chapter 3

The next few days felt like walking a tightrope. I loved Liam, but the secrets were starting to weigh on me. Every smile from him made my heart flutter with hope, but the old box in his closet haunted my thoughts. What exactly had his ex done? And what “secret” was she threatening to expose?

I decided to keep testing gently — no pressure, just closeness. On Wednesday evening, after work, I suggested we watch a movie on the couch. I curled up against his side in my favorite oversized shirt, my head on his chest. Liam wrapped an arm around me, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on my shoulder.

Halfway through the film, I shifted and kissed him softly. He responded, his hand moving to my waist. The kiss grew warmer, and for a moment I felt that old spark. His breathing quickened, and his grip tightened. Hope surged through me.

“Mia…” he murmured against my lips, voice rough.

I pulled back slightly, looking into his warm brown eyes. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for. I just want to be close to you.”

He nodded and kissed me again, slower this time. His hands explored my back, respectful but present. It wasn’t full passion yet, but it was progress. When we finally settled back to finish the movie, he held me tighter than he had in months.

“You’re too good to me,” he whispered later as we got ready for bed. “I’m trying, Mia. I really am.”

“I know,” I said, snuggling against him under the covers. “We’ll get there. Together.”

The next morning, while Liam was in the shower, curiosity got the better of me again. I quietly opened the box in the closet. The letter from his ex, Rachel, was even harsher than I remembered. She had mocked his “failures,” accused him of hiding something big about his family, and threatened to tell everyone if he left her.

My stomach twisted. Family secret? Liam had always said his parents were supportive but distant. Was there more?

I put everything back just as the shower turned off. When Liam came out, towel around his waist, looking handsome and vulnerable, guilt hit me hard. I hugged him tightly instead of asking questions.

That evening, we tried another test. I cooked a romantic dinner and suggested we dance in the living room after. Liam laughed but joined me, his arms around my waist as we swayed to soft music. The closeness felt natural. When he kissed me this time, there was real heat — his body responding more than there was real heat — his body responding more than it had in a long time.

“Mia, I want this,” he breathed, forehead against mine. “I want you.”

My heart soared. We moved to the bedroom, taking things slow. His touches were gentle and loving, even if full intimacy still felt out of reach. We fell asleep tangled together, closer than we’d been in months.

But the next day at work, I received a strange email from an unknown address. It contained a single photo: Liam with Rachel, looking intimate, dated just a few months before we met. Attached was a note:

He’s not who you think he is. Ask him about the real reason he can’t be with you. The impotence is just the beginning.

My hands shook as I deleted it. Liam had promised honesty, but these secrets kept piling up. Was his ex still involved? Or was there something darker he was hiding from me?

That night, I decided it was time for a real conversation. No more gentle testing. I needed the full truth if we were going to move forward.

As Liam walked through the door, I met him with a serious look. “We need to talk. About Rachel… and whatever you’re still hiding.”

His face paled. The wall was going up again.

And I was determined to break it down — no matter what I discovered.

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