Entangled in Lust

11. A Love Once Forbidden

Kevin and Veronica spent the night together in a hotel not far from the city center. After the kiss they shared in the school library—full of longing and old wounds—there was a kind of silence that followed them. Not awkward, but thick with memories and unfinished feelings.

The hotel room was warm, bathed in soft amber light. Once the door closed, time didn’t seem to move the same way. They were pulled under a current they had resisted for so long. One embrace led to a kiss. One kiss unraveled into years of longing. They didn’t talk much. Just breaths. Just touches that remembered the way home.

Veronica missed Kevin. Missed the way he touched her, held her, kissed her. Missed the way he looked at her like she was the only woman who ever existed. They didn’t just cling to each other in bed, but also in the steamy bathroom, on the soft couch with half-thrown blankets, even on the small table that nearly toppled under their urgency. Like two people who knew this was wrong, but were too tired to reject something that felt right.

They finally fell asleep at three in the morning. Their bodies exhausted, yet still entangled. Kevin drifted off with his hand wrapped around Veronica’s fingers, his face serene, as if that night had brought him the only peace he’d known in years.

At around nine, Veronica woke up first. The curtain was half-open, letting sunlight crawl gently across Kevin’s bare skin. She sat up slowly, letting the sheet cover her to the chest. She looked at his face... and the world they had buried came rising back.

She touched his cheek. There were lines now that hadn’t been there before. But the softness in his eyes, even in sleep, remained. She took a deep breath, equal parts relief and ache.

"I’m sorry... for everything," she whispered, though he couldn’t hear.

She thought she was protecting him by leaving. But all she did was leave behind a wound that never healed—in his heart, and in hers. She leaned back against the headboard and let the silence stretch. She didn’t know what the end of this would look like. Whether tomorrow would bring ruin. But in that morning moment... she felt whole again. If only briefly.

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Flashback — Twenty-Five Years Ago

Veronica was nineteen then. A literature student with long wavy hair, riding her bike to campus in pleated skirts and carrying notebooks full of poetry. Kevin was her teaching assistant, four years older, with a smile that always came slower than his words—but stayed longer in her mind.

Their first conversation wasn’t in class, but in the library. She was sitting cross-legged between dusty shelves when he offered her a Sylvia Plath collection no one had borrowed in years. From there, it unfolded: accidental lunches became routine, poetry discussions turned into heart-sharing, shy glances into held hands.

They fell in love—slowly but deeply. But that love always lived in the shadows behind the grand windows of her family’s estate. Her father, a respected property magnate, never approved of Kevin.

"He’s not from our world, Nica," he said.

Kevin was just the son of a schoolteacher and a used book seller. For her father, love wasn’t just feeling—it was reputation.

Back then, Veronica believed love could break through any wall. But her family’s walls were too high. They lasted almost two years, in secret—through notes slipped inside textbooks, through hurried hugs behind campus buildings.

Then came the night everything fell apart.

Veronica ran away from home. She carried a small bag with a few clothes, old letters, and the address of Kevin’s boarding house. She wanted to see him that night. Tell him she had chosen him. That she was ready to let it all go.

But fate intervened.

On the way, a black car stopped ahead of her. Her older brother, Edward, stepped out of the driver’s seat.

"Get in," Edward said, coldly.

"I have somewhere I need to be," she replied, voice trembling.

"Get in, Nica."

With no real choice, she did. The air in the car was tense. Edward drove in silence until they turned into a narrow alley—the one that led to Kevin’s place.

Veronica's eyes widened. "You know where he lives?"

Edward didn’t look at her. "Papa sent me. Said to make sure you don’t shame the family."

The car stopped a few meters from the gate. Veronica saw Kevin sitting on a bench, looking at his watch. Waiting.

Edward sighed, his voice sharp. "If you get out of this car, I swear he won’t wake up tomorrow."

"Edward!"

"Don’t test me. You know I can."

Her body shook. "You wouldn’t."

"I would. You’re my sister. You carry our name. And you will not disgrace it."

Tears spilled down her face. Her hand reached for the door handle—then froze. She looked at Kevin—still waiting. Still believing.

But this world was too cruel.

She bit her lip, hard enough to draw blood. She dropped her hand, shut the door.

"Take me home," she whispered.

Edward said nothing. The engine started. That night, their love didn’t end with goodbye. It ended with fear.

She never saw Kevin again. Only sent one final letter. Two lines:

"I chose my family. I’m sorry. Don’t look for me."

And just like that... their first love was gone.

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Cutaway — Kevin, Waiting in Silence

Kevin sat on the wooden bench, holding a poem Veronica gave him a week ago. He checked his watch again.

"She said she’d come. I still have her poem. Almost an hour now. Maybe... her father found out. Maybe she changed her mind. But my heart still wants to believe."

The night air bit his skin. But it wasn’t the cold that made him shiver.

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Back to the Present — Hotel Room

Veronica stared at her reflection in the window. Her hair was shorter now. Her skin not as bright. The girl with fire in her eyes was gone. In her place was a woman learning to live with choices she never truly made.

If loving someone you once had is a sin... then let me sin for one night. This world stopped giving me space to be honest long ago.

She turned to face Kevin.

"Do I deserve to feel whole again... even just for a moment?"

That morning, time didn’t move. Only memories did. And hopes long buried by a family name.

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After the Morning — Hotel Bathroom

Veronica walked into the bathroom. The sound of the shower filled the room. Warm water spilled over her skin but couldn’t wash away what lived too deep. Eyes closed, face cupped in her hands, her mind spun.

Could she really do this? Was she ready to reopen old wounds?

Then—arms wrapped around her waist from behind. Warm. Gentle. Questioning. She opened her eyes slowly.

"What are you thinking about?" Kevin whispered.

She lowered her head slightly. "My family... and what I’m going to do with my life."

Kevin turned her around. Now they faced each other—naked, under the steady stream of warm water. Their eyes met in silence.

"Come live with me," Kevin murmured. "Let’s continue what we once lost."

Veronica shook her head, not as rejection, but because the answer hadn’t come yet.

"I can’t say yes... or no. But..."

She touched his cheek.

"You’re very sweet."

Then they kissed under the shower. This time not rushed, not desperate. But warm. Deep. Their bodies met again, held not by lust—but by memory, by something more tender.

Yet even in that moment, Veronica still didn’t know what to do next. Loving someone is sometimes easier than surviving reality. That morning, their love had no clear form. But she knew one thing for sure—Kevin had never truly left.

In that wet, quiet embrace, Veronica realized: maybe this wasn’t about restarting the past. Maybe it was about redeeming it. Could love grow again from ruins she once walked away from?

She didn’t know.

But Kevin closed his eyes and kissed her forehead, as if to say: "You don’t have to answer today. Just stay."



He knew the woman in his arms wasn’t the girl from twenty-five years ago. But he still loved her—in a way that was quieter now, more broken, but deeper than ever.