Chapter Seventeen: Lines We Don't Cross
The silence in the apartment was warm, not heavy. A rare shift.
Kim sat on the edge of the couch, hair damp from a late-night shower, wearing a plain sweatshirt and socks, hugging her knees as if it gave her strength. Zuri had fallen asleep hours ago, curled up with her favorite stuffed penguin. The city lights outside the tall windows cast a soft glow across the living room.
Kelly returned from the kitchen with two mugs of tea. He offered her one wordlessly. She took it. Their fingers brushed.
"Thanks," Kim said, her voice quieter than usual.
"Didn't peg you for someone who drank peppermint."
"Didn't peg you for someone who made tea."
They shared a look. It lingered.
Caramel stood quietly in the hallway, unseen. She'd come by to drop off the documents Kim asked for but hadn't knocked. She saw them—Kim and Kelly—so close, so natural. She hated how something in her chest twisted.
She stepped back before they noticed.
---
"She's been through a lot," Kim said suddenly, staring at the mug. "Zuri. I mean. And I know she's not mine, but... I still worry like she is."
Kelly's gaze softened. "You don't have to explain. You're the only one she's ever called home."
Kim's eyes flicked to his. "Is that what you're doing too? Calling this home?"
His breath caught. He wasn't expecting that.
"I don't know yet," he admitted. "Depends who's answering the door."
Kim looked away. Her voice was low. "You ever wish things were simpler? Like… you didn't have to keep pretending you're not feeling something just because it's easier to leave it unsaid?"
He looked at her long and hard. "Every day."
The room grew still. And in that pause, something shifted.
Kelly leaned in, just enough to test the air between them.
Kim didn't pull away.
But before anything could happen, the front door creaked.
Caramel stepped in, acting casual, holding up a file. "Forgot you asked for this. Didn't want to risk you blaming me for missing deadlines."
Kim sat up straighter. Kelly moved back.
"Thanks," Kim said, a little too quickly.
Caramel smiled, but it didn't touch her eyes. She handed the file to Kim, then turned to Kelly. "By the way, your phone's been buzzing nonstop. Group chat drama. Might wanna check."
She left just as fast.
---
Later that night, Caramel sat in her own apartment, staring at the ceiling. She wasn't sure if she was mad, confused, or just… disappointed.
She'd told herself she didn't care. That Kelly was just interesting, not important. But seeing them together, even for a second, messed with her. More than she wanted to admit.
Back at Kim's, Kelly stood by the window.
"Was that weird?" Kim asked.
"Which part? The tea, the almost-kiss, or the triangle we're dancing around?"
Kim smiled faintly. "All of it."
Kelly turned. "Yeah. It's weird. But weird doesn't mean bad."
The tension hung between them again.
But this time, no one made a move.
Because some lines—even the ones we want to cross—come with consequences.
Kim walked out of the building, the wind tugging her hair loose as she pulled her coat tighter. Caramel stood a few feet away, arms crossed, pretending she wasn't waiting for her.
"You seem too close to him," Caramel said casually. "You looked… different."
Kim didn't turn. "Kelly's just being Kelly."
Caramel took a step closer. "That's not what it looked like. You trust him now?"
Kim finally turned, eyes sharp. "I didn't say that."
"But you want to," Caramel said. "And that's the problem."
Before Kim could answer, her phone buzzed — an unknown number. She answered.
A voice spoke. Calm. Familiar.
"Still protecting secrets, Kim?"
She froze. "Who is this?"
"You think you're safe just because I've been quiet?"
Then silence.
Then:
"Ask Kelly where he was the night your father disappeared."
Kim's hand went cold.
She turned — but Kelly was standing right behind her.