"I can’t. I can’t do that to you—to the people around you. I don’t have the strength for that, Kaia." My voice cracked, each word heavier than the last. Her eyes, shimmering with tears, pierced through me. Watching her plead tore apart the fragile resolve I was clinging to.
"Don’t you love me?" she whispered, her voice trembling. A tear escaped, sliding down her flushed cheek and landing on my neck like a gentle, burning touch.
I froze, my chest tightening painfully as her question lingered in the air. It was a weight I couldn’t carry.
"I do, but—"
Before I could finish, she leaned in, and her lips brushed against mine, soft and hesitant. The kiss deepened almost instantly, raw and unrestrained, as though she was trying to pour everything she couldn’t say into that moment.
I stiffened, unsure, my thoughts spiralling. My heart hammered in my chest as I tried to pull away, but her warmth drew me in, the desperation in her touch unravelling the walls I’d built. Her lips tasted like strawberries, sweet and intoxicating, and I found myself kissing her back, despite the part of me screaming that this was wrong.
Her hands slid to my face, trembling as they cupped my cheeks. When I pulled back, breathless, guilt washed over me like a cold wave.
"This is wrong," I whispered hoarsely, my hands trembling as I rested them on her shoulders. "Kaia, we can’t do this. You’re getting married tomorrow."
Tears streamed freely down her face now, and she shook her head violently. Her hands gripped the front of my shirt, her knuckles pale, as if letting go would shatter her entirely.
"Please," she choked out, her voice raw and broken. "Just tonight. Let me stay with you. Let’s forget everything—just for tonight. I’ll leave in the morning, and you’ll never see me again. But right now..." Her voice broke. "Right now, I need you. I need this."
Her words left me defenceless. I wanted to tell her no, to stop this before we made a mistake neither of us could take back. But her eyes, wide and pleading, brimmed with a sadness so deep it felt like I was drowning in it. She looked up at me, her tear-streaked face softening into an expression I couldn’t resist. She made those puppy eyes, ones I’d seen before but never like this.
"Kaia..." I whispered her name, barely audible, my voice shaky with hesitation.
"Just this once," she murmured, stepping closer. "Please."
I let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. That one nod was all she needed.
Her lips found mine again, tentative at first, as if she was waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. My arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, and she let out a soft, breathy moan against my mouth. It sent a shiver through me, my skin prickling as I felt her warmth press into me completely.
"Are you sure?" she whispered, her lips brushing against mine.
I nodded again, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I’m sure."
Her lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile before she kissed me again, deeper this time. Her hands slipped under my shirt, her fingertips grazing my skin, and I couldn’t suppress the sharp intake of breath that escaped me. Every touch felt electric, unfamiliar, overwhelming.
She led me to the bed, her movements slow, almost reverent, as if she was afraid of breaking the moment. Her eyes searched mine, silently asking for permission again. When I nodded, she reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head.
I couldn’t stop staring. My breath hitched as I took in the sight of her, vulnerable and breathtaking. Her fingers trailed down my chest, guiding me as she whispered soft reassurances.
"I’ll take care of you," she said softly, her voice trembling but sure.
Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word felt like a first—because it was. I didn’t know what to do, but she guided me, her movements patient and tender. My breaths came faster, mingling with hers, and when I hesitated, she would look up at me with those same puppy eyes, melting away every doubt.
The room filled with the sound of soft gasps and stifled moans as we explored each other, our bodies and emotions intertwined. My hands trembled as they traced her skin, every touch eliciting a quiet sigh or a gentle murmur of my name.
"Relax," she whispered against my ear, her lips brushing my skin. "Just feel."
And I did.
The night stretched endlessly as we moved together, a blur of passion and tenderness. I’d never felt so alive and yet so fragile, as though the world outside had ceased to exist, leaving only the two of us in this fleeting moment.
When it was over, we lay tangled in each other’s arms, the silence broken only by our uneven breaths. Neither of us spoke, but we didn’t need to. The weight of what we’d done hung heavily in the air, unspoken but understood.
We didn’t sleep. We couldn’t. Instead, we stayed there, holding each other as the night slowly gave way to dawn. The pale light spilling through the window was a cruel reminder of the world waiting for us.
But for that one night, she was mine, and I was hers. And nothing else mattered.
.
.
.
The early light of dawn spilled into the room, soft but unforgiving, pulling me back to reality. The haze of the night’s emotions began to lift, replaced by a gnawing sense of panic.
"My mother," I muttered, sitting up abruptly. My voice shook as the weight of what we’d done crashed into me. "Kaia, she’s home. If she finds out about this..."
Kaia stirred beside me, her eyes still half-closed. She reached out, her fingers brushing my arm as she yawned softly. "What’s wrong?"
I stood, pacing the room as my chest tightened. "She can’t know you were here. If she finds out—if anyone finds out—Kaia, this could ruin everything. For you. For me."
Kaia sat up slowly, the sheet slipping from her shoulders as she hugged it to her chest. Her expression was calm, almost serene, but her eyes carried the weight of unspoken emotions. "It’s okay," she said gently. "I’ll go."
Her words pierced through me. "Kaia..." I turned to face her, my voice cracking. "I don’t want you to leave, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t want to ruin this for you."
She gave me a soft, bittersweet smile as she stood, pulling the sheet tighter around her before gathering her clothes. "You’re not ruining anything," she said quietly, her voice steady. "This... This was something I needed. Something I’ll always cherish."
I stood there, watching her dress, the words caught in my throat. The sight of her—so beautiful, so poised despite everything—made my chest ache.
As she slipped on her dress, she turned to me, stepping closer. Her hand rested lightly on my cheek, her touch warm and tender. "Don’t worry about me," she said softly, her lips curving into a faint smile. "I also need to leave early."
Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. Then, with a soft laugh that didn’t reach her eyes, she added, "I’m going to be someone’s wife today."
The words hit me like a blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move.
Her smile wavered as she reached up, her fingers brushing my cheek one last time. "Mae..." she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Don’t forget me and don’t forget to come."
And just like that, she turned and walked toward the door, her steps slow but sure.
I wanted to stop her, to say something, anything, but no words came. My throat tightened as I watched her leave, her figure disappearing into the hall.
The room felt unbearably empty without her. The silence pressed in, broken only by the echo of her words in my mind.
.
.
.
I’m going to be someone’s wife today.
.
.
.
Don’t forget me.
.
.
.
I sank onto the bed, my head buried in my hands, as the crushing weight of reality settled deeper into my chest. The room felt too quiet, too still, and the emptiness left behind by her absence gnawed at me. I pressed my face into the pillow, biting back the sobs threatening to escape, but the tears came anyway—hot, unstoppable, and endless.
I tried to quiet myself, desperate not to let my mother hear me from the other side of the door. The pillow muffled the sounds, but it couldn’t stifle the ache in my chest. It was unbearable, like a heavy stone lodged in my ribcage, making every breath a struggle.
My mind replayed the night over and over—the way she had whispered my name, the way she had looked at me as if I were her entire world, even if only for a fleeting moment. And now, she was gone, walking out of my life to become someone else’s.
The thought sent another wave of pain crashing over me, and I clutched the pillow tighter, burying my face in it as tears soaked the fabric. I wanted to stop crying, to pull myself together, but it was as if my body refused to listen. I had given her all of me, and now, in the cold light of morning, I felt hollowed out, broken in a way I didn’t know how to fix.
Time slipped by in a blur as I lay there, lost in the storm of my emotions. Eventually, though, the sunlight creeping through the curtains grew brighter, a cruel reminder that the world outside hadn’t stopped for my pain. I wiped my face with trembling hands, trying to compose myself, but the tears wouldn’t stop.
Forcing myself to move, I dragged my aching body to the bathroom. The cold tiles beneath my feet sent a shiver through me as I turned on the shower, the sound of the water filling the silence. I stepped under the stream, letting the warmth wash over me, but it couldn’t ease the ache in my chest.
As I reached for the soap, my gaze drifted downward—and then froze. There, on the curve of my shoulder, was a faint mark from last night. A small bite, tender and pink, left behind in the heat of passion.
The sight of it made my breath hitch. My fingers grazed over it, and suddenly, the memories came rushing back in vivid detail—the way she had held me, the way her lips had moved against my skin, the way I had let her claim me completely.
A fresh wave of tears welled up in my eyes. I leaned against the cold wall of the shower, my forehead pressing against the tiles as the water cascaded over me. The mark was proof of what we’d shared, of the night that had changed everything—and it was a reminder that it was already over.
I cried until my legs felt weak, until the water began to run cold. Finally, I forced myself to straighten, taking slow, shuddering breaths as I tried to pull myself together. I couldn’t stay like this. Not today.
After drying off, I stood in front of the mirror, my reflection looking back at me with swollen eyes and a pale face. I wiped at my cheeks, forcing a weak smile that felt foreign and wrong, but I had no choice. I had to face the day.
Kaia’s wedding.
The thought sent a sharp pang through my chest, but I pushed it aside, focusing on getting dressed. My hands trembled as I buttoned my shirt, and I had to start over twice because I kept getting it wrong. Finally, I smoothed out my clothes, taking one last look in the mirror before stepping out of my room.
My family was already waiting in the living room, dressed in their best for the occasion. My mother glanced up at me as I entered, her expression softening. "You’ve been quiet this morning. Everything okay?" she asked.
I nodded stiffly, avoiding her gaze. "Yeah. Just tired," I muttered.
She didn’t press further, which I was grateful for.
We piled into the car, the drive to the venue filled with light chatter that I barely registered. My hands rested in my lap, fidgeting with the edge of my sleeve as my stomach churned. With every passing mile, the knot in my chest tightened, the air growing heavier.
When we finally arrived, the sight of the beautifully decorated venue made my breath catch. The flowers, the music, the guests dressed in elegant attire—it all felt surreal. My feet felt like lead as I stepped out of the car, forcing myself to follow my family inside.
I could feel the weight of the day pressing down on me as we entered the grand hall, the sound of laughter and conversation filling the space. Somewhere in the crowd, she was there. Kaia.
And she wasn’t mine anymore.
.
.
.
If I feel, I feel deeper.
It’s strange—sometimes it feels like my heart isn’t mine at all, like it’s this wild thing that belongs to everything around me. I feel the cracks in the pavement and the way the rain soaks into the earth. I feel the loneliness of the moon when the clouds cover it. And I feel people—their joys, their sorrows, their silence—it all sticks to me like I’m made of glue.
Emotions stay with me longer than they should. Words spoken in passing can echo for days, weeks, years. Is that normal? Is that love? Or is it just the way my soul works?
Maybe it’s both. Maybe that’s just the cost of feeling.