𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐤𝐢𝐧

𝑬𝒑𝒊𝒔𝒐𝒅𝒆 14: "𝒂 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒖𝒔"

୨୧
France, Paris
ISP
B.G.C.
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I haven’t stopped thinking about yesterday since it happened. Every moment since that kiss has replayed in my mind, the way her lips felt against mine, the thrill of something forbidden and new. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m looking forward to seeing her again. It’s ridiculous—I’m a grown woman, married with a daughter, and yet here I am, waiting like a teenager for Onika to knock on my door.

The clock ticks, and just as lunch starts, there’s a soft knock at the door, and I feel my heart leap into my throat. It’s her. I don’t even need to look to know it’s her.

Onika steps in, a shy smile already spreading across her face. She’s carrying a small lunch bag, just like yesterday. “I packed you lunch,” she says softly, as if uncertain whether I’d be happy to see her.

I raise an eyebrow, trying to mask the excitement bubbling inside me. “Again?” I tease, leaning back in my chair. “You know I don’t need to be fed, right?”

Onika’s smile widens, but there’s a hint of nervousness in her eyes. “I’m just concerned,” she replies, her voice soft as she walks toward my desk.

There’s a warmth in her tone that makes my chest tighten. I watch as she sits down on the desk right in front of me, placing the lunch bag between us. Her movements are hesitant, shy, but there’s something deliberate about the way she’s so close, the way her ankle nearly brushes against my knee.

I take a breath, trying to steady myself. “You don’t have to be concerned about me, Onika,” I say, but my voice is quieter than I intended, almost as if I’m convincing myself more than her.

She shrugs, her fingers playing with the strap of her bag as she looks down at it. “I just… I care, Mrs. Carter.”

There’s a tension between us now, a lingering awareness of yesterday, but neither of us addresses it directly. Instead, she unpack the sandwiches, the casualness of the action grounding us in the moment.

We start eating, and the conversation is light at first. She tells me about some silly thing Robyn did in class, about her friends and the gossip that’s been floating around. I find myself laughing, genuinely enjoying her company. The chemistry between us feels effortless, like we’ve known each other forever. But there’s still that underlying tension, that charge of something deeper—something neither of us is quite brave enough to confront.

“You’re quiet today,” she observes, tilting her head slightly as she studies me.

I shrug, wiping my hands with a napkin. “Just thinking, I guess.”

“About?” she asks, her eyes locking onto mine with a curiosity that makes my heart skip a beat.

I hesitate, unsure of how to respond. I could brush it off, deflect, pretend that everything is normal. But part of me doesn’t want to pretend anymore. “About yesterday,” I admit softly, the words hanging in the air between us.

Onika blushes, her eyes lowering for a moment before she meets my gaze again. There’s something in her expression—an understanding, a shared memory of that kiss. “Me too,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

I watch as she sets her sandwich down and shifts slightly on the desk. The air between us feels heavy, charged, like the calm before a storm. She’s so close, and I can feel the tension radiating from her, from both of us.

Before I can say anything else, Onika leans forward, her eyes searching mine for permission. I should stop her, I know that. I should tell her this can’t happen, that yesterday was a mistake, that we need to keep our distance. But I don’t. I can’t.