The knock was sharp, insistent, and too loud for comfort. Bella froze mid-step, her chest tightening. Chris, who had been lounging on the couch, raised his brows.
"Are you expecting someone?" He asked, his voice calm but his eyes flickering with suspicion.
Bella shook her head. Her throat had gone dry. "No."
The knock came again, harder this time. Then a voice. Female. Shrill. Angry.
"Open this door, Bella! I know you're in there! You bitch!"
Chris sat up straighter, his jaw tightening. Bella's knees felt weak. Her stomach knotted with dread. She forced her feet toward the door. Against her better judgment, she opened it.
The moment the door cracked, a hand flew across her face.
SLAP!
The sting burned her cheek, her head jerking sideways. She gasped, eyes flying to the woman standing in her doorway.
She was tall, dark-skinned, with long braids and fury radiating off her like fire. Her eyes were wild, her lips trembling with rage.
"You cheap slut!" the woman spat, her voice echoing through the hall. "Stay away from my man!"
Bella staggered back, clutching her face. "What… what are you talking about?"
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!"
The woman stormed into the apartment, uninvited. "Adrian is mine! We've been together for two years. Two years! And you think you can sneak behind my back, spread your legs, and take what's mine?"
Bella's stomach dropped. Every word pierced like glass. Chris stood behind her, fists tight, eyes fixed on Bella and then the intruder.
The woman's voice rose, harsh and bitter. "He tells me everything. You're only a fling. A side piece. You're not his queen. You're not even his woman. You're nothing but a pawn he's been playing with!"
The word again. Pawn. It landed like poison in Bella's chest, the same poison she'd read on Adrian's phone.
Tears burned her eyes. "That's not true," she whispered, but even to her own ears, it sounded weak.
"Oh, it's true." The woman let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "He tells me how easy you were, how he had you wrapped around his finger in days. You think he loves you? Sweetheart, you're a game he's playing. He belongs to me."
Bella swayed, her heart hammering in her ribs. She wanted to scream, to fight back, but shame rooted her in place. She could feel Chris's eyes on her, heavy with both anger and vindication.
The woman sneered one last time. "Stay away from Adrian. Or I'll make your life hell." Then she spun on her heel, slammed the door shut behind her, and was gone.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Bella's hand was still pressed to her burning cheek. Her whole body shook. She turned to Chris, each movement heavy.
Fury cut deep lines into his face—not at her, but at Adrian, at the lies, at everything. He strode forward, catching Bella's arms before she could collapse.
"You see?" His voice was low, rough with emotion. "You see what I've been trying to tell you? Adrian isn't loyal. He isn't safe. He doesn't deserve you."
Bella's lips trembled, but no words came out. The shame, the anger, the heartbreak—it was too much. She let herself fall against Chris's chest. He caught her at once, his arms wrapping tight, shielding her from the world.
And there, on his shoulder, she broke. She cried until her tears soaked his shirt, until her chest ached from sobbing. Chris held her, rocking her, pressing tender kisses into her hair.
"I've got you," he murmured. "I swear, Bella, I've got you."
–––
Chris didn't leave. He stayed all day, cooking for her, forcing her to eat when she refused, and cleaning the mess left by her pain. He never pushed, never scolded. He stayed, steady as stone.
By nightfall, exhaustion hollowed her. She curled on the couch, eyes swollen, heart heavy. Chris lay beside her, not touching at first, giving her space. At last, she shifted closer, craving warmth. He opened his arms, and she slid in, her cheek against his chest.
The steady beat of his heart calmed her.
For the first time in weeks, she felt safe.
Sleep claimed her… but only for a while.
–––
Sometime deep in the night, Bella stirred. Her body ached, not from exhaustion but from longing. Longing for comfort, for connection, for something real. Her eyes opened, adjusting to the dark. Chris slept beside her, his arm draped over her waist like a shield.
Her breath hitched.
She studied his face—the strong jawline, the softened lips, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Memories flooded her. How Chris had once made her feel—chosen, cherished, treasured. How he never made her feel like a pawn, but like a queen.
Something inside her snapped. Or perhaps, it healed.
She shifted with care, swinging her leg over his body. She straddled him, her hair falling around her face, her eyes locked on his sleeping features.
Her hips pressed down instinctively, grinding against him. A groan escaped his lips, low and unguarded. His eyes fluttered open, hazy with sleep.
"Bella?" His voice was rough, thick with surprise.
She bent down, capturing his mouth in a kiss. Desperate. Hungry. Final.
Chris jolted awake, his hands gripping her waist, dragging her closer. "God," he muttered against her lips, "what are you doing to me?"
"Shh," she whispered. "Don't talk. Let me."
And then there were no more words.
Bella moved against him, her hips rolling, her body craving every inch of him. Chris moved fast, pinning her down, his mouth burning a path along her throat.
"I've missed you," he groaned, burying himself deep inside her in one thrust that made her gasp.
Tears slipped from her eyes, not from pain but from release. "I'm sorry," she whispered between moans. "For everything. For Adrian. For—"
"Don't." Chris silenced her with another kiss, deep and consuming. "I don't care. You're here now. With me. That's all that matters."
They moved as one—bodies colliding, souls mending. Every thrust, every kiss, every whispered apology and moan carried meaning. This wasn't sex. This was forgiveness. This was reclamation. This was love finding its way back.
Bella clung to him, nails digging into his back, whispering his name like a prayer. Chris held her tighter, grunting her name as if it were the only word he knew.
When she climaxed, it tore through her like a storm, shaking her to pieces and putting her back together all at once. Chris followed, spilling into her with a groan that sounded more like a vow than a release.
Afterward, they stayed tangled together, sweat-slick and trembling, hearts still racing. Chris brushed her hair from her face, kissing her forehead.
"No more games," he whispered. "No more lies. You're mine, Bella. Always."
tears sliding down her cheeks. For once, she believed him. For once, she wanted to.
The morning light crept through the curtains. Bella stirred, curled against Chris's chest, his arm still around her. For the first time in weeks, she woke with a fragile sense of peace.
But peace never lasted long in her world.
A loud car horn shattered the quiet. Once. Twice. Then again.
Bella frowned and pushed herself upright, heavy with fatigue. Chris rubbed his eyes, glancing toward the window.
The honking grew louder and more impatient.
Bella's chest tightened. Whoever was outside wasn't leaving.
She rose, clutching the sheet to her chest, her heartbeat quickening with dread. Another knock followed—the sharp, demanding kind that never brought good news.
Chris sat up, jaw set. "Stay here," he said.
But Bella's stomach told her the truth before her mind could catch up.
Whoever waited beyond that door was about to shatter her fragile peace all over again.