The silence after the kiss is worse than the kiss itself.
It clings to me long after Asher steps away, long after his hand drops from my waist like it burned him. Long after his eyes—dark, conflicted, almost feral—look anywhere but at me.
I stand there for a second too long, heart pounding, lips still tingling, trying to understand how something that felt so inevitable could be cut off so cleanly.
“Selene,” he says, low and strained. My name sounds like a warning. Or a plea.
Then he turns and walks away.
No explanation. No apology. No acknowledgment of what just happened.
The door closes behind him with a quiet finality that echoes through my chest.
I don’t move until my legs start shaking.
⸻
That night, sleep doesn’t come easily.
Every time I close my eyes, I feel it again—the w
