Chapter 38: The Shape of Her Absence
The silence didn't come gently.
It came sharp — surgical. The kind that slices so cleanly it takes a second to realize you're bleeding. Aria stood frozen in the center of the room, her breath caught between a scream and a sob, her body still trembling from the echo of Selene's voice. The door hadn't slammed. But it might as well have dropped like a blade.
She had told her to leave.
And Selene had listened.
But instead of satisfaction, all Aria felt was the void it left behind — raw, echoing, vast. Her chest ached, not from anger, but from something colder. Like grief. Like loss. Like craving the very thing that just walked away.
She turned, slow and dazed, until her eyes caught her reflection in the mirror above the desk.
And she flushed.
Not from rage.
From heat.
Because even now — when she should've been furious, when she should've been pacing and fuming and tearing the curtains down — her thoughts weren't clean. They weren't safe.
They were laced with the memory of Selene's breath, low and close. Her voice — razor - sharp, yes, but sultry too, like it knew what it did to her. And that look before she left. That hesitation. That burn.
It wasn't the absence that haunted Aria.
It was the promise that had nearly replaced it.
"You hesitate," Selene had said. And Aria had. But not because she was afraid to strike. She was afraid of what she'd do if she didn't.
Selene hadn't won. But Aria hadn't either.
No — what they had was worse than victory or defeat. It was tension. A slow - burning fuse, too delicious to cut and too dangerous to light.
She brushed her fingertips over her lips, not meaning to, but the memory was already there — the pull, the proximity, the almost. Selene hadn't kissed her.
But Aria hadn't moved away either.
And now? Now the silence pressed in with a weight that felt like hands. Cold. Familiar.
Too familiar.
She spun toward the door, half - expecting Selene to be there, half - hoping she was. But there was nothing. Just shadows creeping along the walls and the soft patter of rain, like the sky was trying to whisper what she wouldn't admit out loud.
She missed her.
God, she missed her.
She crossed to the bed and sat, the blanket a useless shield around her legs as she curled them beneath her. Her skin still buzzed from earlier, from Selene's nearness. And not just from the argument. From the game. The power play. The dance of teeth and silk.
Selene didn't touch often. But when she did?
She branded.
Aria could still feel the press of her stare. Still hear her voice like it was stitched into her bones.
Then show it.
The words hadn't been a challenge. They had been a dare.
And Aria hated how badly she wanted to rise to it.
Was that what this was? Obsession? Attraction? Something darker? Something… tender?
No.
Yes.
She groaned and pressed her hands against her face, her heart drumming an irregular rhythm, her body split between wanting to scream and wanting to crawl back into Selene's arms and beg her to never leave again.
She wasn't losing her mind.
She had already lost it.
A noise — a faint creak — slipped through the silence like a knife. Her breath caught. She turned her head sharply.
Nothing.
But the air had changed.
The room felt charged again. Like the atmosphere remembered Selene even if Aria was trying not to. A pull hummed along her spine, the kind that told her someone was watching even when the room was empty.
"Stop it," she whispered to herself, but her voice didn't carry much conviction.
She stood slowly and crossed to the window, her fingers hovering near the curtain. She didn't pull it back. She didn't need to.
Selene was still here.
Not in body — but in pressure. In gravity. In the phantom heat that refused to fade from Aria's skin.
Her voice was soft. Not a plea. Not a command.
"Don't go far."
The words hung in the air, unanswered.
But they weren't meant for an answer.
Her breath stuttered in her chest. Her pulse fluttered low and slow and hot. The ache wasn't clean. It was messy. Want tangled with anger, regret twisted into desire.
And still —
That hum again.
Soft.
Real.
She turned too quickly and nearly lost her balance, her eyes sweeping the room.
Still no one.
But her skin told a different story.
Every hair stood on end. Her stomach clenched in anticipation. The space behind her felt full.
Like Selene had never left.
She backed toward the bed and sat with more force than before, dragging in a breath that did nothing to steady her. Her mind spun.
And then —
"You're dramatic when you're alone."
Aria jerked her head up.
Selene stood in the doorway, quiet as moonlight, eyes gleaming with something unreadable — but alive. Intense. Her arms were crossed, her posture easy, but her gaze… her gaze burned.
Aria's breath caught. "You're not supposed to be here."
Selene tilted her head slightly. "You're adorable when you lie to yourself."
"I'm not —"
"You didn't want me to leave."
"I told you to leave."
"And yet." Selene stepped inside, each movement slow, deliberate. "You didn't lock the door."
Aria's heart thundered in her chest. "Maybe I forgot."
"No," Selene said, low and dangerous. "You wanted me to come back."
Aria stood, her fists clenched at her sides. "You think you can just show up and —"
"Finish what you started?" Selene closed the space between them with frightening ease.
"I didn't start anything."
Selene's smirk deepened. "No? Then why are you flushed again?"
Aria hated how her cheeks heated further at that. "You're insufferable."
"You're easy to read."
"I should scream."
Selene stepped closer, their breath mingling now. "You won't."
"Why not?"
"Because you want me to kiss you."
Aria's breath hitched.
"I don't —"
"Liar."
Selene's fingers brushed hers, barely — a whisper of contact, like permission wasn't required, just inevitability. Aria didn't pull away. She couldn't.
"Say it," Selene murmured, her voice barely audible. "Say you don't want me."
Aria's lips parted.
But nothing came out.
Selene smiled — triumphant, tender, dangerous.
"You can't."
"I hate you," Aria whispered, trembling.
"You want me."
Aria's voice cracked. "That's not the same."
"No," Selene agreed. "But it's enough."
The space between them disappeared in an inhale. Selene didn't press her lips to Aria's — but hovered just there. A breath apart. A decision away.
"You left," Aria said, voice fragile.
"I came back."
Aria's eyes narrowed. "To finish a fight?"
"No," Selene said, and her voice softened. "To see if you'd still be here."
Aria's throat tightened.
"I was."
"I know."
A beat passed.
Then another.
And then Aria surged forward — not to strike. Not to argue. But to close that damn gap that had been torturing her since the last door closed.
Selene met her halfway.
The kiss wasn't gentle.
It was wildfire. It was storm surge. It was every denied breath and swallowed word and aching silence finally given voice.
Selene tasted like control barely restrained, like sin dressed in silk. Her hands slid into Aria's hair, and Aria gasped, pulling her closer, closer still, until the lines between enemy and lover blurred.
They broke apart only when air became a necessity.
Selene's forehead rested against Aria's. Her eyes closed. Her voice low.
"You should still be furious with me."
"I am."
Selene smiled. "But you kissed me."
"You kissed me back."
"I always will."
Aria swallowed, heart thudding. "Don't leave like that again."
Selene opened her eyes. "Then don't ask me to."
The silence returned, but this time it wasn't sharp.
It was warm.
Heavy.
Selene stepped back, fingers brushing Aria's cheek one last time.
"I'll be in the hall," she said. "In case you forget how to scream."
Aria snorted softly, eyes narrowed but glittering. "You're such a menace."
Selene smiled like it was a compliment.
"I'm your menace."
And with that, she slipped out again — quiet, smooth, maddening.
Aria stared after her for a long moment, her body still humming, her lips tingling, her heart torn in a thousand directions and liking every single one.
The silence had changed.
It still hurt.
But it no longer felt empty.
It felt shaped.
Shaped by Selene.
And for better or worse —
Aria would never be untouched by that shape again.