Something In The Way-SYLUS X MC X ZAYNE

Chapter 18 "SYLUS"

The first light of dawn crept into the room, casting a gentle glow that danced over her silhouette. She was beautiful in the morning light, a delicate figure wrapped in the oversized shirt she'd borrowed from me. It hung loosely on her, accentuating the curve of her waist, the smooth lines of her legs. I felt a pang of something deep within my chest, an ache that reminded me of all the things I wanted to say but couldn't find the words for. Her bare back, smooth and warm, was framed in the early morning light, and for a moment, I let myself just watch her—memorizing every curve, every line.She moved quietly, gathering her clothes and slipping into each piece with a delicate grace that held me spellbound.

There was something intoxicating about this unguarded moment, seeing her as she pulled my shirt over her shoulders, wrapping herself in its oversized fabric. She caught her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her hair, and I could see a hint of conflict in her expression. It was subtle, but I knew her well enough to sense the tension simmering beneath her composed exterior.

As she gathered her things, my heart raced, torn between the desire to keep her close and the need to let her go. She moved gracefully, almost unaware of the spell she cast upon me, but the tranquility of the moment was shattered when she reached for the door. I had to fight the instinct to call out, to beg her to stay just a little longer.

But then she turned and took a tentative step toward me, her expression softening as she watched my face. I kept my breathing slow and even, waiting. My pulse quickened when she leaned over, her hair brushing against my cheek as she bent down. Her lips hovered, just inches from mine, as if she were contemplating.

And then, so softly I almost missed it, she brushed her lips against mine. It was tender, lingering—full of everything she couldn't say. I felt her exhale, the faintest sigh escaping her lips, as though kissing me goodbye was a struggle she hadn't anticipated.

The warmth of her kiss faded as she pulled back, and I fought every instinct to reach out and pull her into my arms. Instead, I waited, listening as her footsteps moved toward the door. When I heard the latch click, I opened my eyes, catching the last glimpse of her slipping out

When the door clicked shut behind her, I pushed myself up and walked over to the window. I waited until I could see her again. From this point, I could see her walking down the path, the morning sun illuminating her hair, making it glimmer like spun gold. I leaned against the frame, my heart heavy as I watched her retreat. She moved with a purpose, but I knew the weight of uncertainty was still pressing on her.

Doubt nagged at me. Had I pushed too hard? The memory of our argument flashed through my mind—the way her voice had trembled with anger and hurt, how she'd slapped me. I couldn't blame her. My methods had always been ruthless, driven by a singular focus: her safety. But at what cost? I'd thrown everything on the line for her, but I also had to respect her autonomy.

As she reached the edge of the property, I felt a surge of protectiveness. I wanted to chase after her, to wrap her in my arms and assure her that everything would be okay, that I wouldn't let anyone take her from me. Instead, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to clear my mind of the chaos.

The night was a familiar cloak, heavy and endless, and yet tonight, there was an edge to it—a tension I couldn't shake. The silence of my empty mansion seemed louder, more suffocating, and as I walked through the halls, the memories were sharp, as if her laughter still lingered in the air. I should have felt satisfaction. After all, I had finally kissed her, felt the warmth of her against me, tasted her breath on mine. But it wasn't enough.

Nothing ever was.

I settled into a worn leather chair by the fireplace, letting the room sink into shadow, hoping it would drown out the feeling gnawing inside me. My mind circled back to her, relentless as always. I'd been a fool to think her leaving would lessen the weight of it all. Every second, every inch of space between us, felt like fire under my skin. She'd tried to run from me, slipped through my fingers when she thought I was asleep. A part of me wanted to give her that distance. But another part—the larger, darker part—knew that was impossible. Because the truth was, she belonged to me, whether she understood it or not. Whether she accepted it or not.