Crossroads
Carlos's eyes darted to his phone as it buzzed on his desk. The screen glowed with a notification, the sender hidden behind a private number. His stomach dropped. He knew that number too well, a relentless ghost haunting his every step. Hands trembling, he opened the message.
"He's coming for you. Keep him in the dark no matter what "
His heart pounded as he swallowed hard. The walls of his office seemed to close in on him, the air thick with dread. He had been dodging Ethan for weeks, feeding him excuses, trying to keep the truth buried beneath a web of lies and half-truths. But the noose was tightening.
Without a second thought, Carlos grabbed his coat and bolted for the door. The sound of his rushed footsteps echoed through the hallway as he headed for the stairwell, his pulse a frantic drumbeat. Meeting Ethan was no longer an option. Staying here was a death sentence.
Ethan sat in his car, parked in the shadows of Carlos's office garage. His eyes were fixed on the entrance, the cold steering wheel biting into his hands. The city had long since settled into night, the orange glow of streetlights flickering in and out of focus. Hours bled together, his resolve firm at first, then wavering as the minutes stretched on.
Where are you, Carlos?
He glanced at his watch. 11:47 PM. The garage was silent, the only sound the distant hum of traffic. Ethan's hope was slipping away, replaced by a cold, hollow sense of defeat. He leaned back in his seat, his head resting against the headrest, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him.
Finally, he let out a slow, heavy breath. Carlos wasn't coming. He knew it now. The man he once trusted was running from him. But why?
He started the engine, the low rumble filling the empty space around him, and pulled out of the garage. The drive home was a blur, the city lights streaking past as his thoughts spiraled.
When Ethan finally pushed his apartment door open, the dim lighting inside offered little comfort. He dropped his keys on the table, his shoulders slumping. The weight in his chest was suffocating, a disappointment so profound it felt like his very bones were weary.
"Ethan."
He looked up, startled.
Anita stood there in a red silk nightgown that clung to her curves, the plunging neckline revealing her bare chest, the fabric gliding down her legs like liquid fire. The soft glow from the living room lamp painted her skin in golden hues, her hair cascading in dark waves over her shoulders. Her eyes shimmered with desire.
She took a slow step toward him, her lips curving into a sultry smile. "You're finally home," she whispered, her voice low and inviting.
Ethan didn't move. A strange emptiness filled him as he looked at her. The sight of her — the seductive lines of her body, the invitation in her eyes — should have ignited something inside him. But there was nothing. Just a cold, distant void.
She closed the gap between them, her hands reaching for his belt, her fingers nimble and practiced. "Let me help you forget tonight," she murmured, pressing her body against his.
He caught her wrist, gently but firmly. "Anita… don't."
She froze, her eyes snapping up to meet his. Confusion flickered across her face, quickly replaced by hurt. "What's wrong?"
He sighed, his voice barely a whisper. "I can't."
Her eyes narrowed, the vulnerability giving way to anger. "You can't?" she repeated, incredulous. "I've been here for you, Ethan. I've been patient, understanding. I've given you my love, my time, everything. And this is what I get?"
He closed his eyes briefly, guilt gnawing at his insides. "I'm sorry, Anita. I know you've given me everything. But I'm not the man you need. I'm not in a good place right now. And I can't ask you to wait for me to fix myself."
Her hands clenched into fists, her body trembling. "Don't do this. Don't push me away."
He shook his head, sadness etched into his features. "I'm already gone, Anita. I've been gone for a long time."
She stepped back, her eyes blazing with fury and heartbreak. "I've been trying to be good for you, Ethan! I've given you every piece of myself. What do you want from me?" Her voice cracked, the raw emotion spilling over. "If you were in my shoes, how would you feel?"
He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice hollow. "I'm sorry."
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. She turned abruptly, grabbing her coat and bag. "You'll regret this, Ethan," she hissed, her voice shaking. "You'll regret ever treating me this way."
She stormed out, the door slamming behind her, the sound echoing through the empty space.
Ethan stood there in the silence, the weight of his choices pressing down on him. He closed his eyes, the loneliness settling deeper into his bones.
I'm sorry, Anita.