Tristan's POV

I got into the car, still distracted and lost in thought. I've lost count of the times I've had to navigate this habitual silence I feel after leaving Sienna, my girlfriend.

I sat in the driver's seat, my hands gripping the steering wheel, the headlights cutting through the heavy rain that pounded the windshield. My jaw burned from clenching it so tightly during the entire twenty-minute drive.

“I’m just tired tonight, honey. Can’t we watch a movie or do something else?”

Her voice kept echoing in my head, flat, indifferent, and utterly contemptuous. It was exactly the same voice she'd used last weekend. And the weekend before that, too.

It wasn't that she said no. It was the way she said it, as if the fact that I wanted her was a nuisance she had to manage. As if touching me was a chore she could keep putting off until she hoped I'd simply forget about it. Six months of dating and walking amidst endless unfulfilled promises. Six months of having to settle for unspoken rules, following strict boundaries, and a complete physical apathy. On the rare occasions when she actually let me get close, it was cold. Mechanical, and nothing more than ten minutes of motionless, half-hearted tolerance before she gently pushed my chest against hers and pulled the covers up to her chin.

I was fed up. Fed up with feeling desperate in my own relationship. Fed up with leaving her apartment feeling smaller, angrier, and ten times more frustrated than when I walked through her door.

I slammed the engine into gear, the tires spinning violently against the wet pavement as I sped away. The heavy thud of the rain against the roof did absolutely nothing to drown out the noise in my head. I wanted her to understand that I was a grown man, with natural impulses and needs, and that being treated like a background character wasn't something I thought I could settle for.

By the time I reached the driveway and turned off the engine, I felt like my head was going to explode. I grabbed my phone from the passenger seat, slammed the door, and walked toward the front door of the house.

I kicked off my wet shoes in the entryway, went inside, and tossed my keys on the counter. I clutched my neck, pulling at my shirt collar just to breathe, my chest rising and falling with the pressure.

"Are you back already? Why so early?"

The voice came from the kitchen.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my shoulders tensing as I turned my head. Chloe was standing near the kitchen door, holding a glass of ice water. She was wearing a thin, fitted beige T-shirt that cinched her waist and gray sweatpants that hung loosely at her hips. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose, messy bun, with a few strands falling across her face.

He handed me the glass of ice water, his eyes fixed on my face the entire time I was drinking.

“Did your girlfriend send you back again?” he asked quietly, taking the glass from me and putting it back down.

I followed her from behind, watching her closely. She returned with another glass of water, this time for herself.

He took a slow, deliberate sip of his water, never breaking eye contact. There wasn't a trace of mockery in his tone, just a cool, wise observation that struck a nerve.

“I’m not in the mood, Chloe,” I grumbled, turning and heading toward the living room. I threw my jacket over the back of the sofa and ran my hands over my face. I stood in the middle of the room, my other hand resting heavily on my hip as I stared at the rug, trying to force my heart rate down.

“I’m just asking,” he said quietly.

His steps behind me were light. He didn't keep his distance as he usually did when we were alone in the house. He walked straight up to where I was, stopping just a step away.

I looked up, forced to meet his gaze.

“You always come back with that face,” he said, lowering his voice. “Every time you spend more than an hour at their house, you come back here looking like you’re ready to punch a wall.”

“And what makes you think you can interfere in my personal affairs?” I said, completely ignoring her.

“Excuse me, but we’re brothers. We can share personal matters. In the end, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Correction,” I said, giving him a hard look. “We’re stepbrothers. STEPSIBLINGS. Get that through your empty head.”

Her expression shifted to that look of surprise, as if she'd never imagined I could speak to her like that. "So you're going to insult me ​​for coming to ask what was wrong? Fine, I'll take the blame. Sorry for prying into your personal life." She said that and walked away.

My mind repeated his words and suddenly a feeling of guilt washed over me.

I definitely shouldn't have treated her like that. She was my stepsister. She deserved better.

I got up and went to where she was, in her room. I didn't need to knock or announce my presence.

“I’m sorry for speaking to you like that, Chloe,” I said, sitting down next to her and putting my arms around her. “I’m sorry about that. I never meant to speak to you like that, I was out of my mind…” I continued apologizing.

She remained silent, her body completely still. She didn't struggle to make me take my hands away, just a pure silence that was beginning to kill me.

"Sorry."

“And as for Sienna, I guess she’s just… being cautious,” I murmured. Those words sounded weak, even pathetic, to my own ears, but it was the only defense my exhausted brain could muster. “She has her limits.”

Chloe let out a short, breathless laugh that sounded almost bitter. She shook her head slowly, narrowing her dark eyes as they locked onto mine. “Cautious? Is that what you call a girl who treats her own boyfriend like a stranger she’s forced to put up with?”

He came so close he seemed to want to close the distance between us, his knee brushing against mine. At that moment I could feel the heat emanating from my body.

“You’re a man,” she continued, her voice low and dangerously sharp for someone trying to have a conversation. “You’re broad, you’re strong, and you’ve been walking around this house on the edge for weeks because she won’t even let you touch her properly. She acts like letting you fuck her is a sacrifice.”

My breath caught in my throat. At that point, I was completely taken aback by how direct she was being. We'd always been cordial, just a few times, always quiet and understanding like step-siblings sharing the same space, but she'd never spoken to me like that. Never had she spoken about my body, my frustration, or my private life with such clarity.

“Chloe,” I began, in a voice I didn’t recognize.

“Am I wrong?” he whispered.

He didn't stop talking. Instead, he leaned in just enough so that his warm breath touched the sensitive skin right below my ear, sending a sharp electric shock straight down my spine. Before I could process the wave of heat hitting my body, his hand moved up. His small, soft fingers rested lightly on the tops of my arms, right where the veins stood out from how tightly my fists were clenched.

“Look at you,” he murmured, running his thumb in circles over my skin. “You’re practically vibrating from how tense she’s got you. You give her everything, you pay for her dinners, you drive there in the pouring rain, and she leaves your penis starving.”

My eyes locked onto hers. The contrast between Sienna's cold, distant eyes and my dark, focused gaze was intoxicating.

“She doesn’t appreciate what she has,” he whispered, glancing down at my lips before looking back up to meet my gaze. “She has no idea what to do with a man like you. She’s wasting you.”

For a long time, all I could hear was silence. The rain outside, Sienna's thoughts rattling in my head, all of that, all of it was gone.

My hand moved to the side. I wanted to tell her to back off. I wanted to remind her of the line we shouldn't cross. But when I looked down at her, at her soft lips, her flushed cheeks, and the utter lack of doubt in her eyes, I didn't know what was happening, but the words died in my throat.