AFTER I LEFT

When we all returned to our various homes, our only way of staying close became our phones.

We talked every day, sometimes for three hours or more, catching up on everything from school gossip to silly arguments. Even when we had little disagreements, it always felt like we'd find our way back to each other.

But beneath those sweet conversations, I started noticing things about Damien that chipped at my peace.

Whenever his brother entered the room while we were on a call, Damien's tone would change. He'd suddenly start speaking to me with sharp, dismissive words, almost like he wanted to distance himself. And sometimes, his brother would insult me outright over the phone. Instead of stopping him, Damien would laugh along. Each time, it left a bitter taste in my mouth.

I knew all the signs were there. He was already a red flag waving right in front of my eyes.

And yet… I couldn't let go.

Even when I told Stella about it, she'd sigh and say, "Why can't you just leave him?" But some stubborn part of me held on, whispering that maybe he'd change if I just gave him time.

Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Finally, we agreed we should see each other again. It had been too long apart.

When we met, I saw his eyes widen in surprise. It was as though the girl standing in front of him was different from the one he remembered. His gaze was intense, soft and burning all at once, like he wanted to memorize every inch of my face. He kept smiling, squeezing my hands gently as though he was afraid I'd vanish if he let go.

We spent ages just talking, laughing about how life had been treating us.

Then, almost out of nowhere, he lifted me and carried me to the bed. I tried to resist, pushing at his shoulders, but I knew what he wanted. Pretending not to understand, I closed my eyes and lay there, feigning sleep.

But he wasn't fooled.

He dragged me closer, wrapping his arms around my waist and tummy. For a second, butterflies fluttered inside me as he leaned closer, his breath tickling my skin. Then he went on top of me, pinning my hands against the bed, and kissed me as though his life depended on it. His lips pressed into mine, urgent and desperate, his mouth moving to my neck, biting softly, his breaths ragged and uneven.

But instead of melting into the moment, something inside me turned cold.

I wasn't feeling it.

His kissing was… disappointing. Sloppy. Messy. Definitely not the passionate movie scene I'd always imagined. If I had to rate it, I'd give it a four out of ten, and that was me being generous.

I pulled away, trying to wriggle free.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, his voice husky.

"Nothing," I said quickly, though my mind screamed the opposite.

But he was so desperate, holding me tighter, refusing to let go. He tried again, leaning in. And this time, I decided… fine. Let me take control.

Even though this was technically my first real kiss, I'd watched enough K-dramas to consider myself practically an expert.

Slowly, we found ourselves standing up, lips barely parting as we stumbled into the bathroom. The cold tiles under my feet, the echo of our breaths—it made everything feel electric. I was surprisingly bold, my hands tangled in his hair, matching his rhythm, turning the kiss into something he clearly hadn't expected.

He paused, breathless, eyes shining with a mix of shock and admiration.

"How are you this good?" he murmured, a grin spreading across his face.

I just smiled, biting back the truth racing in my head: Of course, I'm good. I'm a delulu girl, what do you expect?

But the spell shattered when my phone buzzed loudly.

"MOM."

My heart sank. It was already getting late.

I pulled away, whispering that I had to go. He followed me out, walking me all the way to where my ride waited. As I was about to climb in, he grabbed my arm gently, pulling me into a warm, lingering hug.

"When you get home… text me," he murmured into my hair, his voice softer than I'd ever heard it.

And for a fleeting moment, standing in the hush of the night, it felt like maybe the boy who kept hurting me could still be the boy I once dreamed about.

But deep down, a quiet voice kept reminding me: Some things never change.