Ashes Of Us

She felt him before she saw him.



A presence—too still, too silent—looming behind her like a shadow that had learned to breathe.



“Tell me you don’t think of me,” he said, voice low, velvet wrapped in steel.



She didn’t turn. Couldn’t. Her fingers trembled at her sides.



He came closer, slow, deliberate, until his breath ghosted against her neck. “Tell me you don’t wake up wishing it was still me in your bed.”



Her heart thundered. She hated how her body betrayed her—how it leaned, how it ached.



“I don’t."



He laughed, dark and quiet, like a secret. “Liar.”



His hand slid around her waist, possessive. Not asking. Taking. The air between them thickened, heat threading through fear.



“You think you’ve run far enough, Sarah?” he murmured, his lips brushing her skin. “You think distance makes me disappear?”



Her breath hitched as he turned her to face him.



That face—familiar, brutal, beautiful.



“I could destroy you,” He leaned in, close enough to steal the breath from her lungs—



And she woke up.



Drenched in sweat. Shaking. Alone.



But her lips still burned where his almost touched hers.



She pressed a hand to her chest.



It was only a dream.



But it didn’t feel like one.



_______________________



Love doesn’t grow in perfect lines. It burns, it scars. And when the weight of unspoken truths and misplaced doubts takes its toll, even the strongest connection can crumble.



Sometimes, it’s not the fire that breaks you.

It’s what’s left behind.

_______________________