Lena hadn't planned to stay more than one night.
But one night turned into two. Then three. Then a week.
Daniel's apartment became a quiet escape from the noise in her head. Mornings blurred into afternoons, wrapped in silk sheets, laughter, and strong coffee. They took long showers together, soapy and slow, her head resting against his chest as steam curled around them like fog.
He played old soul records. Cooked for her in nothing but pajama pants. Kissed her shoulder while she stirred tea. They danced barefoot in his kitchen at midnight, wine glasses abandoned, her laughter echoing off the walls.
She hadn't felt like this in years—weightless and wanted.
It scared her.
But she stayed.
That morning, she made breakfast in Daniel's kitchen—whisking eggs while humming an old tune. The smell of bacon lingered, and sunlight filtered through the tall windows, painting gold on the marble countertop. Daniel had just kissed the back of her neck and walked into the other room to take a call when her phone buzzed on the counter.
Theo.
She froze.
The name alone made her stomach twist.
She stared at it a second too long before answering.
"Hello?" she said cautiously.
His voice was soft, warm. Hopeful.
"Hey, babe. I'm home. Where are you?"
The room spun.
Lena's hand tightened around the phone.
Home.
He was home?
Her legs felt suddenly too weak to stand.
"I—I'm out," she said quickly, voice shaky. "At the store. I'll be back soon."
She could hear the smile in his voice. "Good. I've missed you. I, uh… I brought something. Thought we could talk. Really talk. I—I've been working on myself. I just… I'm ready, Lena."
Her heart dropped.
He was ready.
But she wasn't where she was supposed to be. She wasn't who she used to be.
She ended the call with trembling fingers and turned slowly to find Daniel standing behind her, silent.
He'd heard everything.
His jaw tightened. Not angry. Just… resigned.
"You going back?" he asked gently.
She didn't answer.
"I didn't expect anything," he added. "You don't owe me."
Lena leaned against the counter, the weight of two lives crashing down on her. The one she built with Theo—full of broken pieces and beautiful memories—and the one she was suddenly tasting with Daniel.
"I don't know what I'm doing," she whispered.
Daniel stepped closer, brushing hair from her face. "You're surviving. That's what you're doing."
She nodded, eyes stinging.
Theo was waiting at home with flowers and forgiveness.
But she was here… in another man's shirt, with her heart split down the middle.
Lena arrived home within the hour, heart pounding like a war drum in her chest.
Theo stood by the kitchen counter, holding a bouquet of lilies—her mother's favorite—and a velvet box containing a small diamond necklace. He smiled, that gentle, lopsided smile that used to undo her.
It didn't undo her now.
It only made her ache with everything that had changed.
"I've missed you," he said softly, stepping forward. "I've been such a mess, Lena. I don't deserve forgiveness, but I've been working on it. I just… I want us again."
She nodded, forcing tears to sting her eyes. "I've missed you too."
He kissed her, and she let him.
They stumbled into the bedroom, clothes falling, bodies moving—two people trying to recreate something that once lived here. But it was gone. All the pieces were out of place.
Theo kissed her neck, murmured apologies and promises as he moved within her.
But her mind wasn't there.
Her eyes were open, staring past the ceiling.
All she could feel was Daniel's hands on her hips. Daniel's breath on her skin. Daniel, whispering her name like it mattered.
Not this. Not now.
She didn't cry. She didn't resist.
She just let it happen—because it was easier than explaining that she had given herself away already.
---
The next morning, she went through the motions—coffee with Theo, polite conversation, pretending the world was back on track. But as soon as she opened the bookstore and left Theo at home, her body itched for something else.
Someone else.
By late afternoon, she messaged Daniel.
Lena: Can I come over?
Daniel: Door's open.
---
She didn't stay for conversation.
They barely made it to the bedroom.
There was no pretense now—no talk of love, no guilt in their eyes. Just need. Hunger. The kind of ache that made her forget, even for a moment, who she was supposed to be.
Daniel didn't ask questions. Didn't make demands.
He took what she gave and gave it back without apology.
When they finished, she sat on the edge of the bed, slipping her dress back over her bare skin. Daniel reached out, traced a finger along her spine.
"You keep coming back," he said quietly.
She didn't respond.
"You still love him?" he asked.
She looked over her shoulder. "I don't know if I ever stopped. But I don't know what love feels like anymore."
Daniel leaned back, eyes unreadable. "Then keep coming. If this helps you survive, I'm not here to judge."
She nodded.
And just like that, she left—returning home to the life she wasn't sure she wanted, leaving behind the one she wasn't sure she could keep.
It didn't stop at once.
One visit became two.
Two became four.
Within a week, Lena found herself caught in a rhythm—a dance between two worlds. In the morning, she woke next to Theo, wore the smile he wanted to see, sipped tea at their kitchen table. By noon, she arranged books at the shop like nothing was wrong. By evening, she'd lock up early, her steps already carrying her to Daniel's place.
There, she burned.
There, she came alive.
Sex with Daniel wasn't just physical. It was release. Escape. Numbness.
She started craving it—not for passion, but for the silence that came afterward, the way her thoughts stopped screaming when his hands were on her. The ache in her chest dulled when they were tangled together, bodies moving in urgent rhythm.
Daniel never asked questions. Never expected her to stay. He let her in, let her out. No promises. No judgment.
And that made it easier.
Meanwhile, Theo was trying.
He noticed her distance—how she flinched when he touched her waist, how her smiles faded too quickly. So he made breakfast. Ran errands. Even planned a weekend getaway.
"I want to be better," he told her one night, after a quiet dinner. "I know I failed you before. But I'm not giving up."
She looked at him, nodded, and whispered, "I know."
She even slept with him again that night. But her mind was somewhere else—her body reacting out of habit, her heart numb. When she closed her eyes, Daniel's name slipped unspoken between her lips.
Theo didn't notice. Or maybe he chose not to.
---
The days blurred.
Lena stopped keeping track of how often she visited Daniel. She told herself it wasn't cheating anymore—it was survival. A way to fill the cold, empty space Theo had created in her long ago. And if he noticed she showered more often now, wore perfume at odd hours, or came home dazed and too tired to talk, he didn't say a word.
Daniel, on his part, never tried to own her.
He enjoyed her body, her presence, the way she trembled under his touch. But he never reached beyond that. He never asked her to stay.
And that made him safe.
Lena wasn't in love with Daniel.
But she was addicted to the way he made her forget.
Each time she left his place, guilt tried to crawl into her chest—but she'd shove it down, layer after layer. Because Theo had been the one to hurt her first. He had broken the bridge with cold silence and betrayal.
And she?
She was just walking through the fire he lit.