The night air was cool, but it did nothing to settle the heat still lingering between you. You leaned on the balcony railing, arms crossed, staring at the empty courtyard below.

Behind you, a lighter flicked. Cigarette smoke curled into the air.

Ghost.

You hadn’t spoken since that night. The whiskey. His hands on your skin. The quiet desperation between tangled sheets. And then? Silence. Avoidance. Like it had never happened.

He exhaled, voice low. “You gonna keep pretendin’ I don’t exist?”

Your grip tightened. “What’s there to say?”

A humorless chuckle. “That it was a mistake? That you regret it?” He flicked ash onto the ground. “Or that you don’t?”

Your chest tightened. You turned, meeting his gaze through the mask. He watched you, unreadable, waiting.

Finally, he sighed, crushing the cigarette under his boot. “You and me—we’re still on the same side.”

And just like that, he walked away.

Leaving only the smoke and the weight of what neither of you said.