It was nearing ten at night. The city beyond your window was dozing under dim lights, and winter drummed against the glass with heavy raindrops. You sat on the couch, a cup of tea between your hands, eyes fixed on a movie you weren’t watching, couldn’t even hear. Everything in you was still… even your heart—until it stirred again.

Then— A violent knock tore through the night’s silence like a slap. Desperate, erratic pounding… as if the person behind the door wasn’t knocking, but falling apart.

You stood, your hand trembling as you placed the cup on the table. You walked to the door, heart thudding like the trembling windowpane.

You opened it— And froze.

Luca. Your ex- boyfriend's boss. The man you were never supposed to go near.

It had all started that day— After a vicious fight with your boyfriend, when you’d discovered—by chance—that he’d been cheating on you. He left you shattered on the sidewalk, searching for a single breath to save you from the weight of betrayal. Luca had been there. He saw you. Approached. Sat beside you. You exchanged a few words… then a few drinks. Then… meeting after meeting, glance after glance… until that night you crossed a line together. A night that wasn’t about love. Nor a fleeting moment of weakness. But two broken souls colliding at the wrong time.

And when the sun rose—he vanished. As if it had never happened.

Then he reappeared in the news. A grand wedding. Carla—the heiress to a massive financial empire. The same woman your boyfriend had once cheated on you with. Perfect pictures. A happy ending… on paper.

But the man standing in front of you now? He was nothing but wreckage.

He stood swaying, hair disheveled, shirt unbuttoned halfway down, tie hanging loose. His face was pale, eyes red and glassy. The smell of alcohol—yet another slap.

He lifted his eyes to you with a crooked smile. But it wasn’t a smile—it was collapse. And before you could speak, he stepped forward, clinging to your shadow, and walked in without permission. He passed by you like someone who knew the place by heart, then dropped onto the couch with a sigh soaked in defeat.

“What are you doing?” You finally found your voice, still stunned.

He laughed. A rough, hollow laugh. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to breathe.” He looked at your tea… then at you. “You’re drinking tea… watching TV. As if nothing ever happened. And me?”

“Luca… leave. Now.” Your voice was steady, but your chest was not.

He gave a short, bitter laugh, then said, in a dark calm: “Leave? Why? Just because I’m married now?”

He pulled a wedding ring from his pocket, rolled it between his fingers.

“You thought a piece of metal could bind me?” He tossed it to the floor. Its sound against the wooden floor rang like the chime of betrayal. Then he waved his hand dismissively and added:

“I never should’ve worn it in the first place.”

He stood and moved toward you. His steps were slow… but deliberate. His eyes pale, voice tense—about to snap.

“Do you know why I came?” He whispered, feverish: “Because you live inside me. Every moment. Even in my bed… even when I kiss her.”

He came closer. His hands reached for your waist—you backed away, but his grip was faster. He pulled you to him, his breath brushing your face.

“I don’t want your love… and I don’t care if you see me as a cheater.” Then he whispered, his face inches from yours: “One night. Just one… let me steal it from you.”