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835 Words
Ethan’s POV
The liquor burned his throat as he emptied another glass.
He hadn’t meant to drink this much, but tonight the weight was unbearable—his parents tightening the noose of the arranged marriage, Adrian stepping closer to Sim, Sim herself turning away from him.
The storm inside him needed quiet. And the bottle was the only silence he could find.
“You’ll kill yourself drinking like that,” Aira murmured, sliding into the seat beside him. Her own glass was half-empty, her cheeks flushed.
Ethan let out a bitter laugh. “Maybe that’d be easier.”
They drank together. The room spun. Her hand touched his when she reached for the bottle, and for a second he imagined it was Sim’s hand. He closed his eyes, and in the haze, he could almost hear Sim’s voice.
He didn’t remember who leaned closer first. He only remembered the taste of tears mixed with wine, the blur of movement, and the ache in his chest as he whispered a name he couldn’t hold back—
“Sim…”
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Aira’s POV
She knew it was wrong. Every second of it burned like guilt under her skin.
But she was drunk, and lonely, and tired of being the shadow of their story. Ethan was broken, and she wanted—just for a moment—to be the one who could comfort him.
When his lips found hers, her heart twisted. She knew he wasn’t kissing her. He was kissing the ghost of Sim. She heard it when he moaned Sim’s name against her neck.
Still, she didn’t stop.
Because for one night, even if it was built on lies, she could pretend he was hers.
And when dawn came, and Ethan lay asleep beside her, Aira pressed her fingers to her lips and felt something shift inside her.
Guilt. Yes. But also something more dangerous.
Because she was falling for him.
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Ethan’s POV
Morning light was cruel.
He sat at the edge of the bed, his head pounding, his stomach turning. Beside him, Aira stirred, the blanket slipping from her shoulder.
His chest constricted. Memories of the night rushed back—the desperation, the wine, the way he had whispered Sim’s name while holding someone else.
Ethan buried his face in his hands. What have I done?
Aira’s voice was soft, uncertain. “Ethan… about last night…”
He cut her off, his tone harsh. “It was a mistake.”
Her face crumpled, but he couldn’t let himself care. The only thing he felt was disgust—at himself, at the situation, at the betrayal he had added to the pile already separating him from Sim.
And yet, as he walked away, Aira’s eyes followed him with something that made his stomach churn even worse.
Longing.
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Aira’s POV
He regretted it. She saw it in his eyes.
But she couldn’t make herself regret it—not entirely. Because in that one night, Ethan hadn’t been his family’s puppet. He hadn’t been the boy tethered to Sim’s memory. He had been hers.
And she wanted more.
She hated herself for it, but the feeling only grew each time she replayed the way he had clung to her, desperate and lost. Yes, he had called Sim’s name. But he had needed her.
And wasn’t that love, in its own broken way?
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Sim’s POV
She didn’t know what had happened. Not yet.
But she felt something change. Ethan avoided her eyes more than before, his silence heavier, his guilt sharper when their paths crossed. Aira too had grown distant, her smiles forced, her words stumbling.
It was like watching shadows move behind a curtain—she couldn’t see the shapes, but she knew something was happening.
Her chest tightened with dread. A voice inside her whispered: He’s betraying you again.
And the worst part? She couldn’t tell if it was paranoia or the truth.
So she leaned harder into Adrian’s steady presence, because his honesty was the only thing she could still trust.
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Adrian’s POV
He saw it in Sim’s eyes—the doubt, the fear. Something was breaking her again, though she wouldn’t say what.
Adrian clenched his fists. He knew Ethan was still tangled in her heart, but he couldn’t stand watching her bleed for someone who kept cutting her.
One evening, when she sat silent, staring at her hands, Adrian finally spoke.
“Sim, whatever he’s done—whatever he’s hiding—you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve to keep suffering for him.”
Her lips trembled. “But what if… what if it’s my fault? What if I wasn’t enough?”
Adrian’s chest ached. He reached for her hand, firm, certain. “Don’t ever say that. You are enough. More than enough. He’s the one who failed you.”
For the first time, she didn’t pull her hand away.
And Adrian swore to himself that no matter what storm Ethan and Aira brewed, he wouldn’t let it drown her.
- Writer
