Mike sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor like it held the answers to every wrong decision he’d made. The clock ticked softly on the wall, each second a painful reminder of how fast things were unraveling.
Diana had fallen asleep, her hand still curled gently around his wrist before letting go. She had whispered something sweet just before drifting off, a memory of simpler times. But the weight on Mike's chest wasn’t going anywhere.
Karen’s naked silhouette. The doorway. The invitation. The wickedness.
He rubbed his hands down his face and let out a breath that had been sitting in his lungs all day.
He couldn’t keep pretending. This wasn’t just tension anymore—it was fire, and he was standing way too close.
He stood up, quietly pulled on a hoodie and sweatpants, and steppe
