Twice Taken: 13. The Aftermath

Morning light crept through the blinds, streaking the room with a soft, muted glow. Elena woke with a heaviness in her chest that had little to do with sleep. The night’s confession still lingered like a ghost, twisting through her thoughts, refusing to release its grip.

Max was awake before her, sitting at the kitchen table, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. The silence between them was not comfortable—it was fragile, tense, a thread stretched taut between guilt and tentative hope.

“Elena,” he said finally, his voice low, careful. “We need rules. Boundaries. Transparency. If we’re going to move forward, I need to know everything, every detail, so that nothing can fester in silence.”

She swallowed hard, nodding. “I understand. I’ll tell you everything, Max. No more secrets. I promise.”

He studied her, eyes searching hers for any hint of deception. “And Julian?”

Her stomach tightened. Speaking his name still carried a pang of guilt, but she couldn’