Chapter 6
1177 Words
"Chapter 7: What I Saw Was Enough
She hadn’t planned to go to his office.
She had simply left her phone charger in Kael’s car and remembered he kept a spare key in the second drawer of his desk. It was the kind of errand she’d done a hundred times before, a quiet part of their ordinary routine.
But routines break when hearts are already cracked.
And love, when bruised too often, begins to rot from within.
The rain was just starting to fall as she entered the glass building where Kael’s firm occupied the top floor. The security guard nodded at her—he knew her face. She was Mrs. Drayke, after all.
How ironic that a name could feel so heavy and so hollow all at once.
The elevator chimed softly. Zara walked through the corridor, heels silent against polished tile, her coat clutched tighter around her.
Kael’s door was slightly ajar.
Light spilled through the crack.
Voices.
She stopped.
Then she heard it.
A laugh—familiar, light, feminine.
Sora.
Zara pushed the door open.
And froze.
Kael was sitting on the edge of his desk. Sora stood between his legs, arms wrapped tightly around him. His head was bowed, face buried against her shoulder. Her hand was threaded through his hair.
It wasn't a kiss.
It wasn’t passion.
But it was intimate.
It was comforting.
And it was not hers to witness.
Zara didn’t make a sound.
But Kael looked up—and everything in his face shifted.
Shock. Guilt. Panic.
“Zara.”
He moved instantly, breaking away from Sora and crossing the room.
“Zara, wait—it’s not what you think.”
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t cry. She just stared at him, her heart stone-heavy in her chest.
“I’ve done enough thinking,” she said quietly. “And none of it ever brings me peace.”
“Please—let me explain,” he said, voice raw.
But she only stepped back.
“You don’t need to.” Her lips trembled, but her eyes didn’t waver. “I’ve seen enough.”
She left without slamming the door.
There was no point in fire when everything was already ashes.
The bar was loud and dim, a strange haven on a night like this. She didn’t remember how she got there. Only that her fingers wrapped around a glass of something amber and burning, and that it numbed just enough of the ache to keep her upright.
She drank.
One. Then two.
The pain didn’t leave, but it blurred around the edges.
She didn’t want to cry.
Crying made it real.
So she drank instead.
“Rough night?”
The voice came from the stool beside her. Low. Calm. Gentle.
Zara turned slowly.
He had kind eyes. A quiet strength about him. Unassuming, but not forgettable.
“That obvious?” she muttered, lifting her glass.
He offered a small smile. “Only to those who’ve had one too.”
She studied him through the haze of liquor and heartbreak.
“You don’t want to hear my story,” she said.
“Maybe not. But I’ll listen anyway.”
He extended a hand.
“Jace Rowan.”
She stared at his hand for a beat before placing hers in his.
“Zara.”
The name felt different in her mouth. Not attached to Kael. Not a wife. Not half of anything broken.
Just… Zara.
And for the first time in a long time, she let herself breathe. Chapter 8: A Stranger in the Dark
The clink of glass against marble had become almost rhythmic now.
The bar hummed with quiet conversations, but Zara only heard her own voice—softer, slurred at the edges, more honest than she had been with anyone in months.
“I thought love was supposed to feel safe,” she said, eyes focused on the swirl of liquid in her glass. “But lately… I feel like I’m always bracing for impact.”
Jace sat beside her, elbows resting on the bar, gaze never leaving her face.
He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t offer cheap comfort or try to solve her pain. He just listened.
That alone made her want to cry.
“He keeps saying it’s nothing,” she continued, her voice trembling. “That I’m imagining it. That I’m reading into things. But when you walk into a room and see the man you love in someone else’s arms…”
She stopped. Her throat tightened.
Jace didn’t press.
After a long pause, she let out a quiet laugh. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m telling you all this.”
“Because you needed to,” he replied simply.
His voice was deep, calm—steady in a way that made her feel less like she was unraveling.
“You don’t know me,” she said, glancing sideways at him.
“Sometimes strangers are safer than the people we love,” he said.
They drank slowly, deliberately.
The conversation drifted—from their favorite music, to childhood stories, to the books that made them feel something.
Zara felt the weight in her chest loosen, just slightly.
There was no pretense here.
No expectations.
Just two people lost in the quiet of their own broken hearts.
Sometime past midnight, the rain returned, soft and steady against the windows.
Zara stood from her stool too fast, and the room tilted.
Jace caught her by the waist, steadying her gently.
Their eyes met.
Something unspoken passed between them.
Not desire. Not yet.
But recognition.
Of grief. Of hunger. Of needing to be seen.
Outside, the air was thick and damp. They walked under a shared umbrella, Zara barefoot now, heels dangling from her fingers.
“I shouldn’t be here,” she murmured. “I should be angry. I should be screaming. But I feel… nothing. Just empty.”
Jace looked at her, rain glistening in his hair.
“Then let me take care of you for one night,” he said softly. “No questions. No expectations.”
Zara didn’t answer.
She didn’t need to.
His apartment was warm. Simple. Tastefully quiet.
Zara moved through the space slowly, trailing her fingers along the edges of furniture, like she was trying to anchor herself.
Jace brought her a glass of water and sat on the couch, not too close.
She joined him.
Their hands met between cushions—fingers brushing. Lingering.
Her breath hitched.
So did his.
When he leaned in, he gave her time to stop him.
She didn’t.
His lips were soft. Patient. He kissed her like she was something fragile, not something to conquer.
She didn’t think of Kael.
Not once.
The kiss deepened, slow and breathless. His hands were gentle but grounding—on her back, her waist, in her hair.
When his forehead rested against hers, he whispered, “You’re allowed to want comfort. Even if it’s only tonight.”
Zara closed her eyes.
And let herself fall—not into love, not into lust.
But into the silence that didn’t hurt.
- Writer
