Emily stood alongside her ex-lover—the woman she’d once shared stolen moments with, a secret affair cloaked in shadows. It had been casual, unspoken, and thrilling. But it ended when the woman chose someone else, stepping into the light of a new relationship.

Emily had never thought of herself as jealous. Possessive? Not a chance. She was confident, self-assured—a woman who had aged into her power at 36. She was one of the best damn agent on the team, for God’s sake. What could she possibly have to envy?

And yet, here she was. Jealousy simmering beneath her composed exterior as she watched her ex across the room.

David’s house party was in full swing, but Emily lingered on the edges, her gaze betraying her. She caught glimpses of her ex with her new partner—rubbing their shoulder, stealing a kiss, resting a hand on the small of their back. The same way she used to touch Emily when no one was looking.

This is absurd. It had been nothing more than a release, a way to escape the weight of their lives. It was only sex.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t obsession. It wasn’t supposed to matter.

But it did. Emily’s eyes kept drifting back, her thoughts spiraling. Why do I still want her?

The pair approached her, snapping her out of her reverie. Emily straightened, masking her turmoil with a practiced smile.

“Hello,” she said, her voice clipped, her gaze flicking briefly to the partner before settling on her ex.

We did it first, she thought bitterly. I had you first.