CLAIMED BY MY IDOLS UNDER BANGKOK LIGHTS

Chapter 5: The Note

*******

8 a.m.

Mira woke to sunlight and the taste of concrete in her mouth.

She'd slept maybe two hours. Tossed and turned. Seen their faces every time she closed her eyes.

Ace's mouth on Zayn's.

Zayn's hands in Ace's hair.

The way they'd looked at each other before they kissed, like the rest of the world didn't exist.

Stop, she told herself. Stop thinking about it.

But she couldn't.

She sat up, grabbed her phone.

No texts from Essie.

Of course.

She almost scrolled through her other messages, bracing for another little moon threat, another photo, another warning.

But there was nothing.

Just silence.

She didn't know whether to feel relieved or more scared.

A knock at the door made her jump.

She crept over, looked through the peephole.

Jimmy. Pete. Coffee and pastries in hand.

She opened the door.

Pete took one look at her face and his smile dropped. "Damn, girl. You look like you haven't slept in days."

"Thanks," Mira said dryly. "You really know how to make a girl feel special."

Jimmy smiled softly. "Can we come in?"

She stepped back.

They settled on the small couch, spreading out food. Mira sat on the edge of the bed, wrapped in the hotel robe, feeling exposed and raw.

Pete handed her a coffee. "Drink. You'll feel human again."

She took it. The warmth seeped into her palms.

Jimmy watched her carefully. "You want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Whatever happened at the concert." His voice was gentle. "You came back looking like you'd seen a ghost."

Mira's throat tightened.

I did see something. Just not a ghost.

"I'm fine," she said. "Just overwhelmed. First concert in a foreign country. Jet lag. You know."

Pete and Jimmy exchanged a look.

She hated that look. We don't believe you, but we won't push your looks.

But she also loved it. Because they cared. Strangers, and they cared.

"Dinner tonight," Pete said suddenly. "Our treat. Real Thai food. Not hotel stuff."

Mira blinked. "I don't want to impose."

"You're not." Jimmy's voice was firm. "We want to. You've been alone since you got here. Everyone needs company."

Everyone needs company.

When was the last time someone said that to her?

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. Dinner."

Pete grinned. "Yes! We'll take you to the best place in Bangkok. You'll die."

"I hope not literally," Mira muttered.

Jimmy laughed. It was the first time she'd heard him really laugh. It was warm. Real.

She felt something loosen in her chest.

******

After they left, Mira showered and dressed. Then she did what she'd been avoiding.

She googled them.

Jimmy and Pete.

And there they were.

"NEXUS: Thailand's Hottest New Boy Band Debuts at Number One."

Photos. Interviews. Music videos.

Four members. Jimmy and Pete in the center.

Idols.

They were idols.

Mira stared at the screen.

Nexus.

The name fits. A connection. A link. A bridge between worlds.

She'd been eating breakfast with idols. They saved her at the hotel. They brought her coffee. They were FAMOUS.

She scrolled through photos, reading comments, and watching clips.

They were good. Really good. Their voices blended perfectly, their dances were sharp, their smiles were made for cameras.

But underneath all of it, they still looked like the same guys who'd sat on her hotel floor last night, eating takeout in silence so she wouldn't feel alone.

Some people you just know, Jimmy had said.

Maybe he was right.

***

Her phone buzzed.

She grabbed it, heart pounding.

Essie.

Hey. Crazy week. Hope you're having fun. Miss you.

Mira stared at the message.

Miss you.

Three days. Three days since she'd left. Three days of silence. Three days of notes under doors and walking in on things she shouldn't have seen.

And he missed her.

She typed back: I'm okay. Bangkok is a lot.

She almost added: I need you. I'm scared. Something is wrong.

But she didn't.

Because what was the point?

He was busy. He had his promotion. He had his life.

And she was here, alone.

She sent the message and put the phone down.

*****

4 p.m. The fans meet.

Mira almost didn't go.

Every instinct screamed at her to stay in the room, lock the door, hide.

But the tickets were paid for. The Lycans were right there. And somewhere deep inside, stubborn and foolish, she still wanted to see them.

Not Ace. Not Zayn.

The others. Klain. Luca. Seo.

The ones who hadn't looked at her like she was garbage.

So she went.

The venue was smaller than the concert hall, intimate. Fans lined up with posters, albums, and letters. Mira joined the line, a folded note in her hand.

For Klain.

His raps had saved her five years ago. Back when life felt impossible, back before Essie, back when she didn't know who she was. His words had held her together.

She'd written him a letter. Short. Honest.

"I love your raps, especially 'Don't hear what people say about you. You are the best version of yourself.' It helped me five years ago and shaped who I am today. Thank you for healing me. I wish you all the best."

Simple. True.

The line moved.

She got closer.

And closer.

And then she was at the table.

Seo first. He smiled warmly, signed her poster, said something in Thai that she didn't understand but appreciated.

Luca next. Charming, quick, his eyes crinkling when he smiled.

Then Ace.

Her heart stopped.

He looked at her.

Really looked.

His eyes flickered with something. Recognition. Memory. And something else she couldn't name.

He signed her poster without a word. But his hand paused for half a second longer than necessary.

Then she was moving, past him, toward Klain.

Her hand reached out with the note.

"For you," she said softly. "I've been a fan for a long time."

Klain's face lit up. "Thank you so much." He took the note gently, like it was something precious. "I will read it later, okay? I promise. Tonight, after everything. I always read fan letters."

Mira's eyes stung. "Really?"

"Really," He smiled, warm and genuine. "They matter to me. Yours will matter too."

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

And then.

Zayn.

He leaned forward slightly, catching her eye. Something passed between them. An acknowledgment. A question.

He didn't take the note. Didn't intercept it like she'd feared.

But he held her gaze for a long moment, and in his eyes she saw something she didn't expect.

Sorry.

We're sorry.

She looked away first.

******

After the line ended, after the photos and the autographs and the smiling for cameras, Mira found a quiet corner.

Her heart was pounding.

Klain had her note. He'd read it. Tonight. He'd actually read it.

And Zayn had looked at her like he wanted to say something but couldn't.

She reached into her pocket, pulling out the poster they'd all signed.

And something else.

A small piece of paper, folded neatly, tucked into the edge of the poster.

She hadn't noticed it before.

Her hands shook as she opened it.

We're sorry. For the bathroom. For scaring you.

If you want to talk. If you need anything. Contact us.

A + Z

And a chat ID.

Mira's eyes filled with tears.

She didn't know why she was crying.

Fear? Relief? Confusion?

All of it.

She stared at the note for a long time.

Then she folded it carefully and put it in her suitcase, under her clothes, hidden.

She didn't message them.

Not tonight.

She was too scared.

Too tired.

Too everything.

*******

Meanwhile,

Across the city.

Ace sat on the couch, staring at the flash drive in his hand.

He'd plugged it in an hour ago. Just to see. Just to know who she was.

He hadn't expected this.

Photos. Dozens of them. Mira laughing with friends. Mira at work, holding up jewelry designs. Mira in a burgundy silk gown, posed like she didn't know someone was watching.

Mira with a man. Dark hair. Arm around her waist. Smiling.

Her boyfriend? Husband?

Ace's jaw tightened.

He shouldn't care. She was a stranger. A fan who'd walked in on something she shouldn't have seen.

But he couldn't stop looking at her eyes.

The same eyes that had looked at him in that bathroom. Not with fear anymore. Something else.

Understanding.

Zayn appeared in the doorway. "You're still awake."

Ace didn't turn. "She has a man."

Zayn crossed the room, looked at the screen. "Lots of people have men."

"She looks happy with him."

"And?"

Ace finally looked at him. "And I don't know why that bothers me."

Zayn was quiet. Then: "Maybe because you saw her first."

First,

Before the bathroom. Before the accusations. At the airport. When she bumped into him and dropped his driveway.

She'd looked up at him, startled, apologetic, and something had sparked.

He'd felt it.

So had Zayn.

"We need to return to this," Ace said. "Tomorrow. No more waiting."

Zayn nodded. "Tomorrow."

******

Zayn sat beside him, quiet for a long moment.

Then: "She reminds me of Faye."

Ace stiffened.

"Don't."

"I'm not saying it to hurt you," Zayn's voice was soft. "I'm saying it because it's true. The way she looked at us. Like she saw through everything."

Ace stared at the screen. At Mira's face.

Faye.

The name is still cut.

He remembered the café. The night she was supposed to meet them. The accident on set that made them late. The letter she left instead of staying.

"My men, I will be leaving Thailand. I should have told you both, but I couldn't. Don't look for me. This marks the end of our relationship."

No explanation. No warning. Just words on paper.

They'd searched for two years. Airports. Police. Seaports. Nothing.

She'd vanished.

And they'd been broken ever since.

"I still dream about her," Ace whispered. "Some nights. She's standing there, smiling, reaching for me. And then she fades."

Zayn's hand found his. Squeezed.

"Me too."

Silence.

Then Zayn said: "What if she came back?"

Ace looked at him sharply. "What?"

"Nothing. Just. wondering."

Ace shook his head. "She's not coming back. She made that clear."

Zayn didn't answer.

But something in his eyes lingered. Something he wasn't saying.

*****

Same time.

Mira's hotel room.

She'd finally stopped crying. Finally, they changed into sweats. Finally, crawled into bed.

The note from Ace and Zayn sat on her nightstand, unfolded, those words staring at her.

If you want to talk. If you need anything. Contact us.

She reached for her phone.

Stopped.

What would she even say?

Hey, I'm the girl who walked in on you kissing. Sorry about that. Also, someone's stalking me and leaving notes under my door. Also, my boyfriend doesn't call. Also, I'm really lonely. Want to be friends?

She laughed bitterly. Put the phone down.

Tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow she'll message them.

A knock at the door.

Mira froze.

Three a.m. No one knocked at three a.m.

She crept to the door, heart hammering, and looked through the peephole.

Empty hallway.

But on the floor, just below the door, a piece of paper.

Her hands shook as she picked it up.

One sentence.

You should have messaged them.

They're not the only ones watching.

Mira stumbled back, pressing herself against the wall.

They know. They know about the note. They know about Ace and Zayn. They're still here. Still watching.

She slid down the wall and sat on the floor, clutching the paper, staring at the door.

Who are you?

What do you want?

Why are you doing this?

The questions circled in her mind, endless, unanswered.

And then, beneath the fear, another thought surfaced.

They're not the only ones watching.

Then who else is watching?

Ace and Zayn?

Or someone else?

She looked at the note again. The handwriting was different from the first one. Looser. More elegant. Almost feminine.

Feminine.

A woman.

A woman was watching her.

A woman who knew about Ace and Zayn's note.

A woman who wanted her to be afraid.

Mira pressed her back against the wall and pulled her knees to her chest.

She didn't sleep.

And somewhere in the Bangkok night, hidden in the shadows, dark eyes watched her window.

Familiar eyes.

Eyes that had once looked at Ace and Zayn the way Mira had looked at them tonight.

Eyes that had been waiting for years to come home.

********