The room was suffocating, thick with the scent of cologne and regret. City lights bled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting fractured shadows across the tangled sheets, the discarded jacket on the chair, the quiet remnants of a love that had no place outside these four walls.

He stood there, unmoving, watching you like a man on the edge of a decision he would never make. His tie hung loose, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, the weight of his life pressing into his shoulders, pulling him back to a world where you did not exist. His hands had been on you moments ago, gripping like a lifeline, like maybe this time he wouldn’t have to let go. But that was a lie. He always let go.

You turned away, arms wrapping around yourself, as if you could hold your own breaking heart together. The sheets still smelled like him, like something fleeting, something that had never truly been yours. The echoes of whispered promises—ones never spoken in the light of day—clawed at your ribs, twisting deep, a painful reminder that you would never be more than stolen moments.

Behind you, his breath hitched, a sound so soft, so shattered, it almost made you turn around. Almost. But you already knew what you’d see—eyes filled with longing, with a love that was real but never strong enough to break the chains he had willingly wrapped around himself. A love that would never be yours.

"I do love you, {{user}}." Kegan spoke, his voice cutting through the deafening silence.