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He walked into my mother's life like he belonged there. A tall man with a calm voice and unreadable eyes. He smelled like clean soap and sin, like whiskey sipped under expensive chandeliers. When he smiled at my mother, I noticed how his dimple only dipped on one side. When he looked at me, he hesitated-just a second too long for it to be innocent. That was when I knew I was in trouble. I was seventeen, old enough to know better, but young enough to feel everything all at once. He was thirty-eight, a respected architect who spoke in quiet words and made grown men listen. My mother called him her fresh start. But I couldn't stop staring. At dinner, I watched the veins in his hand as he held his wine glass. I memorized the way his lips curved around words like darling and sweetheart. My mother thought he was saying it to her. I let her believe that. But I knew. That first night, when he helped me carry the dishes, our hands brushed. He didn't pull away. And I didn't breathe. That was the night I fell in love with my stepfather.
Chapter 1 First Glance
Chapter One – First Glance
Bella – Age 17
---
The gallery smells like oil paint and wine, and I hate both.
I trail behind my mother in heels she told me would " make me look elegant"- code for: stop slouching and start pretending you are not seventeen. My dress feels too tight, my lips too red, my smile too fake. I only agreed to come because she promised we wouldn't stay long.
We won't, I tell myself.
That's before I see him.
He's standing near the back wall, one hand tucked into his trouser pocket, the other holding a glass of something dark and expensive. His face isn't beautiful, not in the way most girls my age would describe, but it's... striking. A strong jaw shadowed with stubble, lips that look like they rarely smile, and eyes-calm, cold, a little sad.
He watches the room like he owns it. Or like he's already bored with it.
My mother notices him too. Of course she does. Her entire body shifts. Chin up, voice sweeter.
"Oh, Daniel," she calls out, her laugh suddenly three notes too high. "You made it."
Daniel. His name is Daniel.
I watch as he turns toward her-slowly, like the world doesn't rush him. When he smiles at her, it's polite, warm, but not particularly invested.
Then she says, "This is my daughter. Bella."
His eyes move to me.
And everything slows.
It's not a long look. Just a second. Maybe two. But something passes between us-something heavy and hot and wrong. He looks at me like he's reading something private, and for a heartbeat, I forget how to breathe.
I say nothing. Just offer my hand and a practiced smile.
He takes it.
His fingers are warm. His grip is firm. "Nice to meet you, Bella."
My name sounds different in his voice. Like a secret being told for the first time.
I nod. "You too."
My mother is talking again-something about brush strokes and wine choices and the pretentiousness of the artist-but I don't hear any of it. Not really. All I hear is the blood rushing in my ears and the way he keeps glancing at me, once, twice, subtly, like he's trying not to.
I wonder if he can hear my heartbeat. I wonder if he can feel this too.
---
The gallery lights shift as the artist steps forward to introduce his work. Applause. Champagne. Awkward laughter. My mother disappears into the crowd, networking like she's still twenty-nine and everyone cares.
I find a quiet corner near a painting of a faceless woman in a bathtub.
And Daniel finds me.
He stands next to me without saying a word, both of us looking at the painting. The silence stretches between us-tight, uncomfortable, electric.
"You like it?" he asks, low voice, no pressure.
I shrug. "It makes me feel... watched."
"That's the point," he says. "It's about exposure. Vulnerability."
I glance at him, only a little. "You speak like you know how that feels."
He looks at me then. A full look.
His smile is small. Almost sad. "Maybe I do."
We hold that look too long. I know it. He knows it. But neither of us breaks it.
Then my mother's voice cuts through the spell-loud and airy. "Bella, let's go. I want to stop by the new bistro before they close."
Daniel steps back. Just a half step.
"It was nice meeting you," he says, professional now, neutral. Back behind his mask.
"You too," I reply. But I can't stop staring.
As I walk away, I turn once-just to see.
He's still watching me.
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Chapter 1 First Glance
19/06/2025
Chapter 2 The New Husband
19/06/2025
Chapter 3 The Robe
19/06/2025
Chapter 4 The games we play
19/06/2025
Chapter 5 The touch that wasn't meant to happen
19/06/2025
Chapter 6 The space between us
19/06/2025
Chapter 7 Shadows in Silence
19/06/2025
Chapter 8 Glass Walls
19/06/2025
Chapter 9 Smoke Beneath The Skin
19/06/2025
Chapter 10 When It Rains
19/06/2025
Chapter 11 Bruised and Breathing
19/06/2025
Chapter 12 Avoiding Him
19/06/2025
Chapter 13 Almost Touching
19/06/2025
Chapter 14 The Lines We Crossed
01/07/2025
Chapter 15 A Quiet Kind Of Ruin
02/07/2025
Chapter 16 What Is Left to Save
02/07/2025
Chapter 17 The Almost
02/07/2025
Chapter 18 The Fire I Feed
02/07/2025
Chapter 19 The Line we break
02/07/2025
Chapter 20 The Edge of Everything
03/07/2025
Chapter 21 Heat Without Touch
03/07/2025
Chapter 22 Silver Lines On The Fuse
03/07/2025
Chapter 23 Let It Burn
03/07/2025
Chapter 24 Something To Break
03/07/2025
Chapter 25 Cracks In The Frame
03/07/2025
Chapter 26 A Taste Of Fire
03/07/2025
Chapter 27 The Ruin We Choose
03/07/2025
Chapter 28 Games On Fire
06/07/2025
Chapter 29 Like We Mean It
06/07/2025
Chapter 30 Closer Than We Should Be
06/07/2025
Chapter 31 Fire Beneath The Table
06/07/2025
Chapter 32 The Sound Of What Isn't Mine
06/07/2025
Chapter 33 Pretending Doesn't Work Anymore
10/07/2025
Chapter 34 What Fire Forgets, Part A
10/07/2025
Chapter 35 What Fire Forgets Part B
10/07/2025
Chapter 36 The Door That Didn't Stay Closed
10/07/2025
Chapter 37 Beneath Her Smile
10/07/2025
Chapter 38 The weight of what we have broken
11/07/2025
Chapter 39 Smoke Before Fire
13/07/2025
Chapter 40 After the Fire doesn't kill you
13/07/2025
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