Chapter 20: Chapter 20: A Dream, or Something More
“Class has been cancelled due to internal faculty matters. Please await further updates.”
The words cut deeper than a scream. Rose reeled back as if slapped.
One new message.
Soft.
“So are you,” he replied, voice raw.
And he couldn’t help it.
“I should stop,” he muttered against her mouth. “You think it’s a dream.”
Because for the first time—she had reached for him.
Real.
Because he’d wanted this since the day he met her.
She threw her hands up. “God, you won’t even deny it anymore! After everything we did to get here! After everything we took from her—you still look at me like I’m just her shadow!”
Her hand cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the stubble there. “You feel real. That’s new.”
The door creaked open quietly.
Melanie stretched lazily in bed, sunlight creeping in through the heavy velvet curtains. She blinked groggily, rubbing her eyes before reaching for her phone on the nightstand.
She rose, brushing her hair into a loose bun, and wandered barefoot down the grand hallway. Her steps echoed slightly against the cold, marbled floor. The manor was so quiet, the silence almost hugged her.
After gently dismissing the maids—despite their protest—Melanie rolled up her sleeves and took over the space. The kitchen, usually cold and polished, transformed into a warm, fragrant mess.
Westwood Manor – Morning
For a moment, they just stayed there—caught in something unspoken. Not quite love. Not quite lust. But something impossible to walk away from.
Because she was kissing him like she meant it. Like the guards around her heart had momentarily vanished, like she was tasting something she’d denied herself for far too long.
***
Melanie’s eyes fluttered closed again, and she murmured, “Even in my dreams… you make me feel safe.”
She stirred, blinking up at him.
He didn’t answer.
“I am real,” he said softly.
But he didn’t stop.
Adrian didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
By late afternoon, she’d curled up on the living room couch, warm and slightly tipsy, the scent of butter and baked goods clinging to her sweatshirt. She turned on the TV, some classic movie flickering in the background, but her heavy eyes closed before she could register the plot.
And Leo wasn’t around.
He pulled her closer, his hand sliding up her spine, memorizing every inch of her. Their mouths moved in sync, searching and giving all at once.
If this was wrong, if this was reckless, he didn’t care.
Slow. Intentional. With the kind of tenderness that comes from restraint—and the kind of hunger that builds after months of silence.
If this was a mistake, he didn’t care.
Warm.
And then he saw her.
“Melanie?”
He froze.
“You still love her, don’t you?” Rose hissed.
“Melanie,” he said gently.
No reply.
When they finally broke apart, she rested her forehead against his, their breaths tangled and shaky.
***
“Wow,” she murmured, reaching out. “You look… really handsome.”
Leo’s lips twitched. “Thanks. You’re drunk.”
And right now, she was melting into him. Her mouth against his was tender but eager, unguarded. He slid his hand up her back, cradling her as he kissed her back—slow, deep, intentional.
A thousand thoughts raced through his head. That she would regret it. That he would. But none of them were strong enough to break the moment.
Her fingers curled around his collar, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss with surprising intensity. Leo’s mind spun, his body going rigid.
He walked into the kitchen. It looked like a storm had passed through—a happy one. Flour dusted the counter, half-eaten cookies rested on a tray, an open wine bottle tilted near the sink.
“You’re warm,” she whispered.
He walked over and crouched down beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
One glass turned into two. Then three.
She danced between the counters, arms up, humming to herself. She forgot the pain of betrayal. The whispers. The tension with Rose. Even Leo’s absence didn’t sting as much.
And then she smiled.
“And you wish you had followed her instead,” Rose whispered, tears pooling.
He kissed her back.
His silence was enough.
She groaned and tossed the phone aside, letting her head fall back on the pillow. No school. No responsibilities. No reason to change out of her oversized sweatshirt and shorts. For the first time in weeks, the day was entirely hers.
Leo stepped in, dragging his suitcase behind him. He paused in the foyer, frowning. The scent of something sweet and savory hit his nose first. Then the silence.
But then her lips met his.
She giggled. “Drunk in a dream, maybe.”
And he wasn’t letting go.
Melanie, curled up on the couch like a content cat, lips parted slightly in sleep, one bare shoulder peeking from beneath her sweatshirt. Her cheeks were flushed pink, her hair a soft, messy halo.
“I married you because I thought I could forget her,” Adrian said, rising slowly. “But I can’t. I still see her every time I close my eyes. And worse? She doesn’t even look back. She doesn’t even hate me. She just moved on.”
His voice was quiet. Heavy. “Maybe you are.”
She started with cookies, then attempted Leo’s favorite pasta dish—what was it again? His mother said it when they were leaving for shopping days ago. Creamy garlic mushroom something. She even experimented with stuffed bell peppers and made cupcakes for dessert. All while singing along softly to a playlist echoing from the Bluetooth speaker. She laughed at her flour-streaked nose in the reflection of a shiny cabinet and sipped on white wine between batches.
Her fingers threaded into his hair. His lips moved over hers with unrestrained passion.
“Why not?” she said aloud. “Let’s have some fun.”
Leo closed his eyes too, his hand still resting at the small of her back.
“Melanie…” he whispered. “You’re not thinking straight.”
She paused outside the kitchen, then grinned.
Leo pulled her gently into his lap, one hand at the small of her back, the other caressing her cheek. He kissed her like he’d been starving—and finally allowed to eat.
Rose slammed the door behind her, arms folded tightly across her chest. Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as she turned to face Adrian, who sat on the edge of their bed, shoulders hunched like a child caught stealing.
She leaned forward suddenly, throwing her arms around his neck. “If this is a dream, I’m going to enjoy every second.”
