Chapter 7: What We Chose Anyway
609 Words
Weeks passed.
Roman kept his word — no texts, no appearances, no notes. Ella sank into routine. Classes, assignments, Brian, Leila. She smiled where she was supposed to, showed up where expected, and disappeared when no one was looking.
But she wasn’t okay.
Not really.
Because every time Brian held her hand, she remembered a different grip.
Every time she kissed him, she tasted absence.
Roman’s absence lived inside her like an ache. A bruise that never faded.
One Friday evening, Leila dragged her to a family event — her cousin’s engagement dinner. Ella tried to back out, but Leila insisted.
“There’ll be food, dancing, good music. Come on, it’s been ages since you dressed up.”
So she did.
Hair braided fresh, soft eyeliner, maroon bodycon that hugged her curves in ways she hadn’t dared in weeks. She wanted to look like she’d moved on — even if she hadn’t.
The venue was glowing, strings of lights blinking across the garden. Laughter drifted in waves. Ella forced herself to mingle, to chew, to sip juice without choking.
She hadn’t expected to see him.
But when Roman stepped onto the balcony, black shirt rolled to the elbows, his eyes scanning the crowd…
Their gaze locked.
And the world stilled.
He didn’t walk toward her.
Not immediately.
He watched.
Waited.
Until the noise around her became white static and the only sound she heard was her own heartbeat.
Then he moved.
Their steps met halfway, behind a pillar, away from the lights.
“You look different,” he said softly.
“You look tired,” she replied.
They stared at each other.
So much had been said in silence.
“I meant to stay away,” he said. “I tried.”
“So did I.”
Roman’s jaw flexed. “But I never stopped thinking about you. Every day. Every damn day.”
Ella’s throat tightened. “You said I should forget you.”
“I lied.”
He stepped forward, eyes dark, voice shaking. “I tried to protect you from me. But all I did was punish us both.”
She didn’t speak. Just looked up at him — face tilted slightly, lips parted, waiting for something… anything.
Then he kissed her.
Not like before.
This kiss was desperate — full of regret and longing, apology and desire. His hands cupped her face, fingers threading into her braids like he’d missed the texture of her.
She moaned softly, clinging to his chest.
He pulled her into the shadows, breath hot against her ear. “Tell me to stop.”
She didn’t.
His hands slid down her back, gripping her waist, pressing her against the wall. His lips traced down her neck to her collarbone, slow and reverent.
“Ella…” he whispered, like a prayer.
She reached under his shirt, palms pressed to bare skin. He groaned.
Clothes shifted.
He lifted her gently, cradling her against the cool stone as their bodies met. Slow. Deep. Intense.
It wasn’t just lust now.
It was something far more dangerous.
Need.
They moved together like they were reclaiming something they’d lost — hips rocking, breaths catching, his hand muffling her soft cry as the first wave hit her.
He didn’t stop.
He held her until she fell apart in his arms again, trembling and breathless.
When it was over, he kissed her forehead.
“I don’t know how this ends,” he murmured. “But I know I’m not letting go again.”
Ella leaned her head against his chest.
She didn’t know how it would end either.
But for once, she wasn’t afraid to stay in the moment.
- Writer
