Lina
I pack slowly.
Not everything. Just enough to breathe.
The suitcase lies open on the bed in Victor's apartment, the black leather catching the soft glow from the city lights outside the windows. The room feels too quiet, as if even the walls understand what is happening and have decided not to interrupt.
Each item I place inside the bag feels symbolic.
My books.
My laptop.
A few dresses I bought when my life suddenly required elegant rooms and polite smiles.
Then my hand pauses over the sweater.
Victor's sweater.
Dark gray, soft from use, the sleeves still too long for my arms. He had given it to me on a cold night weeks ago when we stood on his balcony overlooking the city. I had joked about the billionaire CEO owning something so normal.
Now the scent of him still lingers faintly in the fabricclean, warm, unmistakably Victor.
I hold it longer than I should.
If I take it, it feels like stealing something that belongs to him.
If I leave it, it feels like leaving part of myself behind.
The door opens quietly.
Victor steps inside.
He doesn't speak immediately. He never rushes into moments like this. Instead, he stands just inside the room, his dark suit slightly rumpled from a long day, his expression unreadable.
His gaze drops to the suitcase.
He goes very still.
"This is because of her," he says finally.
His voice is calm, but I hear the tension beneath it.
I shake my head slowly.
"It's because of me."
He watches me carefully, like he's studying a problem he hasn't figured out how to solve.
"I'm disappearing again," I whisper.
Victor walks toward me slowly.
Every step feels deliberate.
When he reaches the bed, he stops just short of touching me, as if he's relearning how to hold himself back.
"Stay," he says.
The word is simple. Honest.
That almost makes it harder.
"If I stay like this," I say quietly, "I'll resent you."
His jaw tightens.
"And I don't want to love you that way."
The words land between us like something fragile breaking.
Victor glances toward the window where the skyline glitters endlessly beyond the glass.
"I can change things," he says.
Of course he can.
Victor Hale changes things for a living.
But that's not the problem.
"I know," I reply softly. "But I need to know who I am without fighting your gravity."
The room falls silent.
After a moment, Victor nods once.
"I won't cage you," he says quietly. "Even if it costs me everything."
Something inside my chest cracks open.
I step forward before I can stop myself.
Pressing my forehead against his chest.
His arms close around me immediately, holding me tight but careful, like I might shatter if he holds too hard.
"This isn't goodbye," I whisper.
Victor doesn't answer.
He just holds me.
And somehow that silence says everything.
Victor
After she leaves, the apartment feels wrong.
Too quiet.
Too large.
I stand in the middle of the living room for a long time, listening to the faint hum of the city outside.
Her mug is still on the counter.
The book she was reading lies open on the coffee table.
I pick it up, noticing the folded corner marking her place.
For a moment, I imagine her walking back through the door.
Saying she changed her mind.
But Lina doesn't make decisions lightly.
And I told her I wouldn't cage her.
So instead, I do the only thing I know how to do.
I wait.