The Morning After Fire
937 Words
The morning sunlight bled into the room like a secret unraveling.
Alina sat on the edge of Dominic’s bed, her blouse buttoned only halfway, her legs tangled in one of the silk sheets she’d tried not to admire too much. Her head was tilted toward the window, but her mind was nowhere near the city skyline.
What the hell had she done?
Dominic stirred behind her, still shirtless, still every bit the storm she’d let swallow her whole. She heard the sheets shift and felt the warmth of his presence as he sat up, his voice husky from sleep.
“You always stare out windows after you ruin your own rules?”
She didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because if she said it out loud—if she admitted it was a mistake—then it would also mean admitting it hadn’t felt right. And that would be a lie.
A big, dangerous one.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” she said softly.
Dominic’s eyes were unreadable. “Didn’t seem like you were fighting it.”
“I wasn’t,” she admitted. “That’s the problem.”
He leaned back, resting on his hands. “So now what? You going to pretend this didn’t happen?”
Alina stood, smoothing her skirt as if straightening her clothes could pull her thoughts into place. “I don’t know what I’m going to do. But whatever this is—it’s not supposed to exist.”
“Supposed to,” he repeated, his jaw tightening. “You say that a lot.”
“Because I’ve built my entire life around doing what’s right,” she snapped. “What’s smart. What keeps people from tearing me apart.”
“Then maybe,” he said quietly, “it’s time to stop letting fear dictate everything.”
Alina blinked. The silence between them stretched, thick and sharp.
“I need to go,” she said at last, her voice tighter than she meant.
He didn’t stop her.
But as she left, she felt his gaze follow her like a shadow—and somehow, it hurt worse than anything else.
Her phone rang as soon as she stepped into her apartment.
Mom.
She nearly ignored it but answered at the last moment. “Hello?”
“Alina,” her mother said in her clipped voice. “You missed our weekly call.”
“I’ve been busy, Mom. Work’s intense.”
“I heard rumors. Someone saw you leaving the Romano building this morning.”
Alina froze. “What?”
“You know that family’s dangerous, Alina. Whatever business your father had with them, it nearly ruined him. Stay away.”
Too late.
Alina hung up with a shaky hand.
Dominic wasn’t just dangerous because of his name, his family, or even the illegal things he may have uncovered about her father.
He was dangerous because of what he made her feel. What she couldn’t seem to resist.
The next day, she walked into campus expecting whispers.
But there were none.
Either the world hadn’t caught up to her mistakes—or it was holding its breath, waiting for her to slip again.
“Professor Hart,” a voice called out from behind her.
She turned to see a woman in a power suit and sharp heels walking toward her. Older, stern. Head of the department.
Shit.
“I need a word,” the woman said, motioning toward her office.
Alina followed, heart racing.
When they sat, the woman folded her hands neatly. “There’s been some talk. About you. And a certain student.”
Alina didn’t breathe.
“Normally, I wouldn’t indulge gossip,” the woman continued. “But I’ve been warned that the Romano family may be using our institution for more than education.”
Alina swallowed hard. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I hope not. Because if something were to jeopardize this university’s reputation…”
Alina nodded quickly. “Understood.”
She left the office feeling like her lungs were made of glass. One misstep—one more kiss—and it could all shatter.
She texted him that night.
Alina: We can’t do this again. Please don’t contact me.
He didn’t reply.
And it hurt more than she wanted to admit.
One week later
She was on her way out of the library when she saw him again—standing against the railing outside, a cigarette between his fingers, dressed in a charcoal coat and dark sunglasses. He looked colder than she remembered. Older, almost.
She hesitated. “Dominic.”
He didn’t look surprised to see her. Just exhaled slowly and said, “You texted. I listened.”
“Are you angry?”
“No.” He flicked the cigarette. “Just disappointed.”
Alina’s throat tightened. “This isn’t easy for me.”
“I know.” He turned to face her fully. “But you think keeping me away will make it easier?”
She opened her mouth. Closed it.
“I don’t want to ruin you, Alina,” he said quietly. “But I also don’t want to walk away from the only person who’s ever looked at me like I wasn’t some damn monster.”
That broke something inside her.
“Then don’t walk away,” she whispered. “But we have to be careful.”
Dominic’s lips twitched into something small—sad, maybe. “We’re already past careful, sweetheart.”
He reached for her hand. Held it for a second longer than he should have.
Then let go.
And walked away.
But Alina knew.
This wasn’t over.
It was only just beginning.
- Writer
