They said their goodbyes, and Lia returned to her assignments, sinking back into the routine she'd come to rely on during her curfew. After a while, she realized her water was gone and headed downstairs to refill it. As she descended, faint voices and the unmistakable sound of a light laugh reached her ears. She paused, recognizing Jasmine's voice—a bit lower and more flirty than usual. Curious, she continued quietly, slowing as she neared the kitchen doorway.
There they were: Jasmine was leaning against the counter, her arms wrapped around Rhys's neck, drawing him into a kiss that seemed far too… staged. Lia stayed still, half-hidden by the doorway, watching the scene unfold with a mix of intrigue and annoyance. There was something off about them together, as if the whole thing was a performance rather than genuine affection.
Without warning, Rhys's eyes flicked to the doorway, and his body tensed. Jasmine must have felt it too because she turned, catching sight of Lia standing there.
"And oh, don't stop on my account," Lia said, deadpan, striding past them toward the fridge. She pulled out a water bottle, ignoring the uncomfortable silence as she filled her cup.
Jasmine's smile was forced, but her voice held a sharp edge. "We didn't realize we'd be interrupting your… little midnight adventure."
"Oh, don't worry about it." Lia added a bit of vitamin powder to her water, taking her time stirring it in. She met Jasmine's gaze over her glass, raising an eyebrow. "Please, carry on."
Rhys cleared his throat, but he didn't look annoyed. Instead, his expression was… strange, a flicker of confusion and something else she couldn't quite place.
Lia took a slow sip from her cup, smiling as she turned and headed back upstairs without another word. As she reached the top of the stairs, she caught herself grinning, savouring the little victory of leaving Jasmine flustered.
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Lia's long fingers trailed along the book's worn spine, her focus flitting between the pages and the sounds of the house settling around her. The library's hushed atmosphere usually comforted her, but her thoughts were restless, weaving between memories and recent, unsettling encounters. The faint echo of footsteps in the hallway made her glance up from her book just as Rhys appeared in the doorway.
Her heart gave a small, unexpected flutter, which she brushed off with a steadying breath. "Busy day?" she asked, her voice light.
"Not particularly." Rhys stepped further into the library, his gaze drifting to the book in her hands. "Light reading?"
She shrugged, closing the cover halfway. "More like killing time. Not exactly captivating."
A faint smile curved his lips, but it vanished quickly, leaving a thoughtful, almost guarded expression in its place. "Lia, about last night…"
"Hmm?" She tilted her head, feigning innocence even as memories of the encounter flooded back, filling her with mixed feelings of amusement and unease. She remembered the scene in the kitchen all too clearly: Jasmine, draped over Rhys, and Rhys, who'd seemed strangely disinterested, his gaze flickering with something that puzzled her.
"Whatever it was," she said with a wave of her hand, "you don't have to explain anything. Your house, your rules." She gave him a wry smile, hoping to deflect whatever tension lay beneath his words.
He crossed his arms, his gaze unwavering. "It's not about what you saw, Lia. I'm just… trying to understand why you seem so indifferent. Most people might have… reacted."
Lia blinked, surprised by his words and the undertone in his voice. He sounded almost… hurt? She met his gaze steadily, refusing to look away. "It doesn't concern me," she replied coolly. "I have bigger things to worry about than your love life."
Rhys's expression softened, his voice dropping. "I'm trying to understand what you're thinking, Lia. Why you're here, for instance. Have you never thought of the reason you are here?."
Her laugh was bitter, cutting through the quiet air between them. She looked down at the book in her hands, tracing the cover absentmindedly. "I'm here because my family decided I was… expendable." She forced herself to meet his gaze, her eyes hard. "A pawn. An extra piece of furniture they could just… sell off."
Silence settled over them, thick and charged. She hadn't meant to be so blunt, but Rhys's probing gaze and his unspoken questions felt like an invitation to lay her emotions bare. Somehow, he made her feel like she could drop the polite pretense, as if he'd see through it anyway. And yet… something about his expression was different now, softer, as though he hadn't anticipated her honesty.
"Lia…" he murmured, the vulnerability in his voice startling her. He looked as if he wanted to reach out, to offer her something she couldn't quite name.
A tremor of confusion passed over her. "Is there Anything else ?" she asked, the rawness in her voice surprising even herself.
He hesitated, his jaw clenched as if he were battling something deep within himself. His gaze trailed to her lips, lingering there in a way that sent a jolt through her. She could almost feel the weight of his eyes, and a strange, unbidden warmth settled in her chest.
But then, just as quickly, he cleared his throat, stepping back as if breaking free from some invisible pull. "Nothing. I should let you get back to your reading."
He turned and left, leaving her alone in the quiet library, staring after him with more questions than ever. She ran her fingers along her lips, wondering if the strange tension between them had only been her imagination, or if, for just a second, something real had passed between them.
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Flashback
Rhys tossed and turned, restless even after the whiskey he'd downed earlier in the night. His mind was a tangled mess, from the Anarchy alliance to Eddy.
Frustrated, he left his room, making his way to the kitchen, hoping another cold drink might clear his thoughts. The soft hum of the fridge was a welcome reprieve as he poured himself another glass of whiskey, adding a few ice cubes to temper the strong burn of the alcohol.
Then, suddenly, he felt it: warm hands creeping around his waist from behind, trailing along his bare skin. The touch was gentle, teasing, and before he could react, he felt the warmth of someone pressed against his back.
"Still so tense, Rhys?" a voice whispered near his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. He froze, the thought of Lia flashing through his mind even as the hands grew bolder, sliding lower.
But a second later, he caught himself, recognizing the voice. Jasmine. The realization made his stomach twist with an uneasy sense of disappointment, and a part of him recoiled, feeling strangely betrayed by his own thoughts.
In one swift movement, he turned, grabbing Jasmine's wrist, his expression hard. He forcefully pinned her against the counter, his hold firm but controlled. The look in his eyes was ice-cold, but he could see the confusion in Jasmine's expression, even a hint of vulnerability before she masked it with her usual coy smile.
"What do you think you're doing, Jasmine?"
She only smiled, brushing her fingers along his chest with a casual, practiced air. "You remember how I like it, Rhys. Don't pretend otherwise." Her lips quirked up as she traced his jaw with a single finger, her eyes dark with a familiar hunger.
But Rhys felt none of the old spark, none of the pull that Jasmine had once stirred in him. Instead, he felt a strange emptiness, as though something vital had slipped out of reach, leaving only hollow motions. He knew he had no sexual desires towards anyone but hadn't even realized how vacant he felt until now.
Jasmine, sensing his hesitance, drew herself up to sit on the counter, her fingers lightly tracing his collarbone. She shifted, her dress inching higher, revealing toned, tanned legs, and she smirked as she caught his gaze lingering. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him closer, leaning in for a kiss. Her lips brushed against his, soft, practiced, and yet… he felt nothing.
Rhys's eyes wandered past Jasmine, locking onto the doorway just as Lia appeared, watching them. Her expression was unreadable, her gaze steady and unwavering, yet something flickered in her eyes—something he couldn't quite place. His chest tightened, and the familiar pull of attraction made him inhale sharply.
Jasmine noticed his shift in attention and followed his gaze, tensing when she spotted Lia. An uncomfortable silence settled over the room, and even as Jasmine held him tighter, Rhys couldn't shake the growing feeling that she wasn't the one he wanted to be here with.
Jasmine released her hold, pulling back, her usual self-assured smile faltering for just a moment. She quickly gathered herself, standing up from the counter, her gaze icy as she took in Lia's presence. Lia, for her part, didn't react. She stood there, poised and calm, her face betraying nothing.
"Well," Jasmine purred, running a hand through her hair in a vain attempt to regain control. "If I'd known we had an audience, I might have prepared something more entertaining."
Lia's lips quirked up in a faint, defiant smile. "I don't think it would have helped much," she replied, her tone dry
"And oh, don't stop on my account,"
She said as she turned and strode towards the fridge, leaving both of them in stunned silence.
When she had finally left them and made her way upstairs, The air in the room was thick with unspoken tension, and Jasmine's shoulders slumped, the veneer of confidence slipping. She watched Rhys, searching his face for a reaction, but he was already watching Lia's retreating form with an expression she couldn't quite decipher.
"Rhys…" she murmured, her voice soft with an edge of pleading. "We're good together. You know we are. We've always made a good team."
But Rhys barely heard her, his mind elsewhere, following Lia's footsteps. Jasmine's words were like background noise now, and he could feel the weight of his confusion, of a realization that left him shaken and raw. He'd tried to resist it, tried to ignore the pull, but it was undeniable.
Somewhere, somehow, Lia had slipped into his guarded heart, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
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Jasmine felt utterly adrift, staring at Rhys as if for the first time, unable to pierce through the mask he now seemed to wear. Normally, no one could look at Rhys without seeing his intensity; his features were chiseled by years of stern authority, his gaze as unrelenting as his reputation. Most people found his demeanor cold, even intimidating, but Jasmine had always seen beneath it, deciphering the subtle signs, his smallest reactions. Where others saw only stone, Jasmine had always found warmth, understanding his moods like no one else could. Until now.
Today, as she looked into his eyes, hoping to find that familiar spark, she saw nothing. An unfamiliar chill settled over her, seeping into her skin and numbing her fingers. It was as if she were staring into a stranger's face, and her pulse quickened in silent alarm. The confidence she'd always had in him, in herself, slipped out of reach, leaving her heart pounding erratically. This isn't right, she thought, the denial a mantra in her mind. He's still Rhys—the man I've known, the one I understand better than anyone.
Yet her attempts to reassure herself only amplified her doubt. For seven years, she'd known Rhys, convinced herself that she was the only one who could see the real him. Now, she wondered if she had been fooling herself all along, weaving her own reality around him. The uncertainty she felt was foreign and alarming, and with it came the cold realization that she could no longer predict his thoughts, his desires, or even the meaning behind his gaze.
She tried to control her breathing, willing herself to stay composed, but a slight tremor of anxiety stole over her. She could feel the prick of tears at the back of her eyes, a silent plea for release. Yet, even now, she clung to her pride. No, she thought fiercely, I won't cry. I won't let him—or anyone else—see me weak. She fought back the tears, summoning the facade of confidence she'd perfected over the years, the one that had allowed her to rise in this ruthless world alongside Rhys. She refused to show even a trace of vulnerability. It was unthinkable to allow herself to break in front of him.
With a shallow, shaky breath, she swallowed the lump of uncertainty lodged in her throat. Her eyes never left him, searching for any flicker, any sign of recognition from the man she thought she knew. She would reclaim that familiarity, close the yawning chasm that had appeared between them. No matter what it took, she'd get him back. She'd rekindle the bond they had, rebuild the certainty she had once felt in her place beside him.
He's still mine, she told herself firmly. And I'm not letting him go.