Twenty

Zane

I stood outside the restroom door, waiting for Belle. Her drunken state was more than concerning; it was heartbreaking. When she emerged, her eyes were glazed and unfocused, but she still managed to smile at me.

“Zane,” she said softly, reaching out to cup my face with her hands. “Am I dreaming? Is that you?”

Was she sober already?

I held her steady, looking into her eyes. Her beauty struck me, even now. I didn’t deserve someone like her, someone so pure and innocent. But I couldn’t let her go. Her absence in the past few days had left me feeling incomplete, like a part of me was missing.

“Yes, it’s me, Belle,” I whispered, my heart aching as I gazed at her. I wanted to kiss her, to lose myself in the softness of her lips, but I knew it wasn’t the right time. She was vulnerable, and I couldn’t take advantage of that.

We walked back to the main floor, her arm draped over my shoulder for support. The elevator doors opened, and I scanned the room for Kamille, but she was nowhere to