Her fingers traced the edge of the letter, hesitating. The words inside would change everything she thought she knew about that summer. She had buried those memories so deep, convinced they could never surface again...

The hotel room was supposed to be a mistake they'd never repeat. Yet here she was, three months later, standing at the same door, heart pounding with the same reckless anticipation...

"Tell me to stop," he breathed against her neck, his hands finding the curve of her waist. She didn't. She couldn't. Some boundaries were meant to be crossed...

The wedding invitation sat unopened for weeks. Seeing his name beside hers felt like reading her own eulogy. But she would go. She had to know if the fire had truly gone out...

Rain streaked the windows as the train pulled away from the station. In the reflection, she watched him standing on the platform, growing smaller. Neither of them waved goodbye...

The rules were simple: no names, no numbers, no second chances. They broke every single one before the sun came up...

She'd rehearsed this moment a thousand times. But standing here now, watching him sleep, the words dissolved into something far more dangerous than confession...