Clarifying

1

The evening was warm, the air carrying the scent of roses and freshly cut grass. A soft breeze whispered through the open garden, rustling the delicate strings of golden lights that hung above. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses blended into the low hum of music, wrapping the night in a gentle, celebratory glow.

Cress should have felt nothing but joy.

It was her and Deon’s first wedding anniversary, a milestone that should have been filled with nothing but warmth, gratitude, and the certainty that she had made the right choice. And yet, as she stood at the edge of the garden, fingers absently twisting the bracelet on her wrist, an unfamiliar unease crept beneath her skin.

She took a slow breath, brushing the feeling aside. It’s just the pressure of the night, she told herself. Anniversaries carried weight—expectation. It was natural to feel something.

And yet, this wasn’t the feeling she had anticipated.

She stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the stone pathway as she made her way through the crowd. Familiar faces turned to greet her, offering warm smiles, congratulations, and teasing remarks about how quickly a year had passed.

“Cress, you look stunning,” one of Deon’s aunts said, her eyes shining with approval.

“Thank you.” Cress smiled, smoothing her dress. “I still can’t believe it’s been a year already.”

“It goes by faster than you think,” the woman chuckled. “Before you know it, you’ll be celebrating ten years.”

Ten years.

Cress swallowed, nodding politely before excusing herself. She scanned the space for Deon, eager to find his grounding presence. And then, she saw him—standing near the long dining table, laughing as he poured a drink for a guest.

For a moment, she allowed herself to take him in. Deon was effortlessly charming, his tall frame exuding the quiet confidence that had drawn her to him in the first place. His suit was perfectly tailored, his dark hair neatly styled, and when he turned, his smile was the kind that could put anyone at ease.

This was her husband.

The man she had chosen.

The man she loved.

So why did her hands feel unsteady?

She exhaled, shaking the thought away as she moved toward him. But just as she reached the table, Deon’s voice carried over the music, light and full of warmth.

“Cress, there you are,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I want you to meet someone.”

Cress followed his gaze—and then, time stopped.

A familiar face.

A pair of dark, knowing eyes.

A ghost from a past she thought she had buried.

Gab.

Her breath caught in her throat.

For a moment, the world around her blurred—the golden glow of the lights, the soft murmur of voices, the clinking of glasses—all of it faded into a dull hum. Because standing before her, looking just as stunned as she felt, was the one person she never expected to see tonight.

Gabriel Hayes.

Her ex.

The man she had once loved.

The man she had convinced herself she had let go of.

Gab’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those eyes she had once memorized like poetry—held something familiar. Confusion. Shock. Something else she couldn’t quite place.

“Cress,” he said, her name barely more than a breath.

She swallowed hard. He shouldn’t be here. Why is he here?

Before she could find her voice, Deon spoke again, oblivious to the weight of the moment.

“Crazy, right? Turns out my wife and my older brother already know each other.” He laughed, clapping a hand on Gab’s shoulder. “Small world.”

Brother.

The word hit her like a punch to the stomach.

She tore her gaze from Gab, staring at Deon as if she had misheard him. “Your… brother?”

Deon grinned. “Yeah. We have different moms, but same dad. Gab was raised mostly by his mother’s side of the family, so we didn’t grow up together.”

Cress felt her heartbeat hammer against her ribs. This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t real.

Gab was Deon’s brother?

How had she never known? How had fate twisted their lives so cruelly that the man she had once given her heart to was now bound to her in the most impossible way?

Gab’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he remained composed. “I didn’t realize you were Deon’s wife,” he said, his voice carefully measured.

Cress forced a smile, though it felt like her body wasn’t truly her own. “And I didn’t realize you were his brother.”

Deon chuckled, pouring Gab another drink. “Well, I guess now you do.”

Cress barely registered the rest of the conversation. Her mind raced, memories colliding with the present in a way that made her feel lightheaded.

She thought she had moved on. Thought she had closed the door to that part of her life.

But then, why did seeing Gab again feel like something waking up inside her?

Why did her hands feel cold, her stomach tight, her heart unsteady?

And why—when she finally dared to meet his gaze again—did it feel like he was asking himself the exact same questions?

---

Later That Night

The celebration continued, but Cress was only half-present.

She played the role of the perfect wife—laughing at Deon’s jokes, thanking their guests for coming, holding his hand as they cut into their anniversary cake. She smiled, she conversed, she did everything a woman in love was supposed to do.

But beneath it all, she felt Gab’s presence like a whisper against her skin.

It didn’t matter that they were across the garden from each other. It didn’t matter that they barely exchanged words beyond pleasantries.

She could still feel him.

It was in the way his gaze would linger on her just a second too long before looking away. The way his posture shifted slightly whenever she moved closer. The way her body betrayed her, hyper-aware of his every movement, his every breath.

She hated it.

She hated that he still had this kind of power over her.

Because she had loved Deon. She loved Deon.

Didn’t she?

She drained the last of her champagne, ignoring the way her pulse quickened when she caught Gab watching her from across the room.

This was dangerous.

This was something that should have stayed buried in the past.

But as the night stretched on, as stolen glances turned into something heavier, more unspoken—Cress realized the truth she had been avoiding all evening.

The past was no longer buried.

And the worst part?

A part of her didn’t want it to be.

The night had stretched long, filled with laughter and celebration, but now, the house was quiet. Most of the guests had left, save for a few lingering voices in the distance. The garden lights still flickered outside, casting a soft golden glow through the sheer curtains of the estate.

Cress felt the exhaustion settle into her bones, yet her mind was wide awake.

She should have been in bed with Deon, wrapped in the warmth of their anniversary, basking in the love they had celebrated tonight. But instead, she was here—standing at the doorway of one of the guest rooms, her fingers trembling against the handle.

Because inside that room was Gab.

And she had no idea why she was here.

Or maybe she did. Maybe she just didn’t want to admit it.

Her breath was uneven as she slowly pushed the door open. The dim light from the bedside lamp bathed the space in shadows, illuminating the broad figure standing near the window.

Gab turned at the sound of the door, his expression unreadable.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said quietly, though there was no anger in his voice.

Cress swallowed. “Neither should you.”

For a long moment, silence stretched between them, thick with something unspoken. Something dangerous.

Gab exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Cress…” He hesitated, then let out a quiet laugh, humorless and strained. “I don’t even know what to say to you.”

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her as if sealing them into a moment that shouldn’t exist. “Then don’t say anything.”

He watched her carefully, his gaze searching hers for an answer she wasn’t sure she had.

“Did Deon ever know?” she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Gab frowned. “Know what?”

“About us. Back then.”

Gab shook his head. “No. He never knew.”

Cress let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I didn’t either. About you being his brother.”

A bitter smile tugged at Gab’s lips. “Fate’s cruel like that.”

Fate.

That’s what this felt like, didn’t it? A cruel twist of fate that had led them back to each other when they were supposed to be nothing more than memories.

She should leave.

She should turn around, walk out of this room, go back to Deon, and pretend this night never happened.

But then Gab took a slow step toward her.

And she didn’t move.

Didn’t stop him.

Didn’t stop herself.

His gaze flickered to her lips before meeting her eyes again, and that was all it took.

A sharp breath. A heartbeat.

And then, the distance between them was gone.

His lips crashed against hers, and Cress didn’t know who moved first—if it was him, if it was her, or if it had always been inevitable.

Her hands found his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he backed her against the door. The kiss was nothing like she remembered—because this wasn’t the past. This wasn’t them as young lovers, full of hope and naivety.

This was something raw. Desperate.

A mistake that neither of them could seem to stop making.

Gab’s hands roamed down her body, mapping familiar curves with new intent. His fingers slid beneath the thin straps of her dress, pushing them off her shoulders as his lips traced a burning path down her throat.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against her skin.

Cress’s breath hitched. She should. She needed to.

But when he lifted his head, meeting her gaze with that same intensity that had once unraveled her completely, the words never came.

Instead, she whispered, “Don’t.”

And just like that, the last thread of restraint snapped.