We stayed like that for a long moment, both of us breathing hard, our bodies still connected.
And then Tony pulled out slowly; I felt the loss of him like a physical ache.
He collapsed beside me, and I turned into him, pressing my face against his chest. His arms came around me, holding me close, and I felt his lips press against the top of my head.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. Because if I opened my mouth, I’d start crying, and I didn’t think I’d be able to stop.
So instead, I just held on to him, memorizing the feel of his body against mine, the sound of his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin.
This was goodbye.
This was the end.
And even though it was killing me, I knew it was the rightthing.
Because I couldn’t keep doing this. I couldn’t keep loving someone who couldn’t love me back. I couldn’t keep being a secret, a hidden thing, something to be ashamed of.
I deserved more than that.
I deserved to be loved openly, proudly, and without fear or shame.
And if Tony couldn’t give me that, then I had to let him go.
Even if it destroyed me.
Tony’s breathing evened out, and I realized he’d fallen asleep. I stayed awake a little longer, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.
And then, finally, I let myself drift off, wrapped in his arms, believing with everything I had that when I woke up, this would be over.
That when morning came, we’d say goodbye.
And this time, it would be for good.
I woke to gray light filtering through the bedroom window. Tony was already awake, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to me, his shoulders tense. He was already dressed—dark slacks, a crisp white shirt, his jacket draped over the chair. Ready for court. Ready for the day that would determine my fate.
I didn’t move. I just watched him, memorizing the line of his spine, the way his hands gripped his knees. There was so much I wanted to say, so much that needed to be said, from us both, but the weight of it all kept me pinned to the mattress.
“You should get ready,” Tony said quietly, not turning around. “We need to leave in an hour.”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Okay.”
He stood and walked out of the bedroom without another word. Behind the closed bedroom door, I heard his footstepsretreating down the hall. I lay there for another minute, staring at the ceiling, trying to gather the strength to face the day.
The weight of everything pressed down on me. I forced myself to move, pushing back the covers and swinging my legs over the side of the bed.
I dragged myself to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the water run hot as I stood under the spray, trying to wash away the weight of the night before. The words that had been said, the decisions that hadn’t been voiced out loud. The water ran for a long time and I let it, needing the time to gather myself, to prepare for what was coming.
By the time I emerged from the bathroom, I was moving on autopilot. I walked to the closet and pulled out the suit my mother had insisted I wear.
Dark charcoal.
Expensive.
Professional.
The kind of suit that was supposed to make a jury believe in my innocence. I dressed mechanically, pulling on the crisp white shirt, buttoning it with numb fingers. The suit jacket followed, and I caught my reflection in the mirror. A stranger stared back at me, hollow-eyed and haunted.
