Semua Bab Can I ride you, Luca?....Craving my best friend’s brother: Bab 121 - Bab 130

Emma’s POVThe weight of Hannah’s body against mine felt like a leaden shroud. I didn't dare breathe, my lungs restricted by a combination of her arm across my waist and the sheer, suffocating pressure of the secret vibrating in the air.Hannah stirred, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks before she finally opened her eyes. For a split second, that old, warm light filled her gaze—the look she used to give me before the world got complicated. Then, reality flooded back. She realized where she was, how she was positioned, and that she was nearly naked, pressed against the person who had shattered her heart over the winter break.She bolted upright, her face flushing a deep, frantic crimson. She scrambled to pull the thin strap of her camisole back onto her shoulder, her hands trembling."Oh! I—" She stammered, looking around the room as if she’d woken up on another planet."Hannah was sleeping in my bed last night," Mia’s voice cut through the room like a jagged piece of glass.

Hannah’s POVThe drive back to campus had been the longest three hours of my life. My hands were white-knuckled on the steering wheel, the winter landscape blurring into a smear of grey and dead brown. Every mile felt like a countdown toward a performance I wasn’t sure I could give.I am fine, I told my reflection in the rearview mirror. I am Hannah Carter. I am resilient. I am the best friend.The confession in the garden during the break—the way the words had tumbled out of me like blood from a wound—felt like a fever dream now. Emma’s face, etched with that gentle, devastating pity, was burned into my retinas. She didn't love me back. Not like that. She loved me as a sister, a soulmate in every way that didn't involve a heartbeat accelerating when we touched.I made a vow as I pulled into the estate gates: No one would know. Not the departmental girls, not Ethan, and especially not Mia. Mia was too sharp; she had a way of looking through me like I was made of glass. If I let a sing

Emma’s POVThe groceries were still on the kitchen counter, a monument to my procrastination. Tomatoes, milk, eggs—all of it sitting there, a mundane rebellion. I should put them away. I should start dinner for Mia. But the thought was a distant hum, drowned out by the pounding rhythm in my veins.His texts were a live wire in my pocket, buzzing against my thigh every few minutes. The last one had arrived just as I was staring at the refrigerator.Luca: Don't take your car. Walk. I want to watch you approach from the trees.A command. A thrill.So I left them—the groceries, the responsibility, the ghost of Mia’s judgment in the empty room—and stepped out into the cooling evening air. The path to the boat house was a winding ribbon through the estate’s wooded edge, familiar and secret. My dress was simple, a soft cotton thing Hannah had given me last summer. It felt innocent against my skin, a contrast to the intention tightening my muscles as I walked.The woods were quiet, just the r

Emma’s POVThe air in the lecture hall didn’t return when the professor finally closed his leather-bound folder. Usually, the end of a ninety-minute block was met with the chaotic symphony of rustling papers, the zip of backpacks, and the collective exhale of a hundred exhausted students. But today, the silence felt like a physical weight, anchored by the presence of the woman sitting two rows in front of us.Sophie Miller stood up, and it was as if she had brought a localized winter with her. Every movement was fluid, deliberate, and expensive. She turned, her gaze sweeping over the room until it locked onto us. Or rather, it locked onto Hannah, then drifted to me with the casual indifference one might show a piece of furniture in a showroom."That lecture was… quaint," Sophie remarked, her voice a cool, melodic chime that carried easily over the noise. She tucked a stray strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear, the movement designed to catch the light on her ring. "Hannah, dar

Emma’s POVThe world didn’t just tilt; it inverted.I stood in that sterile, dimly lit hallway, the scent of Sophie’s floral perfume cloying in my throat like a poisonous mist. My thumb hovered over the screen of my phone, the blue light reflecting in my wide, terrified eyes. I had meant to send that epistle to Luca—a raw, bleeding scream of a message that would force him to acknowledge the wreckage he was making of me. I had meant for it to be a private war between a man and the woman he was breaking.But as I looked down, the reality of what I had done crashed over me like a tidal wave of ice water.The header at the top of the screen didn't say Luca. It said "The Trio." The group chat. The digital space I shared with Mia and Hannah. The space where we discussed grocery lists, movie nights, and our shared futures.And there it was. My four-hundred-word confession of betrayal, desire, and agony, sitting in a bubble that every person I loved was destined to see."Oh, look at that," So