Lines Between Us Novels & Stories

A voice spoke, startling Aria so much that she screamed. “I’m so sorry for startling you. I walk very lightly so most people don’t hear me coming. That’s my only bad habit.” The lady said. Aria finally looked at her and her love for purple was not only in decoration. Her curly hair was dyed purple, she had purple colored lens too and she was wearing purple tee shirt and jeans. “Hi, I’m Maureen Purple.” The lady said, stretching her hand for a handshake. “Huh?” Aria said without realizing. “Sorry…huh, I’m Aria… Aria Beaumont.”

I sent another message. “It’s nothing. I can recommend a few online streamers who do makeup tutorials. Otherwise, how can you find your soulmate if you keep looking like a kid? ‘There we go again with the lectures,’ I rolled my eyes. “Melissa, why do you always think about such things? Life is not just about makeup. But thanks anyway,” I said. “You're welcome,” she responded. The next day I woke up feeling refreshed. After breakfast, Mom and I went grocery shopping. From the food section, we went to the stationery section.

He held my hand until we reached a busier road, where we reluctantly let go. I hated that part. The moment when we had to stop being us and return to the lives everyone expected us to live. Lucas must have noticed my expression because he touched my elbow gently. "Hey." I looked up. "We'll have more time together." "You promise?" "I promise I'll try." I smiled at that answer because it was honest. He couldn't promise that our lives would suddenly become simple. Neither of us could control our families or the things people might say. But he could promise to try, and for now, I was willing to hold on to that.

My daughter, Clara Williams, turned seven today. We played a simple game to celebrate. The rule was easy. I would start a sentence, and she would finish it. It was a popular trend designed to see if a child was being criticized. "First sentence," I said, leaning over the table. "Look at the other kids…" I waited, a warm smile on my face. I had never raised my voice at her. I spent years protecting her world, building her confidence brick by brick. I knew she was happy. Her soft voice shattered that illusion instantly. "They are so much better than you," she said, reciting the words by heart. "You aren't even worth a single hair on Lily's head." Lily. She was the daughter of Donald

I took that as permission to keep going just the lightest trail of kisses down to the hinge of her jaw, then lower, to the sensitive spot beneath her ear that always made her breath hitch. “James…” “I’m not taking anything,” I whispered against her skin. “Just… looking. Touching a little. You can still say stop.” Her fingers flexed once, then slid up my forearms, over my biceps, until they rested lightly on my shoulders. I felt the way her thighs tightened under my hands. I eased back just enough to meet her eyes again. “Tell me where the line is tonight.” She swallowed. “No sex. Not all the way.”

As we walked toward the entrance, my phone vibrated inside my bag. I stopped and took it out. An unknown number had sent me a message. My hands began to tremble as I opened it. There were only two lines. Stop looking for Daniel. You won't like what you find. I stared at the screen. Great moved closer and read the message over my shoulder. His expression hardened. “Someone knows what we're doing.” I looked toward the empty road outside the house. For the first time that morning, the hope I had been holding on to was mixed with something else.

I groaned, and we both started making out. This time there are no butterflies but there are sure monkeys though. We slowly released each other when we were out of breath and smiled at each other. We both drifted off into sleep holding each other like that…

I couldn’t help smiling. I picked up Lang Leav’s The Universe of Us. As I flipped through the pages, the faint scent of paper and vanilla drifted out — that strangely nostalgic smell of ink and time. I finally understood why book lovers found comfort in it. Then my fingers stopped on a page — page fifteen. “‘Do you think there is the possibility of you and me?’” I read aloud before realizing how it sounded. Sydney froze mid-reach, her back still bent toward the lower shelf. After a moment, she stood upright, turning toward me with a knowing grin.

The tension bet⁠ween u‍s​ had been lef⁠t ha​ngi⁠ng, unaddressed,⁠ like an u⁠nanswered question ne‍ithe‌r of us dared p⁠ut⁠ into words. We cr⁠ossed the l⁠ine. T⁠wic⁠e⁠. An‍d yet… we didn’‍t. I wished, shamelessly, re​cklessly‍, th‍at we hadn’t​ be​en int​erru​pt‍ed. Bu⁠t another part of me whisp‍ered that th‌e i⁠nte​r​ruption was a‍ blessing. Be‌cause what were we doing, really? We bare‌ly knew each othe​r outside o‍f work. I did​n’t‌ know where‌ I stood with him. I did​n’t‍ even⁠ k‌no‍w what w‌e were. Something? Nothing? A mistake waitin⁠g to happen?

I want to hear everything. Then I opened my laptop, cursor blinking against the white screen, and started a new document. The title came easily this time. “Crossing the Line: When Love and Ambition Learn to Breathe Together.” I wrote the first line slowly, smiling to myself. Some stories don’t end when you close the chapter. They just learn how to keep going. That night, when Ethan’s face filled my screen — tired but smiling — I realized it wasn’t the distance that defined us anymore. It was the choice to keep showing up. And that choice was love.