Emilia's POV

I sensed a problem.

Niklas didn't have to speak because his silence was more powerful than words could ever be. Not really, but he was there. His body was there, but his mind was far away. With me but locked behind some wall I couldn’t climb no matter how much I tried.

And I was tired of trying.

I put on lipstick once more. Red. I looked like trouble, as he used to say. I took out the short black skirt I hadn't worn since summer and accessorized it with statement boots. As he preferred, my hair remained loose and cascaded over my shoulders in waves.

However, I didn't do it for him. No longer.

That's what I told myself, anyway.

I had had enough of waiting for someone who had no idea what he wanted.

"Who is this guy?" At the campus event, Lena pushed me with her elbow and asked.

"Just a guy."

"You're grinning as though he's more than that."

It felt forced, but I laughed. "Perhaps I simply enjoy the attention."

Lena raised an eyebrow. "Or perhaps you enjoy making Niklas envious."

I didn't respond. I didn't have to.

He was watching me from the other side of the room, his jaw clenched, standing close to the exit. Not moving. Not even blinking. Behind his eyes, it seemed like a storm was brewing.

I smiled at the other guy despite his intense gaze. Allow him to burn.

Allow him to experience some of the agony I had been choking on for weeks.

I was surprised that he followed me. However, I ought to have.

As I walked home with my heels loud on the sidewalk, the wind slapped against my cheeks. Then his voice pierced the darkness.

"Are you serious now?"

Heat rose in my chest as I turned. "What? You decided to talk at last?"

His eyes were wild as he stopped a few feet away.

"You think it was smart to flirt with a random guy in front of me?"

“Maybe I just wanted to feel something.”

“That’s bullshit.”

I stepped closer. “Is it? Because I'm just confused around you. One moment you're hot, the next you're cold. Niklas, what should I do?

He remained silent and simply gazed at me.

"Exactly," I yelled. "You refuse to acknowledge what is happening."

"Because I have no idea what's happening!" he exclaimed.

It was there – the fissure.

He continued, "When it comes to you, I can't think straight."" I want to touch you every time I see you. Then I recall that your brother is Jonas, and I—

"You're afraid," I interrupted. "This is what it is."

Naturally, I'm afraid! Emilia, he's my best friend!

"And I'm more than just his younger sister now."

He recoiled as if I had given him a slap.

I said in a low voice, "You can't keep acting like there's nothing between us." "I refuse to be your secret."

He brushed his hand through his hair and turned away. "This was an error."

My throat constricted. "That's not what you mean."

Quiet.

A chilly silence. The kind that claims everything is shattering.

I lied through my teeth and whispered, "I hate you."

“No, you don’t.”

"I wish I had."

We stood without touching, breathing heavily. No longer.

I turned and left after that.

He didn’t follow me.

Not now.

Breathless, I slammed my bedroom door and collapsed against it. My heart ached. It hurt my eyes. I refrained from crying.

I wouldn't.

But something snapped open inside of me.

Why did I feel like I lost a part of myself each time I was near him?

Before I realised what it meant, I heard the knock.

"Leave."

"Please, Emilia."

No.

I remained motionless.

“Just open the door.”

"I will never do this again."

Not a word.

Then: "You are always on my mind. I have no idea how to stop.

I kept my hand over the doorknob.

"I shouldn't feel this way about you."

My fingers were shaking.

“But I do. I do, God.

The door opened with a creak.

He was present. Untidy hair. Pale face. dark eyes.

I said, "You can't continue doing this."

He entered. Shut the door. I locked it.

"I've had enough of acting."

Before I could stop him, his hands were on my face and his mouth was slamming into mine. Or perhaps I didn't want to.

He tasted of desperation and guilt.

As if he required my breath.

He nudged me gently in the direction of the bed while we remained silent. Clothes fall to the ground. In contact with one another. Take a deep breath. Before my mind could even catch up, my body knew his.

It was slow, messy, painful, and flawless.

He whispered against my neck, "You make me crazy."

"Well done."

He gave me another, more intense kiss.

He declared, "I'd rather burn with you than live without you."

There was silence the following morning.

Too quiet.

He had left.

Pulling the blanket tighter around me, I sat up. There was a problem.

I looked at my phone. Nothing.

No call. Not a text message.

I approached the window.

Across the street, a black car was parked.

It had never been there before.

Furthermore, it wasn't just any man who was leaning on the hood.

He raised his head and stared at me.

Observing, emotionless, and icy.

My heart dropped.

With my phone still gripped tightly, I took a step back.

Who was he?

And why did it seem like Niklas was no longer at the centre of this?

Was I being followed?

Or were they pursuing him?

The following night, why was there blood on the pavement?

Why did Jonas seem to know more about me than I did?

Furthermore, Niklas was nowhere to be found.

Why didn't he respond?

Why did I feel as though I had opened a door that I was unable to close?

Why did it feel like a terrible event was about to happen?

Worst of all—

Why did I feel like I couldn't save him this time?