He thought wanting me was a weakness, but his surrender would be my ruin.
The silence he left in his wake was a living entity. It coiled in the expansive, cold penthouse, slithering over the polished concrete and steel, pressing in on me until I could barely breathe. The phantom heat of his body, the searing brand of his kiss, the devastating confession torn from him — I can’t want you and destroy you — it all echoed in the vast, empty space. He had drawn a line, not in the sand, but in his own soul, and he had retreated to the other side, leaving me stranded in the no-man's-land of our war.
For what felt like an eternity, I sat on the floor, my back against the wall we had just been pinned against, the cold seeping through my clothes, a stark counterpoint to the fire he had ignited. My
