Solenne’s fingers tremble slightly as she presses the inky tip of her pen to the back of a bus transfer, hidden in the crook of her elbow behind the glass partition. Her uniform—a wrinkled, midnight-blue blouse cinched at the waist with a depot-issued belt—fits loose tonight, as if even her clothing wants her to disappear. She scrawls his name in a line of verse she’ll never read aloud, biting her bottom lip as each word stings, longing and shame knotted beneath her ribs. Through the partition, Varik looms at his desk, his hair all jagged shadows, eyes flickering up to find her when he thinks she’s not looking. He’s in the same black hoodie he wears every night, sleeves pushed up, arms tense. His gaze is a slow drag over her profile, hungry and haunted, making her skin prickle.

She tears the poem in half as Breslan strolls by, all cocky confidence in a fitted charcoal shirt and grease-stained pants. Breslan leans in just close enough for her to catch the faint, musky scent of aftershave beneath diesel. “Don’t tell me you get off on all this tragic romance stuff,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice. His eyes rake over her, searching for a crack in her gentle armor. Solenne blushes, tries to laugh it off, but Breslan grins, pushing a stray curl behind her ear with two fingers. “You know, you’d look even cuter with a smile.” His charm is practiced, but in this flicker of closeness, Solenne feels something unsteady spark in her chest. She glances beyond Breslan’s broad shoulders—catches Varik’s face pinched in silent, electric jealousy, jaw clenching around the grind of unsaid words.

Later, in the fluorescent-lit corridor, footsteps echo behind her. Jyndra’s reflection appears in the streaked window—sleek ponytail, lips painted sharp red, gaze cool as steel. She blocks Solenne’s way with careless grace, tucking a stray earring behind her ear as if she owns the hall. The chill in her stare is deliberate, a dare. “Busy night, darling?” Jyndra purrs, arching an eyebrow. Solenne hugs her bag tighter, keeps her eyes low, but Jyndra leans closer, whispering so only she can hear. “Don’t bother denying it. I know you’re still sneaking into Varik’s place after shift. You think no one notices how wrecked you two look every morning?”

Solenne’s cheeks flame, the burn crawling down her neck. She stammers a protest, but Jyndra smirks—predator satisfied. “Please. I hear everything, babe. Dispatch is a window, not a wall.” There’s a faint tremble in Solenne’s shoulders as she fumbles for composure. Jyndra’s voice softens, just for a moment. “Secrets rot if you let them fester. Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous tonight.”

Jyndra pivots, her gaze burning with intent. “Here’s my offer: play along, and I’ll keep your little visits off the table. All you have to do is pretend Breslan’s got your attention.” She lets the words dangle, savoring Solenne’s confusion and dread. “You want to keep seeing Varik? Be my little actress. Or I’ll make sure everyone knows just how tangled you two still are.”

Memory surges in Solenne’s chest—Varik’s apartment, last week, the air thick with sweat and confession. She’s pressed against the peeling paint of his bedroom wall, his hands desperate, lips crushed against hers. His body cages hers, every movement hungry, urgent. He groans into her mouth as she hooks her thighs around his waist, her breath broken by the need to stay quiet, by the guilt coiling in her gut. She remembers the shake of his voice as she silences him with her fingers on his lips, the wild, trembling heat as they move together, everything unspoken pouring out in gasps and pleas muffled by kisses. After, Varik buries his face in her neck, refusing to let go, and Solenne feels the sweet ache of addiction, of being wanted and ruined all at once.

Now, standing in the corridor, Solenne’s teeth sink into her thumbnail, her eyes shining with panic and longing. “Why are you doing this?” she whispers. Jyndra’s eyes flutter, just briefly, betraying something weary beneath her bravado. “Because I can,” she says, but her voice shakes.

Solenne turns away, shoulders rigid, breath shallow as she watches her reflection blur in the glass. She thinks of Varik’s arms, Breslan’s kindness, Jyndra’s threat, the dark coil of secrets pressing tighter on her ribcage. If she says yes, everything could unravel. If she says no, she loses everything anyway.

Behind her, Jyndra’s phone buzzes—a new message. She smiles, wicked and triumphant, but there’s something broken in the way her fingers hesitate before she tucks the phone away. “You have until tomorrow night,” she says. “Tick-tock.”

Solenne stands frozen by the window, the depot’s harsh lights throwing her shadow into endless, fractured pieces. Her heart hammers—a clock counting down. She doesn’t realize Varik is watching from the stairwell, rage and terror sharpening his features in the blue neon glow.

To be continued…