CLAIRE's POV
The evening after Bada leaves is marked by an oppressive silence. The apartment feels colder, emptier, each room echoing with the absence of her presence. I sit on the couch, surrounded by the remnants of our night together—the disheveled cushions, the faint smell of her perfume still lingering in the air, the dim light from the lamp casting long shadows across the room. It's as though everything here was once vibrant, full of her laughter and warmth, and now it's just... still.
I try to distract myself with TV, but the shows blur together, the dialogue becoming a monotonous drone in the background. My mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Bada. Every laugh we shared, every touch, every fleeting glance—it's all replaying in my mind like an endless loop, taunting me with what I can't have.
The conversation we had earlier keeps resurfacing. I had tried to lay my feelings bare, not realizing just how much I was risking. Not realizing how badly I needed her to understand.
FLASHBACK
It was a week ago, on a night much like this one—quiet, intimate, a moment suspended in time. We were lying next to each other on the couch, the room dim and peaceful. I could feel her warmth next to me, her steady breathing, and I knew that if I didn't say it now, I'd never be able to.
"I think..." I started, my heart hammering in my chest. My hand rested on the couch between us, my fingers lightly grazing hers. I knew this was a dangerous territory, a path we had never agreed to walk. But I couldn't stay silent any longer.
She turned her head to look at me, those dark eyes of hers both soft and wary. "What is it?" she asked, her voice low, teasing. But there was something more in her gaze—an undercurrent of caution, as if she could sense the shift in the air.
"I don't want to do this anymore," I blurted out. The words felt like a confession, a surrender.
"I don't want to just be..." I couldn't even bring myself to say it. The arrangement, the nothingness of it all.
Her eyes narrowed slightly, her lips pulling into a careful smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"You don't want to just be what?" she asked, though she already knew. I swallowed hard, gathering the courage to say what had been building in me for months.
"I think I'm starting to care about you. More than I should." The admission left a bitter taste in my mouth, like I was laying myself bare, exposing my most vulnerable parts.
Bada didn't say anything at first. She simply took a deep breath and sat up, pulling away slightly. I could see the shift in her, the protective wall going up. It hurt, but I couldn't stop now.
"I know we agreed on... casual. And I know it's supposed to be just fun. But it's not for me anymore." My voice trembled with the weight of my emotions. "I don't want to keep pretending like I'm okay with this being nothing. I want more."
There was a long silence. The silence was so loud that it's deafening. My heart was racing in my chest, waiting for her answer. But the look she gave me was careful, measured—her eyes full of something I couldn't place. It wasn't anger, but it wasn't warmth either.
"I don't think I can do that," she said quietly, her voice almost too calm. "I think... we're not on the same page, and I don't want to hurt you."
I could feel the air in my lungs leave me in a rush, as if I'd been punched in the chest. I didn't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this. "You're rejecting me," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. I hadn't meant to sound so small, but it was the truth.
