Desire

XXIV.

Isabel

I wake up slowly, my body heavy and warm under the sheets. I stretch my arm out, expecting to feel the familiar presence of Lea next to me, but all I touch is cold, empty space. My eyes snap open, scanning the bed. She's not here.

Of course she's not. Why would she be?

I lay there for a minute, staring at the ceiling, my mind swirling with everything that happened last night. It's all such a blur now—the screaming, the rage, the way everything in my apartment felt too small, too tight, like it was choking me. I lost control.

I always do.

But the second I saw her—Lea—standing there, everything I'd been holding in crashed down. All the anger, the resentment, the hurt... it all just spilled out of me like I'd been drowning in it for years. And maybe I have been. I never wanted her to see me like that—so weak, so shattered. But there I was, collapsing into her arms like some pathetic child.

God, I hate how easily I broke. I hate how much I needed her in that moment, like she was the only thing tethering me to reality. But I couldn't stop it. Once the floodgates opened, it was over. I couldn't hold anything back. Not the tears. Not the way my body trembled with the weight of everything crashing down on me.

And then there was that nightmare... that nightmare. The one I haven't had in years. I was a little girl again, running, hiding, trying to escape from... something, someone. It felt so real, like I was back there—trapped, helpless, and no one was coming to save me. No one ever did. But then Lea woke me, pulled me out of it. Just her voice, her touch...

And then it happened. We kissed. No, we didn't just kiss. We consumed each other. It was raw, desperate, everything I'd wanted but denied myself for so long. The hunger between us, the way she pulled me in like she was the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely. It felt inevitable. Maybe it always has been.

But now she's gone.

I should feel something—regret, shame, maybe even satisfaction—but I don't. I feel... empty. Numb, even. Like last night never happened. Like I didn't fall apart in front of her and let her see me for who I really am—a mess. Weak. Broken.

I manage to get myself out of bed and I pull on a pair of loose sweatpants and a hoodie, not even bothering to look in the mirror. There's no way I'm going to rehearsal today. The thought of facing anyone after everything that happened last night... it's too much. I know how important it is, but I can't. Not today.

I grab my phone and text my dancers, telling them something came up and we'll regroup tomorrow. They'll understand—or they won't. Either way, I don't care right now.

After I freshen up, I push open my bedroom door and stop dead in my tracks. The apartment... it's spotless. The broken canvases, the shards of glass, the wreckage I left behind last night—it's all gone. Like it never happened. My breath catches in my throat, and for a second, I almost think I imagined the whole thing.

Then I see her. Lea. She's in the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter, her eyes glued to her phone as she scrolls through it. Completely absorbed, completely calm—like nothing's wrong, like last night was just... normal.

I stand there for a moment, not saying a word. My mind races, trying to figure out what to do, what to say. Should I thank her? Apologize? Pretend like I didn't just lose my mind in front of her?

She hasn't noticed me yet, and for a brief moment, I consider slipping back into my room, pretending I never came out. But then, a surge of something—guilt, anger, I don't know—pushes me forward.