Mia sat on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest, the soft hum of the television filling the room. Ryan had just returned from a "late-night business meeting," but something about him felt… different. His shirt was wrinkled, the faintest trace of mud clung to his shoes, and there was a sharp, raw smell lingering around him—like the forest after heavy rain.
She frowned as he dropped onto the chair across from her, running a hand through his hair. His chest rose and fell heavier than usual, as though he had been running.
"Long meeting?" she asked casually, though her eyes lingered on the faint red scratch at the edge of his jaw.
Ryan's golden eyes flicked up to hers, then quickly away. "Yeah. Investors were difficult. You know how it is."
"Hmm." Mia's gaze narrowed slightly. Investors didn't usually leave claw marks on people's skin.
She tried again. "Ryan… where exactly were you? You look like you've been outside, not in an office."
For a moment, he froze—just for a fraction of a second—but she caught it. Then he leaned back, masking it with a small smile. "You're overthinking again, Mia. I told you, it was a meeting."
Her lips pressed together. He was hiding something. She felt it deep in her bones. The way his voice grew softer when he wanted to divert her questions, the way his eyes flickered as if he carried a weight he couldn't share.
And then there were the nights. Nights when she would wake up at 2 a.m. to find his side of the bed empty. Nights when she would hear faint growls echoing from somewhere far in the woods near his house. At first, she brushed it off as her imagination. But the more it happened, the harder it was to ignore.
"Ryan," she said carefully, her voice softer now, "I know you're keeping something from me. You disappear without explanation, you come back with scratches, your clothes torn, your eyes… they look different sometimes. Like they're glowing. What are you hiding?"
Ryan stiffened. His jaw clenched, and for the first time, she saw fear flicker in his expression. Not fear of her—but fear of her knowing.
He stood abruptly, pacing to the window. His back was tense, broad shoulders rigid, fists tightening at his sides. For a second, Mia thought he might tell her. Her heart pounded.
But then he turned, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Some things are better left alone, Mia. Trust me."
Her chest ached. The distance between them in that moment felt wider than an ocean. She wanted to believe him, but doubt was already blooming inside her, twisting like vines around her heart.