The Forbidden Game

The Distance

Isabella

I didn't sleep that night.

The card sat on my nightstand, small and unassuming, yet it felt like it carried the weight of everything I was afraid to face. I had stared at it for hours, flipping it over, reading the number again and again, as if repeating it would somehow give me clarity.

It didn't.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Cole's face. The way he had looked at me on the dance floor. The way his hand had felt on my waist. The way he had said, "I'm not pretending this time."

But then I saw Mia's face too. Her warning. The way she had said, "WhateverNot Cole has told you about himself… it's not the whole story."

I didn't know who to believe.

And that was the worst part.

I reached for the card again, my fingers brushing against the smooth paper. One call. One question. One truth that could change everything.

I set it back down.

Not tonight.

· yet.*

Morning came too quickly.

I dragged myself out of bed, my body heavy with exhaustion. The mirror reflected a woman I barely recognized—dark circles under her eyes, tension in her shoulders, doubt in her gaze. I had spent so long building walls around myself, convincing myself that I didn't need anyone, that I could handle anything on my own.

But last night something cracked open.

And I didn't know how to close it.

I tried to cover the evidence with makeup. I tried to smile at my reflection. I tried to pretend I was fine.

But I wasn't fine.

---

The office felt different.

The familiar hum of computers, the distant chatter of coworkers, the smell of coffee brewing—it was all the same. And yet, everything felt off. The walls seemed closer. The air felt heavier. Every glance in my direction felt like a question I wasn't ready to answer.

I walked toward my office, keeping my head down, hoping to avoid any conversations. But I didn't make it far.

"Isabella."

I froze.

Cole was standing in the hallway, his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. He looked like he hadn't slept either.

"Morning," I said, my voice carefully neutral.

"Can we talk?"

"I have a meeting in ten minutes."

"It's eight in the morning."

"Early meeting."

His eyes searched mine. "You're avoiding me."

"I'm not avoiding you."

"You are."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. Because he was right.

He stepped closer, his voice dropping. "What happened last night? After I left? Something changed."

"Nothing happened, Cole."

"You're lying."

I met his gaze. "You don't know that."

"I know you."

The words hit me harder than I expected. I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Because I wanted to believe him. I wanted to trust him. But Mia's warning was still fresh in my mind, a seed of doubt that had taken root and was growing faster than I could stop it.

Cole studied me for a long moment.

"Who was she?" he asked quietly.

"Who?"

"The woman in the black dress. The one who spoke to you at the bar."

I felt my stomach drop. "You saw her?"

"I saw you."

I didn't know what to say. The air between us felt heavy, charged with everything we weren't saying.

"She warned you about me, didn't she?" His voice was flat. "About my past. About my father. About who I really am."

I looked away. "You don't know what she said."

"I know what she looked like. I know the way you looked at me after you spoke to her." He let out a breath. "I've seen that look before. I've spent my whole life watching people's expressions change when they find out who I really am."

"Then you also know why you might deserve it."

The words slipped out before I could stop them. I saw something flicker in his eyes—hurt, maybe. Or disappointment. I wasn't sure. But it was there, quick and sharp, before he masked it.

"I'm not the man she says I am," he said quietly.

"Then prove it."

"How?"

I hesitated. Then: "Tell me the truth. All of it. Who is Mia? Why does she hate you?"

He was silent for a long moment. The hallway felt endless around us, the distant sounds of the office fading into nothing.

Then: "She used to work for my father. She saw things she shouldn't have seen." He paused. "She thinks I'm like him."

"Are you?"

The question hung between us. Heavy. Unforgiving.

Cole didn't answer.

---

He turned and walked away.

I stood there, watching him disappear down the hallway, feeling like I had just lost something I never even had. Something I hadn't even known I wanted until it was slipping through my fingers.

I walked into my office and closed the door behind me. The silence was immediate, suffocating. I leaned against the wood and closed my eyes.

My phone buzzed. I looked down.

Cole: I'll tell you everything. Tonight. My apartment. 8 PM.

I stared at the message.

Then I looked at the card still sitting in my pocket.

One call.

One question.

One truth that could change everything.

I didn't know which one I wanted more.

The truth from him.

Or the truth from her.