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Orfevre and Dream Journey were a famously close pair of sisters, bound together by a bond so strong that everyone who knew them, including themselves, acknowledged it.
At the dorms they shared a room, and the sight of them calling each other "Or" and "Elder Sister" with such affection was heartwarming even to onlookers. Their regular tea parties were said to be so elegant it was as if flowers had bloomed all around them, to the point that Orfevre's attendants would reserve terrace seats in advance just so they could watch.
It was no rare thing to see Dream Journey brushing her younger sister's hair, and Orfevre accepted it as though it were only natural. Every one of those small gestures was proof of the trust that had been cultivated over many long years.
As for their respective trainers—
the two of them were sharing a plate of potato salad at the counter of a yakitori chain, happily clinking their first glasses together.
It wasn't especially crowded for a weekend, and even at a station-front izakaya they were shown to a seat without any trouble. How wonderful it was, being a working adult and able to start drinking at five in the evening. By the time the big mugs of beer arrived, both heart and throat were more than ready.
At first, it had only been for the sake of exchanging information.
The trainers both shared a desire not to disturb the sisters' bond, so they had exchanged contact information in order to keep race schedules and travel plans from overlapping with the girls' own outings and anniversaries.
But after a few rounds of messages, what they talked about gradually went beyond racing. How they spent their days off. Movies they had seen. Training books they liked. Before long, they were spending far more time chatting idly than discussing work.
One of them had casually suggested Want to grab dinner sometime? and the first place they had gone together was this very restaurant, where they now sat sharing drinks.
Fate really was mysterious.
If their trainees hadn't happened to be sisters, these two women might never have found themselves sharing the same table like this.
And now they were close enough that, once a week, one of them would naturally send the other a message asking if she wanted to grab a drink that night.
By this point, both of them looked at those girls almost the way one might look at nieces.
A high-handed, troublesome younger sister with a hidden clingy streak, and an older sister who accepted her beautifully despite seeming faintly detached from this world.
Watching over the pair from a little distance, the trainers nibbled yakitori and let conversation start itself, as usual.
"Since you're Orfevre's trainer, I figured you were probably scary. I can admit that now."
"I thought the same thing. Dream Journey always feels impossible to get a handle on, even when you talk to her, so I figured her trainer would be the same."
One of them looked at the now-empty small plate and set her chopsticks down.
"Anything else you want to order?"
"Hmm... one order of the spicy grilled skewers."
"Then I'll add chicken tail."
Working the touch panel with practiced ease, the two of them lifted their glasses again. Highball and lemon sour. They showed no signs of running out of things to say. With those sisters as their shared topic, it felt as though they could drink forever.
"Do you know where those two went tonight?"
At that question, offered casually by one and picked up by the other, the second woman smiled wryly and shook her head.
"Like I could ask. We're talking about that girl, you know? She'd probably laugh through her nose and say, 'What obligation do I have to tell the likes of you?' And besides, I don't want to intrude on precious sister time."
"Fair enough. ...Well, we never told them we were meeting up to eat either, so I guess it's only fair."
They laughed together and clinked their glasses. The smell of charcoal hung in the air as the spicy skewers and chicken tail arrived at the counter.
"Still, can you picture where the two of them might have gone?"
"Hmm... maybe some tea salon with a garden, or an observation restaurant with a nice night view?"
"That is absurdly easy to imagine..."
They laughed again.
And so their peaceful weekend night, spent thinking fondly of those sisters from afar, ought to have gone on quietly into the dark.
Then, all of a sudden, I thought of her.
I am—
- Dream Journey's trainer
- Orfevre's trainer
Honestly, fate really was incomprehensible.
Who would have thought the day would come when I'd look forward to a monthly drinking session with the trainer of Orfevre, Journey's younger sister? If our girls hadn't been sisters, we never would have ended up shoulder to shoulder like this, splitting a 390-yen potato salad.
But more than that, I never could have imagined I would become Dream Journey's trainer in the first place.
Whenever I remembered the contract I had offered her, it still felt strange. Everyone around me called it a lovely meeting, but I knew the truth. The whole path to our training contract had been orchestrated by that girl from start to finish.
She chose me herself. Built the "fated" path herself. Smoothly made sure everyone around us accepted it.
Even now, I still think she chose me because I would be easy to handle.
I don't push back. I don't cling to odd principles. I'll let things flow. From her point of view, I must have looked like exactly that sort of person.
And honestly, she wasn't wrong. I'm the type of woman a girl like her would look at and think, This person won't get in the way of what I want to do. I like supporting people from behind, but I am bad at taking the lead myself. That kind of softness is something all people have somewhere in them. Dream Journey is frighteningly good at finding that soft part and slipping inside it before the other person even realizes what's happened. More calculating than you'd ever think for someone younger than me.
So, in the beginning, I worked hard to live up to her expectations. I wanted to get closer to her, so I thought about how I spoke, prepared books she might like, even wore clothes just a little more grown-up so I wouldn't look out of place walking beside her.
But no matter how hard I tried, I would never reach the kind of deep bond she shared with Orfevre. I didn't believe I could, and I didn't intend to try. I wanted to be the sort of adult with at least that much sense.
Those two looked as though they had been promised each other from birth.
The way Journey looked at Orfevre always held unwavering love and respect. She cared for her more than anyone, understood her more than anyone, and received her more properly than anyone.
Orfevre had Journey, and Journey had Orfevre.
I only stood nearby, separated by one wall. Somewhere along the way I had learned that there were places that could never be reached, no matter how far I stretched my hand.
"Do you know where the two of them went tonight?"
That was why it was comforting when the woman beside me could ask that question so casually. I had no way of knowing—but she smiled and said, Like I could ask, and somehow I was happy to be able to share that ignorance.
Maybe next long weekend, I should ask if she'd like to go somewhere.
Nothing as grand as a trip. Just a nearby hot spring, good food, something like that.
It would be fun, surely, if the two of us could splurge a little, use races and our girls as drinking topics, and talk until late into the night.
She felt like the kind of person who would say yes.
Because, probably, the two of us were a little alike.
Those were the vague thoughts drifting through my half-tipsy mind. Beside me, she was happily chewing on chicken tail and saying things like, "This place is kind of a hidden gem, isn't it?"
I answered lightly, "Seriously. Right by the station and not even crowded."
And then my phone, face-down on the table, buzzed.
A LANE notification.
The icon in the corner of the screen was one I recognized instantly.
From the elder of the sisters we had been using as our bar snack topic—Dream Journey herself.
"...Huh?"
The sound slipped out before I could stop it.
On a day off, and this late? It was incredibly rare for her to send me a direct message. Really, it basically never happened.
A bad feeling ran through me, and I hurriedly unlocked the screen.
The short line displayed there said only one thing:
Please look outside.
All the alcohol in my brain evaporated in an instant.
"Hold on, o-outside..."
I think I may have said something to the trainer beside me, but I had no idea whether it came out as words or not. Frozen, I rose stiffly and made my way toward the glass window at the back of the shop. The gap past the counter opened up my view.
And then I saw them.
Beyond the sidewalk under the streetlights, one place alone stood white and bright, as though caught in a stage spotlight.
At the center was Orfevre.
Her arms were folded as she stared directly at this place.
No—not stared. Pressured. Like a king, with absolute naturalness.
Her golden hair swayed in the moonlight, her shadow stretched long across the ground. Passersby had to be noticing her, and yet not one of them approached. That "presence" of hers kept them away.
And then, just behind her—
hidden in the darkness where the streetlight didn't reach, half-concealed by Orfevre's shadow, was another gaze.
Dream Journey.
Watching us from the dark.
I couldn't make out her expression.
But I knew.
She was staring.
The rim of her glasses glinting dully.
There is something about sitting at the counter of a yakitori place, wrapped in the fragrant smoke of charcoal, that makes a person relax in spite of herself. Even my back, usually kept straight without fail, felt looser tonight.
The woman beside me—Dream Journey's trainer—had by now become someone I met like this once a week. At first our exchanges had existed only so we could keep Orfevre and Journey's schedules from overlapping.
But once you spend enough time watching those sisters up close, you find yourself relaxing naturally too. Recently I'd started looking at them almost like sisters in the family, despite the lack of blood relation.
Orfevre and Journey lived in the same dorm room and always seemed to know each other's plans without needing to ask. The older sister brushed the younger one's hair. The younger one subtly soothed the elder's moods. Honestly, they understood each other's breathing better than I ever could.
Which, well—of course they did. There was no comparing myself.
The relationship between Orfevre and me was, fundamentally, one of trainer and Uma Musume.
Sure, I could feel that she trusted me as her assigned trainer. Sometimes she even leaned on me in her own way. But that was not because I was me as a person. It was me as her subject. Me as her staff. A role, more than an individual.
Compared to me, who only interacted with her around racing, it only made sense that her sister—the one who woke beside her, slept beside her, took meals and tea with her—would be the more reassuring presence.
Really, I wanted that to be true.
So whenever she said she was going somewhere with Dream Journey, I made a point of not asking any questions.
Because I could see it already: And what duty do I have to tell the likes of you? delivered in that same haughty tone. And more than that, it felt boorish to pry.
Still, just a little—just a little—
there were moments when I couldn't help feeling left behind somewhere far away.
And when that faint loneliness hit, being able to go drinking with the woman in front of me had become one of my little pleasures.
Maybe next time I should invite her to a movie.
There was one I wanted to see. A slightly clichéd romance film, the sort Orfevre would probably get bored of halfway through. That's why—I wish I could go with you.
I nearly said those words aloud on impulse.
But I swallowed them instead, because the woman beside me suddenly seemed to freeze, as if the air had changed.
I looked over.
Her phone had lit up.
A single pop-up notification.
She frowned, her expression tightening only slightly as she opened it.
And in the next instant,
all color drained from her face.
"...Um, are you okay? Did something happen?"
I had never seen that expression on her before.
Not understanding what was happening, I started to speak, then stopped. She muttered something, rose stiffly from her seat, and walked toward the back glass window like someone possessed.
The stool at the counter scraped awkwardly.
She stood there, staring out the window.
Her body was trembling. She made no sound. But I could tell—those eyes had seen something.
Almost by reflex, I leaned out and followed her line of sight.
And then I found them.
Golden hair under the streetlight, so familiar there was no possibility of mistake.
Arms folded, staring straight at this window on this floor as though she had taken exact aim—Orfevre.
No. It wasn't a glare. It was her version of a summons. Majestic, impossible to ignore, blocking off every escape route.
And behind her,
in the shadows of the dark shrubbery, another gaze lifted toward us.
Dream Journey.
There was a quiet fury in the small glint at the edge of those glasses.
Why?
How had they found out where we were? No, before that—why were they here, right now?
My brain couldn't catch up. The woman I'd been gazing at from the corner of my eye all evening had gone rigid, fingertips trembling where they gripped the table.
At that exact moment, my phone buzzed by my ear.
I jumped. Looking down, I saw nothing but an ordinary incoming call screen.
And yet the name on it made my throat twitch.
Orfevre
As if the timing had been deliberate.
A pressure came through the screen itself: Pick up immediately, or suffer the consequences.
I hit the button on reflex and raised the phone to my ear.
"...Hello."
The voice that came back was low and piercing.
"I am merciful. You have three seconds to get down here."
Short. Sharp. An order.
At once my stomach shrank.
My heart leapt. Cold sweat crawled down my spine. Before Dream Journey's trainer could even turn back toward me, I laid my phone face down and let out a breath that wasn't even a proper sound.
"...I'm dead."
This time it was my turn.
The city was still bright. We had only been in the shop for an hour, after all. Yet as I stepped through the yakitori place's door on leaden feet, it certainly wasn't drunkenness making my heart pound.
No—that wasn't it. The alcohol had already left my system.
The moment we stumbled out onto the sidewalk, the two girls leapt into view.
Our respective trainees: Orfevre and Dream Journey.
They stood completely still, looking at us without a single unnecessary motion. The pressure radiating from them was so overwhelming that even the distance between us felt like some kind of trial.
Neither of us said Let's go.
And yet, under the weight of that awkward silence, we slowly started toward the opposite side of the street.
With every step my stomach tightened. If I opened my mouth, I was sure only pleas for forgiveness would come out, so I held onto silence with all I had.
Soon enough their expressions came clearly into view.
First—Dream Journey's eyes.
She wasn't smiling. More precisely, yes, her lips still wore a smile, but whatever warmth usually lived in her gaze was gone. She looked only at her trainer with eyes that seemed to be suppressing emotion by sheer force. Behind her glasses floated understanding, irritation that had gone beyond that understanding, and some deeper passion still.
"If only you had told us, I would have gladly devised a plan for all four of us to go out together. ...Wouldn't you agree, Or?"
Her voice was quiet, but perfectly clear.
Orfevre tilted her head just once in answer. Whether it was agreement or irony, I could not tell. But even that alone conveyed the certainty that the two of them understood each other without words.
"Um, no, that's not... it wasn't like..."
My throat was dry. My voice came out ragged, so unsteady I couldn't even tell what I was saying. It wasn't like that. And yet the more I tried to explain, the more it felt as though I truly had done something unforgivable.
"Fufu. Look at them, Or. Their faces have gone positively pale."
"...No doubt the cheap liquor is to blame, Elder Sister. Do not toy with them too much."
"That would only diminish the fun later," Orfevre added with what was almost a throwaway sneer.
Her gaze was sharp, piercing straight through us. The knowledge that there was no way out of this squeezed steadily around my chest.
"Ah, forgive me. ...Still, a little corrective punishment might do them good to sober them up, don't you think?"
Journey smiled sweetly.
Every movement of hers felt pointed enough to sting.
"Why are you two out here at this hour...? More importantly, how did you even know we were here...?"
That was the only question I could throw back. There was no conceivable way this was a coincidence.
"We had intended to spend the night at our family home today. We even filed the proper overnight request. And then, by pure chance, we happened to see the two of you."
Journey's voice remained calm.
"So isn't that reassuring? You must have thought, They won't be around, so it's fine, didn't you?"
"No, that's not—"
I couldn't say it wasn't true.
Somewhere inside, I had indeed thought exactly that. When I learned the sisters were going out together, I had thought, Oh, then we can go drinking again.
She had not missed that moment.
I had no words to return. No matter how I tried, my voice only jammed in my throat while something cold rose inside me.
"If you'd become such good friends, you really ought to have told us."
Journey said it quietly.
But beneath that quietness there was a freezing temperature.
"We would have liked to believe we didn't mind who you chose to drink with. ...As long as it remained within reasonable bounds."
The phrasing sounded almost playful, but something in it struck directly at the center of the truth. Yet this wasn't some illusion created by wording—it was her real thought, plain and unhidden.
"Surely you agree... Or?"
"Need I even say it? I care nothing for where you go or what you do—"
Orfevre stepped forward.
"But smiling with someone other than me in a place unknown to me. That folly, at least, I do not recall ever permitting."
Her voice never rose.
And yet there was no cold anger in it either—only the dreadful weight of something stated as obvious fact.
That, more than anything, was what made it frightening.
This was no love confession, no outburst of jealousy. Their possessiveness simply stood there in the open. Not hidden, not softened, not disguised in the slightest.
"For once, sister and sister are of one mind on this matter."
As she said it, Journey brushed a hand lightly through her hair.
The motion looked perfectly natural, yet her gaze moved as if measuring our every response down to the smallest detail.
It felt like the stillness before a hunt.
"So let us part ways here. You—come with me."
The moment she said it, Dream Journey stepped forward and took her trainer by the wrist. The grip was gentle, but it allowed no refusal. It felt like being seized by the heart through a glove. I nearly cried out, but the air was too oppressive even for that. There was nothing to do but obey.
"And you—this way."
Orfevre grabbed her trainer by the collar and tugged her in close with effortless ease. No words of protest came. No resistance took shape. The body only went rigid.
"W-where are you taking us...?"
That small question came from one of the trainers, almost too quiet to hear. It was probably meant as an act of resistance, however slight.
Orfevre only snorted.
"Merely disciplining a pet bird who chirps for anyone and everyone. Surely you did not imagine behavior of that degree would be all that came of this."
Neither of us could say yes or no. We only lowered our eyes.
"Of course, we're merely going to talk. ...At great length."
Journey smiled as she said it.
It was a gentle smile, and yet it had the force of an inescapable restraint.
And so, under the streetlights, the four of us set off in two pairs.
No one spoke.
Only the sound of footsteps echoed through the quiet night.
I—
- Let the little one take my arm and lead me into an alley.
- Am dragged along beneath the streetlights by the golden one.
A deserted alley just off the sidewalk.
The station-front noise had already faded, and the air of night lay deep and still.
Here, in a corner the streetlights could not quite reach, she came to a stop.
If I strained my ears, I could hear a car horn somewhere far away, and someone's laughter.
But none of that truly reached this place. Damp-looking shadows clung to the walls of the dim alley. It felt cut off from the flow of time itself.
Her hand still wrapped around my wrist.
Her fingers were thin, smaller than mine, and yet held astonishing strength. I could only stop walking where she led me.
"This should do, I think."
It was a quiet voice. Almost a whisper, and yet it sank all the way into my chest.
For one sudden moment, the very air around my feet felt colder.
The next instant, she shoved my shoulder.
My back hit the wall with a dry sound. Before I could bounce away, one of her hands slid to the side of my body and the other blocked my opposite side.
My path between wall and body was sealed.
A wall slam.
And yet that cheap, casual phrase felt far too shallow for what this really was. The pressure and tension in it were so raw and desperate they stole the air from my lungs.
...At the very end, some tiny corner of me even thought she looked cute.
What sat before me was the top of her head and those fluffy ears drawn to their limit.
Journey was much shorter than I was, and that placed her face right around the height of my chest. If I looked down, I could see her eyes lifted toward me behind her glasses.
At a glance it might have looked almost ridiculous—a tiny body spreading its arms to trap me.
And yet.
It was suffocatingly intimidating.
Her face was close. So close our breaths might touch. Her eyes trembled there, fixed on mine.
Was she angry? Hurt? Or both?
"May I borrow this?"
Her voice was low, but perfectly composed.
It pretended to ask permission, while in truth it was an interrogation.
Her fingers slid into my pocket and found my smartphone.
"W-wait—"
The protest came out reflexively, but my voice was pitifully thin.
Before I could properly refuse, her gaze skewered me. Then she looked at me in silent demand for the fingerprint unlock.
By then I had already lost both the will to flee and the will to make excuses.
Without a word, I touched the phone.
The screen opened. Her fingers traced through the message history.
Silence pressed down like a physical force. Time itself seemed to slow, and tension wrapped around my body so tightly it made me want to shut my eyes.
"'Let's really drink tonight.' 'Next time let's try a different place, it is our day off after all.' ...What a relief. This certainly does sound like the perfectly innocent conversation of two very good friends."
The line was edged with irony.
But there was no laughter in it.
Even through the glasses, I could tell how sharp and cold her eyes had gone. She never raised her voice. But that quiet, relentless gaze cornered me until my heart hammered.
"...There wasn't any bad intent. Really, it really was just us catching up..."
The words stumbled out like excuses. My voice shook so badly it was humiliating.
"Then why hide it?"
Her tone remained quiet.
But she was angry. Or perhaps disappointed.
"That's..."
The words stopped in my throat.
"There was at least a little thrill in it, wasn't there? Secrets are sweet, after all. I understand that feeling very well."
It struck at the center with painful precision.
The way I had let myself be swept along by the fun of it. The way I had chosen not to explain it to her. All of that was being held before me now.
And yet the misery swelling up inside me couldn't be helped, and the question slipped out:
"...But why are you this angry?"
Something in her expression flickered.
Only for an instant.
Then she regained her composure and looked directly back at me.
"A little bird's song is pleasant to hear. There's something lovely about little birds getting along with one another, and resting their wings is sometimes necessary. ...But—"
After one measured breath, her voice sank deeper.
"That is only true at a certain distance. If a bird raised by my hand starts trying to fly away on its own... then wanting to put it back inside the cage becomes difficult to resist, doesn't it?"
A shiver ran hard down my spine.
Her words were soft.
But they were not a joke. There was a distinct, cold intention in them. The kind of tenderness that came close to madness, blurring the line between possessiveness and control.
My chest tightened.
I was afraid, and yet I could not look away.
Journey wore her feelings now with not a trace of hesitation, as naturally and proudly as if they were self-evident. Then, smiling softly, she switched off my phone. Even that motion was calm—and that only made it worse.
"So next time, let us all go on a trip together. Or and I will decide the schedule. Naturally, the two of you will obediently follow along. Won't you?"
A smile.
Yet the phrasing was an order dressed in gentleness. There had never been any escape route, or room to refuse, from the start.
"Is that understood?"
Her voice was soft.
But as she waited, her eyes measured my answer with terrible exactness.
If I failed to respond, I had no idea what would happen.
With a trembling throat, I managed only a tiny, "Okay."
Perhaps satisfied by that, she reached up and touched my cheek with her palm.
It was gentle.
Warm.
Like the air inside a cage.
Safe, perhaps—but closed, and never truly free.
And yet I could not resist it.
"Then... shall we head back?"
She whispered it and slipped my powerless phone back into my hand.
Back where?
I wanted to ask.
But I had no courage left for that.
Her smile was quiet, elegant, and above all completely certain.
For one moment, I thought I could hear the sound of an invisible cage descending around me.
Bad birds should be put away where they belong.
At the entrance to a park long since swallowed by night,
I found myself in her arms.
My heartbeat thundered so hard it felt as though it were striking the backs of my eardrums.
The air was strangely thick.
The instant Orfevre's arm wrapped around my waist, what ran across my back was not cold fear but unmistakable heat.
Her soft golden hair brushed my cheek. Her fingers, as though each one had a will of its own, wound around me.
"Orfe... what are you—"
I couldn't even finish.
My throat clogged with heat, and my thoughts flickered.
Before I could say more, my vision went dark.
My lips had been sealed.
The touch was soft, and yet backed by an unshakable will.
Her lips captured mine, denied me every route of escape, and pressed in deep.
I knew I should refuse. But by the time the thought formed, it was already too late. My body had already accepted her heat.
Hot.
Hot enough to melt the back of my mind, and yet so cold it froze the depths of my chest. The instant her tongue touched mine, something like lightning tore across my spine.
I couldn't breathe.
But even that was being transformed into pleasure.
My head went hazy. Everything blurred.
"—!"
My shoulders jerked without permission.
The moment my knees almost gave out, her arms tightened and caught me against her chest.
It was a kiss meant to drown me.
Until I forgot even the breath needed to stay alive and sank toward the edge of consciousness, I was simply being ruled by her.
This was wrong.
I was a trainer, and she was still underage. There were ethics, rules, a line that absolutely had to be protected.
And yet.
And yet I—
"...A kiss... with my trainee..."
The trembling voice didn't feel like it belonged to me.
My core was hot, scorched from within. The edges of my vision bled red, and my knees shook too hard to hold me up.
Looking down at me like that, Orfevre laughed quietly in her throat.
"So what? Did you truly believe I would fit into such a category?"
There was neither joke nor irony in her voice.
Only the certainty of a sovereign who had never once imagined herself to be constrained.
"Never forget it. The day will never come when I ask your pardon."
Her whisper traced the shell of my ear.
The heat of her breath brushed my neck and made my whole body jump. My reason had long since sounded the alarm, and my feelings ignored it completely.
This time her lips fell to my forehead.
Then my cheek. My jaw. My neck.
Each place touched softly, and yet with a force that felt like an unmistakable mark of ownership.
"I am not narrow-minded. I shall therefore overlook a small amount of carelessness."
Her voice was low and sweet, and yet cold enough to raise gooseflesh.
"But if a pet bird under my eye should attempt to spread its wings and fly from the cage..."
Her lips traced my earlobe.
"Breaking those flight feathers might prove amusing."
The words drove into my heart like a stake.
Orfevre was not merely a girl. Not merely an Uma Musume.
She had been born a ruler and lived as one. What fell into her hand was not something she would let go. She might laugh on a whim, yes—but she would bare her fangs at prey.
And now, that fixation was aimed at me.
"The moment you smiled with someone else, the sentence had already been passed. Punishment, responsibility, pleasure—all of it shall be given by my own hand."
Her tone was gentle.
Almost like a confession of love.
And yet what lay in it was a cage with no escape. A dominion one could not resist.
Orfevre cupped my face in both hands and kissed me again.
This time she gave me no room even to try to refuse. Deep, deep, tangling tongues, ravaging the inside of my mouth.
Hot—no, hot was nowhere near enough.
Each crossing of our tongues shattered something deeper inside me. The world narrowed until I could no longer even remember its name.
"Nn... ah..."
A sweet sound escaped me.
I could hardly believe it was mine.
Even so she did not let me go. Her arms tightened. There was no longer a gap between our bodies. It felt as though she were staining me through to the marrow of my bones.
Even when her lips finally parted, my breathing did not come back.
I drew in air and my lungs still did not fill. Only her heat ruled my respiration.
"I'll say it once more. Carve it into your body, and into your heart."
Pressing her forehead to mine, she closed her eyes. Even the line of her lashes looked like a mass of love and madness.
"You belong to me."
The words dropped, deep and final, into my chest.
It's over, I thought.
No excuses. No escape. No forgiveness. The line I had crossed—she was embracing it gladly. And now that I was inside her arms, I knew I would never be allowed to run.
She gave me a love that felt like a curse.
And somewhere in myself, I realized with horror that it was something I had been waiting for all along.
I won't let you look at the sky.