𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥

𝟖|| 'Fleeting Encounters'

" In the shadows, where danger and desire entwine, the heart reveals its truest yearnings. "
Unknown
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𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐒 itself in beads on my forehead, dripping down my chin as I exhale, my eyes squinting as I prepare to pick up yet another box filled with Lyrah's shoes. The sun pokes through the large and wide windows of Lyrah's old apartment, lighting up the unfurnished home and heating up the patterned tiles which burn beneath my feet.

It's getting closer to summer with each passing day. While the prospect of beach outings and cold treats is exciting, there's an inevitable sense of dread that follows. The season always brings its share of sunburns and facial meltdowns, a reminder of the less glamorous side of the sun-soaked days.

I take a moment to wipe my brow with the back of my hand, feeling the slight stickiness of the air as I survey the chaos around me. Boxes of all sizes are scattered about, some filled to the brim with Lyrah's eclectic collection of shoes—each pair a memory, a statement, a piece of her personality.

"Can we take a break- God, I feel like I'm about to faint," Luna says, gulping down a bottle of ice cold water from the cooler box in the corner of the living room. Nicolas sits beside her holding an ice pack to his face, his shirt off and tucked in the waistband of his shorts, his eyes closed with the back of his head resting against the wall.

"Just a few more boxes," I huff out as I prepare to lift the box of shoes and make my way down the elevator to my car, which is already holding a few others we need to drive to Lyrah's new apartment. Suddenly, a ping from my phone sounds from the kitchen counter, accompanied by a gentle vibration against my wrist.

My eyes narrow, and a frown settles on my face as I set the box down with a soft thud. Taking a moment to steady myself, I walk toward the counter, curiosity piquing at Elijah's name glowing on my lock screen. I swipe to unlock my phone and see a message waiting for me.

ELIJAH:
Hey beautiful, just checking in to see if we're still on for tonight and if there's been any change in plans?

I immediately bite my lip, a wave of guilt bubbling up in my throat. It's been a month since I last saw Elijah—since the McMurray fundraiser, since him.

Slowly but surely, my eagerness to understand Kingston had dissipated amidst the month of busy days and stress. It still lingered, unfulfilled and nagging, but I chose to ignore it. I made a conscious decision to control whatever fixation had taken root in my mind. I recognized the need to relinquish the drive to unravel something that resisted comprehension and had the potential to become harmful.

Continuing to pursue clarity on his life—a puzzle wrapped in mystery—could jeopardize my well-being. I had to prioritize my own safety and peace of mind over the allure of knowing more about him. It wasn't easy; the pull of curiosity was strong, often whispering in the back of my mind, but I reminded myself that some mysteries were best left unsolved.