The silence between Ava and Orion was a living thing, thick and suffocating, as though the walls themselves held their breath.

Ava’s hand trembled slightly as she opened her door, eyes downcast, carefully avoiding the man standing just a few feet away. Orion. The air crackled with tension, unspoken words swirling like ghosts between them.

Neither of them could look at the other without seeing what they had done—or more accurately, what they hadn’t stopped themselves from doing.

She didn’t need to look at him to feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of the regret they both shared. It clung to them like a second skin, too raw to confront, too painful to forget.

Orion stood rigid, every muscle in his body taut with a mixture of anger and guilt. His eyes, normally sharp and unreadable, were clouded with something darker—self-loathing.

He despised himself for the night before, for the weakness that had consumed him, and for the guilt that now festered like an open wound.

The memory of Ava’s touch, the sound of her voice whispering his name, haunted him. He felt like a man drowning, suffocated by the very air he breathed.

Ava, too, was a prisoner of her own thoughts. She hated herself for what had happened, every moment replaying in excruciating detail. She couldn’t blame him, not really. No, the blame rested squarely on her shoulders.

She had let herself fall into something she knew would destroy them both. And now, standing there in the dimly lit room, she felt exposed, fragile. Naked.

Ava could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but she refused to meet it. If she did, she feared it would shatter her even more. She had allowed herself to fall into this. To want him in that manner.

And now, the consequences pressed in on her from every direction. She couldn’t blame Orion entirely—no, the blame was on her, too. She had given in. Let herself slip, convinced by a fleeting moment of weakness.

Her eyes flicked up, meeting his for a split second. In that brief, torturous moment, everything was laid bare—the regret, the anger, the self-hatred. Her eyes, usually so guarded, were pools of torment. Orion saw it, felt it echo within him, a brutal reflection of his own guilt.

She turned away abruptly, disappearing into the bathroom, the door closing softly behind her. The sound was deafening in the silence that followed, a final punctuation to a night that should never have happened.

---

Room service arrived not long after. The quiet knock at the door was almost a relief, a distraction from the storm brewing in both of their minds.

Ava took her tray without a word, retreating back to her room, the door shutting firmly behind her. Orion sat at the small table, staring at the untouched breakfast before him.

Every bite would have tasted like ash.

The room felt colder now, the absence of their words turning it into an echo chamber. The night before seemed like a dream, a nightmare that had suddenly come to life, the echoes of their act lingering like shadows.

He couldn’t shake the image of her—the way she had looked, vulnerable and fierce all at once. But it wasn’t passion he remembered; it was the realization that came afterward. The blood on the sheets.

Ava had been a virgin.

The revelation sat heavy in his chest, a stone pressing down on him. What had really happened between her and his father?

Why had she been so untouched, so... untainted by that past? The questions gnawed at him, each one a blade. He had been her first. The weight of that truth was almost too much to bear.

And he hated her for it. No, that wasn’t right. He hated himself more.

---

Hours passed in a slow, agonizing crawl. Ava’s presence was a constant reminder of the night they both wished they could erase. She stayed in her room, the door a barrier between them, but it did nothing to dull the tension.

She could still feel his touch, the heat of his hands on her skin, the length of him inside her. And now, she was left with nothing but the haunting memory of it all. The regrets. The self-hatred. How had she let herself fall so far? How had she become the woman she had promised herself she wouldn’t be?

Every creak of the floorboards, every muted sound, was a reminder that they were trapped here together, bound by a shared mistake they could never undo.

Eventually, she emerged, seeking escape in the open air. She stood on the balcony, the breeze catching the hem of her white dress—a simple, elegant thing that seemed to mock the chaos inside her. She closed her eyes, breathing in the cool air, trying to find some semblance of peace.

But it was impossible. The memory of last night was a brand on her skin, a reminder of how far she had fallen. She loathed herself for it, for the vulnerability she had shown, for the way she had given in so easily. Orion’s face haunted her, a cruel reminder of everything she had lost and everything she could never forget in a hurry.

Inside, Orion watched her through the balcony window, his chest tightening. She looked so... distant. Untouchable. And yet, the memory of her under him, the soft sound of her voice, was etched into his mind. It made him sick.

He turned away, the bitterness rising in his throat. He had betrayed Chloe, and with Ava of all people. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He had become everything he had sworn he wouldn’t be—weak, unfaithful, a mirror of his father’s sins.

Just as Ava moved to leave the suite, wanting to escape the suffocating weight of the room, there was a knock on the door.

She hesitated, unsure of who it could be, but when she opened it, and the past collided with the present.

Standing there, bathed in the soft morning light, was none other than Chloe.

And with her arrival, the world came crashing down.