Chapter 11: Past that won't stay buried
1304 Words
The rain came down in soft sheets that evening, casting a melancholic haze over the city skyline. Emily stood by the large window in her apartment, arms wrapped around herself, watching droplets race down the glass like memories she couldn’t control. The kiss, the night, Logan’s touch—they haunted her more than she had imagined. She had never been the type to betray, but lately, she didn’t recognize herself anymore.
Daniel sat behind her on the couch, absorbed in some spreadsheet on his laptop. The light from the screen reflected on his glasses, making his face unreadable. He had been quiet lately, distant even, but Emily chalked it up to work stress. Or maybe it was her guilt clouding her perception.
“Do you want to order something?” he asked, not looking up.
Emily tore her gaze from the window. "No, I’m okay."
She moved toward him, craving a sense of normalcy. She sat beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t lean in either.
“I missed you today,” she said.
“I was just in meetings.”
They sat in silence. But it wasn’t comforting—it was brittle.
Emily's phone buzzed on the coffee table. A message. She knew who it was from before she even picked it up.
Logan: "I can't stop thinking about you. You don't belong in that life, Emily. You know you don't."
Her chest tightened. She quickly locked the screen, hoping Daniel hadn’t noticed.
But he had.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
She forced a smile. “Yeah, just a friend.”
A lie. The first real one.
Two days later, Emily met up with Ava, her best friend, at a quaint bistro tucked away in a quiet part of town. Ava was one of the few people Emily trusted completely, though even with her, she hadn’t shared everything.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” Ava said, sipping her latte.
“I haven’t.” Emily stirred her tea. “Everything’s getting complicated. I think I made a mistake.”
Ava raised a brow. “This about Logan?”
Emily nodded. “That night—it shouldn’t have happened. But I can’t stop thinking about it. About him.”
“You’ve always done the right thing, Em. Maybe once, you just needed to do the wrong one to figure out what you really want.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Ava leaned forward. “Is Daniel the one?”
Emily hesitated. That pause was loud.
“I love him,” she said. “But it doesn’t feel like enough anymore. Or maybe it’s me who’s changed.”
“You have every right to grow. You’ve been with him for what—five years?”
“Almost six.”
“And in all that time, he’s never asked you to move in, get engaged, build a future?”
Emily shook her head. “We talked about it. But then something always came up. Work. Money. Timing.”
“Meanwhile, Logan—"
Emily sighed. “He makes me feel... wanted. Like I’m alive. But he’s dangerous, Ava. Not in a violent way, but in how easily he gets under your skin.”
“Maybe it’s not danger. Maybe it’s passion.”
Later that night, Emily found herself driving aimlessly through the city. She didn’t want to go home to Daniel, to the quiet disappointment that seemed to float between them like smog. She ended up parked outside Logan’s penthouse.
She stared at the building, heart thudding. She hadn’t planned to see him. But here she was.
Before she could stop herself, she texted him.
Emily: “I’m outside.”
A few seconds later, he replied.
Logan: “Come up.”
The elevator ride felt like forever. She was shaking. With guilt. With anticipation. With something she couldn’t name.
Logan opened the door shirtless, his hair tousled, jeans slung low on his hips. The smell of his cologne hit her instantly—intoxicating, masculine, familiar. Her knees nearly buckled.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” he said.
“I didn’t either.”
They stood in silence for a beat, the tension thick and humming.
“You want to talk?” he asked.
“No,” she breathed.
And then they were on each other. Lips crashing, hands grasping, breath mingling. Clothes discarded in a frenzied trail toward the bedroom.
Under the silk sheets, she let go. Of fear. Of guilt. Of Daniel.
Logan worshipped her like he had memorized every inch of her skin. The way he whispered her name sent shivers down her spine. She didn’t feel used or dirty. She felt seen. Desired.
When it was over, they lay there in the dim light.
“I should go,” she said.
He pulled her closer. “Stay.”
She wanted to. God, she wanted to. But she knew what morning brought: the return of real life, and the man who didn’t know he was being betrayed.
Back at work the next day, Emily tried to pretend everything was normal. But her heart raced at every message ping. Logan was insistent, sending her voice notes, photos, even a poem.
Daniel, on the other hand, seemed more distant than ever.
That evening, Emily tried to bridge the gap.
“I’ve been thinking maybe we should go away. Just the two of us,” she said.
Daniel looked up. “You know I have the product launch next week.”
“It’s always something, isn’t it?” she whispered.
He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
But she couldn’t forget. Because now the comparison was inevitable. Logan, wild and unpredictable, made her feel alive. Daniel, steady and safe, made her feel like she was sleepwalking.
The first lie had been small. But now, they were growing.
A week later, the past reared its head in a way she never expected.
She was visiting her old neighborhood when she ran into Mrs. Westwood—Logan’s mother.
“Emily?” the older woman said, stunned. “My goodness, you’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.”
Emily forced a smile. “Mrs. Westwood, it’s been a long time.”
“I always wondered what happened to you after you left us. Logan never said.”
Emily’s stomach twisted. “He talks about me?”
Mrs. Westwood smiled. “Of course. You were his first real crush, you know.”
Emily’s face flushed. “I didn’t know.”
Mrs. Westwood studied her for a moment. “Be careful with Logan, dear. He’s passionate, but he’s not always... grounded.”
Emily nodded. “I’ll remember that.”
As she walked away, the weight of everything settled in her chest. The secrets. The silk sheets. The growing distance. The buried past wasn’t staying buried—it was clawing its way to the surface.
And Emily wasn’t sure who she was becoming anymore.
That night, Daniel found her on the couch, clutching a blanket and staring at the muted TV.
“Em?”
She looked up, eyes red. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you still see a future with me?”
He sat down. “What kind of question is that?”
“An honest one.”
Daniel didn’t answer right away. “I don’t know, Emily. Things haven’t felt the same lately. And I can’t figure out why.”
That was the second lie. Because deep down, she knew exactly why.
And as she curled up beside him, pretending everything was fine, she felt the fracture growing deeper. One that no amount of silk sheets or whispered apologies could mend.
The past wasn’t just haunting her.
It was consuming her.
- Writer
