STRINGS ATTACHED

EVE

⸻

“Do you mind coming over? I miss you.”

That’s what Ian texted me.

And like always, I said yes.

I showered, got dressed, and a few hours later, I was at his place, curled up beside him, watching some random movie neither of us paid attention to.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

The question was strange. He didn’t asked the first time he kissed me. That rainy night when he leaned in and stole my first kiss. No permission, no warning. Just rain, silence, and the warmth of his mouth on mine.

Now, he was asking.

I nodded.

He kissed me, and I kissed him back. It wasn’t new, but it felt… different. Like the beginning of something I couldn’t name.

The first time he tried to have sex with me, I panicked and pulled away.

I gave excuses, vague ones. He said it was okay, that he’d never force me. That I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to.

That made me trust him more. It made me feel safe, made me think that everything I’ve ever heard about him was a lie.

He kept texting me after that, telling me he missed me, that he wanted to see me. And I kept going over. Every time.

One afternoon, he texted again:

“Do you want to come over?”

I replied: “Dunno yet, I have to think about it. Even if I do, it’ll be much later, I have done things to do.”

Truth was, I wanted to go. I always did.

But I was waiting for him to say it, to ask me to be his girlfriend. To confirm that this wasn’t just casual, that I wasn’t imagining things and that he wanted me too. That I mattered.

That question never came.

Instead, he sent money for my transport.

And just like that, I was on my way back to him.

Ian’s place was always spotless. Minimalist. Clean in a way that made you feel like you couldn’t leave fingerprints behind. I liked that about him the orderliness, the precision.

We watched another movie. His hands found me again.

This time, I didn’t stop him.

I let him strip me, let him touch me. Told myself it was just for the experience.

A memory. Nothing more.

That night, I gave Ian my virginity.

It didn’t hurt the way I thought it would. It felt… good. Too good.

He told me how good I felt. That I was perfect. That he wanted it again.

And I believed him.

A few days later, I asked the question again.

“What are we?”

He left it unanswered. Like always.

So I got angry and didn’t text him back that night. Or the next morning.

Just when I was ready to move on or at least pretend to, he messaged me.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I miss talking to you. I thought you liked me. Did I do something wrong?”

It was classic Ian. Twisting it around. Making me feel guilty for reacting to his silence.

I replied almost immediately.

He called me that night, said things that made me forget why I was upset in the first place. Told me he liked me, that I was special. That I overthink too much. That I needed to trust him.

And I did. I went back to believing that maybe he just needed time. That maybe he wasn’t ready for a relationship yet but he’d get there.

So I stayed. I kept answering his texts, kept going over when he wanted to see me.

Then one afternoon, I got a text from Noah.

“I’ll be home in three days. You okay?”

I stared at the screen for a long time before answering.

Noah was coming back.

My brother. My protector. The one person who could see through everything, including me.

And suddenly, the lie I was living felt too loud.

The next day, Noah booked a flight back home.

We were on a video call that evening, just like we always did whenever he had a quiet moment.

“There’s someone I like,” I said out of nowhere.

There was a pause on the other end.

“Hmm… who is he?” he asked calmly, not looking up from his laptop, the camera showing only the top of his head and his fingers on his phone .

“Just someone,” I replied. “But I don’t think he likes me.”

“If he doesn’t like you, don’t waste your time,” Noah said flatly. “If a guy likes you, he should earn you.”

I smiled, though it felt tight. “Yeah, that’s true. It’s just a crush. Never mind.”

We both went quiet for a few seconds. I could hear the clack of his keyboard. I should’ve stopped there. But something made me speak again.

“Do you know Ian?”

Noah stopped typing.

He looked up, slowly, his eyes narrowing as if he was trying to make sure he heard me right.

I laughed too quickly. “Relax,” I said, waving it off. “I met him at Agatha’s bar. He mentioned you, that’s all.”

“Don’t go close to him, Eve,” Noah said sharply. There was no warmth in his voice now, only something clipped and hard.

“Yeah,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Too late.”

But I didn’t say that last part out loud.

All I could think about was how to sneak out to see Ian even with Noah around, I just had to make it work somehow.

It was 6 a.m. when my phone rang.

Agatha?

Why was she calling so early?

I rubbed my eyes and answered, my voice still heavy with sleep.

“Hello?”

“You’re not going to believe what I just heard,” she said immediately, skipping any form of greeting.

“It has to be important, seeing as you called me this early,” I mumbled, already sitting up in bed.

“It is. But promise me you won’t freak out.”

I blinked, suddenly more awake. “I won’t. What’s going on?”

There was a pause. I could almost hear her choosing her words carefully.

“You know how you said Ian went out yesterday and was unreachable the whole time?”

I hesitated. “Yeah…”

“Well, apparently, he was with some woman.”

My stomach tightened.

“Some woman?” I asked, even though my mind had already started connecting the dots.

“I overheard some of his friends talking about it at the bar last night. I pretended not to care, but I listened. Then I asked one of them to show me a picture… and guess where he was?”

“Where?” I asked, my voice smaller now.

“At some art gallery. And didn’t you say he sent you some snaps that looked like he went to an art gallery?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

I remembered the snaps muted lighting, abstract paintings, he never made a video or took a picture of himself. He hadn’t said where he was. He never did.

“Uhmm… yeah,” I finally managed to say.

“You okay?” Agatha asked gently.

I wasn’t. But I couldn’t talk about it yet.

“Gimme a sec,” I said quickly, “I’ll call you back.”

I hung up before she could say more.

I didn’t call Agatha back right away.

Instead, I stared at my screen, wondering if I was doing the right thing.

Then I texted him.

“Heyy, good morning.”

He replied five minutes later.

“What’s good baby? Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.”

I paused. Thinking of my next response. Then I typed it out.

“Couldn’t reach you yesterday. You went out? Saw your snaps.”

Another pause. Not long enough to be suspicious, but just enough to feel calculated.

“Yeh, I was with some friends. Got bored at home and decided to go out for a change. You good?”

With some friends.

No names. No mention of the art gallery.

No mention of the woman Agatha said he was with.

And of course, he flipped the question back to me.

You good?

I stared at those two words like they were a trap.

Was I supposed to lie? Pretend I hadn’t heard anything? Pretend I didn’t care?

I typed “yeah.”

Then deleted it.

Typed “cool.”

Deleted that too.

Finally, I just turned off my phone and threw it on the bed.

I wasn’t good.

And I wasn’t cool.

But I also wasn’t ready to admit it. Not to him. Not even to myself.

“Are you home?” I texted.

“Yeah. Wanna come over?” he replied.

“You’ve gotta wait a bit. I need to do some tidying first.”

Another lie.

“Okay, cool. I’ll be there by 2 p.m.”

I made up a story to leave the house, and Noah bought it. I just needed to find out if what Agatha said was true.

When I got to Ian’s place, he was lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone like nothing mattered. I sat on the couch, trying to act normal.

“You good?” he asked, still not looking up.

“Yeah. I’m just… jealous you had fun without me yesterday. You didn’t even tell me you were going out.” I faked a soft, playful pout.

“It wasn’t planned,” he said with a small shrug. “Come here.”

I got up and lay next to him. His arm wrapped around me, and for a moment, I almost forgot why I was there.

“Can I see the pictures you took?” I asked casually, watching his reaction.

He paused just for a second, but I caught it.

“I didn’t really take pictures. I was just living in the moment,” he said.

Before I could push further, my phone rang.

It was Noah.

I had to go.