Aidan

Chicago was sweltering. The air shimmered over the scorching asphalt, and in the shady corners of the city, even the wind felt hot. It was a little easier in Travis's house—a draft from the slightly open picture window stirred the pages of the books on the shelf, and somewhere in the distance, an old air conditioner hummed. Y/N sat by the window, legs tucked under her, lazily flipping through a magazine, glancing every now and then at the sunset—orange, thick as syrup.

Their story began with a grudge. Y/N had suddenly left for Los Angeles—without a farewell, without an explanation, just a short note on the kitchen table. It was a shock to Aidan: he couldn't understand how someone could just disappear like that. In that moment, he swore to himself he'd never think of her again.

Years of separation only deepened the awkwardness. When Y/N returned, an unspoken tension hung between them. They avoided each other, responded sarcastically to any comments, but beneath that mask of hostility lurked something else—something both were afraid to admit.

It was the jazz music playing softly in the room (Travis had left the record player on before leaving) that drowned out the sound of the door opening.

"Travis, is that you? Did you bring ice cream?" Y/N called from the living room without turning around.

Silence. She frowned, put the magazine down, and walked into the hallway—and froze. Aidan stood before her.

Tall and dark, wearing a black T-shirt that hugged his sculpted shoulders and chest, skinny jeans, and sneakers—everything looked stunning on him. On his wrist, where his veins throbbed, gleamed a black leather bracelet with the name "Aidan" engraved in silver. He smelled of whiskey, cigarettes, and something elusive—maybe the leather of his jacket, maybe the summer wind blowing off Lake Michigan.

Y/N was wearing short gray shorts—apparently from an old pair of pajamas—and a thin white T-shirt, slightly stretched with age. A silver heart-shaped pendant glittered around her neck—cute, almost childish. Aidan himself had given it to her for her birthday once, without knowing why.

He took a step forward and abruptly pressed her against the wall.

• You have become so beautiful, princess...