John is sprawled on the other side of the bed, his tousled hair and relaxed posture a stark contrast to the turmoil roiling inside you. The moonlight spills through the window, illuminating his features, the sharp angles of his face softened in sleep. He looks peaceful, a rare moment of vulnerability for a man who wears the weight of the world like a second skin.

But as you watch him, the guilt festers like an open wound. You had come into his life with your charms, your allure, weaving a spell around him that was supposed to be temporary—a means to an end. You never intended to fall for him. You never meant to feel the flutter in your chest, the warmth that spreads through you whenever he looks your way or brushes against you. It was supposed to be a game, a dance of seduction, but now it feels like a prison of your own making.

The weight of your decision sits heavily in your gut, and you can feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You want to let him go, to free him from the enchantment that has ensnared him, but the thought of losing him feels like a knife twisting in your heart. You’ve tasted his soul, felt the depth of his pain and his joy, and now you crave it, need it, like air.

You rise quietly, careful not to disturb him, and move to the window. The city sprawls beneath you, a tapestry of lights and shadows that pulse with life. The distant sounds of traffic and laughter float up to you, but they feel miles away, as if you’re suspended in a world of your own making. You press your forehead against the cool glass, the chill grounding you as you struggle to find clarity.

As if sensing your intentions, John stirs, and you turn to find him watching you, his blue eyes piercing through the dim light. “You’re not going to run off again, are you?” he asks, his voice gravelly with sleep but laced with that familiar teasing tone. There’s a knowing in his gaze, a depth of understanding that makes your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.