"You forget how hard it is to ignore someone who looks the way you do," He replied smoothly, taking advantage of the close proximity between the two of us.
Running his large hands slowly down my arms before looping them around my waist possessively...
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"𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙞𝙙, 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬'' ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
The elevator to the penthouse dinged shut behind me, the sound echoing faintly through the open space. I let out a long sigh, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it carelessly over the arm of the couch. Today had been... exhausting. Not physically, but mentally. Too many calls, too many damn numbers, and not enough patience left to deal with any of it.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. 5:42 p.m. The sky outside was beginning to dim, streaks of orange and pink bleeding into the horizon. I rubbed the back of my neck, the tension there sharp and unrelenting, and made my way to the quiet kitchen.
Not that it was ever noisy— Ahvi and I weren't exactly known for chatting like old friends—but tonight, the silence seemed to hum, heavy and alive. Maybe it was because I knew she wasn't here. No sarcastic remarks, no banging around in the kitchen. Just me and this empty space that suddenly felt a lot bigger than it was.
I opened the fridge, staring blankly at the contents. Half a carton of orange juice, a couple of beers, some leftovers I didn't even remember putting there. I wasn't hungry, but standing here with the cold air brushing my face gave me something to do. My hand hovered over the beers before I sighed and grabbed the orange juice instead.
"Good for the fucking soul," I muttered under my breath, pouring myself a glass and leaning against the counter.
My reflection caught my eye in the glossy surface of the microwave. I looked... different. Not bad, just not like my usual self. My hair was unkempt, falling into my eyes because I hadn't bothered to gel it back today. The dark gray T-shirt I wore hung loosely over my frame, paired with black joggers instead of the tailored suits I lived in. I had even kicked off my shoes by the door—something I never did unless I was too tired to give a damn.
It felt odd to not be rushing. To not have a laptop in front of me or a meeting to attend. But my thoughts refused to slow down. They never fucking did.
I walked toward the living room, sipping my orange juice as my eyes scanned the space. Her sweater was still draped over the back of the couch, a soft lavender thing that somehow managed to feel out of place yet perfectly at home. I stared at it for a moment too long, my grip tightening around the glass in my hand.
She's fucking everywhere, isn't she?
Her scent still lingered faintly in the air—something light and sweet, like vanilla and coconut. There were her sneakers by the door, the mug she left on the coffee table, and even her goddamn hair tie looped around one of the dining chairs. None of it should have mattered, but for some reason, it did.
