Carved in Her Bones

Peter- 2 years earlier.

Before I met Rhian, my only real fear had been the thought of leaving this world too soon, leaving my parents with grief they didn't deserve. Now, as I watched her from the shadows of a club like some deranged voyeur, that fear seemed almost insignificant. My true fear, the one that kept me awake at night, was that she might never be mine.

Everything about her pulled me in, an invisible force I could barely resist. The way she moved to the music, oblivious to my stare, was intoxicating. I hadn't planned to go out tonight, but after catching her texts about club plans with her friends, I knew I couldn't resist the pull. If she was going to Shine, then so was I. But I wasn't going alone. Damon, my old friend from university, agreed to join me, even though he didn't question—or understand—my obsession with her. It was Damon, after all, who'd helped me set up the digital link to her phone and track her tonight.

At the club, Damon ordered a bottle of whiskey, pouring his own drink in that suspicious way of his. He liked to keep a close eye on every detail around him, but his attention had already shifted to some girl he'd noticed across the room. Meanwhile, I waited for Rhian, hardly hearing the music, my eyes scanning the stairs until I saw her. She moved with a confidence and freedom that captivated everyone around her, and it wasn't long before other men noticed, trailing behind her like moths to a flame. But I could see she didn't care; she wanted nothing to do with them. She ordered shots for her friends, downed five of them in rapid succession, and drifted onto the dance floor, swaying in a way that was entrancing and almost hypnotic.

She danced alone, losing herself in the rhythm. She wasn't trying to seduce anyone, but somehow she was the most magnetic person in the room. I could tell by the way she moved that she was carrying some unspoken burden, drowning it in vodka and music. I moved closer, close enough to catch her scent, to feel her presence. She turned and caught my eye, her gaze steady, an unspoken challenge there, and for a moment, I felt as if she could see right through me.

But then her friend Oliwia appeared, and I slipped back into the shadows. Damon was already wrapped around his latest fling, grinding against her with abandon, his laughter mixing with the music. For a moment, I envied him—envied the simplicity of it, of wanting someone without the weight that had attached itself to me since I met Rhian. I couldn't imagine being with anyone else now, and the thought of it made me feel sick.

As the night wore on, she grew bolder, wilder, her dances shifting into something deeper, something raw. Then, a guy behind her—some cocky kid with more nerve than sense—wrapped his hands around her waist. I could feel my blood boil. Before I knew what I was doing, I was behind him, whispering, "Take your hands off my wife." My voice came out cold, sharper than intended, but it worked. His hands shot up, and he disappeared into the crowd, not daring to look back. Rhian hadn't even noticed, lost in the rhythm, now dancing with Oliwia instead.

By 4 a.m., Damon was long gone, lost to his own adventures, and Rhian's friends were rounding up their things. She fumbled for her phone, ordering an Uber, which I immediately canceled. Within minutes, Damon's driver had arrived, ready to take them home. I'd made sure she got there safely, even if she had no idea. That thought carried me back to my place with a strange sense of peace.

But as I drifted to sleep, I felt that familiar hunger for her, the hunger that only grew stronger with each day. She wasn't mine—yet—but I was more certain than ever that one day, she would be. And that thought was enough to make me smile.