Chapter
Chapters
Chapter one : The moment I first saw him (part one)
Chapter One: The Moment I First Saw Him (Part 2)
Chapter One: The Moment I First Saw Him ( Part 3)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWO The New Girl in His House (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWO The New Girl in His House (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER THREE One Step Closer (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER THREE One Step Closer (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER THREE One Step Closer (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FOUR The Secret Between Us (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FOUR The Secret Between Us (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FIVE Cracks in the Glass (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FIVE Cracks in the Glass (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FIVE House of Cards (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER Six House of Cards (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER Six House of Cards (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER SEVEN Ashes and Embers (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER SEVEN Ashes and Embers (Part Two)
CHAPTER SEVEN: Ashes and Embers Part 3 I didn’t expect to hear from his brother that morning. But just after 10 a.m., my phone buzzed with a simple message: > "Hey. You home?" I stared at it for a full minute, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Then finally: > "Yeah. Come over if you want." He showed up twenty minutes later, holding a paper bag and two large iced coffees. He didn’t smile. Didn’t hug me like usual. Just handed me one of the drinks and walked in like he’d been rehearsing something all morning. We sat across from each other on the living room floor—neither of us saying a word at first. He tapped the condensation off his cup. I picked at a loose thread on the rug. Finally, he broke the silence. “So. You lied.” My stomach tightened. “Yes.” “You used me.” “I—” I paused. “At first? Yeah. I did. But that changed.” He looked at me, his eyes darker than I’d ever seen them. “Do you know what it’s like realizing one of your closest friendships was built on... a strategy?” “I didn’t know it would turn into something real. I didn’t plan that.” “But you planned everything else.” His voice was low, but steady. “From the first time you spoke to me to the first time you came to our house. That wasn’t friendship. That was scouting.” I blinked back the sting behind my eyes. “I was fourteen. I didn’t know how else to get close to him. You were the bridge.” “You were a kid, sure. But you knew exactly what you were doing.” He leaned back, letting out a bitter laugh. “God. And here I was thinking I introduced you two.” “I’m sorry.” “That’s not enough.” I nodded. “I know.” We sat in that angry, wounded silence for a moment. Then he sighed. “You know what hurts most? I actually defended you when K told me everything. I said, ‘There’s no way she planned all that. Not her.’” “I didn’t expect to be forgiven right away. I just hoped I wouldn’t lose everyone.” He looked away. “You didn’t lose me. But you sure as hell made it harder to know where we stand.” I swallowed. “I miss how we used to talk.” “Yeah,” he said. “Me too. But I have to re-learn who you are. Or decide if I want to.” --- K came back late that evening. He looked tired, but less haunted. Like some storm inside him had weakened into something he could walk through instead of being swallowed by. We didn’t speak at first. He dropped his keys into the bowl by the door, took off his shoes, and headed for the kitchen. I followed slowly, unsure if I was welcome in his space. But then he reached up into the cabinet and pulled down two wine glasses. He didn’t say anything. Just poured the wine, set a glass in front of me, and sat. After a moment, he finally asked, “Did you talk to my brother?” I nodded. “This morning.” “And?” “He’s hurt. But he listened.” K swirled his wine slowly. “I remember how excited he was when he introduced us. He thought he was being clever. Said he had a ‘friend I’d totally click with.’” “I didn’t mean to take that away from him. Or from you.” He looked at me, tired but open. “I think you did mean to. But you also didn’t understand how deeply it would cut when the truth came out.” “You’re right.” He took a sip, then leaned back. “Do you remember the second time we hung out—just the two of us?” I nodded instantly. “Of course.” “You asked me what I’d name my future dog. I said Thor, and you laughed like it was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard.” I smiled faintly. “It was.” “Yeah, well,” he said, “I found out last night you already knew I’d say that.” I blinked. “You did?” He nodded. “My brother remembered showing you a video once—an old clip where I talked about wanting a dog named Thor when I was sixteen.” A lump formed in my throat. “I thought that moment was spontaneous,” he continued. “Thought it was some cute serendipity between us. But now, I see it for what it was. A perfectly timed cue in your play.” I shook my head slowly. “It wasn’t a play. It was real for me. All of it. Even the moments I had a head start on—I still fell in love with you for who you were in person, not on screen.” He looked away. “Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.” --- After dinner, we ended up on the couch. The distance between us smaller now, but still there. Like a thread pulled too tight but not yet snapped. “I had a dream last night,” he said quietly. I turned to him. “You and I were on a boat. In the middle of the ocean. No land in sight. Calm waters. But I realized we only had one oar. And every time I tried to row, you grabbed it and steered in the opposite direction.” “What did you do?” “I let go.” His voice dropped. “And the boat started to spin in circles.” I looked at him, heart aching. “Do you think that’s us?” He shrugged. “I think it was us. But I don’t want it to be.” “I don’t either.” He finally turned to me, his eyes searching. “I’m still mad. Still confused. But I’m also still in love with you. Which makes this whole thing harder than I thought it’d be.” Tears burned at the edges of my eyes. “I’ll wait. As long as it takes. I’ll wait for your anger to fade, for your trust to return, for you to believe in us again.” “You shouldn’t have to wait alone.” He took my hand—really took it this time. Not out of obligation or habit, but choice. His thumb brushed over my knuckles like a whisper. “This doesn’t fix everything,” he said. “I know.” “But it’s a start.” We sat like that for a long time—hands intertwined, bodies still, the air between us finally softening. --- That night, for the first time since the truth came out, he followed me into the bedroom. He didn’t say anything. Just pulled off his hoodie, climbed into bed, and lay down beside me. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t hold me. But he didn’t leave. And for now, that was more than enough.
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER EIGHT The Things We Don't Say (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER EIGHT The Things We Don't Say (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER EIGHT The Things We Don't Say (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER NINE Collateral Truths (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER NINE Collateral Truths (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER NINE Collateral Truths (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TEN Shattered Reflections (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TEN Shattered Reflections (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TEN Shattered Reflections (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER ELEVEN Echoes of Us (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER ELEVEN Echoes of Us (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER ELEVEN Echoes of Us (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWELVE Remnants of a Lie (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWELVE Remnants of a Lie (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWELVE Remnants of a Lie (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Shape of Us (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Shape of Us (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER THIRTEEN The Shape of Us (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FOURTEEN Echoes We Bury (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FOURTEEN Echoes We Bury (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FOURTEEN Echoes We Bury (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FIFTEEN Open Wound (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FIFTEEN Open Wound (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER FIFTEEN Open Wound (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER SIXTEEN Between What’s Said and Meant (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER SIXTEEN Between What’s Said and Meant (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER SIXTEEN Between What’s Said and Meant (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Firelines We Draw (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Firelines We Draw (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Firelines We Draw (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Face to the Flame (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Face to the Flame (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Face to the Flame (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER NINETEEN Every Lie We Let Live (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER NINETEEN Every Lie We Let Live (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER NINETEEN Every Lie We Let Live (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY This Time, We Begin (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY This Time, We Begin (Part TWO)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY This Time, We Begin (Part Three)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE His Disappearance (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE His Disappearance Part Two
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE His Disappearance Part Three
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE The Guilt Between Us Part Four
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE The Guilt Between Us (Part Five)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER 21 The Space Between Lies and Love Part Six
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE The Space Between Lies and Love Part Seven
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: The Space Between Lies and Love Part Eight
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-ONET The Space Between Lies and Love Part Nine
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE The Space Between Lies and Love Part Ten
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO The Silence Between Breaths (Part One)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO The Silence Between Breaths (Part Two)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Whispers Underneath (Part Three)
ACT I CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO he Price of Secrets (Part Four)
VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER 22 An Oath of Silence (Part Five)
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VOLUME I ACT I CHAPTER 21 The Space Between Lies and Love Part Six
VOLUME I
ACT I
CHAPTER 21
The Space Between Lies and Love
Part Six
I’d gotten used to hearing the door creak open around 5:45 p.m. each day. It had become a rhythm of comfort, his bag hitting the floor, keys on the counter, a soft, tired “Hey babe.” But today, there was silence.
K wasn’t home.
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