Chapter 003

Elena sat on the couch in the living room, her bare feet tucked beneath her as she absentmindedly scrolled through her phone. The TV was on, but she wasn't paying attention. Her mind had been elsewhere for most of the evening, trapped in a cycle of memories she wished she could erase—or at least control. It wasn't as if she didn't love Nathan. He was good to her, kind and responsible. But something was missing. Something she had tried to ignore for the past year.

The sound of keys jingling at the door snapped her out of her thoughts. A moment later, the door swung open, and Nathan stepped in, his suit slightly crumpled from the long day. He looked exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes and the way he rolled his shoulders before setting his briefcase down told her everything she needed to know.

"Hey, babe," he said, offering her a small, tired smile as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her forehead. His lips were warm but brief, lacking any urgency or passion.

"Hey," she replied, straightening up. "How was work?"

"The usual. Meetings, deadlines, and a never-ending list of things to do." He exhaled deeply as he loosened his tie. "How about you?"

She shrugged. "It was fine. Mara and I went for lunch, and I finally finished the report my boss has been nagging me about."

"That's good," Nathan said, nodding absentmindedly. He glanced at the clock and then rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm going to take a quick shower. I'll be down soon."

And just like that, he was gone, heading upstairs without even a second glance.

Elena sighed, sinking back into the couch. She should be used to this by now—the routine, the predictability. Nathan was a good man, but he lacked… fire. Passion. The kind of raw hunger that made her feel wanted beyond words. The kind that made her feel like she was the only thing that mattered. And that was where Daniel came in.

The moment his name crossed her mind, her chest tightened. It had been over two years since she left him, since she finally walked away from a marriage that had been nothing short of suffocating. Daniel had been possessive, controlling, and, at times, cruel. His love was like fire—burning too hot, too intense. It had consumed her, leaving behind scars both visible and invisible.

But God, the sex.

Her body betrayed her even now, the mere thought of him sending a pulse of heat through her veins. With Daniel, there had been no waiting, no hesitancy. If he had just walked through that door, there would have been no casual forehead kiss, no tired smile. He would have pulled her into his arms, pressed her against the nearest wall, and claimed her like he always did.

A memory surfaced, unbidden but all too vivid.

She had been standing in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables, when Daniel came home that night. Unlike Nathan, he didn't greet her with words. No, he grabbed her waist from behind, his hands sliding under her shirt as his lips trailed along the side of her neck.

"Daniel—" she had started, but he didn't let her finish.

"I missed you," he growled, spinning her around. His lips crashed against hers, all heat and desperation. He lifted her onto the counter effortlessly, his body pressing against hers, and within moments, her clothes were being pushed aside.

It had always been like that with Daniel. No restraint. No second-guessing. They had christened almost every part of their home—the kitchen, the bathroom, the dining table, the balcony. Even the car wasn't spared. She remembered one night, driving back from a dinner date, when he had pulled over, unable to keep his hands off her. They had barely made it to the backseat before things got heated.

She clenched her thighs together at the memory, forcing herself to snap back to the present.

The sound of running water from upstairs filled the silence, reminding her that Nathan was still there, still hers. But why did it feel like something was missing?

She closed her eyes, frustrated with herself. This wasn't fair to Nathan. He was gentle, patient. He loved her without needing to control her. That was what she had wanted, wasn't it? A man who treated her with respect, not like some possession to be dominated.

And yet, a traitorous part of her still ached for the thrill, the unpredictability.

She sighed and got up, making her way to the kitchen. Maybe a glass of wine would help settle her nerves. She poured herself a generous amount and took a slow sip, staring blankly at the counter where so many of her past memories lingered.

The problem wasn't just the sex. It was the passion, the urgency. Nathan never seemed to crave her the way Daniel had. Their intimacy had become routine, something that happened in bed at night, lights off, slow and quiet. There were no stolen moments, no raw, unrestrained need.

She didn't want to be ungrateful, but how could she ignore the way her body still reacted to thoughts of Daniel?

She heard Nathan's footsteps coming down the stairs. She quickly composed herself, taking another sip of wine before turning to face him.

He walked into the kitchen, now in a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants. His damp hair clung slightly to his forehead as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge.

"You okay?" he asked, looking at her over the rim of his glass.

She forced a smile. "Yeah. Just tired."

He nodded, taking a long drink. "Want to watch something before bed?"

She hesitated. She wanted more than just watching TV. She wanted to feel desired, to be reminded that she was more than just a wife who existed within the routines of marriage.

She walked over to him, placing a hand on his chest. "Nathan…" she murmured, tilting her face up toward his.

He smiled down at her, but it wasn't the kind of smile she wanted. It was warm but not hungry. Affectionate but not desperate.

"What is it?" he asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"Nothing," she whispered, shaking her head.

She knew what the answer would be if she asked for more. He was tired. It had been a long day. And if they did make love, it would be the same as always—gentle, slow, predictable.

So instead, she let him lead her to the couch, where they settled in for another quiet, uneventful night.

But as she lay in his arms, pretending to be engrossed in the movie, her mind wandered again—to another time, another man, and a love that had left scars she wasn't sure she wanted to heal.