Scene 4 – Both Behaved Differently…
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Later that evening. Mansion dining room.
The heavy doors creaked open slowly.
Sarah stepped in — hesitant, small, almost unsure of her presence. She wore a soft lavender tee and black capris, nothing fancy. But on her, the pastel shade felt like a whisper, the kind that clings to memories. The fabric hugged her gently, and for a moment, she looked like something out of a dream. Quiet. Fragile. Real.
Her eyes scanned the wide room, golden lights glowing above. They landed on two men.
Andrew was already standing near the table, sleeves rolled up over a dark navy shirt, jaw taut, eyes unreadable. And next to him — seated lazily with a half-finished drink, posture completely casual — was someone new.
The man stood up with a teasing smirk.
"Ah, so you're the famous Sarah," he said, voice warm, amused.
Sarah blinked. Confused. A bit flustered. She instinctively took a small step back.
Andrew's gaze snapped toward the man like a loaded gun.
"Sam," he warned quietly.
The man laughed, unbothered.
"Relax. I'm just saying hi." He turned back to her with a dramatic bow. "Samuel. Friend of this emotionally constipated man right here."
Sarah stared. Unsure. Her lips curled faintly despite herself. Sam grinned wider, still halfway bent, adding with flair:
"I bow to the girl who finally made this guy act like a human."
She couldn't help it. A soft, pink blush crept across her cheeks as her smile grew. Small. Shy. But real.
Andrew stepped beside her, his voice low, protective.
"You don't have to listen to him."
"Oh, come on," Sam huffed. "Do you know this is the first time he's let anyone stay here? Even I don't get invited like this."
Sarah's eyes flickered to Andrew in surprise, but before she could respond, the butler appeared with quiet precision, pulling out chairs. Before she could move, Andrew gently pulled hers out for her.
She sat down slowly, whispering a quiet thank you. Her fingers fidgeted on the table's edge, twisting, nervously brushing the cloth.
Sam, now seated beside Andrew, leaned in with a loud whisper.
"She's adorable, bro. Like—cute, innocent, terrifyingly sweet. You're doomed."
Andrew shot him a glare sharp enough to kill.
Sam just grinned wider.
He turned to Sarah, lifting his glass.
"Cheers to this rare, exclusive dinner. I've never eaten here, by the way."
Sarah blinked again. "Oh… I see." A tiny giggle escaped her. Soft. Unintended.
Sam sipped his drink. "That's because I'm emotionally available."
Andrew sighed. "Do you want to be thrown out right now?"
Sam leaned back smug. "Jealous already. It's working."
Sarah bit her lip, trying not to laugh, eyes dropping to her plate. She couldn't stop the soft smile tugging at her lips. For the first time, this didn't feel terrifying. It felt… warm.
Andrew noticed her fingers still nervously twisting under the table. He leaned in slightly.
"If it's too much, you can leave. Anytime. No pressure."
She looked up, startled. His voice was gentle. Unlike before.
The clinking of cutlery echoed through the golden chandelier-lit room. Soft light, soft food, softer emotions.
Sarah nibbled on a piece of bread, her eyes occasionally drifting toward Andrew — and quickly looking away. Not out of fear, but something else. Curiosity. Safety.
Her smile when spoken to wasn't forced. Just faint. Easy.
Andrew barely touched his food. His mind was tangled in her presence. She wasn't like before — no frozen stares, no silence like glass walls. Last time she was here, she could barely whisper "okay." But tonight?
She asked for water herself.
She laughed at a joke.
She was opening.
And when he watched her tuck a strand of hair behind her ear shyly, something tightened in his chest — unfamiliar. Heavy.
He cleared his throat. "Um… do you like the soup?"
Sarah looked up, blinking. He asked.
She gave a small nod. "It's… it's tasty. I like it. Thank you… for this."
Andrew blinked, caught off guard.
Sam elbowed him under the table. "Did she just thank you without being threatened?"
Sarah giggled again, eyes twinkling.
Sam grinned. "You've got options now, Sarah. A whole mansion. His money. His soul."
Sarah's laugh was soft, sparkly — like sunlight caught in glass. It made both men pause.
Andrew stared. Really stared.
There it was — her light expression, her tiny joke, her not-being-scared. This version of her wasn't his. This was the version she probably showed only to her friends.
But now… she was showing him.
Sam turned to her, amused. "So what's changed, Sarah?"
Her spoon froze mid-air. She hesitated.
Then glanced at Andrew — just a flicker.
Trying to keep it casual, she said, "Nothing. I'm just… feeling
good here."
Andrew looked down at his plate, throat tightening. Guilt
and something warmer rose up all at once.
"I didn't want you to be scared in the first place," he said, voice low.
Sarah looked at him — really looked.
"I'm not," she whispered.
And for the first time, the silence in the room didn't feel heavy.
It felt like the beginning of something.
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End of Scene.
<3
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