You swore this would be the last time.
The lights of the hotel hallway were dim as you pressed yourself against the wall, listening for any sound beyond the heavy door. The city hummed faintly outside, but inside, it was silent except for the pounding of your heart. You clutched the key card in your hand like a lifeline, wondering for the hundredth time if you should turn back.
But then, his voice echoed in your mind.
"You don't have to come, but I need to see you."
The note of desperation had hooked you, despite everything screaming at you to let go. You glanced at your phone for the time—11:47 p.m. He was waiting.
You slid the key into the lock. The beep of the green light felt louder than it should.
When you stepped inside, Nicholas was leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window, his tall frame silhouetted by the city lights. He turned at the sound of the door, and just like that, the tension in your chest unraveled.
"Hey," he said softly, his voice carrying that familiar mix of relief and hesitation.
"Hey." You closed the door behind you, taking a step closer. "I wasn't sure if I'd come."
His lips twitched into a half-smile. "But you did."
You crossed your arms, not to be defiant but to keep yourself grounded. "You said it was important. What's going on?"
He pushed off the window and closed the space between you in two strides. His hands reached for yours, warm and calloused, and suddenly you were close enough to smell the faint trace of his cologne.
"I missed you."
"Nick..." Your voice wavered. This wasn't what you'd come for. You'd told yourself this would be closure, not another chapter.
He exhaled, his forehead nearly brushing yours. "I know I've been unfair to you. I've made promises I couldn't keep, and I've put you in impossible situations."
You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. "You're right, you have. And I let you. Because every time you'd pull away, you'd come back with these words, these moments, and I'd fall all over again."
His grip tightened slightly, as if afraid you might slip away. "This isn't just words, Y/N. I don't want to lose you."
You pulled back, creating distance, because his presence was intoxicating, and you needed to think clearly. "Then tell me what's changed, Nick. Because the last time I saw you, you were all smiles with her at the premiere. And I—"
"Stop." His voice was firm, and for the first time, you saw cracks in his armor. "Don't say her name. Not here. Not when this is the only place I can be myself."
Your chest heaved with a mix of frustration and yearning. "That's the problem, Nick. I don't want to be your secret anymore."
His jaw clenched, and he turned away, pacing to the other side of the room. The silence stretched, taut as a wire.
"I didn't ask for this life," he said finally, his back to you. "The cameras, the expectations, the scripts I'm forced to follow even when they're not on set. And yes, I'm with her because it looks good. Because my agent said it would 'elevate my brand.'"
He turned to face you, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes stole the air from your lungs.
"But none of that matters when I'm with you. You're the only thing that feels real in all of this. And I don't know how to fix it without ruining everything else."
Your heart ached at his words, but anger bubbled beneath the surface. "You want me to be okay with being the girl you see in secret while the world thinks you're in love with someone else?"
"No!" He raked a hand through his hair. "I want to be the man who deserves you. But I'm scared. Scared of losing my career, scared of losing myself, and most of all, scared of losing you if I screw this up."
Tears blurred your vision, and you blinked them away. "You already are."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding.
Nicholas stepped closer, his movements tentative. "Don't say that," he murmured. "Not when I'm standing here, telling you I love you."
Your breath hitched. "Do you?"
His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that escaped. "With everything I have. Even if it's not enough."
The honesty in his voice was your undoing. Against all logic, you leaned into his touch, craving the comfort he so effortlessly provided.
"This can't keep happening," you whispered.
"Then let's make it stop." His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer. "No more secrets. No more hiding. I'll tell the world tomorrow if that's what it takes. Just don't walk away from me tonight."
The sincerity in his eyes ignited something in you, a flicker of hope that refused to be snuffed out.
"You can't promise me that," you said, though your resolve was weakening.
"I can," he countered. "And I will. Just... let me prove it to you."
Your lips parted, words failing you, and in the silence, he closed the gap.
The kiss was slow, deliberate, as if he were memorizing every second. It was a silent apology, a plea, and a declaration all at once.
When he pulled away, you searched his face for any trace of doubt but found none.
"I need you to believe in me," he said, his forehead resting against yours.
You let out a shaky breath. "I don't know if I can."
"Then let me help you," he whispered.
For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to hope.
_______________________________________________________________________
The next morning, the headlines broke:
"Nicholas Chavez and Girlfriend Part Ways Amid Speculation of a New Romance."
The accompanying photo was unmistakable: you and Nicholas walking hand in hand, stepping into the light for the first time.
And for once, the world felt a little less complicated.
