Forbidden Desire

Chapter 15: A taste of freedom

The city breathed a different kind of life at night—a rhythm that wasn’t dictated by rules, expectations, or the shadows of past mistakes. It was under this velvety sky, among the neon lights and faint scent of roasted coffee lingering in the air, that Talia felt something she hadn’t in a very long time: freedom.

She leaned against the railing of the rooftop bar, her dress fluttering gently in the breeze, her hair cascading down her back like dark silk. The music pulsed behind her, but she was somewhere else—mentally untethered, lost in a moment that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. Daniel stood beside her, sipping his drink casually, eyes scanning the horizon, though Talia could feel his attention was never far from her.

"You always get this quiet when you’re thinking too hard," he said, glancing sideways at her.

She gave a soft laugh. "Is it that obvious?"

He shrugged. "Only to me. You have this little crease between your brows."

She looked away, cheeks flushing despite herself. "I guess I just... haven’t done something like this in a while. Be out. Be... free."

Daniel shifted closer. "You deserve this. A night where you’re not someone’s possession or puppet. A night where you’re just Talia."

His words settled in her chest like warm honey. She stared out at the skyline, wondering when she had stopped being just herself and started living entirely for someone else. Logan’s world had consumed her—his needs, his pain, his secrets. And while Daniel had his own shadows, he offered something Logan never could: clarity.

"You know," she said, "I used to imagine nights like this when I was younger. Sitting alone on a rooftop, watching the city, drinking something too expensive for my paycheck. I thought it would make me feel powerful."

Daniel smiled. "And does it?"

"It makes me feel... awake."

They stood in silence for a while, the kind of silence that doesn’t beg to be filled. Eventually, Daniel broke it.

"You don’t have to go back to him, you know."

Talia turned to face him, her breath hitching. The softness in his eyes warred with the gravity in his voice. "It’s not that simple."

"It could be."

She looked down. The weight of her entanglement with Logan wasn’t just emotional—it was rooted in secrets, past promises, and things she had done that she wasn’t ready to admit.

Daniel reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered on her cheek. "What if we just left? You and me. No explanations, no goodbyes. Just... gone."

Talia’s heart pounded. The idea was dangerous, reckless—and deeply seductive. She didn’t answer him, but she didn’t pull away either.

Later that night, they found themselves in Daniel’s apartment. The walls were lined with books and art, warm and inviting—a sharp contrast to Logan’s sterile, minimalist prison.

Talia wandered toward the record player in the corner. "Vinyl? Really?"

"Hey, I’m a classic kind of guy," Daniel said, slipping a record from the shelf and placing it carefully.

When the music began, slow and soulful, Daniel held out his hand. "Dance with me."

Talia hesitated, then took his hand.

They moved slowly, close, the air thick with unspoken things. His hand rested on the small of her back, drawing her in until her head found his shoulder.

"Why do you care so much?" she whispered.

"Because I see you. The real you. Not the version you think you have to be."

His honesty made her chest ache. She looked up at him, and their lips met—not with urgency, but with a kind of reverence. It was the kind of kiss that demanded nothing but gave everything.

As their bodies moved from the dance floor to the couch, then to the bed, everything else melted away. Logan. The lies. The fear. In Daniel’s arms, she tasted freedom—not just from the man who’d stolen her past, but from the version of herself she’d been forced to become.

The night was slow and sacred. Every touch was an exploration, every sigh a confession. Daniel kissed her scars like prayers, worshipped the parts of her she’d hidden for years. Talia let herself feel, fully and without shame.

For the first time, she chose.

And that choice was Daniel.

Morning crept in like a secret, the light soft against the sheets tangled around them. Talia lay in the crook of Daniel’s arm, eyes tracing the patterns of light on the ceiling.

"You okay?" he murmured.

She nodded. "More than okay. Just... scared."

"Of what?"

She paused. "Of losing this. Of going back. Of Logan finding out."

Daniel propped himself up on one elbow. "Talia, I need to know something. Are you still in love with him?"

Her throat tightened. "I don’t know. Maybe I never was. Maybe I was just addicted to the way he made me feel—wanted, needed, trapped."

Daniel said nothing for a moment, then kissed her forehead. "Whatever you decide, I’ll be here. But don’t go back just because it’s easier than choosing yourself."

She looked at him, this man who had given her a glimpse of the life she could have. The life she deserved.

It was time to make a decision.

Back in her apartment later that day, the walls seemed to close in on her. Every photo, every note Logan had ever left, now felt suffocating. She sat on the edge of her bed and pulled out the box—the one she hadn’t opened in months. Inside were letters, small gifts, a dried rose, and a photo of her and Logan in happier times.

She stared at the picture for a long time.

Then she ripped it in half.

It didn’t fix everything. But it was a start.

Talia stood up, went to the mirror, and looked at herself—not the girl who was afraid, but the woman who had danced barefoot under city lights, who had laughed and loved without fear, who had tasted freedom and wanted more.

She wasn’t going to give that up.

Not again.