Lucian

she knew she was lying the second she hit send. “I’m sick. Fever and all. I’m sleeping, don’t spam call me” Three dots appeared instantly. Lucian. "Did you take medicine? Want me to come over?" She rolled her eyes dramatically at the screen while sitting in front of her mirror, eyeliner halfway done. 'I'm good..' she muttered while typing. "No. I just wanna sleep." She tossed her phone onto the bed and turned back to the mirror. Her black backless top fit perfectly with the short skirt she’d spent an hour choosing. Hair down, glossy lips, silver hoops — she looked nothing like someone rotting in bed with a fever. Her friends were already outside honking impatiently. By 11 PM, the club lights were flashing neon against the crowded dance floor. Maya was laughing with her friends, music vibrating through the room while someone recorded blurry videos for Instagram stories. For the first time in months, she felt free. No Ethan asking where she was every ten minutes. No “Don’t wear that.” No “Text me when you get there.” No “Who’s there with you?” Just freedom. Then her friend suddenly froze mid-sentence. “…Maya.” Maya turned. And her stomach dropped. Ethan stood near the entrance of the club, jaw tight, eyes locked directly onto her. He looked furious. Not the normal annoyed Ethan. This was worse. “Maya,” he said sharply over the music. She immediately grabbed her phone from her purse. Twenty-three missed calls. “…Oh.” He walked toward her fast. Too fast. “You’re sick?” he snapped. “Ethan, chill—” “Are you serious right now?” People nearby started glancing over. Maya crossed her arms defensively. “I lied because you act insane every time I go anywhere without you.” His expression darkened. “So your solution was sneaking around?” “You literally don’t let me breathe!” Before she could step away, Ethan grabbed her wrist firmly. “Ethan, let go.” “We’re leaving.” “I said let GO.”