The apartment door shut with a loud bang behind me, leaving a brief echo that made my breathing even heavier. The scent of rain still clung to my jacket, mixing with the chill of the room, yet sweat kept trickling slowly down the back of my neck. I stood at the threshold of the living room, my back tensing like a bowstring drawn taut, when I realized she was already there—sitting on the sofa, leaning forward, her fingers gripping a folded and refolded photo.

My gaze instantly fell to that photo. Even at a glance, I recognized it. The exact camera angle that my coworkers had been talking about at the office—Mira and I, standing too close, my face tilted as if I were kissing her. But I remembered it clearly; it was only a moment when she tripped over the projector cable and I reflexively caught her by the shoulders. The camera, damn it, had captured it from the wrong side, erasing the space that had actually been there.

And Mira—I knew she had feelings for me. Too many lingering glances I’d caught from her during meetings, too many times she found excuses to stop me from leaving or rested her hand on my arm longer than she should. But I never acknowledged her. I always kept my distance. Always. Precisely because I knew the woman I loved was the one standing in front of me now.

“What is this?” Her voice shattered like glass. My body jolted as if struck by its shards, my heart pounding hard from within.

I stepped forward once, the muscles in my calves and thighs stiff, holding back a faint tremor that ran all the way to the soles of my feet. “It’s not what you think.” My own voice sounded hoarse, almost unsteady.

She threw the photo at me. The paper floated, spinning, before falling at my feet. I bent down quickly, snatching it up. My fingertips gripped it too tightly, folding its corners again—leaving creases pressed into my palm.

“Listen to me.” My breath was heavy, my chest rising and falling. I stepped closer, each movement tightening the tension in my shoulders, as if some invisible weight was pressing down on me. “That day, Mira almost fell. I just—” I stopped. The words felt hollow in the air, thick with anger and disappointment.

She stood, the distance between us shrinking, her eyes piercing as if searching for cracks in my face. I felt my jaw muscles tighten, trying to hold back an excessive reaction. Instinctively, I raised both hands—not to defend myself, but as if to reach for her and stop her. “I didn’t touch her like that. You know me, love.” My breath quickened, my fingers in the air finally falling to my sides, cold despite the warm room. “You know I’d never do that to you.”

But her gaze… God, that gaze felt like a hand squeezing my chest from the inside, forcing the air out.

I shifted a step, trying to move closer, ignoring the tension in my back that had begun to ache dully. “If you want, we can go to the office right now, ask everyone who was in that room. Watch the CCTV footage.” My voice cracked slightly. I took a deep breath, feeling my chest expand fully, then tighten as if about to burst. “I don’t want you to believe that photo more than you believe me.”

She stayed silent, but the silence was deafening. The ticking of the wall clock seemed too loud between the chaos of my heartbeat.

I looked at her for a long moment, her face half-shrouded in the shadow of the living room lamp. “Please,” I whispered, almost like a prayer. “Don’t let this trap tear us apart.”