Romans de D&M

Elara slept lightly.Not because she was afraid, but because her mind refused to let go of the last thought she’d carried into the dark.Choice.It echoed when she woke, steady and unafraid.The room was quiet. No alarms. No sudden summons. That alone felt suspicious.She dressed without hurry and left her quarters. The corridor was already awake, people moving with purpose, eyes sliding past her like she was both familiar and inconvenient.Phoenix fell into step beside her. “You are being observed more closely today.”Elara didn’t slow. “That’s not new.”“No,” Phoenix agreed. “But it is more deliberate.”“Good,” Elara said. “I’m done being misunderstood by accident.”They reached the shared operations floor. The room was busier than usual, low voices layered with tension that had not yet decided what it wanted to become.Damien was there.Not close. Not assigned to her. But present.Their eyes met across the room.He didn’t smile. He didn’t wave. He simply held her gaze for a moment

The first hour without Damien felt unreal.Not empty. Not loud.Just wrong.Elara stood in the corridor where he had turned away, her hands still curled like they were holding something that was no longer there. She forced them open and let them fall to her sides.Phoenix watched her carefully. “You are dissociating.”“No,” Elara said. “I’m adjusting.”Phoenix nodded once. “That is also dangerous.”Elara walked. If she stayed still, she would start bargaining with herself, and she was done doing that.The reassigned wing was three levels down. Damien’s clearance badge had already been deactivated from her floor. That hurt more than it should have.She stopped outside the security partition anyway.The guard didn’t meet her eyes. “Restricted.”“I know,” Elara said evenly.“You can’t pass.”“I didn’t ask to,” she replied. “I just wanted to stand here.”The guard hesitated, then stepped back half a pace.That small mercy almost broke her.She pressed her palm to the glass. Not to be dram

Elara woke before dawn.Not from fear. Not from noise.From clarity.It sat in her chest like a steady flame, not burning, not fading. Just there. She lay still, staring at the ceiling, listening to Damien’s breathing beside her. Slow. Even. Real.For a moment, she let herself stay.Then the weight returned.Not panic. Expectation.They would not let yesterday stand.She sat up carefully, slipping out of bed. The floor was cold under her feet. She welcomed it. Cold kept her present.Phoenix was waiting outside the room.“You’re awake early,” Elara said quietly.“You slept less than projected,” Phoenix replied.Elara crossed her arms. “I wasn’t tired.”Phoenix studied her. “Your cognitive patterns shifted after the meeting.”“Because I stopped pretending,” Elara said.“That is consistent with the data,” Phoenix said. “Also dangerous.”Elara met their gaze. “For who.”“For everyone,” Phoenix replied. “Including you.”Elara leaned against the wall. “They won’t back down, will they.”“No,

The morning after the confrontation did not arrive with alarms.That was what unsettled Elara most.No summons. No guards. No sharp messages disguised as concern. The silence felt deliberate, like a held breath.Damien noticed it too.“They’re waiting,” he said, sitting across from her at the small table. He hadn’t touched his coffee.Elara nodded. “They always do.”He studied her face. “How are you holding up.”She considered the question honestly. “Clear. Tired. Angry in a quiet way.”“That’s the dangerous kind,” he said.She gave a faint smile. “I know.”Phoenix appeared in the doorway, expression unreadable. “Deliberation phase has begun.”Damien glanced at them. “That sounds official.”“It is,” Phoenix replied. “They are deciding whether resistance is worth the cost.”Elara leaned back. “And what’s the verdict.”Phoenix tilted their head. “Unclear. But factions are forming.”“That’s new,” Damien said.“It was inevitable,” Phoenix replied. “Your refusal forced alignment.”Elara ex

The retaliation did not come as punishment.It came as an offer.Elara recognized the tactic the moment Alexander requested her presence alone. No council. No observers. Just him, standing near the window, hands clasped behind his back like this was business as usual.“They want compromise,” he said.She didn’t sit. “They always do.”Alexander turned. “They’re willing to keep Damien on-site.”Her pulse skipped. She hated that he noticed.“At a cost,” she said.“Yes.”She folded her arms. “Let me guess. Restricted proximity. Supervised interaction. Language dressed up as safeguards.”Alexander nodded once. “You’d lose unscheduled access. Emotional triggers would be monitored.”Elara laughed softly. “They really don’t listen.”“They believe this is generous,” he replied.She stepped closer. “And what do you believe.”Alexander hesitated. That alone was answer enough.“I believe,” he said carefully, “that this is the point where refusing may escalate beyond politics.”Her eyes narrowed.

The pressure didn’t arrive loudly.It crept in through small things.A delayed message.A missing clearance.A room that suddenly required permission where none had before.Elara noticed all of it.She didn’t comment at first. She watched. She listened. She let the tension stretch instead of snapping too soon.Damien noticed too.“They’re closing doors,” he said one morning, standing beside her at the console. “Slowly.”“They want me to feel it,” Elara replied. “Like a warning.”“And do you?”She thought about it. About the way her chest tightened when access screens blinked red. About the faint hum under her skin that answered stress with heat.“Yes,” she said. “But not the way they expect.”Phoenix joined them, arms folded. “They are testing limits.”“Mine,” Elara said.“And his,” Phoenix added, glancing at Damien.Damien exhaled. “I figured.”Alexander entered the room without announcing himself. “You should both be prepared.”Elara didn’t look up. “For what.”“For separation,” he

AMELIA The door clicked shut behind Victor, and the sound echoed through me like a final slam on everything we'd known. I stood frozen in the living room, arms wrapped tight around myself, feeling the chill of the air conditioning bite into my skin. Ethan's hand found mine, squeezing so hard it hurt, but I didn't pull away. His grip was the only thing keeping me from crumbling right there.He let out a breath he'd been holding forever, ragged and broken. "He's gone."I nodded, throat too tight to speak. Tears burned hot tracks down my cheeks, and I swiped at them angrily, hating how weak I felt. "That... that was it? No yelling? No throwing things?"Ethan sank onto the couch, pulling me down with him. His face was pale, eyes glassy like he was seeing ghosts. "I don't know what I expected. Part of me wanted him to scream. To make it hurt more so I could feel like I deserved it. But that? That quiet? It was worse. Like he looked at me and saw a stranger."His voice cracked on the

AMELIA The apartment was dead quiet all day. No music from Ethan’s room. No clink of dishes. Just the hum of the fridge and the occasional car horn thirty floors below. I sat on the terrace with a cup of tea I didn’t drink, staring at the city like it might give me answers.Ethan found me there at six. He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, looking like he hadn’t slept either. His eyes were red-rimmed, jaw tight.“He texted,” he said, voice flat but thick with something heavy underneath. “Said he’s coming over. Now.”My stomach dropped so fast I felt sick. “Now? Like… right now?”Ethan nodded once. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe less.”I stood up too quick, tea sloshing over the rim. “We’re not ready. I’m not ready.”He stepped closer, caught my wrists gently. “Neither am I. But we don’t get to pick the moment anymore.”His thumbs stroked the inside of my wrists, slow and steady, like he was trying to anchor us both. “We just… tell him the truth again. No sugar. No excuses.”I looked

AMELIA The apartment was dead quiet all day. No music from Ethan’s room. No clink of dishes. Just the hum of the fridge and the occasional car horn thirty floors below. I sat on the terrace with a cup of tea I didn’t drink, staring at the city like it might give me answers.Ethan found me there at six. He leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, looking like he hadn’t slept either. His eyes were red-rimmed, jaw tight.“He texted,” he said, voice flat but thick with something heavy underneath. “Said he’s coming over. Now.”My stomach dropped so fast I felt sick. “Now? Like… right now?”Ethan nodded once. “Fifteen minutes. Maybe less.”I stood up too quick, tea sloshing over the rim. “We’re not ready. I’m not ready.”He stepped closer, caught my wrists gently. “Neither am I. But we don’t get to pick the moment anymore.”His thumbs stroked the inside of my wrists, slow and steady, like he was trying to anchor us both. “We just… tell him the truth again. No sugar. No excuses.”I looked

I stood in the living room, staring at Victor's note on the counter like it might change if I glared hard enough. The words blurred through tears—lawyers, hotel, space. It felt like a punch every time I read it.Ethan came up behind me, his hands sliding onto my shoulders, thumbs pressing gentle circles into the knots there. His touch carried that mix of comfort and fire, the kind that made my breath hitch even now."Amelia," he said, voice low and rough, laced with that ache we'd both been carrying since the restaurant. "You can't keep rereading it. It's not going to say anything new."I turned, leaning into his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart against my cheek. "I know. But it hurts, Ethan. Seeing how much we broke him. He sounded so... defeated in that text. Like we stole something from him he can't get back."Ethan's arms wrapped around me tighter, his chin resting on my head. "We did. And it kills me too. He's my dad. The man who raised me, taught me everything. But I

AMELIA The apartment felt too big the next morning. Echoes in places that used to feel full. Victor’s cologne still lingered in the hallway like a ghost refusing to leave. I stood in the kitchen barefoot, staring at the coffee machine, not sure how to make one cup instead of three.Ethan came up behind me, arms sliding around my waist, chin resting on my shoulder. His warmth pressed into my back and for a second the world felt right again.“You didn’t sleep,” he murmured against my neck.“Not really.” I leaned into him. “Kept waiting for the door to open. For him to come back and say it was all a nightmare.”Ethan’s arms tightened. “He’s not coming back tonight.”I turned in his hold, searched his face. “You talked to him?”“Texted. He replied once. Said he needs space. That he can’t look at either of us right now.”My chest caved. “He hates us.”“He hates what we did to him.” Ethan’s voice cracked just enough to hurt. “Not us. Not yet.”I pressed my forehead to his collarbone.

AMELIA Victor left for the office at eight sharp, same as always. Kissed my cheek, told me he loved me, promised dinner at that new place downtown. The door closed behind him and the apartment felt like it exhaled.I stood in the kitchen for a full minute, staring at the coffee mug he left behind, still warm.Then I walked to Ethan’s room.He was waiting, leaning against the doorframe in nothing but gray sweatpants, arms crossed, eyes already burning.“You’re shaking,” he said, voice low.“I’m terrified,” I answered honestly. “But I can’t pretend anymore.”He stepped forward, caught my face in both hands. “Then don’t.”We crashed together. Mouths hungry, teeth clashing, hands tearing at clothes. My dress hit the floor. His sweatpants followed. No underwear for either of us.He backed me against the wall, lifted one of my legs around his hip, and thrust inside in one hard stroke.I cried out, nails raking down his back.“Fuck—Ethan—”“Quiet,” he growled against my throat, but he w