MasukThe moment the door to my office clicked shut behind him, the world blurred. I couldn’t breathe. I stayed frozen for a heartbeat. then my chest caved in. I grabbed my bag and stumbled toward my desk chair, knees weak, vision burning. Every inhale scraped like glass. I should be thinking about wedding timelines. Dress fittings. Seating charts. Not shaking in the room where I work because a man who isn’t my fiancé just looked at me like I belonged to him. I sank into the chair and bent forward, elbows on my knees, fingers pressed hard over my mouth to smother the sound clawing up my throat. What am I doing? What is happening to me? My breathing broke. shallow, uneven, desperate. Tears spilled before I could stop them, hot and humiliating. Marco’s smile flashed in my mind. Steady, safe, certain. Then Ethan’s voice echoed, I’m not letting you go. And my heart twisted like it didn’t know which life was mine anymore. A sob punched out of me, small but violent, shak
I stood in front of the elevator, clutching my bag so tightly the strap cut into my palm. Today, I end it. No more Ethan. No more mistakes. No more walking willingly into a fire I already know will burn me to ash. My heart hammered as the elevator doors slid open. I stepped inside. Forced myself to breathe. Forced myself to stay upright. I pressed the button for the 28th floor. His floor. My battlefield. Every second of the ascent felt like walking toward a storm I once mistook for warmth. The doors opened. Familiar hums. Phones ringing. Laughter somewhere near the pantry. But everything sounded sharper today. harsher, heavier as if the air itself knew what I was here to do. People greeted me. I smiled back, the way you smile when you’re trying not to fall apart in public. I just needed to sit at my desk. Open my laptop. Send the email. And leave before he saw me. Before my resolve cracked. I reached my chair, my hands trembling as I settled in. My skin still
His forehead still rested against mine, our breaths tangled, warm and uneven.Marco’s thumb brushed my cheek again slow, gentle, steady. A kindness I no longer knew how to deserve.“We’re okay,” he whispered. “We’ll find our way back.”Back.To who I used to be.To who he believed I still was.To the life I cracked the moment I let Ethan touch me again.I forced myself to breathe. To nod. To pretend I could still be the woman he loved without hesitation.“I promise,” I murmured, though my voice trembled like guilt pressed beneath glass. “I’m trying.”He offered a soft, tired smile the kind someone wears when fighting for a future they refuse to lose.“That’s all I need.”If only trying could erase sin.He let me go slowly, handling me like something breakable. His eyes held more patience than anyone deserved to give.“Come on,” he said gently. “Eat before it gets cold.”I took another bite. Sweet pancakes. Strawberries. Comfort. Innocence.I chewed, but the food felt heavy, like it d
The next morning, I woke around eight.Cold sheets greeted me.Ethan was gone.Only the faintest trace of his scent lingered. clinging to the pillow, my skin, my ribs. A whisper of last night. A reminder of everything I should have pushed away.Not once.Not twice.I didn’t just fall once.I fell again willingly, helplessly and the shame hit harder this time.Because a mistake made once can be forgiven.But twice?What did that make me?I pulled the blanket around myself like armor, as if cotton could hide truth. From the world. From Marco. From myself.My gaze drifted to the dining table.Food, wrapped neatly. A quiet offering. A silent reminder.A goodbye… or a warning.A secret sitting heavy in my chest like a stone pressing into my lungs.I opened the container and nausea slammed into me. The smell, the sight, the memory. My stomach twisted. I barely made it to the sink before I retched, knees shaking, hands gripping the counter so hard my nails dug into the edge.Shame burned th
Marco was at my door. I could feel it.my heart hammering in my chest but I couldn’t move. Not while Ethan was here. Not while he refused to leave. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said behind me, his voice low, deliberate… dangerous. My pulse jumped. “Ethan… you can’t.Marco’s—” I started, but he stepped closer, cutting me off with a look so intense it made my knees weak. “I don’t care,” he said softly, almost a growl. “Not about him. Not about anyone. Not tonight. You’re mine.” My stomach twisted. The possessiveness in his tone made me ache, terrified and longing at the same time. “Ethan… I—” He lifted my chin with one hand, forcing me to look at him. “No. Don’t. Don’t speak. Don’t try to stop this. Not when I know you want this too.” I wanted to deny it. I tried to pull back, but his other hand gripped my waist, steady, unyielding. “You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Not tonight. Not ever. Do you understand me?” “I… I shouldn’t…” My v
The workday finally ended, but relief didn’t follow. I packed my things slowly, my hands trembling despite myself. Outside, the city lights flickered on, casting long shadows through the glass walls of the office. Just as I slung my bag over my shoulder, the sound of footsteps behind me made my stomach twist. “I’ll drive you home,” Ethan said, his voice low and commanding, cutting through the quiet office. I froze. “Ethan… no. Marco’s coming for me,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. My fiancé had every right to pick me up. It was normal. It was safe. It was… mine. “I don’t care,” he said, stepping closer, the air around him almost suffocating. “I’m taking you. No one else. You’re not saying no to me.” I shook my head, trying to step back. “Ethan… I can’t. Marco—” His hand shot out, gripping my wrist with a strength that made me wince. “I said no one tells me no,” he growled. His eyes were dark, possessive, and terrifying. “I don’t care about your fiancé. I don’t car







