A Night

Selene was frozen, caught in an act that looked more intimate than she could explain. Lewie’s eyes locked onto Leon's eyes, fury burning through him like a burning flame.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Leon Guilford?” Lewie’s voice was low, sharp.

Leon opened his mouth, trying to defend himself. But no words were coming forth.

Getting no response, Lewie charged Forward with his hands clenched.

Before the punch could land, the door burst open.

“Enough!!!” Uncle Nuel’s voice thundered through the tension.

He stepped between them, face rigid. “This is a hospital. Not your battlefield or your boxing ring. What the hell is wrong with both of you?” he spoke while shoving the boys away from each other.

The two men stared past him; though the fight had been halting, their silence was louder than any argument. The damage was done.

Days passed. The wound in Selene's forehead has slowly healed, but then something else has started to grow in her heart.

A soft, undeniable feeling has bloomed every time she speaks or spends time with Lewie.

He visits her every day, often with different varieties of snacks she likes, fresh flowers, and books she didn’t ask for.

“Why bring a book for a patient who has a head injury?” She would ask pretending not to care.

But the truth was that she looked forward to the sound of his footsteps in the hallway.

Sometimes, when he sat beside her, scrolling on his phone or teasing her, she would catch herself smiling for no reason.

What is this feeling? She would ask herself.

She didn't realise how used to his presence she had become until the day of her discharge.

“I’ll drive you home tomorrow,” Lewie had promised just the night before.

So she waited. Dressed. Packed. Her pulse fluttered wildly.

But when the door opened, it wasn’t him.

“Ready to go?” Uncle Nuel asked, holding her bag.

Selene forced a smile. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

The ride home was quiet. Her mind was occupied with the thought of Lewie.

Why didn’t he come? Did something happen? Or was she expecting too much?

Back home, there was no trace of Lewie.

Though she was asked to lie down and rest, her eyes never left the gate as she looked for Lewie.

Finally, hours after everyone had gone to bed, she heard the front door creak open.

She rushed out of her room, only to find Lewie slouched by the door, pale and weak.

“Lewie?” she called softly, eyes widening in alarm.

His gaze met hers briefly before he leaned against the wall, breath shallow. “Hey, you back?... Sorry, I didn’t make it earlier.”

Selene walked up to him, resting a hand on his forehead.

“You’re burning up,” she whispered slowly.

He tried to shrug it off. “Just a small fever. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” she said firmly. “Come on, you need to take some medication.”

Despite his protests, she held him tight, her body against his, she could feel his hot breath on her shoulder.

He collapsed onto the bed with a groan; immediately, they stepped into the room, and Selene disappeared to fetch water and a cloth.

She stayed with him that night, sitting by his bed, wiping his forehead, checking his temperature till the fever reduced.

And then, just as she reached forward to adjust the blanket, her hands brushed through his tight hair, and he opened his eyes.

“You’re still here?” he asked groggily.

“Of course,” she replied. “Who else would take care of you as a sick patient?”

“You’re something, Selene.” A faint grin curved his lips

She smiled back, her heart thudding louder than it should.

“ You can go and rest now; I'm a bit better,” Lewie said while trying to remove the damp towel resting on his forehead.

“Don’t,” Selene whispered, leaning in quickly to stop him. “You’ll make the fever worse.”

Her fingers grabbed his wrist, and before she realised it, their faces were inches apart—her breath mingling with his, they could hear each other's heartbeat.

Time stalled.

She could see it in the way his eyes darkened as they focused on her lips.

The change in the air wasn’t from the fever. It was something else. Something unspoken that had been growing between them since they spent days at the hospital.

Selene’s lips parted slightly; her eyes shifted from his mouth to his gaze and back again.

Her heart was a mess. Should I lean in? Will he pull away? Is this real, or is it just the moment messing with me?.

She was caught in a place, trying to convince herself to move forward or backwards, but her body refused to listen.

And just as she tried to withdraw herself away, her elbow slipped from where it was resting on the bed.

A gasp escaped her lips as she lost balance—and crashed into him.

Their lips collided in a breathless pause.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real.

The softness of his mouth on hers sent a jolt through her body. She meant to pull back truly, she did, but Lewie’s hand came up, holding her on her waist.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Selene pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against his, and each inhale felt like it belonged to the other.

"This feels... dangerous," she whispered, eyes fluttering shut.

“You should probably go before I make a mistake.” His voice broke through.

Selene tilted her head, brows furrowing. “What if I want you to?”

Lewie’s throat tightened as he swallowed his saliva. He sat up slightly, searching her face like it held all the answers he would need.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he confessed. “You’re not a game, Selene. And I don’t want to be just another scar.”

“You won’t be,” she replied; this time, she leaned in and took his lips fully.

Her hands found their way to his shoulder while Lewie held her waist tight like he was stopping her from running away.

And then the kiss deepened slowly and uncertainly, like they were both afraid of what it meant, but powerless to stop it.

Selene’s thoughts dissolved, leaving only the warmth of him, the sound of his breath, and the thunder in her chest.

She had fallen... not just into the kiss, but into something far more dangerous.

Something that had just begun...