Act 5, Scene 3 – Nervous Sarah
The door creaked open.
Sarah stepped inside—hesitant, nervous, her heartbeat slamming against her chest like it wanted to escape.
She didn't dare look up.
But she did anyway.
Andrew was seated behind his long obsidian desk—jaw clenched, hair tousled like he'd been running his hand through it restlessly. His glasses sat slightly askew on the bridge of his nose.
He stiffened the moment he saw her.
Then, far too quickly—too unlike him—he stood up.
Sam, beside him, grinned like the Cheshire Cat.
Sarah's fingers twisted into her sleeve. Her eyes flicked around the room—uneasy, but curious.
The entire lounge smelled of him.
Faint. Warm. Addictive.
On the glass table: her favorite things.
Peeled, seedless grapes. Juice with no pulp.
Everything arranged perfectly—exactly the way she liked it.
Her lips twitched. Just a little.
But she said nothing.
And then,
Andrew (hoarse): Sit.
Sam leaned toward Andrew, nudging his elbow.
Sam (whispering): "Yo, chill Andy… she's not one of your employees."
Sarah stepped forward and sat down—careful, quiet—on the plush sofa.
Sam: "I'll grab some coffee."
He winked at Andrew and strolled out, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
Sarah froze.
Sarah (internal monologue):
Why did I even agree to come here?
I should've said no...
What if he found out?
No... no no no... that photo—
Does he know I saw it?
Sam's gone. There's no one here now. Who'll save me?
Silence.
The kind that presses on your lungs.
Sarah's fingers gripped the couch cushion.
Andrew just... stared.
Like she was a code he couldn't crack.
The scent of his cologne clung to the air, mixing with the quiet presence of peeled grapes and unspoken thoughts.
Andrew (suddenly): You're not eating.
Are these not good?
Wait—I'll call Lian to bring fresher ones.
Sarah startled slightly.
Sarah (quietly): I was going to eat.
They're absolutely fine.
She picked up a grape and slowly took a bite—her gaze still glued to the glass table. She hadn't once looked at him.
How did he know what I liked?
I never told him... not even once.
And then—
Andrew (low, deliberate):
You've been in my study.
Her heart stopped.
She looked up—
And met his eyes.
Dark. Intense. Knowing.
Her breath caught.
Her throat dried.
Her mind spun.
She dropped her gaze like it burned her.
Sarah (weakly):
No... no, I haven't...
Andrew didn't press.
Didn't argue.
Instead, he reached into the drawer.
Pulled out a small velvet box.
And slowly walked over.
He placed it right in front of her.
She didn't even lift her head.
She couldn't.
But her breath hitched again.
The scent of his cologne wrapped around her like a fog—
So close now, so overwhelming, so unmistakably him—
That for a moment...
She forgot to breathe.
End of Scene 3.
[To be continued…]
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