“God, Nolan,” she breathed, her voice taut with pleasure. “Yes, just like that…”

Clara’s POV

By the time I reached home, exhaustion weighed on me heavily, but not from classes or assignments as I usually complained about. No, it was the burden of him—the smirk that never left his lips, the memory of his kiss with Rebecca, the celebration of their perfection that suffocated the shadows I clung to. I felt like a ghost in my own life, silently enduring a storm that raged within.

The thunder of my heart echoed in tandem with the pattering rain outside, creating a melody of chaos that felt all too fitting. I retreated straight to my room, sketchbook clutched tightly to my chest. Once safely behind my door, I dropped onto my bed, the world beyond feeling like a distant echo against the comfort of my sanctuary. I flipped to a blank page and began to draw, praying that the motion of the pencil would help quell the whirlpool of emotions roiling inside me.

But no matter what I tried—abstract shapes, swirling patterns, even simple still-lifes—Nolan’s face emerged, unbidden. The sharp lines of his jaw, the arrogance that settled there like a crown, the glint in his storm-grey eyes that seemed to mock me. And Rebecca, her radiant smile captivated in my mind, the memory of their kiss burned into my thoughts like an unwanted tattoo.

With each stroke of graphite, I carved hard, angry lines, the page bearing witness to the turmoil that churned within me. I hated the way he looked at her, as if she mattered more than anyone else. I loathed that kiss—the way it had unfolded so easily, so naturally, as if they were enveloped in a world where I didn’t exist.

Why does it hurt so much? He’s just my stepbrother—the devil in my house, a tormentor at every turn. Yet watching him share intimacy with someone else had felt like being ripped open, raw and vulnerable. I could feel the tendrils of jealousy strangling me as I blinked back angry tears.

Time passed in a crash of pencil against page, the rage coursing through me mirroring the storm outside, the rain battering against the windows like an unrelenting refrain. I needed air—an escape from the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on me.

Grabbing my sketchbook, I slipped out to the terrace, hoping to find solace in the rain, to wash away the shame and ugliness. The cool droplets hit my skin the second I stepped outside—the chill biting yet refreshing, as if the rain could carry away my darkest thoughts.

For a moment, I closed my eyes and savored the downpour, allowing the water to wash over me. I breathed in the scent of rain-soaked earth, trying to center myself, to forget. But then, just as my mind began to settle, I froze.

The terrace wasn’t empty.

Just beyond the shadows, against the wet railing, Nolan stood. The sight made my pulse quicken, a potent mix of dread and confusion flooding my senses. And beside him was Rebecca.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, her body pressed tightly against him as she arched her back, lost in their moment of passion. The slickness of the rain added an erotic charge to the scene unfolding before me. Nolan’s hands gripped her thighs, fingers digging into her flesh with a possessiveness that made my stomach drop. They were completely absorbed in their world, oblivious to my presence.

“God, Nolan,” she breathed, her voice taut with pleasure. “Yes, just like that…”

The sound of her moans mixed with the rain, sharp and unbearable in the night air. Each sound echoed deep in my core, igniting a dark flame of envy and something I wasn’t prepared to confront.

Nolan’s movements were rough, unrestrained—his body glistening under the rain, each thrust pushing her back against the wall, her soft gasps entwining with his low growls of satisfaction. “You like that?” he teased, tilting her head back to press kisses along her neck, reveling in the power he wielded.

“Always,” she gasped, voice laced with desperation, urging him on. “You know how to make me feel good, Nolan.”

My breath hitched as I watched, enraptured yet torn apart by the fervor they shared. It should have disgusted me. I should have stormed back inside, escaping the overwhelming vulnerability I felt. But it compelled me to remain, soaked in rain and shame, unable to look away.

It was nothing short of taboo—my stepbrother claiming someone else so openly while I stood frozen, swallowed whole by the darkness around me. Beneath the ache of jealousy, beneath my loathing, something dark stirred within me. An awareness I hoped would remain buried—an unsettled longing that pulled at my heart.

I pressed my back against the cold wall of the terrace, heart pounding so loudly I feared they would hear it. The weight of every thought pressed down on me, threatening to break through the dam I had built around my emotions.

“You’re so beautiful, Rebecca,” Nolan murmured, voice a low growl that rolled through the rain, striking against the very center of me. “You have no idea what you do to me.” He lifted her effortlessly, her legs still wrapped tightly around him, their bodies becoming a unit—a sultry rhythm melded in the rain.

Her laughter rang out, sweet yet jarring, and it cut through me like a knife. “Show me,” came her husky reply, laced with pure desire, urging him forward. Their chemistry was palpable, electric—tension crackled between them like a live wire struggling to contain itself.

Every thrust he made sent a wave of nausea crashing through my system. Was the ache in my chest jealousy? Yearning? It was all so tangled, maddening, and I was drowning in a downpour of emotions I couldn’t contain.

“More,” she gasped, her words an intoxicating invitation carrying between the raindrops. “Please, don’t stop.”

He looked down at her, an intoxicatingly confident expression settling over him as he obliged, each movement igniting the fire within me further. The sight filled me with frustration, making me want to scream. *Why do you make this so hard?* I thought bitterly, watching him dominate the moment, feeling stripped bare of agency. I hated that the man I was forced to share my life with could hold sway over my emotions and desires, a predator thriving on his ability to manipulate those around him.

But beneath that frustration lay the undeniable wish for him to see me—really see me. To want me.

The realization slashed through my turmoil like lightning, illuminating the corners of my mind where I had buried those thoughts. I stumbled back, the rain soaking my hair, unable to pull away from this intoxicating view of their connection, the intimacy of it all.

He was a tempest, and I was precariously perched at the edge of his storm, swept along against my will. I was the voyeur, caught between desiring his attention and the shame that dictated my reality.

And then, without warning, the world came crashing back. I couldn’t stay here. I couldn’t watch this anymore. I turned to step away, a desperate bid to escape the moment, but then a sound halted me in my tracks.

“Clara!” Nolan’s voice cut through the rain, piercing the veil of my thoughts, and I froze, realizing too late that he had spotted me. The gleam in his eyes shifted—playful certainty melting into something sharper, more invasive.