Still, I need to do this. Even if Nathaniel can’t understand it yet.
I turn my gaze to the city and let my decision settle quietly between us.
Every time Nathanieltouches me now, it feels like he’s trying to write himself into my skin.
As if wanting me isn’t enough anymore—he needs evidence. Something he can point to and say,There. That’s mine.
He has been more—everything. More attentive, more composed, more consuming. He kisses me like he’s sealing a pact, like the press of his mouth might ward off anything that dares to come between us. His hands roam with purpose, but also reverence, as though he’s mapping me again and again to ensure nothing has changed.
Sex has become a liturgy of devotion and control. There are nights when he moves with aching slowness, each breath drawn out between touches, like he’s savoring the ceremony of loving me. And then there are nights when he takes me without restraint, with something darker threading through the softness—an edge of desperation he doesn’t speak aloud.
But always, no matter how he touches me, he makes me say it:I’m yours.
And yet, even when he’s pressed against me, body to body, I can feel the restlessness within him. The way his eyes track me more often.
He hasn’t said a word about Landon. But I know him too well not to notice the stillness that’s begun to curdle. There’s something he suspects—something he’s waiting for.
My phone buzzes softly beside me, snapping me out of the thought.
LANDON
Still good to meet at 4? I’ll grab a table.
It takes me a moment to respond as I try to convince myself that this isn’t betrayal—just unfinished business. I type back:
See you then.
And, after a moment, delete the thread.
I hear the low clink of glass behind me and turn. Nathaniel is standing by the sink, rinsing out his coffee cup. His sleeves are rolled to the elbows, shirt open at the collar. The image strikes me—how utterly domestic he looks, how fully we’ve woven our lives together. He feels like home.And yet.
My pulse stutters. I’ve been rehearsing what to say all morning, but the lie by omission sits uneasily on my tongue.
“I’ll be back around dinner,” I say lightly. “After my shift with Professor de Vries, I’m catching up with Sophie and Carolyn.”
His movements still. Not for long—just the span of a breath—but it’s enough. He turns slowly to face me, drying his hands on a dish towel with deliberate care.
“Sounds good.” His tone is mild, but the words are careful.
Suddenly, I’m hyper-aware of every inch of space between us, of the way he’s looking at me now—too perceptive, like he knows there’s more beneath the surface.
There’s a stretch of silence between us, taut and fine as a wire. I force a smile, hoping it masks the nerves fluttering through me.
Then, he crosses the kitchen in a few long strides and cups my face in his hands. The kiss he gives me is deep, possessive. I exhale into it before I even realize I’m holding my breath.
When he pulls back, he presses his forehead to mine. “Keep me in mind,” he murmurs. His thumb strokes my cheek once, almost absentmindedly. “And it’ll just be Sophie and Carolyn there later?”
The question is innocent on the surface—nothing he hasn’t asked before—but it lands too precisely. My heartbeat skitters. He doesn’t know. How would he? I must be imagining it.
I nod, unable to find the words to explain why I suddenly feel like I’m stepping into something irreversible.
The sessionwith Professor de Vries is brief—routine updates, a few edits to a research summary, and a new task to tackle over the weekend. I check the time as I leave her office, then walk the longer way around campus. Not because I need the air, but because the weight of what I’m doing sits heavy on my chest.
Still, I tell myself this is the only way. Nathaniel wouldn’t have let me go if I had told him the truth. And some things, I think, are better done gently, if not openly.
The café is tucked between a florist and an antique bookstore, half-hidden by a wrought-iron gate blooming with ivy. It’s the kind of place where time feels slowed, where the clatter of the world dulls to something manageable.
Landon is already there, seated at a corner table by the window. He looks up when the door chimes and stands as I walk in.
