Ayla sat on the edge of her bed, phone in hand, the screen glowing against the dim light of her room. She'd sent Leon a simple message that morning — We need to talk — and all day, there'd been nothing. No read receipt. No reply.
She told herself she didn't care. She told herself it didn't matter. But every time the phone buzzed and it wasn't him, her stomach dropped.
From the living room, Damien's voice carried in — low, controlled, speaking into his phone. She couldn't make out the words, but his tone was the same one he used when discussing business… or threats. She'd learned the difference was often thin.
When he stepped into the doorway, she quickly locked her phone.
"Dinner's ready," he said, watching her too closely. "You've been quiet today."
"I'm fine," she lied.
He stepped closer. "You know I don't like lies, Ayla."
She forced a smile. "It's just work on my mind."
Damien's gaze lingered on her for a beat too long before he finally turned toward the kitchen. "Eat before it gets cold."
She followed him, but her appetite was gone. She pushed food around her plate, nodding at whatever he was saying. The only thing on her mind was Leon — why he hadn't answered, if he'd even seen her message. The thought of him deliberately ignoring her felt like a bruise she couldn't stop pressing.
That night, she lay awake staring at the ceiling. The phone on her nightstand felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Every few minutes, she checked it. Still nothing.
Across the city
Leon's apartment was quiet except for the low hum of the fridge. He'd been home barely an hour, showered, changed into a black T-shirt and jeans. Maureen was perched on his couch, legs tucked under her, scrolling through her phone with a glass of wine balanced on the armrest.
"You're awfully quiet," she said without looking up.
"I was thinking," Leon replied, tossing his keys onto the counter. "You've been here all day."
"Keeping you company," she said smoothly. "You should be thanking me."
He gave her a flat look. "I didn't ask for company."
"You also didn't ask for me to save your life," she shot back, finally meeting his eyes. "But I did it anyway."
Leon smirked, unfazed. "And I already told you — you can be my girlfriend as long as you want. Doesn't mean you get to run my life."
Maureen's lips curved, but her eyes were sharp. "Funny. I heard you went on a date last night."
"Did you?" he said casually, walking past her toward the fridge. "And?"
"And I don't like sharing," she said, rising to her feet.
He popped open a bottle of water, leaning against the counter. "Then you're in the wrong place, Maureen. Because I'm not yours to keep."
Her jaw tightened. "You think I can't make you mine?"
Leon took a slow sip, unbothered. "You can try. But I don't scare easy."
She stepped closer, lowering her voice. "You should be careful, Leon. People who don't scare… often end up hurt."
He chuckled, brushing past her. "Good thing I've been hurt before. Builds character."
Maureen's eyes followed him, a mixture of irritation and intrigue flickering there. "You'll answer my calls?"
"I'll answer when I feel like it," he tossed over his shoulder before heading to his bedroom.
Inside, he finally picked up his phone. Ayla's message blinked on the screen — hours old. We need to talk.
For a moment, his thumb hovered over the reply button. But then he heard Maureen in the kitchen, opening cabinets like she belonged there. He slid the phone into his pocket instead.
Not now.
Soon.