The knock came like an accusation. Sharp. Unexpected. It echoed through Bella's chest before it reached her ears.
Her body froze. Memories of Adrian clawed back—his hands, his voice, and the poison he left behind. She wasn't ready for another intrusion, not when her sheets still carried the scent of sin.
Bella carried it with her everywhere. To class. To the market. Even in her dreams.
The memory was relentless. His weight pressing into her, his mouth on her skin, his voice demanding she say his name louder.
Adrian hadn't called, hadn't shown up again, and part of her was grateful. Another part hated how much she still wanted him.
Three days of silence. Three days of aching confusion.
She opened the door to find Chris standing there—calm, steady, holding a bag of food as if it belonged in his hands. Her chest tightened in a different way. Relief. Guilt. Longing. He knew her schedule. He knew she'd be home. And he still chose to show up unannounced, like a truth she couldn't hide from.
"Hey," he said in a low voice.
Bella's first instinct was to slam the door shut. Her pulse spiked. Seeing him there, uninvited and unannounced, was too much. Too soon.
"Chris…" Her voice cracked. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to see you." His gaze searched hers, gentle but steady. "Can I come in? Let's talk."
Bella hesitated, her hand tightening on the edge of the door. Every voice in her head screamed at her to send him away. But then she caught something in his eyes—not desperation this time, but patience. A quiet, unshaken patience.
Against her better judgment, she stepped aside. "Fine. Only for a little while."
Chris walked in, placing the bag on her kitchen counter like he belonged there. The smell of fresh vegetables and spices spilled out.
"You've lost weight," he said, his voice low as he glanced back at her. "Are you eating?"
Bella's chest tightened. She looked away. "Don't start."
He didn't push. Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and began unpacking the bag. Tomatoes, peppers, and onions. A pack of pasta. Even chicken.
"What are you doing?" she asked, arms folded.
"Cooking." His smile was faint but sure. "You look like you need a real meal."
Her lips parted, but no words came. Adrian had taken from her time, energy, and sanity. Chris was giving. Again. Like always.
She sank into a chair, watching as he moved around her kitchen with an ease that unsettled her. He knew where she kept the oil, the salt, and the pots. Of course he did. He had been here too many times before, back when they were still them.
The smell of sizzling garlic filled the air. For the first time in days, Bella's stomach growled.
Chris shot her a sideways smile. "See? Your body agrees with me."
She didn't smile back. She couldn't. The war inside her chest raged too loud.
Dinner simmered on the stove when Chris finally turned serious. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, eyes locking on her.
"I need to tell you something."
Bella stiffened. "About what?"
"About Adrian."
Her heart skipped. She tried to keep her face calm, but her throat went dry.
Chris's jaw flexed. "Back in college, before you and I got serious, I used to hang around him sometimes. With his friends. He was older—you know that. But I need you to know the kind of man he is."
Bella's pulse throbbed in her ears. "Chris, don't—"
"I have to." His voice was firm, but not unkind. "He used to brag. He said he was going to get you to prove a point. Said you were giving off… slut vibes."
The word made her flinch.
Chris's eyes darkened. "He said you wouldn't stay faithful. That you'd be easy. That every guy had already had you. He laughed about it, Bella. To his friends. About you."
Her breath caught, sharp and painful. The room tilted.
Chris's voice softened. "I didn't believe him. I didn't want to. But when I saw him again that night at the restaurant… the way he looked at you… It all came back. And I can't stay quiet knowing what I know."
Bella pressed a hand to her chest, the words slicing her open. Pawn. The message on Adrian's phone. The sneer in those texts. And now this—confirmation.
Her world spun. Tears threatened, but she blinked them back, refusing to break in front of Chris.
He stepped closer, his eyes steady on hers. "I don't want you to be someone's game. I don't want you to feel like you're disposable. I want you in my life, Bella. Not for a night. Not for a bet. For good."
Her lips trembled. "Chris…"
"I mean it." His voice cracked with truth. "I'll cook for you, I'll fight for you, I'll wait for you. But I won't let him destroy you."
Her heart ached so hard she thought it might split in two. Adrian had devoured her, leaving her breathless and begging, but this—this was different. Chris wasn't fired. He was a steady earth. Safe. Certain.
And God, how she needed to be safe.
–––
Dinner was quiet. They ate at her small table, his cooking filling the room with warmth. Bella barely tasted the meal. What struck her were the gestures—him filling her glass first, him piling food onto her plate before his own.
Afterward, they sank onto the couch, the TV flickering with some mindless comedy. She didn't laugh, but Chris did, his arm draped loosely around her shoulders.
The silence between them thickened. She turned, meeting his eyes, and the weight of his gaze stole her breath.
Then he kissed her.
It was soft at first, cautious, and testing. But when she didn't pull away, it deepened, his lips moving with a hunger he couldn't hide. Her body responded, traitorous, leaning in, hands gripping his shirt.
Heat flared, the kind she hadn't felt since Adrian—but different. Softer. Slower.
Chris's hand slid to her waist, tugging her closer. She climbed onto his lap without thinking; their mouths fused, their breathing ragged. His hand cupped her cheek, reverent, while the other pressed into her back.
She broke the kiss first, breathless. "Chris, I… I can't."
His chest heaved beneath her palms. For a moment, she thought he would push. But instead, he leaned his forehead to hers and whispered, "Then we won't. Not until you're ready."
Tears stung her eyes. That patience, that restraint, felt like more than any orgasm Adrian had ever given her.
–––
Later, they sat side by side, her head on his shoulder, his thumb stroking lazy circles on her hand. The TV murmured in the background, forgotten. For the first time in days, Bella felt… not happy, but less alone.
Then—
A knock at the door.
Sharp. Sudden.
Bella's head shot up. Chris tensed, eyes narrowing.
The knock came again. Harder.
Her pulse skyrocketed. The groceries are in the kitchen. Chris is on her couch. Adrian's ghost in her bed.
Her stomach twisted. She didn't move. She couldn't.
Chris's hand squeezed hers, steady, grounding. But his jaw was tight, his gaze fixed on the door.
Bella swallowed hard, her breath shallow. Whoever was on the other side—friend or foe, truth or destruction—would change everything.
The knock came once more, louder than before, rattling the air.
Bella's heart stopped.