Chapter 23 I’m afraid.

Chapter 23 I’m afraid.
The morning sun cut through the blinds in narrow slants, striping Selina’s face with pale gold as the car wound along the coastal road. The sound of waves below was faint, just enough to blur the world outside the window. Alan sat beside her in silence, one hand loosely on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift. His gaze stayed forward, steady, unreadable.
For the first time in weeks, they were away from the house, away from the eyes that always seemed to follow. Yet the distance did not free her; it only sharpened the edges of her thoughts. She kept remembering Nathan’s questioning look at breakfast, the way his words lingered beneath the surface: “You’ve been distracted lately.”
Alan finally spoke.
“You’re thinking about him again.”
Selina turned toward him. “No, I’m not.”
“You are,” he said quietly, a small smile curving his mouth. “You always give yourself away when you lie.”
She wanted to protest, but there was truth in his tone, steady, confident, impossible to ignore. The tension between them was a thread, stretched too tight, humming with every breath.
Alan’s car turned off the main road and followed a narrow lane that ended at a secluded inn overlooking the sea. The building looked like it had been carved out of the cliffs themselves, stone walls, ivy, and windows that glittered with sunlight.
When they stepped inside, the silence felt heavy. No maids, no gardeners, no husband’s footsteps echoing through the hall. Just them, and the wind outside.
Selina set her small bag down and crossed to the window. The sea was restless, its surface broken by sunlight and shadow.
Alan came up behind her. His voice dropped. “You still don’t trust what this could be, do you?”
She turned, meeting his eyes. “You make it sound simple. It isn’t.”
“It could be,” he said. “If you let it.”
“Alan, you don’t understand. Every time we, every time I start to think this could be something real, I remember everything I’m risking.”
He didn’t move closer, not yet. “You’re risking what’s already gone. Nathan stopped seeing you long before we met. You’re just the only one brave enough to admit it.”
Her breath caught. “That’s not fair.”
“Maybe not,” he said, “but it’s true.”
They stood there for a long moment, the crash of the ocean filling the silence.
That evening, the wind rose. The innkeeper served them dinner by the fire, roasted vegetables, bread still warm from the oven, a bottle of red wine that tasted faintly of smoke. Selina tried to keep her hands steady, tried not to meet Alan’s eyes too often.
But his voice found her anyway. “You still haven’t told me why you said yes to this trip.”
“I needed to think,” she said. “Away from the house.”
He tilted his head. “And what are you thinking about now?”
She hesitated. “Whether I’m doing the right thing.”
Alan leaned back, watching her carefully. “The right thing for who?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
He smiled, not cruelly but with something softer, something almost sad. “That’s the first honest thing you’ve said all day.”
Later, after the dishes had been cleared and the fire had burned low, Selina found herself on the balcony. The sea below was silver in the moonlight, the air thick with salt and wind. She wrapped her shawl tighter and listened to the sound of waves breaking against the rocks.
Alan joined her, wordless. For a while they stood side by side, the silence almost comfortable. Then he said, “You’re afraid this won’t last.”
“I’m afraid of everything,” she admitted. “Of being caught. Of losing control. Of feeling something I can’t take back.”
He turned toward her. “Then stop running from it.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You already have. Every time you come back to me.”
The words pressed into her like the wind, cold and insistent. She wanted to tell him to stop, to leave her alone with her thoughts, but she couldn’t. Instead, she met his eyes and saw the same battle there: desire and restraint, hunger and hesitation.
Inside, the fire had burned down to embers. The glow flickered against the walls as they returned to the sitting room. Alan poured another glass of wine and handed it to her, his fingers brushing hers, briefly, deliberately.
Selina took a sip to steady herself. “Sometimes I wish I’d never met you.”
“Liar,” he said softly.
She smiled despite herself. “You think you know me so well.”
“I do,” he said. “Better than anyone.”
She wanted to deny it, but the truth was heavier than denial. Alan saw her in ways Nathan never had. He saw the cracks, the longing, the parts of her that had been silent for years.
The hours passed. They talked of nothing, music, childhood memories, the garden back home. Each word was a bridge across the distance they’d built. When the wind finally quieted, Selina realized she was no longer thinking about what she’d left behind.
Alan stood, moving toward the window. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if things were different?”
“All the time,” she said.
“Then maybe they still can be.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know Nathan. He doesn’t forgive easily.”
“I’m not asking for his forgiveness,” Alan said, turning back to her. “I’m asking for your honesty.”
She looked down at her hands. “You already have it.”
He studied her face, as though searching for something. “Then promise me you won’t go back to pretending.”
“Pretending what?”
“That you’re happy with a man who stopped loving you years ago.”
The words hit her harder than she expected. For a moment, the room felt too small. She rose from her chair, crossing to the window where the sea glimmered under the moonlight.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she whispered.
Alan’s reflection appeared beside hers in the glass. “You don’t have to know tonight. Just stop lying to yourself.”
Her voice trembled. “And if the truth destroys everything?”
“Then maybe it was never real to begin with.”
The storm outside returned with a low rumble of thunder. Somewhere below, the sea churned restlessly against the rocks. Selina pressed her hand against the cool glass and tried to steady her breathing.
When she finally turned back, Alan was watching her with that same unreadable calm. “You’re shaking,” he said.
“It’s the wind,” she lied.
He didn’t argue. Instead, he crossed the room, picked up the shawl she’d left on the chair, and placed it gently around her shoulders. His hands lingered for a second longer than necessary.
The warmth of the gesture undid something in her. She wanted to believe this was more than danger, that beneath the secrecy and lies, something real was forming.
“Alan,” she began, “what happens when we go back?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
“You sound so sure.”
“I am,” he said. “Because I’ve already decided.”
“Decided what?”
He hesitated, his gaze steady on hers. “That I’m not letting you go.”
Her heart gave a sharp, painful beat. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do.”
She searched his face, looking for the flicker of doubt that might save her. There was none.
Outside, lightning split the horizon, casting the room in pale light. The sound followed, a deep, rolling echo that seemed to shake the floorboards.
Selina’s pulse raced. Somewhere in the noise, she thought she heard her name, soft, distant, impossible. When she looked again, Alan had turned away, staring out toward the sea.
The silence between them was heavy with things neither dared to say.
She wanted to reach for him. She wanted to forget the world waiting beyond that room. But just as she took a step forward, her phone buzzed on the table.
The sound sliced through the quiet.
Alan’s eyes flicked toward it. Selina froze, dread twisting in her chest. Slowly, she crossed the room and picked it up. The screen glowed with a single message, from Nathan.
Where are you?
Her throat went dry. Another message appeared almost immediately.
You didn’t tell me you were leaving town.
Selina looked up at Alan, panic flaring. “He knows.”
Alan’s expression darkened. “He suspects. There’s a difference.”
“What if he tracks me? What if he, ”
“Selina,” Alan said sharply, cutting her off. “Look at me.”
She did.
“Breathe. You wanted to escape for a day, remember? That’s all this is. You don’t owe him explanations he never earned.”
She shook her head, clutching the phone. “You don’t understand. He’ll keep digging until he finds the truth.”
Alan stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Then let him. Let him see what it means to lose something he took for granted.”
Her pulse pounded. “You’re playing with fire.”
“Maybe,” he said, eyes locked on hers. “But I’m not the one afraid to burn.”
The storm outside broke in full, rain hammering the windows. Lightning illuminated the room again, and in that flash, Selina saw herself in the glass, caught between two worlds, both of them crumbling.
The phone buzzed again in her hand. This time, she didn’t look.
Alan took it gently from her fingers and set it face down on the table. “Tomorrow,” he said, “we’ll decide what comes next.”
She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe there was still a tomorrow untouched by guilt. But as she stared at the phone, at the name glowing faintly on the screen, she knew nothing would ever be simple again.
Outside, thunder rolled toward the horizon. Inside, the silence that followed was louder than any storm.
Selina closed her eyes and whispered to herself, “What have I done?”
And somewhere, far away, Nathan’s third message waited unanswered.
I’m coming to find you.
Nathan begins investigating Selina’s disappearance, setting the stage for confrontation.