Calise stands at her window in loose gray sweats, her angular frame outlined in the yellow wash of a streetlamp. Her arms cross tightly, jaw clenched, eyes glassy and hollow. The sofa behind her is cluttered with papers, empty coffee mugs, things left carelessly in the need to feel less alone. When the knock comes—two, too soft, then a third—she turns, heart nudging her toward hope and fear at once. She draws back the door. Sionel stands there, rain sparkling in his hair and lashes, black shirt clinging to his chest, looking utterly lost. He searches her face, his voice almost a whisper. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

She lets him in without a word. The door closes behind him, the outside world shuttered. Calise’s fingers tremble as she pushes tangled hair behind one ear. Sionel moves stiffly at first, eyes rimmed with the pink of unshed tears, knuckles white as he clutches his satchel. They stand close, the tension palpable, breaths shallow. “You look tired,” she says, softer than she ever means to. He almost laughs, but it cracks in his throat. “I am,” he admits, taking her in—her black tank top exposing a sharp collarbone, the way her scarred hands dig into her own arms.

Silence, until Calise reaches for him, abrupt—the ache in her touch unmistakable. Sionel staggers into her arms. She kisses him, rough at first, then gentler, lips tasting of salt and longing. He surrenders, their bodies pressed together, all loneliness and need. Her fingers find his hair, pulling him down to her mouth, their breaths mingling, desperate for friction and forgetfulness. His hands slide beneath her shirt, tracing the small of her back. Calise breaks the kiss, eyes fierce, voice shaking. “Don’t pretend this doesn’t mean anything. Not with me.” Sionel cups her jaw, voice raw: “I don’t have the strength to lie anymore.”

Clothes fall away in fevered, clumsy motion. The couch groans under their weight, papers scattering, his lips crashing to hers. Calise gasps his name like a dare, legs tangling, back arching, vulnerability exposed between every hungry kiss. His hands hold her as if afraid she’ll vanish, her nails raking his shoulder. For a moment, neither is pretending—just two wounded hearts colliding. Sionel breathes her in, their bodies moving in sync, a staccato rhythm of grief and longing. She presses her forehead to his, eyes squeezed shut against old memories, mouthing the words she can never say in daylight.

Afterward, sweat on her skin and sheets tangled, Calise lies on her side, knees to her chest. Sionel sits at the far edge, bare chest rising with uneven breaths, haunted eyes fixed on nothing. For the first time in years, she lets him see her unguarded—lashes wet, lips parted, a slow exhale. “Stay?” she murmurs. His throat bobs, voice strangled. “I don’t know who I am, Calise.” She touches his thigh, tentative. “Be broken here. Just for tonight.”

Light strokes the city glass outside, deepening the ache of dawn. Calise wakes to find him already sitting up, silent, pulling on his shirt with trembling fingers. She watches, searching his face for regret or hope, but finds only exhaustion. He stands to leave, guilt and desire clashing in his stance. He leans in—brushes tangled hair from her eyes, lingering, then presses his lips to her forehead. Something final in the way he pulls back. She opens her mouth to ask him to stay, to say anything, but the words dissolve on her tongue.

A new text vibrates on Sionel’s phone as he fumbles for his keys. On the screen, Draeya’s name flashes above a message: “Don’t let them destroy me. Please.” Sionel freezes, dread bleeding through exhaustion as Calise watches, breathless, unknowingly witnessing the next fracture in their world.

To be continued...