Beneath the Moonlight

 The forest was alive with whispers, the wind weaving through the trees like a specter. A silver moon bathed the world in its eerie glow, casting long shadows that danced in the quiet.

Evelyn knew she shouldn’t have come. But the letter had arrived at her doorstep, inked in a hand she hadn’t seen in years. The words had been simple: Meet me where it all began.

She had tried to convince herself it was a trick, a cruel illusion. And yet, here she was, standing in the clearing where it had all started. Where she had first tasted love. And betrayal.

A rustle behind her.

She turned sharply, her breath hitching as a figure stepped from the darkness. He was just as she remembered—broad shoulders, sharp jawline, eyes that held too many secrets.

“Evelyn.” His voice was a murmur, barely louder than the wind.

She swallowed hard. “Damien.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, he stepped closer, his presence suffocating, intoxicating.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she whispered, but her voice lacked conviction.

“I could say the same to you.”

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. “You left.”

His gaze darkened. “You told me to.”

The memories crashed over her like a storm—his hands tangled in her hair, his lips a stolen promise, the way he had made her feel invincible before shattering her with a single choice.

He reached for her now, fingers skimming the inside of her wrist. The contact sent a shock through her veins, her heart betraying her with its frantic rhythm.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he admitted, voice low, rough.

Evelyn closed her eyes, but it was useless. His scent, his touch—it was all around her, pulling her under.

“You don’t get to do this,” she said, her voice shaking. “You don’t get to come back and—”

He silenced her with a single step closer, his body a breath away. “Then tell me to leave.”

She opened her mouth, but no words came.

Because the truth was, she had been waiting for this moment since the day he walked away.