But then something shifts. You don’t know when it happened, but the distance between you two starts to feel smaller, thinner. The world is catching on. You’re both getting careless. The late-night calls are turning into stolen afternoons, and the quiet kisses aren’t just a thing of the dark anymore.

She’s still pretending. Still acting like she doesn’t care. Still saying this isn’t real, that you’re just “a moment,” just “a good time.”

But the way her fingers linger on your skin when she thinks you’re not looking says something else. The way she looks at you when she thinks you’re not paying attention—it’s too much. Too real.

The hills have eyes. And now, they’re starting to see. The whispers from people you both used to trust—those who never knew the truth—start turning into questions. The world’s not blind anymore. They’re seeing the way you both act around each other. Seeing the way she smiles too long when you’re close. Seeing the way you look at her when she’s not looking.

You both told yourselves this was just a secret. Just a fleeting moment in time. But now, there’s no hiding. The walls are coming down. And you both know there’s no going back.