They didn't talk about it.
Not that night.
Andrew retreated to his room after a few stiff words about needing sleep. Mia stood alone in the living room for a long moment, staring at the wall where she'd been pressed just minutes ago.
Her heart hadn't slowed down yet.
She lay awake long after the apartment went quiet, listening to the faint sounds of him moving on the other side of the wall. A drawer opening. Footsteps. Silence again.
Too aware.
Too close.
Too unfinished.
When sleep finally came, it was light and restless.
Morning arrived without resolution.
Mia found Andrew already dressed, coffee untouched on the counter. He looked… controlled. Like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't almost crossed a line they couldn't uncross.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning."
That was it.
No mention of last night. No apology. No explanation.
The absence of words sat heavier than any argument could have.
They left together but walked separately.
At the hospital, routine wrapped around them like a disguise.
Vitals. Charts. Smiles.
Too smooth.
Mia noticed it during rounds — how people seemed to know where she was supposed to be before she arrived. A nurse handed her a file she hadn't asked for.
"Dr. Rao said you'd need this," the nurse said.
Mia frowned. "He didn't tell me."
The nurse only shrugged. "Maybe he forgot."
Maybe.
Andrew caught her eye from across the corridor. He had that look again — the one that said I feel it too.
They didn't speak. They didn't need to.
During lunch break, Mia sat beside him in the cafeteria. Their shoulders almost touched. Almost.
"You okay?" he asked quietly.
She nodded. "Just tired."
A lie. But a mutual one.
From the corner of her eye, she saw the receptionist glance up from her desk. Not staring. Just… noting.
Mia's appetite disappeared.
The young patient waved when she passed his room again.
"Hey," he called, smiling. "You're on early today."
Before Mia could respond, Andrew appeared beside her.
"She's busy," he said calmly.
The patient laughed. "Relax. Didn't know she had a guard dog."
Andrew's jaw tightened — but he said nothing.
They walked away in silence.
Mia could feel it again. That tension. Not just jealousy — restraint. Something coiled too tight.
"Andy," she murmured once they turned the corner.
He stopped walking.
"Don't," he said softly. "Not here."
That scared her more than anger would have.
That evening, back at the apartment, the silence returned.
But it was different now.
Charged.
Mia leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Andrew move around like he was afraid of standing still. He kept distance between them — intentional, careful.
"You're avoiding me," she said finally.
He looked up. Held her gaze.
"I'm trying not to make things worse."
Her chest tightened. "By pretending nothing happened?"
"No," he said honestly. "By remembering everything did."
Her breath caught.
Before she could respond, the lights flickered.
Once.
Twice.
Both of them froze.
Andrew checked the door lock. Then the windows. Everything was secure.
"Probably a power issue," he said — but he didn't sound convinced.
Mia's phone buzzed on the counter.
Unknown number.
This time, just a dot as.message. Just a single vibration.
Like a reminder.
Andrew looked at her, eyes dark. "They know where you are."
Mia swallowed hard.
"And they know we're not leaving," she whispered.
The phone went silent again.
But the feeling didn't.
Not the fear.
Not the tension.
And definitely not the space between her and Andrew — tight, dangerous, and waiting to snap.