Episode6
1127 Words
Leona hadn’t slept.
Not really.
She lay in her bed with the sheets tangled around her waist, one hand pressed to her stomach as if she could quiet the ache that kept waking her. Not the ache between her thighs. That was expected.
It was the ache behind her ribs that wouldn’t let her breathe.
Because she had kissed him like a woman starved.
Had fallen apart beneath him like a woman who still belonged to him.
And the worst part
She still wanted to.
When morning came, she forced herself out of bed.
Alora’s voice floated up from the garden. Laughter, sharp and bright.
Leona showered quickly, tying her curls in a loose bun. When she entered the kitchen, she froze.
Adrian was there. Wearing grey sweatpants, barefoot, standing behind the counter flipping pancakes with Alora standing on a stool beside him.
The sight was too domestic.
Too intimate.
Too much.
“Morning, Mommy!” Alora beamed.
Leona forced a smile. “Good morning, baby.”
Adrian turned slowly. His gaze flicked over her, then she held her robe tightly, face scrubbed clean but there was something unreadable in his eyes.
“Good morning,” he said, voice husky.
She didn’t answer.
Just walked to the coffee machine like the night before hadn’t happened.
“I made pancakes,” Adrian said after a pause.
“I see that,” Leona replied, pouring coffee with shaking hands.
“I tried your recipe,” he added. “Cinnamon. Nutmeg. No sugar.”
She glanced at him. “You remembered that?”
He hesitated. “I didn’t. Alora told me.”
The girl giggled. “Daddy burned the first one.”
Leona forced a laugh. “Of course he did.”
Adrian cleared his throat. “There’s extra if you’re hungry.”
“I’m fine.” She took a long sip of coffee.
The air was thick with everything unspoken.
And then softly, so only Leona could hear Adrian said:
“You weren’t fine last night.”
Her cup trembled. She set it down hard.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
“You have to.”
He stepped closer, voice low. “I won’t.”
Alora's laughter broke the tension. “Mommy, eat with us, please.”
Leona swallowed hard.
For her daughter, she sat.
But her eyes didn’t meet his once.
Later, in the study, Adrian paced like a caged animal.
Blaise leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“You look like s**t,” Blaise said flatly.
Adrian exhaled. “Stay out of this.”
“You slept with her.”
Adrian’s eyes snapped up. “It’s none of your business.”
“Oh, but it is,” Blaise said smoothly. “Because if this goes south again, I’m the one who cleans it up.”
“She’s my wife.”
“She was your wife.” Blaise’s tone sharpened. “You lost her once. Do you think one night in your bed erases that?”
Adrian ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I think.”
Blaise stepped closer. “You think you love her. But you don’t even remember why she left. Or what you did to her. You’re rewriting history, Adrian. And that’s dangerous.”
Adrian’s voice dropped. “I’m not rewriting anything. I’m trying to remember.”
Blaise’s eyes darkened. “Then remember this—
She didn’t just leave you. She survived you.”
Outside, Leona watched Alora chase butterflies in the garden.
Her throat tightened.
Her chest ached.
Because seeing Adrian be a father, soft, patient, was the cruelest kind of torment. It was everything she’d once begged for. Everything he’d refused her. Everything he now gave so effortlessly, too late.
And worse
She could feel herself cracking.
She could still feel his hands on her skin.
His mouth on her neck.
His voice against her ear.
And she wanted it again.
God, she wanted it.
That night, there was a knock at her door.
She didn’t answer.
The knock came again, softer this time.
“Leona,” Adrian’s voice came through. “Please.”
She hesitated, then opened it a c***k.
He stood there in a black shirt and slacks, no tie, hair tousled. His eyes were tired. His jaw is tight.
“Can I come in?”
She hesitated. “Why?”
“Because I can’t keep walking past your door pretending I don’t want to be inside.”
Her breath caught.
She opened the door wider.
They sat opposite each other on the edge of her bed. Neither spoke at first.
Finally, Adrian said, “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“About what?”
“You. Us. Last night.”
Leona looked away. “It was a mistake.”
“It didn’t feel like one.”
“Because you don’t remember the damage.”
Adrian’s voice broke. “Then tell me.”
She stared at him. “You want to know?”
“Yes.”
“You shut me out,” she whispered. “You chose power over us. Over me. I begged you to come home. To be present. But all I got was headlines and cold sheets.”
He swallowed hard.
“You never touched me like a wife,” she continued, voice shaking. “Only like a possession. You made me invisible, Adrian.”
Tears burned her eyes. She stood, turning away.
“I left because if I’d stayed, there’d have been nothing left of me to give my daughter.”
Silence.
Then softly:
“I remember now.”
She turned, stunned.
“I remember you crying in the doorway,” he whispered. “I remember your hands shaking when you packed the bags. I remember wanting to stop you… but not knowing how to choose you over everything else.”
Leona’s breath hitched.
“And now?” she whispered.
Adrian stood, moving closer.
“Now I’d burn everything else down just to choose you.”
His lips hovered near hers.
Breath mingling. Hearts racing.
She wanted to pull away.
She should have.
But her body betrayed her.
Their mouths met—soft at first, then desperate.
Fingers tangled in hair, clothing falling away as he kissed her neck down to her chest.
“Tell me to stop,” Adrian gasped against her skin.
She couldn’t.
Because in that moment, all she could remember was how it used to feel to be wanted without condition.
“Please,” he whispered. “Tell me this isn’t real.”
But it was.
It was so real that her chest hurt.
So when he laid her down and kissed her like the world was ending
She didn’t fight it.
Because some memories are too powerful to rewrite.
- Writer
