He watches me openly, jaw tight, chest rising slow and heavy like he’s forcing himself to stay where he is instead of walking toward me.
And when my eyes lock with his?—
The hallway disappears.
The noise cuts out.
It’s just heat.
Static.
Unsaid things burning the air between us.
His jaw tics.
My heart slams once, hard.
We speak without speaking.
Him:Talk to me.
Me:Not a chance.
Him:I’m not letting go.
Me:Try me.
Him:I miss you.
Me:I hate that you do.
My hands curl into fists.
His do too.
Shani mutters, “The tension could melt steel.”
I force myself to break eye contact first.
We pass by each other like two storms scraping edges?—
dangerous, electric, promising destruction.
He doesn’t touch me.
He doesn’t speak.
But as I walk past, I feel him turn slightly, drawn in by some invisible cord neither of us asked for.
My pulse is wildfire.
I don’t look back.
But I feel him looking.
And I know
with this new version of me
