No rush. No need for more words. Just the rhythm of the sea beneath them, the pull of gravity reversed—as if the stars weren’t above, but around them. And when he finally moved lower still, she whispered his name like a prayer. The netbed swayed. The tide rolled in. Time, for once, stood still. Adrian’s kiss deepened—slow and reverent, like he was rediscovering her one breath at a time. His hands found her waist, lifting her as if she were a star held gently in his palms. She let out a soft laugh—startled, a little breathless—as he shifted, guiding her gently onto the net bed without a word.Outside, the world had fallen into a hush—no voices, no lights, only the quiet pull of the tide and the stars spilling overhead.Beneath them, the sea stretched out in velvet-blue silence, endless and calm. Cushions and blankets softened the sway beneath them, cradling them in the quiet. The breeze moved like a sigh, warm with salt and the last heat of summer. The moment Adr
The days that followed were quiet in the best way—soft mornings, shared glances, the kind of silence that felt like understanding rather than absence.They didn’t need to talk about love anymore. They were living it—in every look, every touch, every moment that passed without question.And before they knew it, Adrian’s birthday was drawing near.The weeks leading up to it were a blur of meetings and deadlines, their calendars packed to the brim. But in the middle of all that noise, Emily carved out something rare—five uninterrupted days, pulled from chaos like a secret gift.“Your time,” she said, pulling him into her arms, “now belongs to me.”Adrian smiled, surrendering without protest.She had planned everything.A tropical island far from the city’s glare. A cliffside hotel perched above a private stretch of beach, soft white sand and lush green palms, waves humming like a lullaby just below their balcony.The sea was theirs.So was the sky.Out on the terrace, a suspended net b
The warm scent of eggs and toasted bread drifted through the air as Adrian padded barefoot into the kitchen, following the gentle sounds of movement and the clink of plates. There she was—standing at the stove in one of his shirts, sleeves rolled up, hair loosely tied back, a soft hum escaping her lips. He stopped in the doorway for a second, just watching her. Emily turned at the sound of his steps and smiled. “You’re up,”she said lightly.“Perfect timing.” He blinked, still not quite believing the scene in front of him. “You’re…cooking?” “I told the private chef not to make breakfast today,”she said, a touch shyly.“I realized I’ve never made a meal for you before. Thought it was about time.” Adrian stepped closer, his voice low and full. “That’s…probably the most dangerous thing anyone’s ever done for me.” She laughed, handing him a plate. “Don’t be dramatic. I didn’t burn anything. Yet.” They sat together by the window, light spilling across the table. Adri
Mike’s face froze. Just for a second. Enough for her to see it—the flicker of guilt, of recognition, of truth. “You thought I belonged to you,”Emily said, voice cool. “You hated the way Adrian even existed near me. You hated that I might’ve loved someone without you in the picture.” The silence between them thickened. Mike’s mouth opened, but no sound came. He didn’t deny it. He couldn’t. Emily stepped back. “And Vivian?”she added, almost as an afterthought. “Was she part of the test too? You thought if she was around, I’d stay because I was afraid to lose you?” His silence was answer enough. And she saw it clearly now—all the manipulations, the small cruelties hidden under good intentions, the pattern of his push and pull. “It wasn’t love,”she said at last. “It was possession dressed in sentiment.” Mike stood still, like he didn’t know whether to argue or collapse. Mike’s voice came again, hoarse and low. “I didn’t mean to—”he stumbled over the
It came out before he could stop it. Like the last frayed thread of hope, stretched too thin. Maybe if she said she’d only grown to care for Adrian over time, if she gave him some sliver of ambiguity, he could breathe again.Emily turned back, gaze steady. Her voice was quiet, but absolute.“I love him. No one else will ever hold the place he does in my heart.”Mike staggered back a step, as if the words had physically struck him.It felt like watching the final pin fall in a bowling lane. That last bottle, wobbling on the edge—then the sweep. Clean. Final.Her life had moved on.He wasn’t part of the new frame.Not even a shadow of the old game. She turned to go.But then—Mike’s voice broke through the air behind her, jagged and raw.“Was it because of him? Back in college—was that when it started?When he gave you that letter and the birthday gift?”Emily froze mid-step.Her breath caught. Slowly, she turned around, eyes narrowing.“What are you talking about?”Mike took a step
She looked down at him, cheeks still warm, lashes lowered for a beat before lifting again, gaze steady. “I wasn’t going to let you do that,”she murmured. Then she leaned in, kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and lingering. “I’m staying here this month,”she said.“I’ll work remotely. And when you’re done, I’ll go back with you.” Adrian blinked once—like he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “You’re staying?”he echoed, quiet, almost disbelieving. She nodded, her palm finding his chest, resting right over his heart.“I’m right here.” Something in him gave way at that—something tense and tired, something that had been bracing for distance. He pulled her closer until their bodies fit again, like puzzle pieces finally back in place. “You always say exactly what I need to hear,”he murmured into her hair. “I didn’t say it to make you feel better,”she replied, lips brushing against his collarbone.“I said it because I want to. I want to wake up next to you. I want to see wha