Episode 7: A Step Away from Fate
601 Words
The Weight of a Dance
The night had ended, but its echoes lingered.
Isabella sat on the edge of her bed, her fingers grazing the silk of her gown, as if the fabric still carried the warmth of his touch.
The dance had been a mistake.
She had let herself forget—for just a moment—who they were, what they had been, and why they had fallen apart.
She had let him hold her. She had let herself feel.
And now, she had to fix it.
Avoidance
Alexander was everywhere.
Not intentionally, perhaps. But fate—or something cruelly similar—seemed determined to remind her of his presence.
At the café, his car was parked outside as she arrived for work.
At a client meeting, his company’s name was stamped on the documents.
At the bookstore, she caught sight of him before he saw her. And she turned and walked the other way.
She told herself she wasn’t avoiding him.
But deep down, she knew better.
A Tense Encounter
Fate was patient. But Alexander Sinclair was not.
“Are you going to pretend you don’t see me forever?”
The voice stopped her mid-step. Low, controlled, but carrying an edge of something unspoken.
She closed her eyes briefly before turning around. He was standing just a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching her with an expression that was too calm to be real.
“I’m not pretending,” she said evenly.
His lips curved slightly, but there was no humor in it. “No? You’ve been avoiding me since the gala.”
She exhaled. Of course, he noticed.
“I’ve been busy.”
His gaze sharpened. “And if I asked you to say that again while looking me in the eye?”
She hesitated—too long.
Alexander sighed, stepping closer, and suddenly, the air between them felt too thin, too charged.
“Tell me what’s really going on, Bella.”
Her stomach twisted at the sound of her name on his lips.
Because the truth was something she couldn’t say.
That being around him again was dangerous. That every time he looked at her like that, she felt herself slipping back into something she had spent years trying to escape.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” she said finally.
The words felt heavy in the space between them.
For the first time, Alexander didn’t have an immediate reply. He just… stared at her, as if waiting for her to take it back.
But she didn’t.
Instead, she took a step back. And then another.
“I mean it, Alex.” Her voice was quieter this time, but firm. “Whatever this is… it needs to stop.”
His Reaction
A muscle tightened in his jaw.
“You say that,” he murmured, “but do you really believe it?”
She swallowed, but said nothing.
His voice dropped lower. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t look at me like that.”
Like he still mattered. Like she was just as lost in this as he was.
She turned away before he could see the c***k in her composure.
“This conversation is over.”
And this time, she didn’t wait for his response.
She walked away.
But as she disappeared down the street, her chest ached in a way she wasn’t ready to name.
And Alexander, watching her retreat, clenched his fists.
Because he wasn’t sure which was worse—losing her again, or knowing she was the one choosing to walk away this time.
To Be Continued…
- Writer
