Agnes

“Don’t let it get to you,” Elijah said calmly, handing back my phone. “Time will reveal the truth, Agnes. Just remember—victory belongs to the prepared.”

The calmness in his voice loosened some of the tension in my shoulders. The online backlash, the disapproving looks, the whispers—it had all started to feel like an inescapable shadow. But hearing Elijah’s calm conviction brought a sense of peace.

I never expected him to say those next words, though.

“Pack a bag. We’re going on vacation.”

…

Arriving at the resort felt like stepping into another world. The sun warmed our skin as the ocean breeze danced around us, promising escape. Thea had practically bounced with excitement, dragging Elijah and me toward the shoreline with endless plans for our mini-vacation.

Thea grinned up at Elijah, then nudged me with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Elijah, I think Agnes needs sunscreen! You wouldn’t want her to burn, would you?”

I shot Thea a look, catching onto her little scheme, but she just flashed a grin and darted off toward the waves.

“She’s determined,” Elijah said, moving closer to me. “Shall we humor her?”

I tried to keep my cool as he stood behind me, gently applying the lotion to my back, his hands slow and thorough. His touch was steady, but there was an undeniable charge between us that made me hyper-aware of each careful stroke.

“You’re tense,” he murmured.

“I’m not,” I lied, trying to keep my tone light. But my words came out more breathless than I’d intended.

His fingers lingered just a moment longer than necessary on my shoulders.

“Sure you aren’t.”

My heart stopped cold. When he finally stepped back, I turned to meet his gaze, offering a shaky smile that I hoped hid the fluttering in my chest. “Thanks,” I muttered, hating how small and squeaky my voice sounded now.

Just then, Thea called out from the water, her laughter floating back to us.

“Come swim with me!”

Trying to steady my heart rate, I walked toward her, and we waded into the cool water, letting the gentle waves wash over us.

Thea’s laughter was infectious, her joy echoing in the serene silence around us. Elijah and I followed her lead, and for a few blissful minutes, we splashed and swam, letting go of the weight that had followed us.

But even in the water, that undercurrent of tension between Elijah and me didn’t fully subside. Every accidental brush of his arm, every stolen glance—it was like the ocean itself was conspiring to bring us closer, teasing at a boundary we both kept holding back from crossing.

At one point, as we treaded water side by side, Thea had swum off, leaving us alone under the bright sky. I could feel Elijah’s gaze on me, a quiet intensity simmering in his eyes.

“You seem more relaxed now,” he commented, his voice soft over the sound of the waves.

I glanced at him, forcing a light tone.

“It’s the water. Hard not to relax when you’re floating.”

He smiled, but the look in his eyes was anything but relaxed. For a moment, it seemed like he might say something more, something that would cross the boundary between us, but before he could speak, I felt my swimsuit strap loosen.

Before I could even react, Elijah was there, his hands steady as he fixed the strap with surprising care. His fingers brushed my skin, lingering for just a second longer than necessary, and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver through me.

My heart pounded, caught in the heat of the moment. When I looked up, I could see a reflection of that same feeling in his eyes, his expression softening as he gazed down at me.

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something that snapped me back to reality—his mate mark, faint but undeniably present.

A pang of reality struck, dousing the warmth that had been building.

Elijah wasn’t mine; he couldn’t be. That mark was a reminder of everything that separated us, the constant shadow of a bond I could never compete with.

I pulled away, the water splashing as I created distance between us.

“Thanks,” I muttered, my voice tight, refusing to meet his gaze. “I can handle it from here.”

Elijah’s face flickered with confusion, and he reached out as if to say something, his voice low.

“Agnes—”

But I shook my head, swimming back to shore with my thoughts spinning in chaotic circles. I couldn’t let myself get lost in this feeling. There was a line between us, and nothing would change that.

By the time I reached the beach, I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to shake off the confusion. But when I looked back, I caught sight of Elijah’s retreating figure as he walked along the shore. Even in his absence, the tension lingered like a palpable weight in the air.

I sighed, trying to clear my head, but then I noticed something else—a small group further down the beach, their heads turned toward me, whispering and pointing.

The same faces I’d seen circulating rumors online, their judgment and whispers following us even here.