Nadia didn’t answer right away.
She stood before Raka with a feeling that was difficult to name. Angry, nervous, curious, and annoyed at herself for letting that man come this far.
“Why did you come?” Nadia finally asked.
Raka didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze dropped briefly to Nadia’s hand, still clutching her phone, then returned to her eyes.
“Because you replied to my message.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It’s reason enough for me.”
Nadia gave a small shake of her head.
“You know I’m married.”
“I know.”
“And you know who my husband is.”
“I know that too.”
Raka’s answer was so calm that Nadia grew even more irritated.
“Then you should know where the boundary is.”
Raka gave a faint smile.
“Precisely because I know where the boundary is, I came to see whether you still want to keep it.”
The words left Nadia silent.
The rain outside grew heavier. Car headlights flashed beyond the lobby’s glass walls, casting shifting shadows across the polished floor.
Nadia drew a deep breath.
“You should go home.”
Raka nodded.
“All right.”
He turned around.
One step.
Two steps.
Nadia watched his back.
For some reason, a small part of her hoped he would stop.
And as it turned out, Raka really did stop.
Without turning around, he said, “If you really want me to leave, say it one more time.”
Nadia opened her mouth.
No sound came out.
Raka waited.
Five seconds.
Ten seconds.
Finally, he turned around.
Their eyes met.
“You’re not saying anything,” he said quietly.
“I’m confused.”
“That’s what scares me.”
Nadia frowned.
“Scares you?”
“Because if you hated me, everything would be easy.”
Raka walked back toward her.
“All you’d have to do is tell me to leave. And I would.”
He stopped a few steps in front of Nadia.
“But if you can’t say that…”
Raka let the sentence trail off.
Nadia felt her chest tighten.
“Don’t,” she said.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t make this even harder.”
“I’m not making it harder.”
Raka gazed deeply into her eyes.
“I’m just saying something you’ve been pretending not to know all this time.”
Nadia lowered her head.
She knew.
When had everything changed?
Maybe during their first conversation at the office, which had lasted far longer than it should have.
Maybe when Raka started leaving coffee on her desk without asking.
Or maybe one afternoon, when Nadia complained about Arman forgetting their wedding anniversary, and Raka became the only person who remembered the date.
The little things.
Always the little things.
An affair doesn’t always start with a kiss.
Sometimes it starts with someone asking, “Are you okay?”
And then actually waiting for the answer.
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” Nadia said.
Raka nodded.
“Maybe.”
“You shouldn’t have come here either.”
“Maybe.”
“You shouldn’t make me feel…”
Nadia stopped.
Raka waited.
“Feel what?”
Nadia lifted her face.
“Like someone still sees me.”
For the first time, Raka’s expression changed.
There was no smile.
No teasing.
Only a gaze that was far gentler.
“I do see you, Nadia.”
The sentence was simple.
Yet precisely because of its simplicity, Nadia felt her defenses crumble little by little.
Her phone suddenly vibrated.
Arman’s name appeared on the screen.
Nadia immediately stepped away.
Raka didn’t move.
Nadia stared at the screen for a few seconds before finally answering.
“Hello?”
Arman’s voice came from the other end.
“You’re not asleep yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Sorry for calling so late. The meeting just ended.”
Nadia glanced at Raka.
He stood several feet away, staring at the floor as if deliberately giving her space.
“How was your day?” Arman asked.
Nadia closed her eyes for a moment.
“Fine.”
“You sound strange.”
“I’m just tired.”
“I’m coming home tomorrow.”
Nadia’s heart began pounding uncomfortably again.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’m taking the morning flight.”
Nadia fell silent.
Behind her, Raka slowly raised his head.
Their eyes met.
“Good,” Nadia finally replied. “I’ll be waiting.”
After the call ended, Nadia slipped her phone into her bag.
“Your husband’s coming home tomorrow,” Raka said.
“Yeah.”
“Then I should leave.”
Nadia nodded.
But Raka didn’t move right away.
“Are you happy?”
The question made Nadia shoot him a sharp look.
“You have no right to ask me that.”
“Maybe not.”
“But?”
“But I want to know.”
Nadia drew a breath.
“Happiness isn’t as simple as you think.”
Raka gave a bitter smile.
“That’s exactly what I think.”
He picked up his jacket.
“If you ever want to talk without pretending, call me.”
Nadia looked at him.
“Will you come?”
“If you’re the one calling.”
Raka walked toward the door.
This time, Nadia didn’t stop him.
The glass door opened.
The night wind and the scent of rain swept into the lobby.
Raka stopped briefly before stepping outside.
“Nadia.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t hate me for making you question something you’ve actually been questioning yourself for a long time.”
Then he left.
Nadia stood there alone.
A few seconds later, she looked at her phone screen.
There was one new message.
From Raka.
*I won’t contact you again tonight.*
Nadia stared at the message.
Then a second message appeared.
*Unless you’re the one who reaches out.*
Her finger almost touched the screen.
Almost.
But she turned off her phone.
That night, Nadia returned to her apartment with her mind in complete turmoil.
She tried reading a book.
It didn’t work.
Watching television.
That didn’t work either.
Sleeping.
Even less possible.
At 1:17 a.m., Nadia was still awake.
She picked up her phone.
There were no new messages from Raka.
Strange.
It was precisely because there were no messages that Nadia thought about him even more.
She opened their conversation.
Read through the messages from the past few weeks again.
Simple things she had never considered important before now felt different.
“Don’t forget to eat.”
“What time does your meeting end?”
“You look tired today.”
“Be careful on your way home.”
Nadia rubbed her face.
“Why am I doing this?”
She set down her phone.
A few minutes later, her hand reached for it again.
She opened the message field.
Typed:
“Have you arrived?”
She stared at the sentence.
Then deleted it.
Typed again:
“Thanks for coming.”
Delete.
“Sorry.”
Delete.
Finally, she wrote one simple sentence.
“Have you made it home?”
Her thumb stopped above the send button.
Nadia closed her eyes.
Then pressed the screen.
The message was sent.
The first second.
No reply.
The second second.
Nothing.
One minute.
Two minutes.
Nadia regretted it.
But five minutes later, her phone screen lit up.
*Not yet.*
Nadia held her breath.
A second message appeared.
*I’m still in the car.*
Then a third message.
*Were you looking for me?*
Nadia smiled without realizing it.
A smile that immediately made her feel guilty.
She typed:
“I just wanted to know if you’d made it home.”
The reply came.
*You could have simply not cared.*
Nadia stared at the screen.
Then Raka sent one more message.
*But you chose to care.*
Nadia didn’t answer.
For the first time that night, she realized the real problem was no longer whether Raka liked her.
The problem was…
Nadia was starting to like herself when she was near Raka.
And that feeling was far more dangerous.
The next morning, when Arman finally came home, Nadia greeted her husband at the door with a smile she had practiced over and over.
Arman hugged her.
Nadia returned the embrace.
But when Arman said, “I missed you,” Nadia suddenly remembered something.
That morning, before Arman arrived, Raka had sent one last message.
*Good morning, Nadia. Don’t forget to smile today.*
And for the first time in a long while, Nadia smiled without being forced to.
She just didn’t know…
that Arman saw the change.