𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐈𝐧 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞

Prologue

  *ੈ✩‧₊˚  ⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆
𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 ˙⋆✮

The room was steeped in silence, broken only by the faint patter of rain against the glass. She stood by the window, her frame rigid as if the storm outside mirrored the one unraveling inside her. The air seemed heavier with every passing second, charged with a tension that clung to her like a second skin. Her fingers grazed the edge of the windowsill, seeking solace in its cold, unyielding surface. She needed something to steady herself because the man behind her was anything but steady.

He leaned against the doorframe, his figure draped in shadow. His presence was an unspoken challenge, a force too overwhelming to ignore. He didn’t move; he didn’t need to. The way he looked at her—dark, probing, relentless—was enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

“Are you going to stand there all night ? ” His voice cut through the quiet, low and laced with amusement.

Her shoulders tensed at the sound. She didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. Not yet. “I wasn’t aware you wanted me to leave.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, betraying her nerves.

He chuckled softly, a sound that wasn’t entirely kind. “Oh, I didn’t say that. I enjoy watching you squirm.”

Her fingers tightened on the windowsill. She willed herself to stay calm, but his words had a way of burrowing under her skin, unraveling her carefully constructed composure. She turned her head slightly, enough to catch the glint in his eyes—a mix of mischief and something darker.

“I’m not squirming.” she replied, though her trembling voice betrayed her again.

He pushed off the doorframe, his movements slow, deliberate. Each step he took toward her seemed to draw the air out of the room, leaving her breathless. “Aren’t you ?” he teased, his lips curving into a smirk. “You can’t even look at me without shaking. Tell me, what is it you’re so afraid of ?”

“I’m not afraid of you.” she said too quickly, her words rushing out in a futile attempt to regain control.

“Liar.” he whispered, his voice dipping low enough to send a shiver down her spine. He was standing close now, so close she could feel the heat radiating from him.

Her body tensed, every nerve on edge as his hand reached out, brushing the strand of hair that had fallen across her face. The touch was fleeting, maddeningly soft, and yet it sent a jolt through her entire being.

“You shouldn’t let me this close.” he murmured, his tone almost gentle, but the underlying warning was unmistakable. “I might start to think you want me to.”

Her breath hitched. She turned her face away, desperate to break free of his gaze, but it was impossible. He was everywhere—in the air, in her mind, in the rapid beat of her heart.

“Why do you do this ?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Why do you always—”

“Get under your skin ?” he finished for her, his smirk widening. He leaned in, his lips hovering dangerously close to her ear. “Because you let me.”

She swallowed hard, her hands gripping the windowsill tighter. The room felt smaller now, suffocating. “You’re cruel.” she said, though the words lacked the strength she intended.

“Cruel ?” he echoed, his voice dripping with mockery. “No, I’m just honest. You’re the one who keeps coming back, knowing full well what I’m capable of.”