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I told Ziven I was going to shower.
It wasn't a lie. It was just… incomplete.
I was standing near the bathroom door the echo of our conversation still lingering in my chest. Not an argument. Not exactly. Just one of those exchanges that left you feeling like something had been left unsaid on purpose.
The bathroom light flicked on. Steam curled as the water heated, and for a moment, standing there, I let myself believe the night would end quietly. That whatever tension had been stretching thin between us would ease if I gave it time.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
I ignored it at first. Turned the water on. Let it run.
It buzzed again.
I glanced at the screen.
Marcus:
hey. long day.
beer?
I stared at the message longer than I should have.
Another one came through.
Marcus:
i'm already nearby.
I hesitated. Not because I thought it was wrong. Just because something in my gut felt… off. Like the timing wasn't great. Like I should wait. Like I should think it through.
Instead, I typed back.
Asher:
sure. quick one.
I set the phone down before I could reconsider.
The shower washed the day off me in pieces. The heat loosened the tension in my shoulders, and for a few minutes, I forgot about everything the careful conversations, the way Ziven watched me like he was always a step ahead of my thoughts.
By the time I stepped out, my hair was damp, my skin still warm. I wrapped a towel around my waist, grabbed a shirt from the bed, and stepped into the hallway without thinking to get the lotion on the counter, which I left few days ago.
That was when I saw Marcus.
He was already there.
Sitting on the couch like he'd been invited hours ago, one arm slung casually over the backrest. A beer bottle rested in his hand, another open one on the coffee table. His cheeks were slightly flushed, eyes a little too bright.
"You're fast," he said, grinning.
I stopped short.
"How did you-"
"You left the door unlocked," he said easily. "Hope that's okay."
Something tightened in my chest. i looked at the door, thinking maybe ziven stepped out for something.
"Yeah," I said, though it wasn't. "I didn't think you'd-"
He laughed. "You said quick. I figured I'd get a head start."
I glanced down at myself, suddenly very aware of the towel, the half-buttoned shirt I'd thrown on without much thought. I tugged it closed, irritation sparking beneath my skin.
"This might've been a bad idea," I muttered.
Marcus didn't seem to hear me. Or maybe he chose not to.
"Relax," he said, handing me a bottle. "It's just a drink."
I didn't take it.
"I should probably change," I said instead.
He raised an eyebrow. "You look fine."
"I'm not," I replied, sharper than intended.
He blinked, then shrugged, taking another sip of his beer. "Suit yourself."
I turned to head back toward my room and my foot slipped on the tile because of my wet feet. I stumbled, barely catching myself on the arm of the couch.
Marcus reached out on instinct, his hand brushing my arm as he steadied me.
It was nothing.
Barely a touch.
But I froze anyway.
"Careful," he said, laughing lightly. "Wouldn't want you getting hurt."
I pulled my arm back immediately. "I'm fine."
The unease in my chest grew heavier. I took a step away, putting distance between us, just as the front door opened.
The sound cut through the room like a blade.
Ziven stepped inside.
He stopped the moment he took everything in.
Me barefoot, hair damp, towel still clinging to my waist beneath the hastily buttoned shirt.
Marcus on the couch, beer in hand, too relaxed for someone who wasn't supposed to be there.
The bottles.
The proximity.
The silence stretched.
"What," Ziven said slowly, his voice dangerously calm, "is he doing here?"
I opened my mouth. "Ziven-wait-" i dont know why I had the urge to clear things when i didn't even have to as Marcus was my FRIEND
"what?" he said, eyes never leaving Marcus.
Marcus straightened slightly, frowning. "Relax. We're just hanging out."
That was the wrong thing to say.
Ziven's gaze snapped , cold and cutting. "I wasn't talking to you."
The room felt like it shrank.
"Ziven," I said again, stepping forward. "It's not what it looks like."
"Then explain it," he snapped, finally turning to me. "Because right now it looks like you invited him over while you were half-dressed."
"I told him he could come by," I said, my voice rising. "I didn't think-"
"No," Ziven interrupted. "You didn't."
Something in his tone set my teeth on edge.
"You don't get to talk to me like that," I shot back.
"I told you not to get close to him," he said, louder now. "I told you not to bring him in this house."
My heart pounded. "You told me," I repeated. "And I ignored you. Because you don't get to decide that."
Marcus shifted awkwardly. "Hey, man, maybe I should-"
"Don't say a word," Ziven said without looking at him.
I felt heat rush to my face. "Don't talk to him like that."
"Then don't put him in the middle of something that isn't his," Ziven shot back.
"This isn't your call," I yelled. "You don't own this place. You don't own me."
The words rang out, sharp and final.
Ziven's jaw clenched. "I'm trying to keep you from making stupid decisions."
"I didn't ask you to," I said. "I didn't ask you to watch me. Or monitor who I see. Or decide what's 'safe' for me."
He took a step closer, anger flashing in his eyes. "You have no idea what you're inviting."
"And you have no idea how suffocating you're being," I shot back.
The silence that followed was thick and unbearable.
Marcus cleared his throat. "I'm gonna go."
No one stopped him.
He grabbed his jacket, casting an uneasy glance between us before heading for the door. It closed behind him with a soft click that somehow felt louder than the shouting had.
Ziven turned back to me.
"You don't get to put yourself in situations like that," he said, voice low and controlled.
"I don't get to?" I laughed bitterly. "Listen to yourself."
"You were vulnerable," he snapped. "You were careless."
"I was in my own house," I said. "With someone I trust."
His eyes darkened. "You trust him?"
"Yes."
The word landed hard.
He stared at me like he didn't recognize what he was seeing.
"You don't get to watch me like that," I continued, my voice shaking now. "And you don't get to decide what I owe you."
Something flickered across his face anger, frustration, something deeper and more dangerous.
"Then stop putting yourself in situations I have to see," he said.
I felt the finality in his words.
I stepped back, chest tight. "That's not my responsibility."
Neither of us spoke after that.
I turned and walked back toward my room, hands trembling, heart pounding too hard for the silence that followed.
Behind me, Ziven didn't call my name.
The door shut between us, and I leaned against it, breathing hard, the echo of his voice still ringing in my ears.
This wasn't a restraint anymore.
This was something else.
And now that it had been dragged into the open messy, loud, and undeniable I knew one thing for certain
Whatever balance we'd been pretending to keep had shattered the moment he walked in and saw what he wasn't supposed to see.
There was no going back to calm after this.
Only fallout.