The Game Never Ended
Julian watched her from across the conference room.
She stood at the head of the table, giving instructions to a team of editors, designers, and executives, her voice clear and commanding. Not a single stutter. Not a single crack. A woman of steel, wrapped in velvet words and invisible knives.
She was the girl who taught him how to count to twenty without peeking. The girl who made mud castles
The meeting ended. People filed out. Selena didn’t look at him. She never did unless she wanted to. It was all part of her rules—when she spoke, when she saw you, when she let you breathe near her.
julian
“You keep running,”
Selena hart
“I walk. I don’t run.”
julian
“You remember me. You know you do.”
Selena hart
“You’re mistaken.”
julian
“You used to laugh,” he said, almost whispering. “A real laugh. Loud. Ugly. Beautiful. Do you remember what that felt like?”
julian
“You used to hide from me, But it was part of the game. Not like this.”
Selena hart
“That girl died a long time ago.”
julian
“No. She didn’t. She’s standing right in front of me. She’s just hiding again.”
Then she smiled—slow, chilling, calculated.
Selena hart
“You don’t know me, Julian. Whatever you think we were… it was childish fiction. You’re still holding on to a fantasy. Let go.”
He studied her face. The lines of pain were there, etched in microscopic tension, but no one else would ever see them. He could barely see them.
julian
“Someone took you away from me,” he said quietly. “And you let them.”
Just for a moment, her expression flickered. Like a crack in porcelain, too small to see, but real.
She stepped forward, just once.
Selena hart
“If you ever speak of my past again, I’ll have you replaced,” she said with terrifying calm. “You are here to work. Not to remember
julian
“And what are you here for?”
Selena hart
“To stay in control.”
Then she walked away, heels clicking like gunshots down the hallway.
And Julian stood alone in the echo.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to rescue her anymore.
Or follow her into the dark.
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