It was late.

The kind of late that made the city feel like a secret.

You were in his apartment, lights low, music forgotten in the background. The air was warm with the kind of closeness that never made it to daylight. You were tangled together—skin against skin, breath against breath, laughter fading into quiet.

It was always like this.

Casual. Unspoken.

A secret stitched between missions and moments no one else saw.

You weren’t a couple.

You were friends.

Friends who kissed when no one was looking. Friends who touched like it didn’t mean anything. Friends who whispered each other’s names like confessions they’d never admit.

And somewhere in all of that, you fell in love.

Not all at once. Just slowly. Quietly. Until it was everywhere.

Until it was tonight.

He was tracing lazy circles on your back, half-asleep, half-smiling, when it slipped out.

“I love you.”

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t dramatic.

Just a whisper. Soft. True.

And the moment it left your mouth, everything stopped. His hand froze. His breath caught. He didn’t speak.

You felt it immediately—the shift.

He sat up. Didn’t look at you. Didn’t say a word. Just stood. Pulled on his shirt.

And left.

The door closed behind him like a final sentence.

And you lay there, alone, in the warmth he left behind. You didn’t cry.

Not yet.

You just stared at the ceiling, replaying the moment again and again.

The way he froze. The way he didn’t say your name. The way he left.

You told yourself it didn’t matter.

That it was casual. That it was nothing. But it was everything. And now he knew.

And now he was gone.