ʀᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ

26

The next day, the sunlight creeping through the blinds was already high in the sky when I finally woke up. The clock on my bedside table read 1:00 PM, and I stared at it for a moment, feeling the weight of the late hour press down on me. I had spent most of the night tossing and turning, lost in the maze of my own thoughts, and now, even after sleep, I felt no more rested than I had the day before.

With a heavy sigh, I dragged myself out of bed, the emptiness of the apartment echoing in my ears. I went through the motions—brushing my teeth, splashing water on my face, trying to scrub away the remnants of the nightmarish memories that clung to me like cobwebs. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t wash away the image of Michael’s cold eyes, the sting of his words, the sharp pain of that final push.

When I finally emerged from my room, the hunger gnawing at my stomach forced me to head toward the kitchen. I moved like a ghost, drifting down the hallway, each step heavier than the last. But as I turned the corner, the sight that greeted me stopped me dead in my tracks.

Michael was there, standing in the kitchen, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. Olivia was with him, her voice a quiet murmur, though I couldn’t make out what she was saying. Probably something about that night—the night everything shattered. But Michael wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed on me, staring at me with an intensity that made my breath catch in my throat.

It was as if he was seeing me for the first time, like I was a ghost from a past he thought he’d buried. His lips parted slightly, and he whispered my name, “Em…” His voice was thick with something I couldn’t quite place—regret, maybe, or sorrow. Then he swallowed hard and dropped his gaze to the floor, as if the sight of me was too much to bear.

Olivia stopped talking, her eyes flicking between us before settling on me. “I was just coming to wake you up,” she said, her voice gentle, though I could hear the concern laced within it. “I’m getting late for my shift, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” She started packing her bag, her movements slow and deliberate, but then she paused, noticing how I hadn’t moved an inch since I walked into the room.

“Will you be okay?” she asked, her voice soft as she sought my gaze. “He came to talk to you.”

I forced myself to nod, though the motion felt hollow, like my head was being moved by someone else’s hand. “I’ll be fine,” I said, the words tasting like lies on my tongue. Olivia gave me a small, hesitant smile before she slung her bag over her shoulder and left the apartment, leaving me alone with Michael.

But it didn’t feel like us. Not anymore.

Michael stood there, still and silent, the distance between us a chasm that no words could bridge. He seemed so small, so different from the man who had once held me in his arms and promised me the world. But when he whispered my name again, it was as if time folded in on itself, and for a moment, I was back in that place where we were just Michael and Emily, two halves of a whole.

“Michael…” I breathed his name, barely recognizing the sound of my own voice. There was so much I wanted to say, so many questions, so much hurt. But all I managed to get out was, “How are you?”

He flinched at the question, like it stung him, and his face twisted into a mask of pain. “I’m fine,” he said, the lie obvious in the way his voice cracked. Then he took a step toward me, hesitant, like he was approaching something fragile that might shatter if he got too close.

He took five steps—exactly five—and suddenly, we were standing inches apart, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a thunderous echo in the silence that stretched between us. He leaned in, his breath warm against my cheek, and I knew what he was going to do before he did it.

A part of me wanted to push him away, to tell him that he didn’t get to do this, not after everything that had happened. But I couldn’t. I was frozen in place, caught in the pull of him, like a moth drawn to a flame it knows will burn it alive.

His lips brushed against mine, tentative at first, as if he was asking for permission. And in that moment, every wall I had built crumbled, and I found myself kissing him back, the desperation in our touch a reflection of the storm raging inside me. It was a kiss filled with longing and regret, with all the things we hadn’t said, and all the things we should have. It was a kiss that felt like coming home, even though home no longer existed.

But then I pulled away, gasping for air, my heart racing as tears streamed down my face, tears I hadn’t realized I was crying. The taste of salt mingled with the lingering taste of him, and I pressed my trembling fingers to my lips, trying to hold on to the feeling of him, even as I felt it slipping away.

Neither of us spoke. We just stood there, our breaths mingling in the small space between us, the silence heavy with everything we couldn’t say. And then, as if he couldn’t bear the distance between us any longer, Michael closed the gap once more, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a kiss that spoke of need, of a desperate attempt to hold on to something that was already gone.

He kissed me like a drowning man gasping for air, and I let him, because in that moment, I was drowning too. I let him pull me under, let the tide of his touch wash over me, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I felt like I was back where I belonged.

But when he finally pulled away, when the kiss ended and reality came crashing back in, the illusion shattered. We were just two people standing in the wreckage of something beautiful, something we had both destroyed.

And as I looked into his eyes, I knew that no matter how many times we tried to rebuild, the cracks would always be there, reminding us of the fractures we couldn’t fix.

He took me by the hand and led me up to his bedroom. We didn't say a word, but our eyes spoke volumes. As soon as we were inside, he took me in his arms and kissed me deeply again.

He trailed kisses down my neck, making me sigh with pleasure. I could feel his hands on my body, unzipping my dress and letting it fall to the ground. He undressed himself slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

He went down on his knees, his mouth finding its way to my most intimate places. I moaned with pleasure as he explored every inch of me. I could feel myself getting wetter by the second, my body begging for more.

He stood up and entered me without a condom. I gasped as I felt him inside of me, filling me up completely. We moved together, our bodies in perfect harmony. I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge.

"Michael," I moaned, digging my nails into his back. , thrusting into me with a fierce intensity. I could feel myself starting to climax, my body shaking with pleasure.

"Emily," he growled, his fingers finding their way to my clit. I cried out as I came, my body shuddering with pleasure. He followed soon after, filling me up with his seed.

We lay there, spent and satisfied, our bodies entwined. We didn't need to say anything; our bodies had spoken for us.