Sins we can’t confess

I just finished my final exam my last paper in Economics. The sound of rain thunders across the campus roof, a steady, cold rhythm that matches the mess inside me today; I didn’t bring my car. I sling my bag over my shoulder and step outside the hall, my shoes splashing in puddles. The rain is heavy, merciless, and somehow freeing. It feels like the world is washing something away maybe the girl I used to be. Cole’s class isn’t far, just across the courtyard. I know I shouldn’t go there, not after last night’s fight, but a part of me still wants to hear him say sorry. I keep hoping he’ll change, though deep down I know he won’t. By the time I reach the door, I’m soaked through. My hair sticks to my skin, my white blouse clinging in all the wrong ways. I knock lightly. He opens the door tall, handsome, and pretending he didn’t just see me standing in the rain. His brown eyes flicker with something unreadable. “Lila,” he says flatly. “Can we talk?” I ask, my voice small. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Now’s not a good time.” Then I hear a soft giggle behind him. A girl’s voice. My chest tightens. I lean to the side just enough to see her a brunette from his class, wearing his hoodie. My stomach twists. “Wow. You didn’t waste time, did you?” He shrugs, trying to act calm, but I see the guilt flash in his eyes. “It’s not what you think.” “It never is,” I whisper, stepping back. “You told me you loved me yesterday.” He opens his mouth, but no words come out. Only silence and the rain between us. That’s my answer. I turn and walk away, ignoring him. “Lila, wait!” “f**k… I keep walking. I should’ve,” I whisper to myself. By the time I reach the gate, the rain has slowed to a drizzle. My phone buzzes with a message from my mom. “Mom: Honey, please come home tonight. We need to talk.” No “How are you?” Why did she sound like I had slept outside before? I sigh and wave down a taxi. The city blurs past the window grey skies, neon symbols, people rushing with umbrellas. I press my forehead to the glass and let the sound of rain fill my thoughts. Cole is gone. Maybe it’s for the best. But the ache doesn’t leave. It just changes shape. When I get to the house, the lights are already on. Our mansion sits on a quiet street lined with trimmed hedges and black cars my father’s idea of perfection. Inside, everything smells like expensive perfume and secrets. “Lila?” Mom’s voice drifts from the living room. She looks perfect as always in a silk robe, diamonds at her wrist, and a wine glass in her hand. Her blonde hair is smooth and polished, like she doesn’t age. “Hi, Mom.” She smiles faintly. “You’re drenched. Go change.” “I came straight from school.” “I can tell,” she murmurs, studying me with eyes that see too much. “Your father’s in his study. Don’t disturb him.” “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Her lips twitch. “Good girl.” I start toward the stairs when I hear another voice deep, calm, with a tone that sends a strange chill through me. “She’s grown.” I pause. The voice doesn’t belong here. Mom glances over her shoulder. “Gabriel. You remember Lila?” I freeze halfway up the stairs. Gabriel. Her cousin. The one she barely talks about. I’ve only seen him once when I was twelve at a funeral. Slowly, I turn. He’s standing by the fireplace, dressed in a black suit, his tie loosened, a glass of whisky in hand. Tall, broad-shouldered, impossibly composed. The firelight flickers against his sharp jawline. His eyes dark gray, cold, unreadable settle on me. For a second, it feels like he’s seeing right through me. “Hello, Lila,” he says smoothly. “It’s been a while.” “Hi… Mr. Knight.” He smiles faintly, but there’s no warmth in it. “Gabriel is fine.” Mom stands between us, her hand tightening around the stem of her glass. “Gabriel’s in town for a few days. Business.” He looks at her too deeply. Something passes between them something unspoken that makes my stomach twist again. “Well, it’s nice to see you,” I say awkwardly. He nods once. “Likewise.” As I head upstairs, I can still feel his gaze following me. I tell myself it’s nothing; he’s family, older, polite. But my heart doesn’t listen. That night, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling. Mom’s and Gabriel’s voices drift faintly through the walls low, tense, almost like an argument. “…she doesn’t know,” Mom whispers. “She shouldn’t,” he replies. “She’ll find out eventually.” “Not from me.” The words freeze my blood. I press my pillow against my ears, trying to block them out, but curiosity burns hotter. What are they hiding? Why does Gabriel sound like he’s protecting me from something? The next morning, I find a note on the dining table in Mom’s handwriting: “Dinner tonight at 7 p.m. Gabriel will be joining us. Wear something decent.” I roll my eyes, but my heart races anyway. When evening comes, I wear a simple black dress nothing fancy, but it hugs my body just enough to feel like armor. Gabriel arrives exactly on time. No smile, no small talk. Just that calm confidence that fills the room like smoke. During dinner, my father barely looks up from his phone. My mother keeps pretending everything’s normal. But every time Gabriel’s eyes meet mine, I feel something shift inside me something I don’t want to name. Halfway through the meal, he finally speaks. “How’s school?” “Finished. Economics.” He nods slowly. “Your mother said you’re brilliant.” “She exaggerates.” “Does she?” His tone is unreadable. Mom clears her throat sharply. “Gabriel, we don’t need to” But he keeps looking at me. Not like a cousin. Not like family. Like he’s studying something dangerous. When dinner is over, he stands up. “Lila, walk me out?” It’s not a request. Outside, the air is cool, still damp from last night’s rain. He turns to me, his gaze softer now. “Don’t let people like Cole decide who you are.” I blink. “He… he knows about Cole?” A faint smirk touches his lips. “Boys like him are replaceable.” His words sting, and yet the way he says them… it feels like something more. “Goodnight, Lila,” he murmurs, stepping closer. Close enough that I can smell the faint trace of whisky and something darker cedar and smoke. Then he leaves, his car disappearing into the night. But his voice stays in my head long after he’s gone. And for the first time in years, I dream not of Cole, not of my future. “He’s a stupid boy, always with girls,” I say angrily as I walk inside.