Chapter Eighty Two

Chapter Eighty Two
Athena
The guest bedroom was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the crackling fireplace across the room. I sat curled up at one end of the California king bed, arms wrapped tightly around my knees, trying to suppress the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me. 

It had been a long, grueling day—the kind where everything seemed to weigh heavier than usual.

Eros stood a few feet away, silent, his gaze locked on me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. I knew I should have asked him to leave, to create distance before I did something reckless. But I couldn't. 

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the aching loneliness I tried so hard to deny.

Without a word, Eros moved closer. As our eyes met, the air between us shifted—charged, electric, dangerous. I had felt it before, but tonight it was impossible to ignore.

He knelt in front of me, hesitating, his hand hovering between us as if seeking permission. My heart thundered in my chest, loud enough that I was sure he could hear it. 

When his fingers brushed a loose strand of hair from my face, the tenderness of the gesture made my chest tighten painfully.

Caught between restraint and longing, Eros hesitated once more before leaning in to kiss me, giving me just enough time to pull away. I didn’t. God help me, I didn’t. I closed the distance, meeting him halfway. 

His lips found mine in a kiss that was gentle at first, tentative, as if he couldn't believe I wasn't resisting.

To his surprise, I didn’t object. I didn’t even think. For once, I just let myself feel. The kiss made me feel alive—and it had been so long since I felt that way.

His hand slid up to cradle the side of my neck, tilting my head to deepen the kiss. A low hum rumbled from deep within him, sending a shiver through me. 

His thumb traced the curve of my jaw, pulling me closer, and for a few stolen moments, the world outside the room disappeared.

But when Eros’s hand found the bare skin beneath my sweater, reality crashed back like a wave. I pulled away abruptly, breathless and wide-eyed.

"I can't," I whispered hoarsely, clutching the hem of my sweater. "I'm married, Eros. To Lysander."

The words hung heavily between us, thick with guilt and regret. I saw the flicker of disappointment in his eyes before it softened into understanding.

He dropped his hand and stepped back, running a hand through his hair, his expression raw and wounded. "I promise," he said quietly, "I won’t let it happen again. You have my word."

I shook my head. "It's not just your fault," I told him.

“I don’t want to lose you, Athena,” he whispered, the words strained with emotion. “Not even as a friend.”

I finally met his gaze, searching his face—and finding nothing but sincerity. The admission tore at something inside me. I reached out impulsively, squeezing his hand tightly.

“You won’t lose me,” I said softly. “I just... I need time. To figure out what I’m doing. What I’m feeling.”

Eros nodded, though the acceptance seemed to cost him. "Take all the time you need. I’ll be here. I'm really sorry," he said again, voice low and rough. "I shouldn't have... It won't happen again."

The way he said it made my chest ache. He wasn’t just apologizing for tonight—he was apologizing for every unspoken feeling between us, every near-miss, every lingering glance we’d pretended not to notice.

I nodded, still struggling to catch my breath, hating myself a little for wanting him to come back, to pretend none of this had happened.

"It’s my fault too," I whispered. "I didn’t stop you. I didn’t want to stop you."

Eros shook his head slowly. "You don’t have to explain. I understand." His eyes searched mine, fierce with protectiveness. "You’re not alone, Athena. Even when it feels that way."

I closed my eyes, feeling the sting of unshed tears. It had been easier when I hated him, easier when I told myself he was no different from the rest. But he wasn’t. And that terrified me more than anything.

"I should go," he said after a long silence, standing tall. His voice was steady, but I could hear the fracture beneath it. "I'll leave you to rest."

I almost told him to stay. Almost.

Instead, I watched him grab his jacket from the armchair, casting one last lingering look my way before heading to the door.

"Eros," I called out, stopping him.

He turned, waiting.

"Thank you," I said, my voice trembling. "For being here. For caring."

A sad, fragile smile tugged at his mouth. "Always," he said simply. Then he slipped out into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him, leaving me alone with the fire—and the ache he left behind.

I sat there, guilt gnawing at me. I had cheated on Lysander with Eros. I wasn’t planning on telling him; God knew how he'd react. He'd tried to hit me before—what would he do if he found out about this?

I knew Lysander’s behavior stemmed from his insecurities. After all, Eros and I had been serious in high school. We had exchanged I love yous. Maybe Lysander was just terrified I'd fall for Eros again and leave him.

If only he knew he had nothing to worry about. If only he could see how much I adored him.

This moment with Eros... it was just a glitch. A mistake. I was upset. Vulnerable.

But who was I kidding?

There was nothing justifiable about what I had done.

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and tapped the screen to wake it. Five missed calls from Lysander lit up the display, along with a single text message.

I unlocked the screen and opened the message, my heart sinking as I read his words: "Athena, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Please come home so we can talk. I'm so sorry."

I stared at the screen, trying to find the right words to reply, but nothing came.

What could I possibly say? That everything was fine—when it clearly wasn’t?

I released a heavy, exhausted sigh, tapping the phone screen twice to darken it before letting it slip from my fingers onto the bed. Turning away from it — from everything — I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the world to disappear.

Sleep claimed me faster than I expected, dragging me into a dream I wasn't ready for. In it, I didn't just kiss Eros.

This time, I let him touch me, hold me, love me.
And I didn’t pull away.

There was no guilt, no hesitation — only the raw, aching need I had tried so hard to bury while I was awake.