Isabella sat in the corner of the café, her presence unnoticed, like a shadow cast into a warm, bustling room. Around her, life moved with a gentle, indifferent hum. Coffee machines hissed in bursts, laughter rippled across brick walls, and the muted clink of cutlery layered the air. But for her, it all felt distant, dulled like sound through water.
She cradled her mug with both hands, the ceramic long gone cold. The heat had bled into her skin but left nothing behind. Her fingers curled tighter around the cup, as if holding on to something slipping between them.
The foam at the bottom had broken apart, swirling in ghostly fragments. She stared down, watching them dissolve, much like the certainty she once felt. Her chest ached with thoughts she couldn't quiet. Shawn lingered there, not as a memory but as something still alive inside her, pulsing just beneath the surface. Every breath felt like an echo of her absence.
Isabella could still hear her voice. Calm, unshakable. Measured. The way Shawn had looked at her really looked not at the body she wore, but into the quiet, guarded places she never meant to reveal. That gaze had unraveled her carefully stitched seams. With each touch, each command, Shawn had peeled her open with elegant precision. And Isabella had let her. Willingly. Eagerly.
Because with Shawn, surrender hadn't felt like weakness. It had felt like truth.
Now that truth felt like a wound, fresh and open.
She took a sip of the coffee out of habit, and the bitterness turned her stomach. She pushed the mug away. The last time she'd felt this raw, she'd been in Shawn's arms, breathless and trembling, her body used and cherished in equal measure. She remembered the way Shawn had held her afterward, one hand in her hair, the other steady on her back, anchoring her. There had been no need for words. The silence between them had been thick with safety.
Now, the silence was empty.
Was she retreating or regrouping? The line between the two had blurred.
Her phone sat beside the mug, screen black. Then it lit with a soft glow. 4:17 PM. She picked it up, thumb hovering. Shawn's name waited at the top of the message list, a quiet reminder of everything that had passed. And everything that might not return.
She typed the words slowly.
Can we talk
Three words. All she could manage. And yet, they felt enormous. Vulnerable. She stared at them for a long moment before pressing send.
No reply came. She hadn't expected one right away.
She rose, slipping the phone into her coat pocket. The café door chimed behind her as she stepped into the weight of the late afternoon. The sky hung heavy, gray and still, as though holding its breath. Her boots struck the pavement with sharp, even rhythm, but nothing inside her felt steady.
She moved through the crowd like water through cracks. Unseen. Unanchored. The pulse of the city was unbothered by her unraveling.
But something had shifted. She had reached for Shawn again. And that meant something.
By the time she reached her apartment, she didn't bother with the lights. She dropped her coat in the hallway with an almost frantic motion, the fabric hitting the floor with a dull thud that seemed to echo in the quiet, empty space. The silence wrapped around her, a presence of its own, too intimate, too loud. It suffocated her.
She moved toward the bathroom, almost without thought, her fingers trembling slightly as she turned the faucet. The sound of the water coming to life was a small relief something she could focus on, something that didn't demand anything of her. She let it run hot, the steam rising quickly, filling the small space with thick, suffocating warmth. The air became heavy, the room growing steamy and damp around her. It was as if the heat might melt the tension in her bones, or maybe even drown out the sharpness in her mind.
She stepped into the shower, closing her eyes as the water hit her skin. The first touch was almost unbearable the water scalding as it hit her chest, her shoulders, her thighs. It felt as though it was peeling away the layers of everything she had been holding in, soft and almost brutal at the same time. The contrast between the physical heat and the emotional coldness inside her made her gasp, and she leaned against the tiles, feeling the steam rise around her like a fog.
She let her hands fall slowly to her sides, her fingertips grazing the curve of her body almost instinctively, tracing over the places that were marked by Shawn's touch. Her fingers hesitated on the spots where Shawn had kissed, where the pressure of her hands had left a lingering warmth on her skin. The marks, now faint, were a reminder of something deeper, something she hadn't yet been able to bury. Each touch was a soft caress, but it made her body tremble, the memory of her, of them, flooding her senses.
Her hands moved lower, reaching the sensitive parts of her body that still remembered the imprint of Shawn's presence. She could feel the heat from the water combining with the heat in her body, pooling low in her stomach as her breath caught. She closed her eyes, her forehead pressing gently against the cool tiles, allowing the water to rush over her back in a rhythmic, almost soothing cascade.
Her body responded to the warmth, but her thoughts were a storm. It wasn't just about sex, she knew that. It was about something else. Something much deeper. Trust. Surrender. The ability to be completely exposed and vulnerable with someone, to let them take control, to allow herself to trust them fully, even when it terrified her.
Shawn had made her feel that way. No one else had ever seen her the way Shawn did had ever held her the way Shawn did. And it wasn't just in the moments of passion, it was in the silences, in the way Shawn's hands had been unerringly sure, guiding her without a word spoken, letting her surrender with every breath.
The water began to cool slightly, though her skin still burned with the memory of Shawn's touch. She shivered, feeling both the loss and the longing all over again. She felt exposed, raw, as if the water itself couldn't wash away the ache that had settled deep inside her. It wasn't just the need for physical release it was the need to feel whole again, to feel desired and cherished and safe within the boundaries of that trust. She needed Shawn.
But here she was, standing alone in the dim light of the bathroom, feeling the weight of everything that had been left unsaid, untouched.
Fifteen minutes later, she stood in front of the mirror, wrapped in a towel, her skin still glistening with droplets of water. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the towel, her reflection staring back at her a woman who seemed different now. Her eyes were sharper, clearer, but there was an edge to them that hadn't been there before. A rawness. A hunger.
She didn't want to wallow anymore. The confusion, the yearning it was time to take back control.
She didn't know what the next step was, but she was ready to find out. The uncertainty still hovered at the edges of her thoughts, but now it was something she could move through, something she could work with.
