When She Gets Burned

Unravelling Part 3

The dim glow of the bedside lamp cast shadows across the room as Alani swiftly changed into her pyjamas. The echoes of the night's revelry were still resonating in her mind, but the desire for comfort and familiarity took precedence. Ezra, sprawled across the bed, watched her with a look that stirred something in her. "You should've stayed in that outfit, you know. We could've had some fun," he murmured, his voice a low hum in the quiet room.

Alani, not in the mood for his suggestive remarks, recoiled slightly. "I'm not in the mood, Ezra."

He scoffed, a dismissive sound that hung in the air. "You're never in the mood anymore. It's as if you've grown too old for a little excitement."

The words hit Alani like a slap. "Excuse me?" she retorted, her eyes narrowing.

Ezra laughed, waving off her reaction. "Relax, I was just teasing. We should get some sleep. You know, the world won't wait for us to catch up on rest."

Alani, caught between the lingering frustration and the fatigue that clung to her, reluctantly climbed into bed. The warmth that once defined their closeness seemed to dissipate into the cool air, leaving an unspoken tension that lingered between the sheets. The night, once filled with pulsating beats and laughter, now settled into a quiet cadence of uncertainty.

Alani's eyes squinted against the intrusion of daylight as she entered her writing room. To her dismay, Ezra was already there, rifling through her papers and books with a focused intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she snapped, her voice laced with a mix of anger and confusion.

Ezra, caught off guard, jumped slightly before composing himself. "Just looking for your book. You've been holed up in here for ages, thought I'd give it a read."

Alani's frustration intensified. "You don't just barge in and invade someone's personal space like that. It's called privacy!"

Ezra, always quick to deflect, chuckled dismissively. "Calm down, Alani. No harm done."

But the harm was already there, seeping through the cracks in their relationship. Alani, feeling her patience wane, clenched her fists and demanded, "Leave. Now."

Ezra rolled his eyes, walking over to her with an air of arrogance. "You're getting wound up over nothing. What's wrong with you lately?"

Her patience snapped. "I said, leave!" Alani's voice trembled with a mixture of frustration and fear.

But instead of complying, Ezra's demeanour shifted. In a sudden, alarming move, he grabbed her by the throat, squeezing just enough to make her gasp for breath. The room spun as she tried to comprehend the abrupt escalation. "You've grown up too fast," he sneered, his grip tightening. "Acting like you're older than me, brooding all the time. It's pathetic."

Alani, tears streaming down her face, couldn't comprehend the transformation before her. This wasn't the man she had fallen in love with—the man whose words had once sparked her creativity and passion. It was a grotesque distortion of that person. Ezra dropped her, leaving her gasping for air, and walked out of the room with an unsettling calmness. As he exited, he casually remarked, "You know, you're so pretty when you cry. It's a shame it's such a waste."

Alone in the silence that followed, Alani crumpled to the floor, the weight of the moment crashing down on her. The intimacy they once shared had been replaced by a disturbing reality, and the lines between love and toxicity blurred into a painful and confusing maze. Alani slowly rose from the floor, her limbs heavy with the weight of fear and uncertainty. She couldn't shake the feeling that the sanctuary of her writing room had been invaded by a darkness that threatened to swallow her whole. As she moved to the kitchen to pour herself a drink, she stole a glance at Ezra, his eyes fixed on the flickering screen of the television, seemingly unperturbed by the tumult that had just transpired.