My phone buzzed again.
I hadn't even looked at it the first time. My hands were too busy shaking from being near him, from hearing the words I'd thought I'd never hear again: I never stopped loving you.
But now… I had to check.
And there it was.
A name I hadn't seen in years.
A name that made my heart stop in a way that had nothing to do with him.
I stared at the screen. Read it twice. Three times.
"We need to talk. It's about him. You can't trust what you think you know."
My stomach dropped. My head spun. My body froze.
I wanted to delete it. I wanted to ignore it. I wanted to throw my phone across the street.
But I couldn't.
Because it mentioned him.
And I still loved him.
He noticed my hesitation, and his eyes narrowed slightly. Concern? Worry? Or maybe suspicion. I didn't know. I didn't even want to know.
"Who is it?" he asked, softly, like he already knew the answer.
I bit my lip. "It's… complicated," I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. I failed. My words trembled.
"Complicated how?" he pressed. And his hand brushed mine again, light, teasing—but there was fire behind it. A warning.
"I—" I stopped. I couldn't tell him. Not yet. Not while the memories of everything we'd lost, everything we'd hidden, were still so raw.
But then I realized… maybe he already knew more than I thought.
The street around us was emptying. The night air smelled faintly of rain and gasoline. Perfectly ordinary. And yet, everything about this moment was anything but.
I wanted to run. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to hold him close and never let go.
And maybe I would have—if the next text hadn't come.
"Meet me tomorrow. Midnight. Don't tell him you got this."
I read it again, disbelief and fear mixing into something sharp in my chest.
I looked up at him. His expression had shifted. Serious now. Guarded. Dangerous in a way I had forgotten.
"Who is it?" he demanded this time, his voice low.
"I can't say," I whispered. "Not yet."
His jaw tightened. "If it's about me, I need to know."
I wanted to tell him the truth. All of it. Every secret I'd buried. Every mistake. Every lingering regret.
But I couldn't.
So I said nothing.
And that silence… that silence hung between us heavier than any words ever could.
I walked away, feeling the weight of the night pressing down. Feeling his eyes on me. Feeling everything I'd tried to lock up for years spilling out anyway.
I didn't notice the figure watching from the shadows, waiting, unseen.
I didn't notice the car that had slowed at the corner, headlights briefly flickering.
I didn't know that this night—the night that should have been simple, that should have just been a reunion—was about to change everything.
Because secrets, just like love… don't wait politely.