Now she sits on the edge of their unmade bed at 3 a.m., staring at his sleeping face. Ethan — all sharp jawline and soft lies — breathes steadily, one arm flung over her pillow like he owns it. Like he owns her.
A woman knows her lover is toxic — unpredictable, unfaithful, and cold — but every time he pulls her close, she forgets how to let go. Story:
He came at 4. Smelling like someone else’s perfume. And she still let him in.
Maya stands up slowly, careful not to wake him. She pulls on her jeans. Her keys are in her hand when his voice slices the silence.
“You’re my drug,” she whispers to the dark. “And I’m dangerously in love.”
Her phone buzzes. A message from her best friend, Lina: “He was at the bar with her again. I saw them. Please, Maya. Come home.”
She doesn’t leave. Not tonight.