14

                                    

                                          
The door slams behind Miles, and I can feel the tension radiating off him as he storms into the apartment. His back is turned to me, but I can see the tightness in his shoulders. He throws his keys onto the counter with a clatter. I stand there, arms crossed, heart pounding, barely keeping myself in check.
"I don't want to talk about it right now, Jane," he says quietly, not even looking at me.
I feel a surge of anger rise in my chest. He's not getting out of this. Not tonight.
"Oh, we're talking about it. Right now," I say, my voice sharper than I intended.
He turns to face me finally, his expression guarded, like he's trying to figure out how to play this. His silence only fuels the fire inside me.
"I knew something was off, Miles," I begin, my voice trembling with rage. "You've been lying to me this whole time. The arranged marriage? That's what you came up with? To justify keeping me in the dark about you and Celine?"
He flinches slightly at her name, but says nothing. I laugh bitterly, shaking my head, disbelief and anger swirling together in my chest.
"Do you even realize how humiliating that is for me?" I ask, my voice rising. "Miles. You and Celine aren't in some arranged marriage. You've been together since high school. High school, Miles!"
He clenches his jaw, his face hardening, but I keep pushing, refusing to let him hide behind that stoic mask.
"You've been lying, and you didn't even have the decency to tell me the truth. You made me think this was something it's not. I've been standing here like an idiot, defending you, believing your bullshit."
"I didn't lie," he says, his voice low, controlled.
My laugh is bitter, sharp, echoing in the room.
"Didn't lie? You told me it was an arrangement! That you didn't love her. But that's not true, is it? You've been with her all along. She's not just some fiancée you're obligated to. You and Celine have history. And what am I? The side fling? The other woman?"
He runs a hand through his hair, pacing now, avoiding my gaze. His guilt is written all over his face, but he's still trying to defend himself. Typical.
"You're the other woman, Jane," he says, his tone cold, almost like he's trying to shut me. "Why did you date a engaged man to begin with?."
I stare at him in disbelief. "What?" I repeat, my voice breaking. "What the hell do you think this is? Miles, You've been lying about everything, and I thought that you were calling off the engagement."
He stops pacing and faces me, his expression hardening again. He's shutting down, retreating into that cold, distant place he goes when he doesn't want to deal with the truth.
"Jane. You knew what this was."
His words are like a slap in the face.
"I knew what this was?" I take a step closer, my fists clenched. "You made me believe we had something real, Miles! You told me you didn't love her! You lied to me, and now you're trying to turn this around like it's my fault?"
We're standing just feet apart now, both breathing hard, both too angry to back down.
The hospital hallways are quiet, almost unnervingly so. After months of avoiding Miles, pretending everything between us was over, we're now the only two left on duty. I've been dreading this night, dreading being alone with him again. But here we are, no more patients to tend to, no more tasks to hide behind. Just us.
I'm sitting in the break room, exhausted after hours of nonstop work, when the door creaks open. My heart stutters in my chest as I glance up. It's Miles. He looks as tired as I feel, dark circles under his eyes, tension in his jaw. We haven't spoken outside of work in months, but there's something different about the way he's looking at me tonight. Something softer. More vulnerable.
"Long night," he mutters, breaking the silence as he grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.
"Yeah," I answer, my voice quieter than I intended. I can feel the tension between us—the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings. Everything that's been festering since I walked out of his apartment.
For a while, we just sit there in silence, the air thick with the weight of everything we've been avoiding. I try to focus on the sound of the refrigerator humming, the distant beeping of monitors, anything to distract myself from the man next to me.
"I'm getting married in next month" Miles says, his voice calm, like he's telling me about the weather.
I nod, unable to speak. The room feels too small, the walls closing in. For the first time, my heart sinks in a way I didn't think was possible. I've always been able to handle things, to brush off whatever life throws at me, but this? This is different.
I stare at him, trying to keep my face neutral, to act like it's no big deal, but inside I'm crumbling. My chest tightens, and before I can stop it, tears blur my vision. I look down, trying to hide them, but Miles sees. Of course he does.
"Jane..." he says softly, stepping toward me. He doesn't ask why I'm crying. He doesn't need to. He just wraps his arms around me, and I melt into him, too tired to resist. His warmth, his closeness, it's everything I've been pretending I didn't want for so long.
I don't push him away. I can't. His hands are gentle, and I feel him holding me like he never wants to let go. One thing leads to another, and suddenly, all the lines we promised never to cross blur. We fall into something we can't take back, but neither of us stops it.
When we wake up, tangled in the sheets, reality hits hard. We lie there in silence, the weight of what we've done hanging between us.
"We can't do this again," he finally says, his voice thick with regret.
I nod, staring at the ceiling. "Yeah, we can't."
We promise each other it's over, that this was a mistake, and we'll never do it again. He's getting married. We agree to never see each other again, to stop this before it destroys us both.
But a week later, he's at my door, standing there like nothing's changed. And the moment I see him, I know we can't stay away from each other. We don't even try. From then on, we're inseparable again, like we always were, but with everything unsaid lingering in the air.
Eventually, I tell him the truth, the one thing I've been afraid to admit to myself. "I don't mind being the other woman," I say, my voice calm even though my heart is racing. "As long as you stay by my side."
And he doesn't say a word, but I know he feels the same. We're in too deep now, and neither of us is letting go.