted to ask what exactly about me kept him focused, but before I could, my phone buzzed on the table.
Another fan-group notification. I skimmed it automatically, smiling at the sweet messages—until one line made my breath stop.
> We’ll be watching you tonight. Don’t slip up.
I froze. My thumb hovered over the screen. It could’ve been a prank, but something about the wording—the certainty—made my pulse jump.
Before I could say anything, Krit was already on his feet. His movement was silent, efficient. “What happened?”
I handed him the phone. His eyes scanned the message once, twice, expression unreadable.
“Stay here,” he said firmly. “Do not open the balcony. Do not answer calls.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he was already checking the locks, the curtains, the hallway. His calmness should have soothed me, yet my heart beat faster—half fear, half something else I didn’t want to name.
I watched him through the half-open door as he stepped onto the balcony. He moved like water, every step measured, every turn deliberate. For a moment, the city light brushed against his face, carving soft edges out of that cold mask he always wore.
When he came back, he reported, “False alarm. Someone walked past the building. Security has been informed.”
I nodded, trying to slow my breathing. “Thank you.”
He met my gaze, voice low. “If anything happens, I’ll handle it. That’s my responsibility.”
Something inside me twisted at the steadiness in his tone. “You sound like you’d take a bullet for me,” I murmured before I could stop myself.
His lips curved—not quite a smile, just the faintest twitch. “That’s part of the job description.”
I laughed softly, but it didn’t chase away the flutter in my chest.
---
Dinner that night was quiet. I poked at my food while Krit reviewed tomorrow’s itinerary—photoshoot at nine, choreography practice at noon, brand meeting by evening.
Normal. Everything looked perfectly normal.
But my mind replayed that message again and again, the way the words had crawled under my skin.
“Do you ever get scared?” I asked suddenly.
He looked up. “Of what?”
“Of… all this. The crowds. The people who pretend to love us but might want something else.”
He was silent for a long moment, then said, “Fear is natural. What matters is what you do with it.”
That sounded like something from a movie, but hearing it from him made it real.
I nodded, watching the reflection of the city lights in the glass window.
---
Later, I stood there again—at the window, the skyline blinking with a thousand lights. Down below, people moved like fireflies, chasing dreams, laughter, love.
Inside my high-rise apartment, everything felt still.
I heard footsteps behind me. “You should sleep,” Krit said softly.
“I know,” I said without turning. “Do you ever sleep?”
“Sometimes.”
I smiled faintly. “You sound like a robot.”
“I’m efficient,” he corrected.
That made me laugh. A real laugh this time. “You should try being human once in a while.”
He didn’t answer, but when I turned, I saw something—just for a second—in his eyes. Not coldness. Not duty. Something warmer.
“Goodnight, Krit,” I said quietly.
“Goodnight, Lin.”
He rarely said my name. Hearing it in his voice felt strangely intimate.
---
But sleep refused to come. The air felt heavier, filled with words unsaid.
I kept replaying every look, every moment—the way he’d stepped in front of me at the studio last week when a camera light exploded; the way he had leaned in to whisper, “Don’t smile too long; the reporters are watching.”
He wasn’t just my guard anymore. Somewhere along the line, he’d become my calm in the chaos.
And that terrified me more than the threat itself.
---
The next morning, sunlight spilled across the floor. Krit was already awake, of course—hair slightly tousled, still in his crisp shirt. He handed me my coffee before I even asked.
“You have a rehearsal at ten,” he reminded me.
I nodded. “Do you ever forget anything?”
“No.”
“Show-off,” I muttered under my breath.
He didn’t respond, but the corners of his lips lifted again—barely noticeable, yet enough to make my heart skip once more.
---
At rehearsal, the director scolded me for being distracted.
“Lin Yue! You missed the beat again.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. My mind was somewhere else entirely—at the balcony, at that message, at Krit’s steady voice promising he’d protect me.
During the break, I noticed Krit standing near the exit, arms crossed, scanning every face that entered. When our eyes met, he nodded once. Just that.
Somehow, that simple gesture steadied me.
By the time rehearsal ended, I was laughing again with the dancers. The incident from last night began to fade into the rhythm of lights, sweat, and music.
But as we walked out to the car, the same flicker of curiosity returned.
“Krit,” I said quietly.
“Yes?”
“Last night… when you said you’d protect me. Did you mean that?”
He stopped, met my gaze. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”
Something in his eyes made my pulse quicken again.
I nodded, pretending to be calm, but inside I was chaos.
---
That night, while I scrolled through messages, I noticed new posts trending with our photos—paparazzi shots, the usual gossip.
Except this time, Krit was in a few of them too, standing close beside me.
> “Who’s the guy always around Lin Yue?”
“He’s kinda hot!”
“They look close… 👀”
I stared at the comments, a laugh escaping before I could stop it. “Krit, you’re getting popular.”
He looked up from his laptop. “That’s not good for security.”
“It’s good for my image, though,” I teased.
He raised a brow, unimpressed. “Focus on your career, not rumors.”
“Right, right,” I said with a grin, but his seriousness only made me want to tease him more.
---
When the lights finally dimmed and the city noise softened, I found myself lying awake again, listening to his quiet breathing from the living room.
He’d become part of the rhythm of my life—unseen, constant, grounding.
Somewhere between the flashing cameras and the silence after midnight, I realized something frighteningly clear.
I didn’t just feel safe around Krit.
I felt alive.
- Writer
