The Rules we Don't say

He’d been coming over every night.

Sometimes he knocked. Sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes Maya left the door cracked like an invitation she wasn’t sure she wanted to give. But every night, he showed up, and every night, she let him in.

It became a rhythm. A secret pulse between their bodies. No words. Just hands and skin and heat. Then silence again.

But tonight, something was off.

Maya sat on the couch, legs tucked under her, wrapped in a threadbare sweater that hung off one shoulder. The TV was on, volume low, flickering shadows across the room. Her eyes weren’t on it.

Elias stood near the window, shirtless, drinking from a glass of water like he owned the space.

“You always this quiet?” she asked.

He glanced at her, his mouth still wet from the glass. “You always this curious?”

Maya smiled, soft but strained. “Curiosity’s not a crime.”

“It’s gotten people killed.”

She blinked. He didn’t say it like a joke. He never did.

“You say things like that and expect me not to ask questions.”

“Maybe I want you to ask.”

She straightened, heart thudding. “Then tell me.”

He didn’t move.

“What did you go to prison for?”

The silence that followed felt different from the usual ones between them. This one carried weight. A shift in the air. His body tensed slightly, shoulders rigid.

“I don’t talk about that,” he said finally.

Maya tilted her head. “Why not?”

“Because it won’t change anything.”

“Maybe not. But I’m letting you inside me. Don’t I get to know what kind of man you are?”

He set the glass down harder than necessary. “You know what kind of man I am.”

“No, Elias. I know how you fuck. That’s not the same.”

His jaw tightened. The space between them filled with heat, but not the kind she craved.

He moved toward her, slowly, deliberately, and sat beside her on the couch. “You want to talk,” he said, voice low, “or you want me to make you forget?”

She didn’t answer. He leaned in, lips brushing her neck. Her breath hitched. His hand slipped beneath the hem of her sweater, fingers trailing up her thigh.

“No,” she whispered.

He paused.

Her voice was quiet but steady. “I said no.”

He kissed her shoulder, slower this time. “Don’t do that. Don’t pull away now.”

“I mean it, Elias. Not tonight.”

“You let me in. You always let me in.”

Her body tensed.

His hand moved again.

She turned her face away, eyes shut tight. “Stop.”

He froze.

It wasn’t just her voice. It was something in her posture. In the way her body shrank into itself. She wasn’t playing hard to get. She wasn’t teasing.

She was afraid.

Elias moved back instantly, hands up, as if he’d just realized he was holding something fragile. He looked at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

“Maya,” he said, his voice rasped now. “Shit. I didn’t mean—”

She stood, pulling her sweater tight around herself, her chest rising and falling too fast.

“I said no.”

“I heard you. I heard you, I swear. I just… I thought…” He shook his head, stood too. “I got used to you wanting it.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” she said, her voice louder now. “I let you in because I wanted to. But that doesn’t mean I’m yours to take whenever you feel like it.”

“I know that.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

Elias didn’t move closer. He stayed still, hands at his sides, like he knew he’d already done too much.

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” he said quietly.

“But you did,” she snapped, eyes glistening. “You touched me when I told you not to.”

“I stopped.”

“You hesitated.”

They stared at each other, the air thick with shame, fear, and something neither of them could name yet.

Maya stepped back, rubbing her arms like she was trying to scrub something off her skin. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You touched me like he did.”

Elias blinked. “Who?”

She sat down on the floor, slowly, like her legs couldn’t carry the weight anymore. “My ex. He… he used to do that. Start slow, get me too deep, and then when I tried to pull away, it was already too late. He always told me I wanted it. That I just didn’t know it yet.”

Elias looked sick. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“Then don’t act like him.”

“I’m not him.”

“You almost were.”

He sat too, a few feet away, keeping the space between them open.

“I didn’t mean to push you,” he said. “I swear, Maya, I wasn’t trying to take anything from you. I thought we were—”

“We’re not anything. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”

He inhaled sharply, nodded once.

She wiped at her face, frustrated with her own tears. “I didn’t want to cry in front of you.”

“I’d rather see the truth than the act,” he said. “You’ve been pretending you’re fine. Since the first night.”

“I wanted to feel something again. That’s all this ever was.”

His voice broke a little. “That’s not all it is to me.”

Maya looked up at him, mascara smudged under her eyes. “Then prove it. Respect me when I say no. Don’t make me flinch.”

He reached for her slowly, then stopped. “Can I touch your hand?”

She hesitated, then nodded once.

His hand found hers, warm and still. Not possessive. Not demanding. Just there.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

“I know,” she whispered.

“I didn’t know what I was doing until I saw your face.”

“Now you do.”

He looked down at their hands, his thumb brushing hers once. “I’ve done things I can’t undo. But I don’t want to be the man who takes from you.”

“Then don’t be.”

They sat like that for a while, not speaking, just breathing. Her hand in his. The weight of the moment settling between them.

Eventually, she said, “I still want to know what you did. Why you went away.”

He didn’t answer right away. Then: “I’ll tell you. But not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I tell you, you might not want me to come back.”

She met his eyes. “Then say it anyway. Let me decide.”

He looked at her like he was memorizing her face. Like he didn’t want to forget this version of her. Strong. Shaking. Honest.

“I killed someone,” he said finally.

Maya didn’t flinch. “Why?”

“Because he hurt someone I loved.”

She studied him, searching for the part of that sentence that felt like a lie. But it didn’t. It felt like grief.

“Do you regret it?” she asked.

He closed his eyes. “I regret that it didn’t fix anything.”

She nodded slowly.

He let go of her hand then, stood, and walked to the door. He didn’t reach for her again.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said.

“Okay.”

He opened the door, hesitated, and looked back at her. “I’ll come back when you say I can.”

She didn’t respond.

He stepped out. The door clicked shut.

And for the first time in a long time, Maya locked it behind him.