Elladyn’s world splintered at dusk, fluorescent lights flickering overhead as she stalked through the emptying Tribune bullpen, heart jackhammering in her chest. She told herself she was just here late for revisions, but every window seemed to radiate menace, every shadow hiding the memory of her ex’s voice—a low, velvety threat in the back of her mind. She flinched at her buzzing phone. One more chance to talk, Ella. Or else. She swallowed hard, forcing a smile as Rivan loomed near his desk, sleep-starved, stubbled, shirt wrinkled, eyes burning with a concern she both craved and feared.

He reached her in two strides, fingertips skimming the inside of her wrist, gentle but urgent. “You alright?” His voice was raw, threaded with all the things he couldn’t say. For a second she was a moth pressed to glass, desperate to break out but still trembling in the weak light.

A shudder wracked her. “I’m fine,” she managed. “Just… tired of being afraid in daylight.” And she hated herself for how much she wanted to lean into him, nestle into that warm, reckless safety he pretended not to offer.

It happened so quickly—a metallic slam somewhere behind them, then a figure lurching from the shadows. Her ex, jaw taut, eyes glassy with malice and cheap whiskey. For a breathless moment, time warped; Rivan stepped in front of her, jaw grinding, hands balled into fists.

“You have exactly three seconds to walk away,” Rivan growled, voice low enough to send a ripple of electricity through her. But her ex only smirked, words tumbling out: “Always the hero, huh? Bet she hasn’t told you everything.” His gaze flicked, venomous and knowing, and she saw Rivan tense—the kind of tension that could snap all at once.

Ella felt heat and terror flood her in equal measure. Rivan moved before she could stop him, shoving her ex hard enough that he stumbled against a workstation, and—only then—did she see the raw, scared child behind Rivan’s fury. “Don’t touch her. Don’t even look,” Rivan spat, chest heaving.

Her ex shrank, menace ruined by the devastation in Rivan’s voice. Then, like a storm suddenly breaking, he was gone, leaving only the sour tang of adrenaline and old fear in his wake. Rivan whirled, hands trembling; she caught them, desperate, pressing his fists to her lips. “You can’t always save me,” she whispered, voice shaking as she tried to hold him together.

He laughed, hoarse and broken. “Maybe I just need to try.” Her heart fractured in places her ex could never reach; she pressed her mouth to his, trembling with want and grief, and felt him unravel beneath her touch, arms tight around her waist. But this time there was no frantic, hungry urgency—only sadness, each kiss tasting of apology and regret.

They stumbled toward the stairwell, into the echoing hush of rain-soaked darkness outside. He kissed her again, desperate, wet hair plastered to his forehead, raindrops sliding between their skin. “I love you, Ella,” he gasped, voice ragged. “Even if it’s all ruined now.”

She held his face in her hands, eyes stinging with tears. “It’s not ruined—not unless we let it be.” Her lips found his, one last time: a kiss full of everything bruised and unfinished between them, mouths searching, desperate. She tasted his pain, let him taste hers, letting sorrow and desire blur together until she could barely stand.

Their hands tangled, bodies pressed tight, fingers digging into soaked shirts, breaths turning frantic. Still, there was no fixing what was broken; not tonight. She pulled away, tears and rain clouding her eyes. “I can’t—yet. I want you, but… I need to know if I can forgive you.” Her voice cracked in the thunder.

He nodded, agony carved into every line of his face. “I’ll wait. However long it takes.”

Inside the newsroom, Onai slid a manila envelope onto her desk, fingers trembling with something like fear. She scanned the contents—photocopies of incriminating emails, Rivan’s name in black across each page. The blackmailer’s note was clipped to the folder. Publish, or you both go down. Her pulse thundered; she looked up to see Hadris watching from across the bullpen, his eyes full of questions she couldn’t answer.

Outside, Ella watched Rivan disappear into the rain, his silhouette shrinking with each step, their love hanging on the knife-edge of heartbreak and hope.

Her phone vibrated with a new message—this time from her ex. Not finished. Not by a long shot.

To be continued...