Guarded by you

Shadows between us

Chapter 4: Shadows Between Us

Krit’s POV

I’d been trained to read people — their habits, their tells, the tiny shifts in expression that gave away what they were really thinking.

But Lin Yue… was different.

He was an open book with half the pages missing. One moment, bright and warm — smiling at the world like it couldn’t touch him — and the next, silent, guarded, as if the light might burn him.

And for some reason, I couldn’t stop watching him.

The message from last night still replayed in my mind: We’ll be watching you tonight.

It wasn’t just a fan prank — the words had weight. I’d already sent a report to his agency, but they brushed it off as “online trolling.”

They didn’t understand — this wasn’t trolling. It was a warning.

When I entered the living room, Lin Yue was curled up on the couch, scrolling through his phone, pretending not to be bothered. But his shoulders were tense.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” I said.

He looked up, startled. “You’re still awake?”

“I don’t sleep much.”

He smiled faintly, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I can see that. You’re like a robot. Always alert, never tired.”

I didn’t answer. The truth was, I was tired — just not physically. Watching over him had become more than a job. It was… something I couldn’t name.

He stood, walked toward the balcony door. “It’s quiet tonight.”

I followed his movement instinctively. “Stay away from the windows.”

He sighed. “You make it sound like someone’s out there with a sniper rifle.”

“Maybe not tonight,” I said quietly. “But it’s better to be cautious.”

He turned, eyes meeting mine. For a moment, neither of us looked away. The soft glow from the city lights spilled into the room, catching the curve of his jaw, the uncertainty in his eyes.

Then, softly — “Do you ever stop being serious?”

I blinked. “Not when it comes to your safety.”

“Then what about when it’s just us?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. “No cameras. No fans. No contracts. Just… you and me.”

The words hit harder than I expected. My throat tightened.

I stepped closer — too close — then stopped myself. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I might answer.”

He froze. For a second, neither of us breathed. The tension crackled in the air, fragile and electric.

Before anything could happen, my phone buzzed — a sharp, familiar tone.

I turned away instantly. “Security breach. Downstairs.”

He paled. “What—”

“Stay inside.” I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door.

The elevator was too slow, so I took the stairs two at a time. By the time I reached the lobby, two guards were already there, confused but alert. Someone had tried to enter through the back entrance — a shadow caught on the camera, but gone before we arrived.

“Probably paparazzi,” one guard muttered.

“Paparazzi don’t try to disable locks,” I said flatly.

We searched the perimeter — nothing. But I could feel it. The danger wasn’t gone; it was waiting. Watching.

When I returned upstairs, Lin Yue was pacing the living room, worry written all over his face.

“Was it them?” he asked.

“Could be.”

He took a shaky breath. “Krit, this is getting worse, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

He looked down, fingers trembling slightly. I’d seen him under flashing lights, surrounded by screaming fans, smiling like it didn’t hurt — but this was the first time I saw him afraid.

I wanted to tell him he didn’t have to be. That I’d never let anyone touch him.

But I couldn’t say it. I wasn’t supposed to feel this.

He whispered, “Sometimes I wish you’d just… talk to me. Not like a bodyguard. Just like a person.”

I hesitated. Then, slowly, I stepped closer. “You want the truth?”

He nodded.

“I don’t talk because I’m trying not to cross a line I already want to cross.”

His eyes widened, breath catching. “Krit…”

The space between us vanished. I didn’t plan it — it just happened. His scent, his warmth, the soft tremor of his breath so close to mine.

Then — the softest thing in the world — his lips brushed mine. A whisper of a kiss.

It wasn’t deep or wild. It was just… real.

The kind that says I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop.

When he pulled back, his cheeks flushed. “I… I don’t know why I did that.”

“You shouldn’t apologize,” I said quietly. “I should.”

He laughed weakly. “Then we’re both bad at our jobs.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But I’ll still protect you.”

“I know,” he whispered. “And that’s what scares me.”

He walked away before I could reply, the echo of his footsteps fading down the hall.

I stood there for a long time, trying to steady the storm inside me. The job was simple — protect, report, stay detached.

But somewhere between those rules… I’d already broken one.

Because tonight, when I kissed him back — even for a second —

it wasn’t duty.

It was desire