"Let's leave this city," Zeal said suddenly, her voice trembling but firm. "Let's just go."
Her words shattered the fragile calm between us, like glass underfoot.
"We can't just vanish," I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "He'll find us anywhere."
"Then let him find us together."
We sat at the small kitchen table, half-empty glasses of red wine catching the dim light. Outside, the city murmured softly, but inside, the quiet throbbed with fear and desire. Zeal's hand found mine across the table, warm and trembling.
"Do you ever think we were meant to meet like this?" I asked softly.
"Maybe we were meant to survive like this," she replied, her gaze steady, yet her fingers clenched mine as if holding onto life itself.
I leaned forward. Our lips met — slow, deliberate, tasting the safety we desperately craved. Not desperate like before, but laden with promise, longing, and fear. Every kiss was a rebellion against the world outside, against the shadow we knew was watching.
I let my hands trace the lines of her face, memorizing her. Her breath caught, and I could feel her trembling against me — a mixture of fear and desire. This moment wasn't just about romance; it was survival, comfort, and defiance all at once.
Hours passed unnoticed. We whispered memories, secrets, hopes, and fears, letting ourselves be raw and real. And then, as sleep finally pulled at our eyelids, a vibration cut through the night — my phone.
Unknown number.
"You can't hide forever."
I froze, the words burning into my chest. Michael. Smuggled phone or already free — either way, the message confirmed he was watching. We were far from safe.
Zeal clutched me, whispering, "Mercy… what does it mean?"
I didn't answer. There was no answer that could comfort her. Not yet.