CHAPTER 11- FALLING
591 Words
Kelvin – 5:42 AM
He stood at her window, shirtless, cigarette between two fingers, but he didn’t light it.
The sun hadn’t risen yet. Her apartment was still. Too still.
Behind him, Victoria slept—soft breaths tangled in the sheets they’d ruined together just hours ago.
And he should have stayed. God, he wanted to.
But the way she looked at him last night—like she saw past every wall he’d spent years building—it terrified him more than anything else ever had.
He ran a hand through his hair, swallowing the tight knot in his throat. His body still burned with her scent, his skin marked by her nails, his lips swollen from the kisses he hadn’t wanted to stop.
But this—what he felt now—was more dangerous than desire.
It was need.
It was the aching, unfamiliar realization that she wasn’t just another woman.
She was his woman.
And that meant she had the power to destroy him.
His gaze drifted back to the bed. She had curled into the pillow he used, wearing only his shirt.
It was the most beautiful and terrifying thing he’d ever seen.
He backed away slowly, grabbing his hoodie from the floor and pulling it over his head.
Before walking out the door, he paused—one last look.
“Don’t wait for me,” he whispered under his breath.
But the truth was…
He hoped she would.
---
Victoria – 8:17 AM
She reached out blindly.
The sheets beside her were cold.
Her fingers closed around nothing.
The ache hit her chest before her eyes even opened.
He was gone.
Again.
She sat up slowly, Kelvin’s scent still all over her skin. The soreness between her thighs a reminder of everything he did to her last night. Everything they were in the dark. But daylight had a cruel way of exposing truths.
And the truth was…
She was falling.
Even if she didn’t want to.
Even if he made it impossible to hold onto him.
She slid off the bed and walked into the kitchen. Everything from last night still haunted the air—the broken dishes, the moans, the whispered pleas.
Don’t fall for anyone else, he had said.
But how could she, when his touch still trembled through her bones?
Then she saw it—his hoodie.
He had left it draped over the chair like a message he didn’t know how to speak.
She picked it up slowly, pressing her face into the fabric.
She loves his scent and everything about him.
---
Ethan – 9:06 AM
His gym bag thudded to the floor as he threw punches into the boxing bag like it owed him something.
Each strike a memory.
Each swing a confession he never got to say.
She had chosen Kelvin.
Again.
But he wasn't angry at her.
He was angry at himself—for always being the safe choice. The friend. The one who held her hand when others broke her. The one who gave, and gave, and gave—while she looked for danger in someone else’s arms.
But not anymore.
If she wanted fire, he’d burn.
If she wanted strength, he’d give her his fists and his heart.
As he landed one last blow, breathless and sweating, Ethan stared at his reflection in the cracked gym mirror.
No more sidelines.
He wiped his face with a towel, heart pounding.
“I’m not losing her to him,” he said aloud.
And this time—he meant it.
- Writer
