The Shadow of Past desires

Thea barely tasted her dinner. The tension that had simmered at the restaurant followed her home, settling into her bones like an unshakable chill. She sat by her bedroom window, staring at the city lights that flickered like distant stars, her mind a tangled mess of guilt and longing. The air outside was thick with the sounds of the city—honking cars, muffled laughter, the occasional wail of a siren—all blending into a dull hum against the storm inside her.

Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. The sound made her pulse quicken, though she already knew who it was before she even looked.

Adrian: *Couldn't stop thinking about you tonight.*

She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the screen. She should ignore it. She should delete the message. Instead, she found herself typing back, her hands betraying her heart.

Thea: *This has to stop.*

Adrian: *Then stop me.*

A shiver ran down her spine. His words carried a challenge, an unspoken dare that made her breath hitch. She pressed the phone against her chest as if that could somehow muffle the way his voice echoed in her mind.

A sharp knock at her door made her heart lurch. Panic seized her as she shoved the phone under her pillow and forced herself to breathe. When she opened the door, Andrew stood there, his warm brown eyes scanning her face with quiet concern.

"You disappeared on me," he said softly, stepping inside. "Everything okay?"

She forced a smile, though it barely reached her eyes. "Yeah, just tired."

Andrew searched her expression, his brows knitting together. Slowly, he lifted a hand to her face, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

Thea nodded, but the truth was wedged so deeply inside her that she couldn't bring herself to speak it. If she did, the fragile balance she was clinging to would shatter completely. Instead, she leaned into his touch, willing herself to believe that this was enough. That he was enough.

But as she lay in bed that night, the weight of her phone still pressing beneath her pillow, she knew one thing for certain—this wasn't over. It had never really begun, yet somehow, it already felt impossible to escape.