The first mistake I made… was thinking I still had time.
I didn't.
By the time I realized it, I was already standing in front of his door.
My hand hovered mid-air, just inches from knocking.
My heart wouldn't slow down. It pounded like it was trying to warn me. Or stop me.
But I had come too far to turn back.
I knocked.
Once.
Twice.
Silence.
For a second, I thought maybe he wasn't inside. Maybe I could still leave. Pretend I was never here.
Then the door opened.
Slowly.
And there he was.
Same cold eyes. Same unreadable expression. Same presence that made the air feel heavier the moment he stepped into it.
But something was different.
He wasn't surprised to see me.
"You're late," he said.
My stomach dropped.
Late?
"I—" My voice caught. "I didn't say I was coming."
"You didn't have to."
That was the first crack.
A small one. Easy to ignore.
But it was there.
He stepped aside, opening the door wider.
"Come in."
It wasn't a suggestion.
I walked past him, trying not to react to how close he was. How aware I suddenly felt of every step, every breath.
The door clicked shut behind me.
Loud.
Final.
I turned around slowly.
"Why did you say that yesterday?"
Straight to it. No pretending.
His gaze didn't waver. "Say what?"
"You know what."
Silence stretched between us.
Then he moved.
Not toward me.
Past me.
Like I wasn't even worth looking at.
"You're not her."
The words landed hard.
Too hard.
I swallowed. "Then why—"
"Because you tried."
I froze.
He turned, leaning casually against the table, arms crossed. Watching me now.
Really watching me.
"You studied her," he continued. "The way she speaks. The way she walks. Even the way she pauses before answering a question."
Each word felt like a blade.
"You almost got it right."
Almost.
That word hit harder than anything else.
I forced myself to stay still. "Then why didn't you say anything?"
His lips curved slightly.
Not a smile.
Something sharper.
"Because I wanted to see how far you'd go."
My chest tightened.
"You were testing me?"
"No." He tilted his head slightly. "I was watching you."
There was something in his voice now.
Something dangerous.
"And now?" I asked, barely above a whisper.
His eyes darkened.
"Now I'm done watching."
The air shifted.
I felt it.
That invisible line we had been circling for weeks… snapped.
I took a step back.
Instinct.
Wrong move.
His gaze dropped to my movement. Then slowly lifted back to my face.
"You're scared."
It wasn't a question.
"I'm not," I said quickly.
A lie.
And he knew it.
He pushed off the table and started walking toward me.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Each step measured.
I should have moved.
I didn't.
My body refused.
By the time I realized it, he was already standing in front of me.
Too close.
Close enough that I could feel the heat of him.
"Then don't step back," he said quietly.
My breath hitched.
I hadn't even realized I was still leaning away.
He noticed everything.
Too much.
"Why are you doing this?" I asked.
His eyes searched mine.
Like he was looking for something deeper than words.
"Because you walked into this," he said. "Not me."
That wasn't true.
Or maybe it was.
I didn't even know anymore.
"I was trying to help," I said.
"Help who?"
The question came too fast.
Too sharp.
I hesitated.
And that was all it took.
His expression changed instantly.
There it was.
The shift.
The moment everything cracked open.
"Not her," he said quietly.
My heart stopped.
"I—"
"You're not doing this for her."
I shook my head. "You don't know that."
"I know exactly that."
His voice dropped.
Dangerously calm.
"You don't look at her the way someone trying to save her would."
My chest tightened.
"You look at me."
Silence.
Heavy.
Suffocating.
"That's not true," I said.
But my voice betrayed me.
Weak.
Uncertain.
He stepped even closer.
I didn't think that was possible.
But somehow, it was.
"Say it again," he murmured.
I couldn't.
Because now…
Now I wasn't even sure what the truth was anymore.
His hand lifted slightly.
Not touching me.
Not yet.
Just hovering.
Like he was deciding something.
And that scared me more than anything.
"Why her?" he asked suddenly.
The question caught me off guard.
"What?"
"If you wanted to get close to me… why choose her?"
Everything inside me froze.
That wasn't—
That wasn't what this was supposed to be.
"You're wrong," I said.
"Am I?"
His hand moved.
Just slightly.
Enough to brush against my wrist.
Electric.
Sharp.
My breath caught.
And he noticed.
Of course he did.
"You react," he said softly.
"I don't—"
"You do."
His fingers closed around my wrist.
Firm.
Not painful.
But unyielding.
"Your pulse spikes," he continued. "Your breathing changes."
My chest rose and fell faster now.
Out of control.
"And you still want to tell me this has nothing to do with me?"
I couldn't answer.
Because he was right.
And that was the problem.
Everything was slipping.
Everything I thought I had control over.
Gone.
"Let go," I whispered.
He didn't.
Instead, his grip tightened slightly.
"Not yet."
My heart was racing now.
Too fast.
Too loud.
"You don't get to walk into my life pretending to be someone else…" His voice dropped further. "And then decide when it ends."
"I wasn't pretending—"
"Stop lying."
The words hit like a slap.
I flinched.
And that was it.
That was the moment something inside him snapped.
His expression darkened completely.
No more restraint.
No more patience.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
Silence.
I couldn't speak.
"Say it."
"I—"
"Say it."
His grip tightened again.
Not enough to hurt.
But enough to trap.
To make it clear I wasn't leaving this conversation.
Not without giving him something.
"I can't," I whispered.
Wrong answer.
His eyes hardened.
"Then I'll figure it out myself."
Panic surged.
"You don't need to—"
"I do."
His voice was final.
And suddenly, I understood something terrifying.
This wasn't a game to him anymore.
It never was.
He released my wrist abruptly.
I stumbled back slightly, catching my balance.
But he didn't move away.
If anything, he looked more focused now.
More dangerous.
"You have until tomorrow," he said.
My stomach dropped.
"For what?"
"To tell me the truth."
"And if I don't?"
His gaze locked onto mine.
Cold.
Unforgiving.
"Then I stop being patient."
A chill ran down my spine.
"What does that mean?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Just watched me.
Like he was deciding how much to reveal.
Finally, he spoke.
"It means I stop asking."
Silence.
The weight of that settled heavily between us.
Because we both knew what that implied.
Force.
Control.
No more choices.
I shook my head. "You wouldn't—"
"Try me."
No hesitation.
No doubt.
He meant it.
And that was the problem.
I believed him.
Every word.
My chest tightened.
This had gone too far.
Way too far.
"I should go," I said.
He didn't stop me.
That was almost worse.
Because it meant he didn't need to.
As I reached the door, his voice followed me.
"Don't run."
I paused.
Hand on the handle.
"If you disappear…" he continued, "I will find you."
My grip tightened.
"You won't," I said, trying to sound steady.
A mistake.
Because when I turned slightly, I saw it.
That faint smile again.
Not warm.
Not kind.
Certain.
"I already know where to look."
My heart dropped.
Completely.
Because in that moment…
I realized something I had been refusing to see from the beginning.
This was never about pretending to be someone else.
This was never about helping.
This was never something I could control.
I wasn't playing him.
I had walked straight into something far bigger.
And now…
There was no clean way out.
I opened the door and stepped outside.
But even as I walked away, one thought wouldn't leave my mind.
Tomorrow.
I had until tomorrow.
And after that…
He stops asking.