Niklas' POV

I had been clenching my hand for so long that I had lost all sense of pain. From the other side of the room, I could see her laughing at something he said and tilting her head back. Once more.

It was the same individual. He was grinning foolishly as if he had had a shot.

And me? Like a coward, I stood by the door. I watched her slip away from me, as if I were merely a minor character in her life.

I ought to have said something a few days ago. a few weeks ago. I simply stood there. I conveyed to her that I had no concern for her.

She used to smile at me, and now she's smiling at him.

Behind me, Jonas said, "Hey," in a cautious, low voice. "Are you okay?"

I didn't even look. "All right."

Not buying it, he took a step closer. "You've taken the entire week off. hardly talking. I'm barely getting any sleep. Do you want to discuss it?

A pause occurred.

"How is Emilia doing?"

My chest constricted. I detested that her name still made me feel that way.

"She's all right."

It was a falsehood. She wasn't doing well. Not when I was the one who ruined it all.

Before he could ask any more questions, I departed.

It all felt wrong.

I was unable to concentrate at work. I typed nonsense as my fingers moved across the keyboard. My stomach turned every time a notification appeared on my phone. She was always the one. even if it wasn't.

I started looking through her social media accounts. She tapped through them too quickly and then turned back to observe the moment when her lips curled around someone else's name once more.

Why didn't I tell her right away?

Why did I allow my fear to destroy everything?

I didn't own her. She was never. I still wanted her, though, as if she were the only thing that was real in my life.

The incident occurred after two days.

Once more, she was present. same location. The individual remains unchanged.

This time, I wasn't going to watch.

I ignored the looks I got as I pushed through the crowd. Before my brain could keep up, my feet started to move.

"Emilia," I said.

She pivoted. She stopped smiling. He continued to hold her arm. I gave him a fierce look until he released his grip.

I said, "We need to talk."

"Now?" She had keen eyes. irritated.

Indeed. Right now.

The man moved forward. "Dude, do you have a problem?"

I gave him a direct look. "I'll give you one if you don't leave now."

Emilia mumbled, "Wow." "Very mature."

He took a step back. Well done.

I gently but firmly took her arm and dragged her towards the corridor.

"Really?" she yelled. "What's wrong with you?"

"You."

Her gaze expanded.

"You," I repeated, a little softer this time. Emilia, you are my problem. I'm thinking about you. within my chest. And seeing you with him makes it impossible for me to think clearly.

"He's a friend."

"Don't tell lies."

She folded her arms. "Don't let me know who I can speak with."

"I'm not. I simply don't know what I'm doing anymore, Emilia. Damn it.

Don't do this, then. Don't act like you care when you never do, and don't pull me out like this.

"I'm concerned."

"Then demonstrate it. Say it.

I went cold.

There was a long pause.

She realised that I wouldn't.

She took a step back. Her face flashed with pain, and it was like a kick to the stomach.

"If you're not willing to be honest, you don't get to act jealous," she said.

"I'm not having fun—"

"Then stop using me as a pawn."

At the end, her voice cracked a little. It was worse than shouting. The experience was even more distressing than her departure.

She turned.

I extended my hand—then stopped. Even so, what was I reaching for? I lacked entitlement.

That night, I didn't sleep. Thinking about her voice and the way she looked at me as if she had finished waiting, I just stared at the ceiling.

It was slipping. Everything.

And, for once, I had no idea how to fix it.

The following morning, I saw her once more. She had her headphones on and her arms crossed as she walked down the hallway.

I went with her. I didn't intend to.

I simply did.

She went into the art room. empty.

I entered and shut the door.

She pulled out her earphone. "Are you serious?"

"I can't do this any longer."

"What are you doing? Ignoring me?

"No. Pretending not to want you.

She blinked.

I lowered my voice. "It hurts every time I see you smile at someone else. I feel as though I'm choking on it.

She remained silent.

I muttered, "I dream about you." "Every evening. It's not just your face, either. It's your voice. You chuckle. You hold your coffee as if it's your only source of warmth.

"Niklas."

"I ought to have informed you. that evening. that morning. You always gave me the impression that you were waiting for something.

She cast her gaze downward.

I moved in closer. "Tell me it's not too late."

She didn't raise her head. "Why now?"

"Because if I wait any longer, someone else will take what I've been too scared to keep."

At last, she turned to face me. She had glossy eyes.

"You can't just enter and say this."

"I understand."

"I have been making an effort to move on."

"I understand."

Her mouth quivered.

She said, "I kissed him."

My chest broke.

I was aware. However, hearing it aloud made me realise its impact.

"All right," I inhaled. "All right."

However, it felt like nothing. It was insignificant compared to the intensity with which you gaze at me.

I moved in closer. Now we were just inches apart.

Slowly, my fingers touched her waist. Testing.

She stayed put.

I whispered, "I want to kiss you."

"You can't just say that."

"I'm not requesting authorisation."

Our lips touched. The kiss was gentle and filled with fear. Unsteady.

Then, delve deeper. Warm. Furious. The situation is desperate.

As if fearing my disappearance, her fingers dug into my shirt.

I raised her to the counter. She encircled me with her legs. My hands moved up her thighs, feeling the warmth beneath the cloth.

She drew me in as she gasped into my mouth.

She muttered, "I hate that I still want you."

"All right. I want you to appreciate it.

Do you despise me?

"No. I regret letting you go.

She groaned. I gave her a deeper kiss.

My mind was empty of ideas. Only her. Only this.

Until—

There's a knock.

We stopped.

She exhaled, "Someone is coming."

With my heart pounding, I withdrew.

The handle of the door twisted.

Just as it opened, we leapt apart.

Jonas remained motionless.

He noticed us. noticed that her cheeks were flushed. I still have my hand extended halfway.

He squinted his eyes.

"What on earth is happening here?"

I parted my lips.

However, no information came to light.

What had I done?

What could I say?

What if he was aware already?

What if I just removed everything?