Chapter 6 Escape and Secrets
We had spent so many weeks together that being with William had started to feel normal. Not boring. Just… easy. Like something that fit without effort. Our days slipped into each other calls before work, quick texts during lunch, long conversations at night that drifted until one of us was half asleep.
So when he suggested a short getaway, it didn't feel sudden. It felt expected.
"I think we need a break," he said one evening while we sat across from each other, coffee growing cold between us. "Just a few days. No work. No stress. Just us."
I raised an eyebrow, smiling. "You sound serious."
"I am," he said. "I want time with you. Real time."
Something warm settled in my chest. "Okay," I said. "Where?"
He smiled like he'd already planned it. "A quiet resort. By the water. You'll like it."
By Saturday morning, I was packed and waiting, nerves buzzing under my skin. When William pulled up, he leaned out the window and said, "Ready?"
I laughed. "I think so."
The drive was filled with music we both liked, the windows down, his hand resting casually on my thigh when the road straightened. We talked about everything and nothing. Work gossip, old memories, silly plans for the future.
When we arrived, the place took my breath away. Palm trees. Open skies. The sound of waves rolling in slow and steady.
"Wow," I breathed.
"Told you," William said, watching my reaction instead of the view.
The room was perfect. A wide bed. Soft lights. A balcony that faced the water. There were snacks laid out neatly, like he'd thought of everything.
"You planned this," I said.
"I wanted it to be right," he replied.
Our days blurred into something beautiful. We swam until our skin wrinkled. We tried new food and shared bites across the table. We laughed more than I had in a long time. At night, we stayed in, the city far away, just the sound of the ocean and his voice close to mine.
William was attentive in a way that made me feel seen. The way he touched me was careful but confident, like he was paying attention to every reaction, every breath. When he said my name, it sounded different. Like it meant something.
Later, tangled together in quiet, I found myself talking. About things I usually kept locked away.
"I didn't think I'd trust anyone again," I admitted. "After my last relationship… it broke something in me."
He didn't interrupt. He just listened.
"I loved someone who didn't really see me," I continued. "I kept shrinking myself, thinking that was what love was."
William lifted his head, looking at me closely. "You don't have to shrink with me," he said.
"You promise?" I asked softly.
"I promise," he said. "I won't hurt you."
I wanted to believe him. And lying there, wrapped in his arms, it felt easy to do so.
We talked late into the night—about where we grew up, the people who shaped us, the things we wanted but never said out loud. There was comfort in it. Safety.
But not everything felt perfect.
One afternoon, William stepped out to the resort shop. I stayed behind, scrolling on my phone, when his phone buzzed on the table. Once. Then again. And again.
A number I didn't recognize.
When he came back, I pointed at it lightly. "Someone kept calling."
He barely glanced. "Probably a wrong number."
His tone was calm. Too calm. But I nodded. I didn't push.
We spent the rest of the week drifting through resort parties, dancing barefoot under the stars, sharing quiet walks along the beach. He held my hand like he meant it. Like he didn't want to let go.
By the time we packed to leave, I felt different. Lighter. Happier. Like I had stepped into a version of life I didn't know I could have.
As we drove back, I rested my head against the window and watched the world pass by.
"You okay?" William asked.
"Yeah," I said. "I'm just… happy."
He smiled. "Good."
I smiled back.
But somewhere deep inside me, something stirred. A small, quiet doubt. Not loud enough to ruin the moment. Just enough to exist.
I pushed it away.
For now, being with William felt too good to question.
And sometimes, that's how secrets begin.