The First Crack
672 Words
Aria couldn’t sleep.
Again.
The words Liam had said earlier kept looping in her head like a haunting whisper:
> “You’re the one thing I can’t afford to lose—so I keep you where no one can touch you.”
What the hell did that even mean?
She tossed the blanket off and padded quietly toward the kitchen. Maybe chamomile tea would soothe the storm in her chest.
But as she rounded the corner—
She stopped cold.
Liam stood shirtless at the kitchen counter, the dim light washing over his skin, highlighting every hard edge of him. He was drinking something — whiskey maybe — lost in thought.
Their eyes met.
Something flickered.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
She hesitated. “No. You?”
“Same,” he said, voice low, like the hour demanded silence.
Aria moved to the opposite counter, poured hot water into a mug, trying not to look at him — but failing.
There was something in the air tonight.
Something unspoken. Unraveled.
---
They ended up sitting on the couch in the living room — both barefoot, quiet, unwilling to go back to their separate rooms.
Liam sipped his drink. Aria held her tea close, not because she needed it — but because she needed something to hold on to.
“I never hated you,” Liam said suddenly.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
“After everything. After we stopped talking. After the arrangement was forced. I never hated you.”
Aria stared at him. Her throat felt dry.
“You treated me like I didn’t exist,” she whispered. “For years.”
“I was trying to protect what little sanity I had left.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “By becoming everything you once swore you’d never be?”
He looked at her sharply. But didn’t deny it.
---
Silence again.
Then he asked quietly, “Do you ever regret it?”
She frowned. “Regret what?”
“Saying yes to this marriage.”
Her heart thudded.
> Every day.
And yet… not at all.
Aria didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Not when her emotions were crashing into each other.
Liam put his glass down and leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“You drive me insane,” he muttered.
She blinked. “Excuse me?”
He turned to look at her — really look.
His voice dropped.
“You walk around this house like a ghost I can’t touch. You speak like you’re not allowed to feel. And you look at me like I’m the enemy.”
Her breath caught.
“Maybe because you are,” she whispered.
Their eyes locked.
> 🔥 The air shifted.
Liam slowly reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
His fingers brushed her skin — and it felt like lightning.
He didn’t pull away.
Neither did she.
“I don’t know how to be good to you,” he said, voice raw. “But I want to.”
Aria’s heartbeat roared in her ears. Her chest rose and fell too fast.
“You don’t have to be good,” she whispered. “Just… real.”
He leaned closer.
His hand now cupped her cheek.
Her lips parted.
> Their foreheads touched.
Their breaths tangled.
And then… his lips brushed hers.
Soft. Tentative. Barely there.
But it broke something inside her.
She kissed him back — hard.
The heat between them ignited, raw and messy.
Her hands fisted into his hair. His arms pulled her onto his lap. The tea mug shattered on the floor, forgotten.
Clothes stayed on — for now. But hands didn’t behave.
Liam kissed like a man who’d starved for years. Like she was the one thing he was afraid to touch and afraid to lose.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless, their foreheads still pressed together — Aria whispered,
> “We shouldn’t have done that.”
He didn’t move. “But we did.”
And she didn’t leave.
Not that night.
- Writer
