The night felt longer than usual.
I couldn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ethan's face — that look he had when he said my name like it meant something. I tried to convince myself it didn't, that I'd only imagined it, but the way my chest ached told me otherwise.
The house was quiet except for the wind tapping against the window. I sat up in bed, hugging my knees, listening to the faint sounds of the city outside. My thoughts wouldn't stop racing. They spun around Ethan… and Lydia… and everything that didn't make sense between us.
I told myself to forget, to move on, but how do you forget someone who already feels like a part of you?
Morning came slow, gray, and heavy.
I dressed without thinking, my hands shaking as I buttoned my shirt. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I didn't recognize the girl staring back. She looked tired, distant. Like someone who'd lost something she wasn't supposed to want in the first place.
At breakfast, Noah was already there. He smiled softly when I walked in, though it didn't reach his eyes.
"You didn't sleep," he said quietly.
"Neither did you," I replied.
He nodded. "You've been different lately."
"I'm fine," I lied, stirring the coffee I wasn't going to drink.
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. "If it's about Ethan, you should be careful. Lydia's back in town."
My chest tightened. "I know."
Noah hesitated, like he wanted to say more, but didn't. That was the thing about him — he always knew when to stop, when not to push. I wished I could do the same with my own heart.
By noon, the air around the mansion was strange. Restless. Even the staff moved differently, whispering in corners. Something was brewing, though I didn't know what yet. I walked out to the garden, needing space, needing air that didn't taste like tension.
The sun tried to break through the clouds, but it failed. Everything felt dim. I sat by the fountain, tracing the edge with my fingers, and thought about Ethan's last words to me.
You make things complicated, Emily.
He was right. I did. Or maybe love just made everything messy, no matter how hard you tried to keep it simple.
I heard footsteps before I saw him.
Ethan.
He stopped a few feet away, hands in his pockets, his eyes locked on me. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence between us felt louder than words.
"You left early yesterday," he said finally, his voice rougher than usual.
"I had to," I whispered. "Lydia was there."
He flinched, just slightly. "You didn't have to run."
"I wasn't running." I looked away, though my heart betrayed me with every fast beat. "I just didn't want to watch her touch you."
He took a step closer. "Emily…"
The way he said my name made my throat tighten. I didn't want to cry, not again, not in front of him. "Don't," I said quietly. "Don't make it harder than it already is."
He sighed, rubbing his jaw. "I don't want to hurt you."
"But you already did," I said before I could stop myself.
His eyes softened. "I didn't mean to."
"I know," I said, my voice breaking. "That's what makes it worse."
We stood there in the heavy silence, both of us lost in the space between what we wanted and what we couldn't have. Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his whole expression changed.
"What is it?" I asked.
He didn't answer right away. "Something at the company. I need to go."
Of course. Always something. Always somewhere else to be.
He turned to leave, but stopped halfway. "Emily… stay inside today."
"Why?"
"Just do it."
Before I could ask more, he was gone.
---
The rest of the day dragged on. The sky turned darker, wind picking up. I tried reading, cleaning, even cooking, but nothing settled me. Something was off. I could feel it like a shadow moving just behind me.
By evening, the rain started. Slow at first, then heavy, slamming against the windows like it urged to come in. I was in the study when I heard the doorbell.
I froze. No one ever visited this late.
When I opened the door, Lydia stood there — soaked but smiling.
"Hello, Emily."
Her voice was honey, sweet and sharp. I stepped back, unsure what to say. "Ethan's not here."
"I know," she said, brushing past me like she owned the place. "That's why I came."
I followed her into the living room. "You shouldn't be here."
"Relax." She dropped her bag on the couch, shaking the rain from her hair. "I just want to talk."
"I have nothing to say to you."
She smiled, the kind of smile that didn't reach her eyes. "But I do. About Ethan."
My stomach turned. "What about him?"
She walked closer until we were face-to-face. "You really think he loves you?"
"I don't know what he feels."
"Yes, you do." She tilted her head, studying me. "That's the problem. You believe in things that aren't real."
I stepped back, my chest tight. "Why are you doing this?"
"Because you need to understand something." She pulled out her phone, opened something, and handed it to me. "See for yourself."
On the screen was a photo. Ethan and Lydia. Together. In his office. His hand on her waist. Her lips close to his.
My breath caught. "This isn't—"
"It's from yesterday," she said smoothly. "You were right to walk away. He's still mine."
I wanted to throw the phone, to scream, to deny it — but the pain hit too fast. My vision blurred. I set the phone down before my shaking hands could drop it.
"You're lying," I whispered, even though part of me wasn't sure.
She smiled. "You can keep telling yourself that. But deep down, you know he'll never choose you."
Her words sliced through the air like a blade. Then she picked up her bag and walked out, leaving the door wide open.
The wind rushed in, carrying the rain inside. I stood there, trembling, not sure whether to chase her or collapse.
---
When I finally moved, it was only to close the door. My clothes were soaked, my hands cold. I sank to the floor, knees against my chest. Everything inside me ached.
It was one thing to lose someone you loved. It was another to think you never really had them.
I didn't know how long I sat there, staring at the phone on the table. The photo still glowed on the screen, mocking me. My tears wouldn't stop.
That's when I heard the door again.
I thought it was the wind, but then his voice came — deep, low, and desperate.
"Emily?"
Ethan.
I wiped my eyes quickly, trying to steady my breath. When he walked in, he looked different — soaked, angry, worried all at once.
"What happened?" he asked, scanning the room.
I didn't answer.
"Why's the door open? Why are you crying?"
"Ask Lydia," I said quietly.
His jaw clenched. "What did she do?"
I turned to him, my heart breaking all over again. "She showed me a picture."
He went still. "What picture?"
"You and her. Yesterday. In your office."
He stepped closer. "It's not what you think."
"Then what is it?" I whispered.
He hesitated — and that was enough. The silence said what he didn't.
My eyes filled again. "You promised me honesty, Ethan."
"I am being honest," he said, voice sharp now. "She came to see me, I told her to leave."
"But she didn't look like someone who'd been told to leave," I said, shaking my head. "She looked like someone who still had you."
His hand ran through his hair in frustration. "You don't understand."
"Then help me understand!" I shouted, surprising even myself.
For a second, everything stopped. The rain, the noise, even my heartbeat.
He stepped forward, his eyes burning into mine. "I'm trying to protect you, Emily. There's more going on than you know."
"Protect me from what?"
Before he could answer, the sound of a car screeched outside. We both turned. Headlights flashed through the window, blinding for a moment.
Ethan's phone buzzed. He looked at it, and his face went pale.
"What is it?" I asked.
He didn't look up. "We have to leave. Now."
"Why?"
He finally met my eyes — and what I saw there made my blood run cold.
"They're coming for you."