The morning after felt like walking on broken glass.
Emily moved through her small flat like a sleepwalker, her limbs stiff, her mind aching. She had managed a shower, barely. The warm water had run down her back, but it hadn't washed away the chill that had settled in her bones. Not since that night. Not since him.
She stood in the kitchen now, staring at a steaming mug of tea she'd made and forgotten about. Her hand wrapped around the handle, but she didn't drink. The silence of her flat wasn't peaceful, it was hollow. Every noise outside, honking horns, footsteps on stairs, murmurs of conversation—felt distant, as though the world were continuing without her.
Something had changed. Not just out there, but in her.
Her phone vibrated again, a message flashing across the screen.
Jake:You okay today? Want to grab lunch later? My treat. I'll even pretend to understand your favorite weird poetry.
She let out a breath that was almost a laugh, almost a sigh. Jake's persistence was something she used to find comforting. Familiar. Safe. But now… she didn't know what to feel. Her thumbs hovered over the keys.
Emily:Maybe. I've got a few things to sort first. I'll text you later.
It was easier than saying no. Easier than explaining the truth; that she didn't feel like herself anymore. That nothing felt simple anymore.
She placed the phone face down on the counter and finally brought the tea to her lips. It was lukewarm.
Across the room, the shirt Adrian had lent her still hung from the back of a chair. She stared at it for a long moment. Her breath caught slightly. She hadn't touched it. Not since she peeled it off her skin that morning and dressed herself again in her own clothes, half-hoping he'd say something. Anything.
But Adrian had been stone. Courteous, cold, and unreadable. As if nothing between them had ever happened. As if he hadn't watched her unravel on his couch. As if he hadn't been the one to carry her, hold her, bring her inside when she couldn't stand on her own.
And yet he hadn't asked a single question.
Not why she'd ended up in the street. Not what she'd been running from. Not who she was.
It gnawed at her.
Why bring me there at all, if he didn't care?
Why see me so raw, and then disappear into silence?
She clenched her jaw and turned away, grabbing her coat and bag. She had to get out. Go somewhere, anywhere. Sitting here, trapped with the echoes of last night, wasn't helping.
…..
The university campus looked the same, but nothing felt the same.
The crisp autumn breeze bit at her cheeks as she walked between buildings, her boots crunching against fallen leaves. Students clustered in groups around the courtyard, laughing, talking too loudly, throwing around deadlines like casual suggestions. She used to be like that engaged, interested.
Now, her mind moved like molasses.
A few classmates waved as she passed, and she nodded automatically, pushing her way into the lecture hall. She took her usual seat in the middle row, back straight, hands clasped on her notebook like a shield. The professor's voice was a dull murmur in the background. Words floated around her "cognitive dissonance," "social behavior patterns," "moral justification"—but none of them stuck.
Because all she could think about was Adrian's silence.
And the look in his eyes, not when he spoke, but when he didn't.
…..
After class, she avoided the crowded student café and took the long way around the arts building. She needed space. She needed clarity.
Instead, she found Jake.
He stood under one of the tall trees near the benches, sipping a coffee and scanning his phone. His face lit up the moment he saw her.
Jake's smile was wide and warm, but there was a flicker in his eyes like he was trying to mask something deeper.
"Em," he said, voice casual but steady, "I've been texting you. You kinda ghosted me yesterday. Everything okay?"
Emily hesitated, but Jake pressed on.
"Look, I get it. Things have been weird. But I'm not just gonna drop you. Not like that."
He paused, his tone softening, but with a hint of determination.
"Besides, I want to see if I can get you to drop those walls. You don't have to say yes, but dinner? Project notes? Whatever. Just… let me try."
Emily noticed the subtle challenge there like Jake was making a bet with himself that he could still reach her.
….
Text messages:
Jake: Hey, checking in. Not going anywhere, you know. You owe me a chance to explain at least. 😉
Emily (typing): Thanks, Jake. Just need time.
Jake: Time's fair. But don't take too long. I'm betting you'll come around sooner than you think.
Inner thoughts from Jake:
She's pushing me away, but I'm not done. I'm going to show her I'm steady, reliable — maybe too steady for her to ignore. This is my bet: I'll be the one she turns to when she's ready to drop the act.
...
Meanwhile, across the city, Adrian sat in the high-ceilinged stillness of his study, surrounded by shadows and silence.
The newspaper from earlier still lay folded beside an untouched cup of black coffee. His laptop screen glowed softly, open to a spreadsheet he'd stopped working on an hour ago. Numbers and deadlines had always been his safe ground. Order. Control. Logic.
But not today.
Today, he couldn't focus on anything but her.
Emily.
The sound of her voice still echoed in the back of his mind—sharp, unguarded, brave in its vulnerability. She had broken apart in front of him, yet she hadn't begged. She hadn't asked for comfort. She had sat there in her silence and stillness, holding herself together by sheer will.
He had offered her nothing. Not because he didn't want to.
But because he couldn't.
The boundaries he lived by were forged through pain, through loss, through necessity. To feel was dangerous. To care was to create a weakness.
And she was a weakness.
One that stirred something long-buried in him.
He stood abruptly, pushing away from the desk. His steps carried him toward the window, where the city stretched beneath him like a sea of flickering lights.
He clenched his jaw.
Why had he brought her to his house? Why hadn't he just walked away?
He knew better.
He always knew better.
But something in her had drawn him. Something raw and familiar. Something that whispered of truths they both refused to face.
Adrian let his eyes fall shut.
He couldn't protect her, not from her past, not from himself.
And still, he wasn't sure he could stay away.
...
Back in her room, Emily stood by her window, looking out at the street where the streetlamps were just beginning to flicker to life. Her reflection stared back at her in the glass—tired, lost, and searching.
She thought of Jake's eyes, soft with concern.
She thought of Adrian's, unreadable, dark, and dangerous.
She thought of her own, and how she no longer recognized them.
As she turned from the window, she didn't know what the next day would bring. But she knew one thing:
Whatever this path was she had stepped onto, it had no clear end.
Only choices.
Only consequences.
And a thousand shadows yet to come.