Liyana's Chained Roar

The door clicked shut behind me, and there she was—Liyana, her shy smile flickering like a secret flame. That beach glow still clung to her skin, stirring the jealous beast in my chest. Rasa barked once, oblivious, but I knew this 'check-up' was my excuse to reclaim what whispers at work said I'd lost. Her brown eyes met mine, wide with that innocent hunger, and I wondered how long her modest chains would hold before she roared. I stepped into Liyana's modest terraced house in Port Dickson, the air thick with the scent of jasmine from her small garden and the faint salt of the sea lingering on everything. Rasa, her scruffy little mutt, bounded over with a joyful yip, tail wagging like a metronome set to frenzy. I knelt to scratch behind his ears, but my eyes were on her—Liyana Noordin, petite and shy as ever, her long stylish brown hair tied back in a loose ponytail that begged to be undone. She wore a simple white blouse that hugged her small frame just enough to remind me of the curves hidden beneath, paired with a knee-length skirt that swayed as she moved. "Amir, you're early," she said, her voice soft, almost apologetic, those warm olive cheeks flushing under my gaze. She busied herself with a tray of teh tarik, avoiding my eyes. But I could see it—the glow from yesterday's beach walk, the one where colleagues swore they'd seen her laughing too freely with some stranger. Rumors swirled at the clinic: Liyana's got a new spark, someone else fanning it. My jaw tightened as I straightened, handing her Rasa's leash. "Check-up for the beast," I replied, my tone lighter than I felt. Inside, jealousy coiled like a serpent. We'd danced around this heat since the beach, stolen glances...