Mag-log inAire finds herself standing at the edge of two forbidden desires: Marcus, the man who feels like stability, danger, and safety all wrapped in one. Jalen, the man who knows her scars, her past, and the girl she used to be. Every choice costs her something. Every secret pushes her closer to exposure. And when the truth finally comes out, someone’s heart—and family—will be destroyed. The question isn’t who does she love… It’s who will she survive losing?
view moreI shouldn’t have been here.I knew that the moment I saw them.Aire. Marcus. Laughing like the world belonged to them. Comfortable. Close. Too close.The sight twisted my chest in a way I hadn’t felt before. Jealousy, anger, frustration, and… fear.Fear that I was losing her.I parked a few blocks away, pretending I had some “errand.” My fingers tightened around the steering wheel like I could claw back control through sheer force of will.It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.She had been mine. At least, that’s what I told myself. And now? Now she was choosing someone else. Someone older, someone untouchable.I drove closer, circling the block again, trying to convince myself I was just… curious. Concerned.But I wasn’t.I was furious.When I finally walked up to the apartment, I saw them through the glass door:Aire, leaning against Marcus as he adjusted her jacket after a playful slip. She was laughing, and my stomach flipped.I wanted to yell. To storm in. To tear her away from h
We had always raised Aire to think for herself. To make her own choices. To stand strong, even when the world tried to bend her.And yet, as I sat here, watching her argue her case with a conviction I couldn’t ignore, I felt my chest tighten. My wife’s hand gripped mine lightly, and I realized we were both holding onto something deeper than just concern.Fear.Fear of the age difference. Fear of the power imbalance. Fear that this would hurt her.“Yes, she’s grown,” I said finally, voice tight. “But—Marcus… he’s—”“Older than her?” my wife finished. Her voice was softer than mine, but it carried the same tension.I nodded, swallowing hard. “Far older.”Aire’s expression didn’t falter. She looked from me to my wife and then to Marcus, who stood quietly, every inch the man she loved—reserved, careful, controlled.“She’s allowed to choose,” my wife said gently.“I know,” I admitted. “I raised her to be capable, to make her own mistakes—but…” I trailed off. The “but” was heavy.“Scared?”
Nia POVI’d never seen my parents’ living room look like a courtroom before.Everyone was seated except Aire—who stood stiff near the window, arms crossed like armor, eyes shiny but unbroken. That alone told me everything. She wasn’t ashamed.She was bracing.My mother’s disappointment hung heavy in the air, my father’s silence worse than yelling. Marcus stood off to the side, hands clasped behind his back like a man waiting for a verdict he already knew might ruin him.And Jalen?Jalen sat straight-backed, jaw tight, looking like a man convinced he’d done the right thing and was waiting for applause.I couldn’t let that stand.“This is getting unfair,” I said suddenly.Every head turned.Aire’s eyes snapped to mine—wide, shocked, almost pleading.I stood.“Aire is not a child,” I continued, voice steady despite my pulse racing. “She’s grown. She works, she pays bills, she makes her own decisions.”My mother frowned. “Nia—”“No,” I interrupted gently but firmly. “Let me finish.”I tur
I knew before anyone told me.That’s the part that made it worse—not the confirmation, but the way my body reacted before my mind caught up. The tension in the house had shifted. Not sharp anymore. Settled. Like decisions had already been made without me.Aire wasn’t slipping now.She was gone.I felt it in the way she avoided my eyes. In the way her phone never left her hand. In the way she walked like someone who had permission to want something dangerous.And I knew exactly who gave it to her.Marcus Cole.I didn’t plan the confrontation.I just drove.His office building rose out of the city like a monument to control—glass, steel, power. Everything about it screamed man who always lands on his feet.I signed in without hesitation, jaw tight, pulse steady. Anger didn’t make me reckless.It made me precise.Marcus was alone when I stepped into his office. Jacket off, sleeves rolled, attention locked on his laptop like he could still outwork the truth.He looked up—and froze.“Jalen
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