No Strings Attached [SHORT STORY]

No Strings Attached [THE END]

One Last Lie

It was raining so hard when he showed up at my door.

No text, no call, nothing. Just Leo—basang-basa, shirt clinging to his body, jaw locked, and his eyes... dark. Like goodbye was already sitting there.

My heart skipped pero I forced myself to stay steady. I leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed kahit nanginginig na kamay ko.

"You look like shit," I said, trying to sound normal.

He just stared at me, raindrops dripping from his hair. "I've been driving for hours. Didn't know where else to go."

I hate him for saying that. And I hate myself for stepping aside.

"Come in," I whispered.

The smell of rain followed him inside. My small apartment suddenly felt too full, like his presence was pressing against the walls. I poured him coffee just to have something to do with my hands. Neither of us touched it.

We sat on opposite ends of the couch. Space between us—fragile, glass-like. One wrong word and everything would break.

Then he said it. "I took the offer."

I blinked, parang slow motion. "What offer?"

"Singapore. Six months. Architecture firm. Big clients, real projects. It's... everything I wanted."

My stomach dropped. My chest hollowed out. "When?"

"Next week."

The silence was so loud, I swear I could hear my heartbeat cracking.

"You didn't even tell me you applied," I said, voice sharper than I meant.

He looked down. "I didn't think I'd get it. Or maybe... I didn't want to want it."

"And now?"

He met my eyes like it hurt. "Now I can't tell if I'm running toward something... or away from you."

My throat closed. I stood up because sitting felt like drowning. "Why are you really here, Leo?"

He stood too. Slow, heavy.

"I needed to see you. One last time."

"That's cruel."

"I know."

Tears stung my eyes, but no way in hell was I gonna let them fall. Not in front of him.

"One more night won't make this easier."

"No," he said, stepping closer. His voice cracked. "But maybe it'll remind us that what we had... what we are... was fucking real. Even if it ends."

Shit. My chest squeezed so tight I could barely breathe.

"This was never supposed to feel real," I whispered.

"And yet it does," he said back, so soft it ruined me.

Then his lips crashed into mine.

It wasn't a kiss—it was a bruise, a plea, a desperate attempt to memorize. My hands shook as I grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. His tongue, his teeth, his breath—it was all too much and not enough.

We stumbled toward the bedroom, leaving clothes like breadcrumbs. My heart was racing, half fear, half hunger.

When he laid me down, he looked at me like he was afraid I'd vanish. And maybe part of me wanted to.

But the bigger part wanted him. Even if it killed me.

"Leo..." my voice broke.

He didn't let me finish. His mouth was on my neck, fire tracing down my skin. My nails dug into his back, grounding myself in the ache.

When he slid inside me, I gasped. Not just from the stretch, but from the weight of everything—lust, grief, love I swore I wouldn't name.

Every thrust was slow, deep, deliberate. Like he was carving himself into me. My legs wrapped around him tight, desperate, as if letting go meant losing him for good.

"Say it," he whispered against my ear. His breath hot, his rhythm relentless.

I shook my head, tears slipping out despite me. "Don't make me."

"Please," he begged, moving harder, faster.

My body trembled. My walls, my pride, everything crumbled under his weight.

Then he said it. "I love you."

My whole chest broke. I cried into his shoulder, kissed him like I could stop time, moved with him like this was the only moment we'd ever have.

It felt like both dying and being reborn.

When we came together, it wasn't just sex. It was grief turned into fire. It was love we never admitted, love we never should've had.

After, we lay there—naked, wrecked, breathless. The silence was heavier than the rain still pounding outside.

He reached for my hand. I didn't pull away.

And then, quietly, I asked: "What if I asked you to stay?"

He looked at me. Really looked. My heart shattered before he even spoke.

"I'd want to," he whispered. "But we'd both resent it eventually."

I bit my lip, swallowed a sob, nodded like I wasn't breaking apart.

"I love you," he said again.

And this time, I let myself say it back. "I love you too."

The sun started rising, soft gold spilling into the room, mocking me with its new beginnings.

Leo stood. Dressed. Picked up his keys.

He kissed me one last time—slow, deep, final.

Then he walked out. Didn't look back.

I stood by the window, watching the rain blur the street, the empty space where he used to be.

My voice cracked as I whispered to no one.

"No strings, right?"