The Only Exception

8. Between Dreams

The sun was crawling lazily over the skyline, its golden fingers brushing against the tall windows of SOYSALAN Corp's executive floor. The city buzzed below like a faraway dream, muffled and irrelevant in the silence of Alaz's office.

He sat in his chair—tailored black leather, cold and stiff, but today it felt almost comfortable. His eyes were closed. His head tilted slightly back. His breathing, for once, was slow.

In his mind, last night played on loop.

The way she'd twisted beneath the sheets, her voice breaking, caught in a nightmare she couldn't wake from. The low, panicked gasp of his name from her lips. The way he'd jolted awake, heart racing, instincts louder than thoughts.

He'd reached for her. No hesitation.

Asi.

Her hair had smelled like something sweet and clean, like jasmine in the rain. Her fingers had clutched at his back with more desperation than she'd ever let show in the light of day. And when she'd finally calmed, forehead resting gently against his, her breaths soft and shaky... Alaz had frozen.

Not out of fear. But reverence.

It had felt like he was holding something fragile and precious, something he wasn't meant to have.

He didn't sleep after that.

Her scent still clung to his skin.

Her voice echoed in his chest.

Her touch... burned.

He hadn't said anything this morning. Didn't know how. Didn't want to make it a thing. But God, it was a thing. The thing. And now, sitting in his office like a man pretending to work, he wasn't thinking about algorithms or expansion or board meetings.

He was thinking about her.

The soft thud of the door made his eyes snap open—but not fast enough.

"Should I come back later, or—?" came the amused voice of Yaman.

Alaz sat upright like he'd been caught mid-crime. "I was just... a little tired."

Yaman closed the door behind him, grinning. "Aha. Yes. Tired."

Alaz cleared his throat, grabbing the closest file he could find and pretending to read it. "Didn't sleep much."

"Oh, clearly," Yaman said, sauntering over with his hands in his pockets. "That explains why you were sitting here grinning like a love-struck idiot with your eyes closed."

"Yaman," Alaz growled.

Yaman barked a laugh, leaning against the desk. "I'm starting to get really worried for you. You've fallen hard, man."

Alaz grabbed a handful of papers and launched them at him without hesitation.

Yaman dodged at the last second, the pages fluttering to the floor like wounded birds, and laughed harder. "That's not denial, by the way. That's assault."

"What do you want?" Alaz muttered, already regretting ever being born the younger sibling.

"I want a favor," Yaman said casually, taking the visitor's seat like he owned the place.

"No."

"You didn't even listen."

"No."

"Alaz."

Alaz rubbed his face with both hands like he was trying to wipe the world away. "Speak."

Yaman leaned forward, eyes glinting with trouble. "Ruya wants us to go out. All together. The four of us."