Covet [Original]

Blurred Boundaries

It was 2 a.m., and Rhea was wide awake, her face bathed in the cool glow of her laptop screen. She had promised herself she’d go to bed an hour ago, but her mind was buzzing, caught up in the latest conversation with Juno. She felt a kind of thrill every time a message from Juno popped up—a thrill tinged with something she couldn’t quite name.

Tonight, Juno’s words were sharper, the tone darker, her questions more probing than ever before.

> “Do you ever think about what people would say if they knew everything about you? Like, if all the things you’re scared to admit just… spilled out?”

Rhea hesitated, feeling her fingers hover over the keys. She couldn’t lie to Juno, not about something so real. But she couldn’t bring herself to type what she really felt, either—that sometimes she felt like a stranger to herself, especially lately.

“Maybe. Sometimes I worry they wouldn’t look at me the same way,” she replied, hoping that would satisfy Juno.

But Juno wasn’t one to let her off that easily.

> “I know what you mean. But maybe that’s why I think we’re alike. You wouldn’t have messaged me if you didn’t feel something… hidden, you know?”

The words hit a nerve, like Juno was reaching into parts of her Rhea barely understood. Every time they talked, she found herself inching closer to things she’d never given much thought to before. Juno would throw out some wild idea—some fantasy or strange craving—and it would cling to Rhea’s mind, leaving her uneasy but somehow exhilarated.

Tonight, though, Juno seemed to be pushing harder, leading her into darker waters.

> “Let me ask you something real,” Juno typed. “What’s the one thing you’d want if you didn’t have to be afraid of it?”

Rhea’s stomach clenched. She tried to think of an answer that would match Juno’s energy, to keep her interest, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was treading dangerous ground.

“I… don’t know,” she typed, feeling embarrassed by the uncertainty. “I’m still figuring that out, I guess.”

Juno’s response was immediate, almost mocking.

> “You’re scared, aren’t you? That’s okay. I think you like being a little scared.”

Rhea didn’t know how to reply. Part of her wanted to pull back, to shut her laptop and escape from the unnerving thoughts Juno stirred up. But another part of her, the part she didn’t like admitting, wanted to keep talking. She wanted to understand why Juno seemed so fearless, so ready to dive into things that felt so dark.

She could almost picture Juno smirking on the other side of the screen, leaning closer as if trying to read her mind. It was strange, Rhea thought, how someone she had never even seen could feel so present, like she was right there, watching her struggle.

The conversation went on, with Juno leading her down paths that felt like hidden corridors of her mind, ones she hadn’t even known existed. And all the while, she could feel her heart racing, torn between wanting to know more and wanting to shut it all down.

Finally, as the clock neared 3 a.m., Juno signed off with a final, cryptic message.

> “You’re closer to finding what you want than you think, Rhea. Just stop fighting it.”

When the screen went dark, Rhea sat in silence, feeling her thoughts racing, tangled with ideas she didn’t want to name. She had started to crave these late-night conversations with Juno, even though they left her feeling drained, confused, almost like she’d lost something of herself each time.

She closed her laptop and lay back in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind replaying the words Juno had said. She felt hollow, almost like there was a strange ache inside her—a need to understand, to keep reaching for something that seemed to slip further away every time she thought she was close.

But even as she fell asleep, one thought lingered, haunting her dreams: What if Juno was right?