supposed to go. He never said, "Don't text me after this time." Never said, "Keep it discreet." So she didn't. She texted him freely, often without thinking. Pictures of her outfit

on for hours, lingering in each other's breathing, sharing things that went beyond lust. It wasn't just about bodies-it was the way he whispered her name like it meant something more. The way she told him she'd never felt so wanted without being touched. It became routine when he got back . He was the first person she updated in the morning, the last she messaged before bed. He knew what she ate, where she went, which scent she was wearing that day. He asked questions no one else ever had. "What perfume is that you always wear?" She sent a photo of the bottle-soft pink, minimalist. A week later, he told her he'd bought it. "Not for her," he texted. "For me. I spray it on my hoodie sometimes. It's like having you close when I need it." It stunned her. That scent-her scent-was now tied to him, too. She didn't know what to make of it, only that it made her feel wanted in a way that scared her and thrilled her all at once. Ava didn't even realize how deep it had gone-how tied up her everyday life had become with someone she could never fully have. And Lucas-he encouraged it. Every complimen