The Line We Cross

The next two weeks unfolded like a slow burn.

Lola tried to convince herself that she and Melvin were still safe, that whatever was happening could still be contained, managed, kept from spilling over into something irreversible. But every time he walked into the clinic, the air shifted. Every time he looked at her, she felt that same dangerous warmth.

Emily’s condition continued to decline. She was thinner, quieter, more tired. Her humor flickered like a dying candle, still present, but dimmer. Lola found herself lingering near Emily more, fussing over her blanket, making her smile. Guilt and affection intertwined painfully inside her every time she saw the woman she admired… and might someday replace.

One late afternoon, Melvin and Emily came in for an unscheduled check. Emily’s breathing had been irregular, and the doctor wanted to evaluate her immediately.

Lola helped settle Emily into an exam room while Melvin filled out quick paperwork. When Lola finished adjusting Emily’s oxygen tubing, the woman reached out and caught her hand.

“You’re shaking,” Emily whispered.

Lola startled. “I’m just tired, I think.”

Emily squeezed her fingers. “Don’t be afraid of loving someone, Lola. Life is shorter than we ever expect.”

Lola froze, throat tightening. “Emily…”

Emily smiled faintly, then closed her eyes. “Just… don’t lose yourself.”

Melvin came in then, and the moment dissolved.

Later that evening, after Emily was checked and cleared to go home, a minor rainstorm swept over the city. Melvin wheeled Emily to the car, tucking her in with unusual tenderness. When Lola came outside to deliver a file, she saw Emily asleep, her breathing shallow but peaceful.

Melvin stepped away from the car, letting the rain hit his face. “You can go home, Lola. You’ve had a long day.”

“So have you,” she said softly.

He huffed a laugh. “Feels like every day is a long day now.”

A beat of silence.

Then Melvin turned to her with an expression she couldn’t decipher, raw, lonely, aching.

“Come under the awning,” Lola said, noticing how soaked he was becoming.

He hesitated before following her back to the clinic’s doorway. Rain dripped from his hair and jacket, pooling around his feet. He leaned against the brick wall and closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.

“I’m losing her,” he whispered.

Lola’s breath caught.

“And I can’t stop it.”

Without thinking, she stepped closer and placed a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

His eyes opened, full of grief and longing.

“I shouldn’t want you here,” he murmured.

“But you do,” she whispered.

Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the tension between them. The rain pounded harder. Melvin reached up and cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her skin like he was memorizing the shape of her.

“Just tell me to stop,” he breathed.

Lola’s voice trembled. “I can’t.”

His lips met hers, not tentative this time, not hesitant. The kiss was slow but deep, the taste of rain and sorrow mixing with a desire they could no longer deny.

He pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard.

“This… this is wrong,” he whispered.

“I know.”

“We’re crossing a line.”

“I know.”

But neither stepped back.

When the kiss ended, they stood in silence, rain echoing around them, their chests rising and falling in sync.

Melvin finally pulled away, running a shaky hand through his wet hair. “I have to get her home.”

Lola nodded, heart hammering. “Drive safe.”

He walked back to the car, pausing before he opened the driver’s door.

“Lola?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t regret it.”

Her breath caught. “Neither do I.”

The storm didn’t feel nearly as heavy as the weight of what they’d just done.