The night was quiet in a way that felt deliberate, heavy, as if the city itself were holding its breath. Julian’s apartment was dim, shadows pooling in the corners, the faint hum of the heater the only sound outside the soft rustle of sheets. Amelia stood at the threshold, silhouetted by the hallway light, her hair falling in waves around her shoulders. She paused, catching her breath, eyes wide and searching.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she said, voice trembling. “Not like this, not in secret, not with everyone watching.”
Julian’s hands were already on her waist, drawing her inside, pressing the door closed behind them. “Then don’t,” he said, low and rough, “not like this. With me. Only me.”
She froze, uncertainty flaring across her features. “But the world… it doesn’t care about us. It
