Chapter 69: No Longer 'In Love'

Elyse’s P.O.V

The water runs over me in torrents, a hot, scalding stream that makes my skin burn. I let the heat press down on me, trying to drown out the thoughts that won’t stop churning in my head. I’m still trying to piece together the events of last night, but the more I try to remember, the blurrier it becomes. Everything feels foggy as if I’m trapped in a dream I can’t wake up from.

I think about what happened between Cam and me, the way our bodies had collided in that raw, desperate way. I had let him pull me close, let him touch me with an intensity I hadn’t felt in… I don’t even know how long. But every time I reach for a clear memory, it slips through my fingers, leaving behind nothing but an empty, gnawing feeling. What did we do? How did it feel? All I can recall is the heat, the urgency—but not the tenderness, not the love.

My chest tightens as I think back to Cam’s words, to the way he confessed everything so easily. He loved every second of it, loved how rough we had been, how wild. He wanted more of that, wanted to explore that side of us. But what does that mean for me?

I stand there for what feels like an eternity, the water pounding against my back, nearly too hot to bear, but I don’t care. The heat blurs everything—the pain, the confusion, the guilt—and for a moment, it’s like the pressure inside my chest eases. But then, a wave of frustration rushes over me again.

I turn the water even hotter, gritting my teeth against the burn, feeling it like a cleansing fire. It’s supposed to make me feel something, anything other than this mess of confusion. But all it does is make me feel more numb. I stand there, eyes closed, lost in the sting of the water, trying to wash away the thoughts, the guilt, the doubt.

And then the thought hits me: *It feels like I’m betraying Kyle.*

The realization comes so sharp, it’s like I’ve been hit by something. The sudden guilt washes over me again, and it feels suffocating. Kyle. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror right now. What was I doing? What was I even thinking? I feel sick to my stomach like everything I’ve done over the last few days is nothing but a betrayal to him.

The thing is, I never planned on this. I never planned on letting Kyle get under my skin like this. I never thought I would cross that line. But now that I’ve done it, now that I’ve let myself slip into this—what exactly am I supposed to do with it?

*Maybe this could be the chance I needed to fix things with Cam,* I think. The idea lingers like a small hope, flickering in the back of my mind. This could be the moment to reconcile, to put everything back together—if I still wanted that.

But the more I think about it, the more I realize that I don’t. Not really. The desire to fix things with Cam is fading, slipping away like the water down the drain. He deserves someone who’s fully invested, someone who wants to build something with him. And right now, I can’t even figure out what I want anymore.

I run a shaky hand through my wet hair, staring at the tiled floor, the hot water still pounding against my skin. The thought claws at my insides: *I don’t want to mend things with Cam.*

But what does that say about me? How selfish would I be if I just walked away and told him that I didn’t want this anymore? That I was bored of it? That I didn’t feel the spark with him that I used to? The spark that I still feel with Kyle?

The moment my feet hit the cold floor after I finished showering after I tried to scrub away all the confusion and tension, all I could think about was Kyle.

It’s not that I don’t care for Cam—because I do. I’ve loved him, and there’s a deep part of me that still does. But the feelings I have for him, the ones that once felt so intense, so vibrant, they’re different now. I can’t help but notice the emptiness where the passion used to burn. It's not Cam’s fault, but I can’t ignore it anymore.

I reach up to dry my hair with a towel, still replaying the way last night felt, how I had surrendered to him, how I had let myself be close to him in ways I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time. But the truth is when I’m with Cam, my mind still drifts to Kyle. The way we had connected so immediately and violently that night, in the elevator. That’s what’s consuming me. It’s like no matter how hard I try, Cam’s presence is a backdrop, a shadow that doesn’t quite reach me the way it used to.

But I can’t act on that. I can’t just walk away from Cam, not when he’s standing right here, doing everything he can to take care of me. And yet, even though I feel guilty about it, part of me can’t help but admit that I’m not in love with him anymore. Not the way I once was.

When I finish getting dressed, I make my way to the kitchen, the scent of soup already filling the air. Cam’s moving around the stove, his focus on the pot. I linger by the entrance, watching him for a moment. He looks so calm, so normal, like everything’s fine. Like I haven’t just been battling a storm inside me. But I know that if I don’t speak soon if I don’t figure out what I’m supposed to do next, the silence will only get heavier.

Cam turns as I approach, and his eyes soften when he sees me. I offer a small, tired smile, and he immediately goes back to his work, scooping the soup into a bowl and handing it to me.

“Here,” he says, his voice warm, and his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he’s trying. “I hope this helps.”

When Cam finally sits down beside me on the counter, he’s not looking at me directly. His fingers tap gently on the surface, his mind clearly elsewhere, just like mine.

The warmth of the soup spreads through me as I take the first sip. It’s a simple thing, but it feels like a lifeline—comforting and familiar, the steam curling up in the air. I take my time, savoring the heat as it soothes my throat and the headache that’s been gnawing at me since I woke up. Slowly, I can feel the fog in my head begin to lift, and for the first time since last night, I feel like I can breathe again. The pressure, the confusion, the guilt—everything starts to fade just a little. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the relief wash over me.

But then, I feel Cam’s gaze on me, and I open my eyes to find him staring at me seriously, his lips pressed into a thin line. The softness from earlier is gone, replaced with something more intense. Something almost… resigned.

He doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches me, his expression unreadable. I swallow the last of the soup, the warmth lingering in my chest, and set the bowl down on the counter with a soft clink. I turn to face him fully, waiting for him to say whatever it is that’s clearly been weighing on his mind.

“We need to talk,” Cam says, his voice low, almost like he's trying to make the words sound less heavy than they are. But the tone in his voice betrays him.