[BOOK2]
Friendship built their world. Love will break it open. ❤️
*****
I want her.
I want her more than I've ever wanted anything.
But I can't have her. Because the moment I admit that out loud, the moment I risk everything we've built, I could lo...
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When I open the door, my head's still halfway in whatever I was thinking about before the knock — nothing important, just the same loop I've been running for days.
Then I see her.
She's here.
For a second, I'm not sure she's real. She's just... standing there in the hallway like the last few weeks didn't happen. Like she didn't rip something out of me and walk away.
My hand stays wrapped around the edge of the door. My pulse kicks up, hard enough I feel it in my jaw.
She doesn't say anything. Just looks at me like she's trying to read every piece of me all at once.
I don't move. Don't invite her in. The air feels strange — charged, heavy, like one wrong shift will break it.
"You're not my mum," I say finally. My voice comes out rough, quieter than I meant. "Thought you were her bringing food."
She swallows, glances at the floor, then back at me. "It's... just me."
I don't trust myself to answer right away. I don't know if I want her here or if I want her to feel what I've been feeling.
But I don't close the door either.
I step back. Not much, just enough for her to pass if she wants to.
She does, slipping past me into the room without looking at me. Her shoulder brushes mine and it's like static — not sharp, but enough to make me notice every nerve under my skin.
The door clicks shut behind us.
She stands there for a second, not moving further in, like she's not sure she's allowed. Her eyes flick around — the unmade bed, the pile of clothes in the corner, the curtains drawn halfway — but they keep coming back to me.
I don't sit. I lean back against the door, arms folding over my chest, keeping distance because I don't know what she's here to say.
It's quiet. Too quiet. The kind that makes your own breathing sound too loud.
"Why are you here?" I ask finally.
Her fingers knot together, like she's holding herself in place. "Because... I couldn't not be."
It's not an answer. Not really. But something in the way she says it sinks straight into me anyway.
I drop my gaze to the floor for a second, trying to pull myself together before I look at her again. "You shouldn't be here," I say, even though every part of me has been waiting for this knock.
"I thought you didn't love me again," I press further, and it hurts me to say. "I thought I was disposable."
She blinks fast, but I still catch it—the wet shine in her eyes she's fighting to hold back.
