C14 More Meetings, Scott Grows Emotionally Attached

Taylor hadn’t planned to see Scott again. After the last encounter, she swore it was the end. Each time she looked in the mirror, the guilt carved deeper lines into her face, the shadows under her eyes growing darker. But swearing it off was easier in the light of day. At night, when the silence pressed in, her thoughts betrayed her.

The longing returned, louder than the shame. The emptiness in her chest—the childless ache that followed her everywhere—pulled her back to him like a tide.

It started with a single call. She told herself it was just to clarify things, to set boundaries, to remind him they couldn’t continue. But when she heard his voice on the other end of the line, calm and deliberate, her resolve dissolved.

“Taylor,” he said, her name sounding like both a question and a promise.

She swallowed. “We need to stop.”

A pause. Then, softly: “Do you really want to?”

Her silence betrayed her.

By the end of that week, they had met again. And again. Always behind closed doors, away from the eyes of the world, away from Owen’s steady love. Each meeting was shorter, riskier, but the intensity burned brighter.

Scott had changed, though. In the beginning, his pursuit was sharp, focused on what he could give her. A child. A possibility. Now, it was different. His eyes lingered too long, his touch stayed past the moment, his words edged toward something she wasn’t ready for.

One evening, after they had tangled themselves in reckless passion, Scott lay back, staring at her as though she were the only person who had ever mattered.

“You don’t see yourself, do you?” he whispered.

Taylor frowned, pulling the sheet around her body. “What do you mean?”

“The way you move, the way you breathe. You’re everything I’ve been waiting for.”

Her stomach tightened. “Don’t,” she said sharply. “Don’t make this into something it isn’t.”

“But it is,” Scott pressed, sitting up. His eyes burned with sincerity—or obsession; she couldn’t tell. “You think this is just about a child, but it’s not. It’s about us. It’s about how right this feels.”

Taylor shook her head, panic rising in her chest. “This is wrong. I told you from the start—I only want one thing. That’s all.”

He laughed bitterly. “You can lie to yourself, but not to me. I see it in your eyes. You need me.”

The words cut deep. For a moment, she almost believed him. Because hadn’t she come back, time and again? Hadn’t she chosen him, even when she swore she wouldn’t?

But need and want were different things. And love—real love—was something else entirely.

She stood, pulling on her clothes with shaking hands. “This can’t keep happening. You’re reading something into this that isn’t there.”

Scott rose too, moving toward her. His expression softened, almost pleading. “Taylor… I love you.”

The room froze. The words hung between them, heavy and suffocating.

Taylor’s breath caught. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth,” Scott insisted, stepping closer. “I’ve tried to fight it, but I can’t. I love you. And I know, deep down, you love me too.”

Her chest constricted, her pulse pounding in her ears. Love. The word felt like a noose tightening around her throat.

“No,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. You love what you think I can give you.”

“I don’t care about the child anymore,” Scott said, his voice breaking. “I just want you.”

The air grew thin. Taylor backed away, clutching her bag. “You don’t understand. I can’t love you. I’m married.”

His face hardened, a flicker of anger breaking through the vulnerability. “Married to a man who can’t give you what you need.”

Her hand shook as she reached for the door. “This isn’t love, Scott. This is destruction.”

She didn’t wait for his response. She fled, her steps echoing in the hallway, her heart racing with fear.

Back at Simone’s, she collapsed onto the couch, her body trembling. The words repeated in her head like a curse: I love you. I love you.

She pressed her face into her hands, whispering to herself. “No. No, this isn’t love. This is madness.”

But even as she said it, a sliver of doubt cut through her. What if she had already lost control of the line between desire and love? What if Scott had burrowed deeper into her than she realized?

Her phone buzzed on the table. She flinched, afraid to look, afraid it would be him again.

It wasn’t Scott this time. It was Owen.

> Thinking of you. Can’t wait to have you home.

Her throat tightened, tears spilling down her cheeks. Owen. Steady, faithful Owen, who loved her without question. How could she ever face him again? How could she pretend everything was fine when her world was crumbling inside?

She curled into the couch, torn between the man who had always been her anchor and the one who threatened to become her undoing.

Hours passed before she finally rose, pacing the darkened room. She had to end it. She had to cut Scott out before he destroyed everything. But every attempt only tangled her further, drawing her into a web she couldn’t untangle.

Her phone buzzed again.

This time, it was Scott.

> You can’t run from this. You belong with me.

Her hands trembled as she deleted the message, but the fear lingered. He wasn’t letting go.

And somewhere in the shadows, the watcher still lingered.

Later that night, as she stood by the window, her eyes caught movement across the street. The same figure, the same silhouette, standing under the dim glow of a streetlamp. Watching.

Her breath caught, her body frozen.

And then her phone buzzed one more time.

This message wasn’t from Owen. It wasn’t from Scott.

It was from the unknown number.

> He loves you. But I see you.

Taylor stumbled back from the window, the weight of it crushing her chest. The walls felt closer, the air too thin to breathe.

Scott’s love was already dangerous. But someone else’s gaze was darker still.

She was no longer sure who was more dangerous—the man who wanted her heart, or the stranger who wanted her secret.