Chapter Sixteen: The weekend away
1353 Words
Dante had spent weeks quietly planning the perfect escape for Maya.
A place far from the city, far from the office drama, far from Liam’s silent haunting presence.
A peaceful cabin tucked between the mountains and a still lake — somewhere he hoped she could finally breathe again.
He told her it was a “stress-relief weekend.”
But the truth was deeper:
He wanted her to feel safe again.
He wanted her to feel loved without needing to look over her shoulder.
He wanted her to know she was home — with him.
The Drive There
Maya spent the entire drive with her hand on top of his.
They talked about everything and nothing — their childhoods, their ambitions, how scary the world had felt these past few weeks.
Dante kissed the back of her hand at a stop sign, softly, tenderly, as if promising her a new beginning.
For a few hours, Liam didn’t exist.
What they didn’t know was that his car followed them from a distance…
headlights always a little too dim,
presence just a little too far to notice.
He studied the turns they took.
He studied the cabin Dante booked.
He studied the woman he believed he still owned.
The Cabin
The moment they arrived, the world felt lighter.
Dante carried their bags inside, teasing her about overpacking, and Maya laughed — a real laugh, one she hadn’t heard from herself in weeks.
They cooked together, danced barefoot on the wooden floor, and cuddled by the fire until she fell asleep on his chest.
For the first time… she didn’t dream of fear.
But outside, hidden in the trees, Liam watched the lights of the cabin.
He watched their shadows move inside.
He watched her silhouette against the window.
And every second, his obsession twisted deeper.
*THE LAST DAY*
The morning sunlight painted the lake gold.
They had breakfast on the deck, talking about future trips, future holidays — an actual future.
And for a moment, Maya allowed herself to believe she deserved happiness like this.
Later that afternoon, Dante realized he had left their wine cooler in the car.
He kissed her forehead gently.
“I’ll be back in two minutes, sweetheart.”
Maya smiled, humming softly as she set up their late lunch inside.
She never heard the footsteps behind her.
Liam Appears
A shadow moved across the room.
Maya froze.
Her heart stopped.
She turned slowly…
and Liam stood there — pale, shaking, eyes red and sunken, like he hadn’t slept in days.
“Maya,” he whispered.
And her blood ran cold.
“L-Liam… what are you doing here?”
He stepped forward, hands trembling.
“You left me,” he said, voice hollow. “You left me for him. You picked him over me. After everything I did for you.”
Maya backed away.
“Liam, listen to me—”
“NO!” he snapped, voice breaking.
“No one listens to me. No one cares how much I love you.”
The door creaked open behind him.
“Get away from her.”
Dante’s voice was low. Controlled. Deadly calm.
Liam turned around slowly, almost relieved.
“It’s you,” he said. “The reason she won’t look at me anymore.”
Dante stepped inside, hands raised but eyes sharp, protective.
“Liam, let her go. You don’t want to do this.”
Liam’s hand slipped into his jacket.
Maya gasped.
“Liam… please…”
He pulled out the gun.
*THE STANDOFF*
The room felt airless.
Maya’s breath came out in shallow, panicked waves.
Dante glanced at her for a split second — a silent promise that he would keep her safe — then looked back at Liam.
“You don’t want to hurt her,” Dante said softly.
“You love her. So let her go.”
Liam laughed — a broken, shaking sound.
“I can’t.”
“I can’t live without her. And she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand what she means to me.”
Tears fell down Maya’s cheeks.
“Liam, I care about you,” she whispered. “But this isn’t love. This is destroying you.”
He shook harder.
“No. No. If I can’t have you… no one can.”
“Liam—”
He turned the gun slightly toward Dante.
“YOU TOOK HER FROM ME!”
Dante moved instinctively — shielding Maya with his body.
“Stop!” she cried. “Please stop—”
Liam looked at her one last time, eyes full of heartbreak and madness.
“You were supposed to love me,” he whispered.
Dante took a small step forward.
“Just give me the gun, Liam. Don’t let this end like—”
But Liam’s fingers tightened around the trigger.
“I love you, Maya,” he said through tears.
“I love you so much… I can’t let you go.”
The gunshot shattered the air.
One shot.
Then another.
And then—
Silence.
*EPILOGUE — THE LAST BREATH*
Smoke curled through the cabin.
Maya’s screams echoed into the mountains, raw and agonizing.
Two bodies lay on the wooden floor — Dante reaching for her even in his final breath, Liam collapsed beside him, the gun fallen from his grasp.
The cabin, once filled with warmth and laughter, now held nothing but tragedy.
Maya fell to her knees between them, shaking uncontrollably, her hands stained with the blood of the only two men who ever loved her.
A love triangle that began with sweetness…
ended in ashes.
Her heart didn’t break.
It collapsed.
And the weekend that was meant to save her
became the memory that would haunt her forever.
*EPILOGUE — “AFTER THE FALL*
The days after the tragedy blurred into a colorless haze.
Maya barely left her bed.
Some mornings she woke up with tears already running down her cheeks.
Other days she didn’t wake up at all—not really. She just stared at the ceiling until the room turned dark again.
She barely ate.
Barely spoke.
Barely existed.
Her apartment felt like a ghost house—silent, hollow, heavy with memories that pressed on her chest until she couldn’t breathe.
Everywhere she looked, she saw Dante’s hands, Dante’s smile, the way he said her name like it was something soft.
And every night, without fail, the gunshots replayed in her head.
Some nights she cried until her body gave out.
Some nights she screamed into her pillow so no one would hear her.
Most nights, she just held herself and whispered, “I’m sorry,” into the darkness—over and over again.
Weeks passed.
The world kept moving, but she didn’t.
It wasn’t until she found one of Dante’s shirts at the bottom of her laundry basket—still faintly smelling like him—that she finally broke in a different way. She clutched it to her chest, sank onto the floor, and sobbed until there was nothing left inside her.
And in that empty, raw moment, she whispered:
“I’m still here. I’m still here because you loved me. I’ll try… for you.”
It wasn’t strength.
It wasn’t healing.
It was survival—slow, painful, uneven.
She began taking small steps:
• eating half a meal,
• opening the curtains,
• stepping outside on the balcony just to feel the sun,
• playing the playlist Dante once made for her.
Every step hurt.
Every breath stung.
But each one was a tiny promise.
She wasn’t living for herself yet.
She wasn’t ready for that.
But she lived for him.
For the love he gave her.
For the safety he fought for.
For the future he wanted her to have.
She carried him in everything she did—his warmth, his courage, his quiet devotion.
Some days she whispered to him,
“I hope you’re proud of me.”
And though the pain never fully vanished, she learned to stand again.
Slowly.
Softly.
A little more each day.
Because Dante saved her life.
And now, she was determined to live the rest of it
in his memory.
- Writer
