Chapter 8
1159 Words
The words wouldn’t stop echoing.
What you believe about Ezra is a lie. Beneath the charm lies something far more dangerous. He is the real snake—you will soon uncover the truth.
They repeated in Liana’s head like a chant, louder with every second she stood frozen in the corridor. Her heart hammered against her ribs, breath shallow, fingers numb around her phone.
“Liana.”
Roman’s voice cut through the noise.
“Liana.”
She blinked, the world snapping back into focus. Roman was standing in front of her now, closer than before, his brows drawn together in concern and suspicion.
“What did the message say?” he asked.
“It’s nothing,” she replied too quickly.
Roman didn’t believe her. She could see it in the way his gaze dropped to her hand, to the phone she was clutching like a lifeline.
Before she could react, he reached out and caught her wrist—not roughly, but firmly—and tilted the screen toward himself.
“Roman—”
Too late.
His eyes scanned the message.
For half a second, his face was unreadable.
Then, to her complete shock, his mouth curved into a slow, unsettling smile.
She pulled her hand back hard. “Why are you smiling?” she demanded. “Nothing about that is funny.”
Roman lifted his gaze to hers, something dark and knowing flickering behind it. “Because,” he said carefully, “this isn’t as random as you think.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” he said, lowering his voice, "you may think I’ve been the w***e but someone else is really the true w***e which you never know.”
Her chest tightened. “You don’t get to tell me anything. And mind you, Ezra isn't a w***e like you!”
Before he could respond, her phone rang again.
Ezra.
Her breath caught.
She answered instantly. “Ezra?”
The noise on the other end was loud—music, laughter, clinking glasses. His voice came through slurred, uneven.
“Liana,” he said, dragging her name like it weighed too much on his tongue. “I need you.”
Alarm shot through her. “Where are you?”
“A bar,” he laughed softly. “I don’t know the name. I just… I didn’t want to be alone.”
Her grip tightened on the phone. “Have you been drinking?”
A pause. Then, quieter, broken. “I shouldn’t have.”
She didn’t think so. She didn’t hesitate.
“I’m coming,” she said. “Stay where you are.”
She hung up and turned, already moving.
Roman held her arm. “What’s happening?”
“Ezra’s drunk,” she said. “ I need to go.”
Roman’s jaw clenched. “I’ll come with you.”
“No,” she snapped. “This doesn’t concern you.”
He stood still as he saw her leave.
The bar was dim, humid with spilled alcohol and sweat. Liana spotted Ezra immediately… slumped over the counter, shoulders heavy, glass dangling loosely in his fingers.
“Ezra,” she said, rushing to him.
He looked up, eyes unfocused, then smiled when he saw her. A real smile. Soft. Devastating.
“You came,” he murmured.
“Of course I did.” She slipped an arm around him, steadying his weight as he nearly slid off the stool. “You shouldn't be doing this, Ezra.”
“Only because I’m nothing to you,” he replied, laughing weakly.
She paid the bartender quickly, apologizing under her breath, then struggled to lift Ezra to his feet. He leaned heavily into her, head dropping against her shoulder.
“I don’t deserve you,” he muttered.
Her heart twisted. “Let’s get you home.”
Outside, rain had started falling…thick, relentless sheets soaking the pavement, blurring the city lights. She guided Ezra to her car, fumbling with the keys while he swayed beside her.
“I love you,” he said suddenly.
She froze.
“I really do,” he continued, voice thick, broken. “And you don’t deserve someone like Roman. He doesn’t know how to love without destroying.”
Her throat tightened. “Ezra, you’re drunk.”
“But I’m not wrong,” he insisted, lifting a shaky hand and brushing her cheek with his thumb. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes. “I just want to have enough.”
She swallowed hard and gently lowered his hand. “Let’s get you home.”
Meanwhile, Roman had followed her, peeping across the street, standing beneath the awning of a closed shop, rain plastering his hair onto his forehead as he watched them.
Every touch.
Every word.
Every tear.
It was carved into him like glass.
Ezra's apartment was quiet, dark. Liana helped him inside, her muscles aching as she guided him down the hallway and into his bedroom.
“Easy,” she murmured, easing him onto the bed.
He turned suddenly. And vomited.
Shock hit first. Then instinct.
She stepped back just in time, but it still splashed onto her blouse and arms. She barely reacted, grabbing tissues, helping him roll onto his side, wiping his face, holding his hair back as he retched again.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, even as disgust and sadness tangled in her chest.
“It’s okay,” she said again.
When he finally settled, breathing uneven but calm, she cleaned herself up as best she could and returned to the bedside.
She stood there for a long moment, watching him sleep.
The unknown message burned her mind again.
Is he really the real snake?
Her chest tightened.
Did she really know Ezra?
Or had she clung to the idea of him because she felt safe around him?
The thought scared her.
She turned to leave.
Ezra shifted suddenly, reaching out and catching her wrist. “Don’t go,” he murmured.
She hesitated. Then slowly sat on the edge of the bed.
Minutes passed.
Her head dipped.
She didn't know as sleep claimed her before she realized it.
—
Still outside, Roman stood in the rain.
He had followed them without thinking. Without planning.
From the open upstairs window, he saw everything.
Liana fell asleep on Ezra’s chest.
Ezra’s arm loosely around her back.
The quiet intimacy of it.
Roman’s chest burned. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud and erratic, drowning out the rain.
Jealousy twisted into something raw, violent.
His vision blurred.
The world tilted.
Pain exploded in his chest.
Then….
When Roman opened his eyes, the ceiling above him was white. Too white. Machines beeped softly around him. His throat was dry, his body heavy, unmoving.
A nurse leaned over him. “Sir? Can you hear me?”
His mind reeled.
Hospital.
How?
His heart began to race again as his memory slammed back into him.
Liana.
Ezra.
The window.
The rain.
“What… happened?” he rasped.
- Writer
