Running From You I Negan x Maggie (ENGLISH VERSION)

Chapter 21: Oh i love it and i hate it at the same time - PART I 🚫+18

"This lust is a burden that we both share

Two sinners can't atone from a lone prayer

Souls tied, intertwined by pride and guilt"

Maggie felt discomfort crawl across her skin like a cold serpent, tightening her chest with every scratch of the dress's fabric against her shoulders. Dresses were never her choice. The plunging neckline, leaving her breasts nearly spilling out, felt like a reminder that she didn't belong in this world, where luxury and pretense masked a fight for survival she knew all too well.

The weight of loneliness was worse. Without her closest friends, Maggie felt exposed. Her slightly late arrival hadn't helped at all. On her way in, she'd encountered Daryl and Rosita at the door. Their reactions hadn't exactly been warm. Daryl seemed unsettled, his serious and confused gaze as though trying to comprehend why she was there. Rosita merely maintained a cautious smile, the kind that hid far more than it revealed.

Rosita. It had been three months since they last spoke. The echo of their argument still lingered in the air, but Maggie knew she had to find a way to mend things. Not there, not that night, but eventually. It was strange to realize how time had weakened her resolve to hold a grudge. The desire to fix it bothered her almost as much as the dress itself.

And Daryl... He had always been a solid presence in her life, but now he seemed hesitant. Maggie knew he must have his reasons for being tense, and perhaps he was right to feel that way. After all, her presence there was as unexpected as it was uncertain. She herself wasn't sure why she had come until the very last moment. Curiosity, distrust, perhaps even stubbornness. She wanted to see for herself what Pamela Milton had told her, feel the weight of her words, and understand what was hidden beneath that veneer of civilization.

But none of that erased the discomfort. The Commonwealth was like a flawless painting hanging on a rotting wall. Every masked face, every laugh stifled by the music, seemed part of a theater Maggie couldn't fully grasp. She didn't know exactly what she was looking for, but there was an unsettling feeling growing inside her. Something was about to happen, and Maggie felt, somehow, that she would be part of it — whether she wanted to or not.

The hall was crowded when Maggie finally found a quieter corner to settle in. She grabbed a champagne glass from a passing waiter, more to keep her hands busy than out of any desire to drink.

But her attempt to hide in the crowd didn't last long. A tall, slender man in a pink suit so bright it was almost blinding approached her. He carried with him a strange smile, almost robotic, that didn't reach his eyes.

— Miss Rhee, so good to see you here. I thought you wouldn't come, — he said, his tone courteous but loaded with familiarity. He held his own wine glass, gesturing lightly as he spoke. — I hope you're enjoying the evening.

Maggie looked up at him, keeping her face impassive. She knew enough about Lance to realize he never approached without a purpose.

— Hornsby, — she replied with a brief nod. — I didn't think you'd notice me with so many people here.

Lance let out a restrained laugh, his smile widening almost automatically.

— Impossible not to notice, — he said, his eyes briefly landing on Maggie's neckline before returning to her face. — You have... a commanding presence. — The tone seemed neutral, but Maggie couldn't miss the calculated hesitation in his words.

She tightened her grip on the glass in her hands, fighting to contain the discomfort she felt from catching Lance's gaze and the implicit weight of his comment. Internally, she dismissed the compliment as just another tool in his game. Flattery had never impressed her, but Lance didn't know her well enough to understand that.