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Eight
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2026-02-06 05:46:06
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To be loved like this Fifteen
There was a tingle in her belly now when she thought about Bryer.It wasn't lust or nerves. It was softer than that. Something like a warm breeze stirring leaves without trying to scatter them. Like the low hum of a song she hadn’t heard in years but still somehow remembered the words to. Something familiar and gentle, moving through her without demanding anything in return.She tried not to overthink it.Tried not to pin it down too quickly, the way she used to. Old Raegan would have her naming feelings before she’d even let them exist fully. She was learning that some things needed space. Needed time to reveal themselves without being cornered by expectation.Still, there was something undeniable about the way her body responded to the thought of him.The way his eyes softened when he listened.The way he didn’t rush silence... or her.The way he asked questions like he actually wanted to know the answers. He didn't just want to fill space, to be polite, but because curiosity came n
To be loved like this Fourteen
Marley had always believed that some women were born soft, and others had softness peeled away from them slowly, until only steel remained.Not the cold kind.Not the brittle kind.The kind forged by pressure and patience. The kind that bent before it broke, and then learned not to bend so far again.Raegan used to be the first kind.Gentle in a way that made people lean in, like they couldn’t quite believe someone so kind could exist without asking for something in return. She listened fully. Loved generously. Gave the benefit of the doubt long after it stopped being deserved. Marley had watched people take that softness like it was an infinite resource, never stopping to wonder what it cost her to keep offering it.But lately…Raegan was becoming steel.Not hardened. Not sharp-edged. Just armored. Learning how to hold her own weight without apologizing for it. Learning that strength didn’t have to be loud to be real.And Marley?Marley had never been more proud.When Raegan first mo
To be loved like this Thirteen
Bryer hadn’t expected to see her again.Not in this building.Not on a Thursday.Not with grocery bags cutting into her fingers and a low hum trailing from her lips like it belonged to some hidden melody already moving through the air.Raegan.Even her name landed like poetry in his mind. It was soft but certain, the kind of word you didn’t rush through. He’d almost dropped his pad thai when they collided outside his door, the paper handles swinging wildly as he scrambled to steady them both. She looked up at him, startled, eyes wide and bright with recognition.The same eyes that had caught his attention weeks ago in the bookstore.Back then, she’d said almost nothing. No flirtation. No performance. Just presence. And somehow, that had spoken volumes. She hadn’t needed the spotlight. She carried that quiet gravity about her, like the moon. The kind of presence that pulled you in slowly, steadily, without making a sound.And when she said his name “Bryer?” his whole body responded, wa
To be loved like this Twelve
The first time Raegan saw Bryer again, she was holding a bag of groceries and humming under her breath.The sound surprised her when she noticed it. Soft, absentminded, slipping out without permission. She hadn’t been humming for very long, not consciously, but it seemed to follow her lately. Like her body was remembering something before her mind caught up.The elevator in Marley’s building had been out all week, which should have been annoying. Instead, Raegan had started using the fire escape to come and go, climbing carefully with her tote bag bumping against her hip. Something about it made her feel like the main character in a life she was finally writing for herself. Finally moving through the world with intention instead of obligation.She was rounding the corner toward Marley’s front door, keys threaded between her fingers, mentally cataloging what she still needed for dinner, when she nearly collided with someone stepping out of the apartment next door.Two bags of takeout s
To be loved like this Eleven
Raegan didn’t cry when she closed the apartment door behind her.She didn’t look back either.Not because it didn’t hurt, but because she knew what looking back would cost. She’d already given that place enough of herself. Enough pauses, enough swallowed words, enough nights convincing herself that quiet was the same as peace. So she lifted the box in her arms, adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, and stepped forward.She carried only what mattered. Clothes she actually wore. Books that felt like home. A few notebooks thick with old thoughts and half-formed truths. Pieces of herself she was learning how to hold again.The rest she left behind, folded neatly into drawers and corners of silence. She’d shed enough versions of herself to know: not everything deserves to be carried into the next chapter. Some things are meant to stay as proof of where you’ve been, not as baggage for where you’re going.Marley lived in a small two-bedroom apartment above a bakery that always smell
To be loved like this Ten
Owen didn’t cry at first.He just sat there.On the edge of the bed where Raegan once slept, legs drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around himself like a child afraid of the dark. Except the dark wasn’t the room. It was the space inside him she used to fill, the quiet he never noticed because she had always softened it for him.The bedroom looked exactly the same.That was the cruelest part.Her shoes still sat by the door, neatly paired the way she always left them. The empty coffee cup rested on the windowsill, forgotten in the rush of an ordinary morning that now felt impossibly distant. A hoodie; it was hers, definitely hers, hung over the back of the couch, sleeves dangling like she might slip back into it any second.But she wasn’t coming back for any of it, at least not tonight.She hadn’t forgotten a single thing.He thought he’d be angry. Thought there would be yelling, maybe a cracked plate or a fist through the wall. Some loud, cinematic release that made the pain feel justifi
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