I can see you

Chapter 18

(EDWARD'S POV)

Rosy returned in the afternoon, carrying a bag and some food. She moved quietly. Her presence always came in waves, first warm, then suffocating. I heard the zip of the bag, the soft hiss of metal unsheathing. She gave me a calm, almost cheerful smile and placed everything in a corner before walking toward me holding a knife.

I shut my eyes. Not out of fear, but out of something I didn't want to name. I didn't want to see her like this. Knife in hand, eyes full of something too close to love.
But then she knelt beside me. The blade touched my wrist not to wound, but to free.

Snick. One rope, then another. The bindings fell like snapped threads of control. And when I opened my eyes, she was already working on the last strap. Her expression was calm and determined. Not triumphant.

I blinked. Was she... letting me go? Even before the thought could fully form, I felt a strange ache that was neither relief nor gratitude. It was longing. And something worse. Something I couldn't name. Because I didn't want to leave her. Not like this. Not yet.

She cut the final strap, then leaned back on her heels, tilting her head. "You're free," she said. "Sort of."

My arms felt loose and unfamiliar. I flexed my fingers but they started trembling. Not from pain. From hesitation. So what do I do now?

"Don't get too excited," she added, with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "I'm not letting you go. I just don't want you thinking I kidnapped you." She brushed a curl behind her ear, then stood, stretching her back. "If you even think about running," she continued, "I'll get really mad. Got it, darling?"

There was no malice in her voice. Only certainty. I nodded slowly but some part of me still wanted to reach for her. Just for a second. Her skin was flushed from the heat, her breath coming fast, and there was a bead of sweat trailing down her collarbone. I stared too long.

She placed a box of sandwiches infront of us on the floor and ordered me to sit. Just for a second, the shape of her eyes, the tilt of her head-Riya flickered through her.

No, Stop. I can't think of her. his isn't Riya, It's Rosy. Riya never looked at me the way Rosy does. Riya never needed me like this. The one I swore I'd resist. The one I can't stop watching. The one I'm starting to want.

God help me.

Her hand on my chest snapped me out of my spiral."Aren't you hungry?" she asked, almost shy. "Eat something."

I didn't move.

She tilted her head, frowning. "Still thinking about someone else?" she said, her voice suddenly sharp. "Is it that woman from the restaurant? You aren't in love are you?"

I flinched. "No,Sorry," I mumbled, grabbing a sandwich, keeping my gaze low.

She slammed a chair beside me so hard it bounced.

"No, you're not sorry. You never are. You don't deserve my love. You always do things to hurt me." Her voice broke. "I want to hate you. But I can't. I love you, Edward." Then, softer, more fragile: "Why are you trying to deny your feelings?"

Her eyes were wide and glassy now, scanning me for any sign I felt the same.

I didn't speak.

Her eyes darted across my face. "Why do you look pale? Did I scare you? Sorry," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks.

She stepped back, collected herself, and leaning close, she whispered, "I'll be back tonight night. Take care, love."

She slammed the door behind her. I sat in the stillness, arms free, chest tight. She'd untied me but I didn't run because this wasn't freedom. It was a test. I knew She eas watching. Waiting to see if I bolted. If I failed. If I broke.

I stared down at my hands. Rope marks on my wrists. A burning where her hands had brushed my skin. And inside? Chaos.

Rosy is cracking. She's unstable. I know that now. Asking about Riya would only make things worse. I'll have to be careful-very careful. And the first step is getting access to her phone and wiping any evidence.

Tonight, I told myself, staring at the scattered furniture. I'll start .

----

She came back that night, like a storm pretending to be calm. No accusations this time. Just quiet hands, soft eyes, and that unbearable closeness. I didn't plan to touch her. I didn't plan to want her. But when she climbed into bed, curled against me like we belonged to each other, something inside me cracked. Her skin was warm and her breath had hitched when I had pulled her closer. I had told myself it was just a strategy. Just another move in a long game.

But when she kissed me, slow and desperate, and I kissed her back, I stopped lying even to myself. I wanted her. No, I needed her. And for one night, I let myself feel it. Not out of manipulation or out of pity. Just hunger. Just her. She had gripped me like I was the only thing holding her together. And maybe I was.

Later, after it was over, she lay beside me, skin slick and glowing, lips parted. She slept fast like she always had. Her breathing slowed. Her body softened.

It wasn't my first time seeing her sleep but it was the first time without a screen between us. She looked so small sleeping .So human and so breakable. I brushed a stray strand of hair from her forehead.

"Rosy," I whispered. "Are you asleep?"

Nothing.

I turned my head slowly. Her face was serene, bathed in soft lamplight. A small smile curved her lips like she was dreaming of something sweet, something safe. I leaned closer and whispered, "Good night," pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She didn't move. Perfect.

I slipped out of bed quietly. My bare feet landed on the cold floor. Her clothes were scattered -skirts, tops, socks balled into corners like they've been there for weeks. My eyes scanned for her phone.

I picked up the pleated skirt, rummaging through the pockets but found nothing. A hoodie draped over a chair catched my attention. I reached in and felt it. Her phone.

A rush of adrenaline hit me as I unlocked it. She hadn't changed the passcode. Amateur.

I opened her files, heart pounding. There it is a folder marked with a generic name, like it was hiding in plain sight. Inside were grainy video footage of nighttime. Me. Caught in front of her door, trying to break the passcode like some obsessed stranger.

I stared at myself on the screen. It was worse than I remember. I didn't look desperate-I look obsessed. Like her.

Then I hit delete. But I knew that was not enough so I created a fake copy-a blank ghost file with the same name, same metadata, same size. If she checked, she would think it was corrupted.

I double-checked her gallery, messages, and cloud storage but found nothing else. No copies or backups.

Clean. Then I searched for what I really wanted. Riya. But there was nothing. Not a single note, not a photo, not a mention. No images of her mom, no trace of Roy either. Like they've been scrubbed clean from her life or like she never wanted them there.

Maybe Riya is using a different phone hidden somewhere safe. Or maybe...
No, that couldn't happen. Riya was still out there, and I would find her. This was no longer about revenge for my family. It was about protecting Rosy. And for that, I would have to lure Riya out and kill her.

I stared at Rosy's sleeping figure. The lamp painted her skin golden, soft. Her lips were parted just slightly. Her body so close, so warm, so...

No. Not now. I have to stay focused.

I slipped her phone into the inside pocket of the hoodie, returned to bed and pulled the blanket over us. She murmured something in her sleep, but I couldn't make it out. I slid beneath it again, letting her curl back into me automatically. Her body was warm, soft, and trusting.

That trust was dangerous but necessary.
I turned my back to her and stared into the dark. The video was gone. The trail was cleared.

But the truth?

Still buried. But not for long. Not if I keep playing my part right.

Tomorrow, I dig deeper. Tomorrow will be the day I kill Riya.