3:《Conflicted feelings》

Cassian is starting to fall for Seraphina, Seraphina is slipping further into her fixation on Isadora, and Isadora wants nothing to do with either of them—but will that last?

———

Cassian wasn't sure when it started.

Maybe it was the way Seraphina smirked when she thought she had the upper hand.

Maybe it was the way she carried herself—confident, untouchable, like she was always three steps ahead. Or maybe it was the way she made him feel like he was almost important to her.

Almost.

But never quite.

He noticed it more now. The way she played with the rim of her glass when she was thinking.

The way she tilted her head just slightly before delivering a cutting remark. The way she only laughed when she meant it—never just to be polite.

And the way her eyes always, always found Isadora first.

Even when she was with him.

Especially when she was with him.

They sat in his apartment now, a bottle of whiskey between them, the city glowing through the windows. The tension from the bar still lingered in the air, unspoken but heavy.

"You didn't have to do that," Cassian said, swirling his drink.

Seraphina arched an eyebrow. "Do what?"

"Make a scene."

She scoffed. "That wasn't a scene."

Cassian smirked. "No? Then what was it?"

She took a slow sip, gaze flickering to the window. "Necessary."

He studied her, amused. "She's not yours, you know."

Something in Seraphina's jaw tightened, but her expression remained unreadable. "I never said she was."

"But you don't want her with anyone else."

Seraphina exhaled. "I don't like the idea of losing."

Cassian chuckled. "This isn't a game."

She looked at him then, something sharp in her gaze. "Isn't it?"

He held her stare, the warmth of the whiskey doing nothing to dull the way she made him feel.

Cassian knew better than to fall for someone like her.

But damn, it was getting harder to remember why.

Meanwhile…

Isadora sat alone in her apartment, fingers curled around her wine glass, the dim light casting shadows along the walls.

She hated them.

Both of them.

Cassian with his easy charm, always looking at Seraphina like she was the most fascinating thing in the room.

And Seraphina—Seraphina with her unreadable smirks and quiet possessiveness, the way she treated people like pieces on a board, never truly caring, never letting anyone get close enough to matter.

She hated them.

So why couldn't she stop thinking about them?

Her phone buzzed.

She didn't need to look to know who it was.

Seraphina.

Of course.

Isadora let the message sit there, unread, before setting her glass down with a quiet clink.

She wasn't playing this game.

Not anymore.

She wouldn't let them win.

She wouldn't let them matter.

Even if it killed her.

Cassian knew he should be careful.

He wasn't stupid—Seraphina wasn't the kind of woman you fell for without consequences. But knowing something and stopping yourself from doing it were two different things.

And with every lingering glance, every smirk she threw his way, every night they spent together, he felt himself slipping further.

Not just into wanting her.

But into needing her.

And that was dangerous.

He watched her now, sitting across from him in a dimly lit restaurant, effortlessly poised as she stirred the ice in her drink. She was only half-listening to him, her mind clearly somewhere else.

He didn't have to ask where.

Or rather, who.

"You've been quiet tonight," Cassian mused, leaning back in his seat.

Seraphina hummed. "Just thinking."

He smirked. "About?"

Her eyes flickered up, amusement playing at the edges of her lips.

"You'd love to know, wouldn't you?"

Cassian chuckled, shaking his head. "I already do."

Seraphina tilted her head, resting her chin on her palm. "Oh? Do tell."

Cassian leaned forward slightly. "Isadora."

The way Seraphina's fingers stilled against the rim of her glass was almost imperceptible—but Cassian caught it.

She recovered quickly, rolling her eyes. "You're obsessed with that theory."

He smiled. "You're obsessed with her."

Seraphina laughed, but there was no real amusement behind it. "You're giving her too much credit."

"Am I?"

Seraphina exhaled through her nose, setting her glass down.

"If I were, hypothetically, interested in her, it wouldn't matter."

Cassian arched an eyebrow. "And why's that?"

Her smirk returned, slow and deliberate. "Because she hates me."

Cassian studied her, but Seraphina was unreadable as always.

Hates you? He wasn't so sure.

He had seen the way Isadora looked at her.

And that kind of hate?

It burned too close to something else.

Meanwhile…

Isadora wasn't sure why she had agreed to go out tonight.

Her friends had practically dragged her to the bar, promising it would be a distraction—as if she needed one.

As if she hadn't spent the past week forcing herself to forget them.

She took a slow sip of her drink, eyes scanning the room absentmindedly. It was only when laughter reached her ears—a very familiar laughter—that she felt her stomach twist.

Of course.

There, across the bar, sat Seraphina and Cassian.

Together.

Again.

A bitter taste settled in Isadora's mouth.

She looked away quickly, but it was too late.

Seraphina had seen her.

And she smirked.

That was all it took.

A small, knowing smirk, as if she expected Isadora to be watching.

As if she enjoyed the attention. As if she was winning some unspoken game that Isadora never agreed to play.

Her grip tightened around her glass.

Cassian said something then, something that made Seraphina laugh, but Isadora didn't hear it. All she could focus on was the way Seraphina leaned in just slightly, her body language effortless, possessive.

Cassian wasn't hers anymore.

She knew that.

But knowing and feeling were two different things.

And tonight, she felt it.

A slow, burning ache in her chest that she hadn't let herself acknowledge.

She hated Seraphina.

She hated Cassian.

But most of all, she hated that part of her still loved him.

And she didn't know if she'd ever be able to stop.

Cassian is falling harder for Seraphina, while she remains tangled in her fixation on Isadora.

Isadora, despite hating them both, can't shake the remnants of love she still has for Cassian.