Page 7 of The Secrets We Hide

Dominik

The days following my awkward confrontation with Lucas in my office were a blur of forced professionalism and simmering resentment. I threw myself into my work, the intricate logic of code offering a temporary escape from the chaotic swirl of my emotions. But even as my fingers flew across the keyboard, his face, his hesitant words, kept intruding.

His strained demeanor during the client presentation hadn’t gone unnoticed. I could feel Jason’s curious gaze on us, the unspoken questions hanging in the air. The thought of Lucas confiding in Jason, sharing his version of our shared intimacy, sparked a fresh wave of jealousy.

The silence between Lucas and me remained a heavy, suffocating presence. Every accidental brush in the hallway, every shared glance across the open-plan office, felt charged with unspoken words and unresolved tension. I found myself avoiding him, retreating further into the predictable comfort of my digital world.

But the avoidance was a flimsy shield against the constant ache of longing. I found myself watching him when he wasn’t looking, noticing the subtle nuances of his expressions, the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the rare, fleeting smiles that still had the power to make my heart clench.

The knowledge that he was meeting Molly again on Friday was a bitter pill to swallow. The casual invitation in his email, visible for a brief moment on his screen when he stepped away from his desk, felt like a deliberate act of exclusion. The possessive beast within me roared again, fueled by a potent cocktail of jealousy and hurt.

That evening, I found myself aimlessly scrolling through social media, a futile attempt to distract myself from the gnawing emptiness. A picture of Lucas and Molly at a different company’s holiday party from a few years ago surfaced in my feed, a casual snapshot of them laughing together. Had they been intimate in the past?

A sharp pang of something akin to… betrayal? It was irrational, I knew. They had a history I wasn’t a part of. But the image fueled my insecurities, reinforcing the fear that our shared intimacy at The Obsidian had been nothing more than a fleeting experiment for him.

The thought of them together on Friday, exploring a connection that should have been mine, was almost unbearable. I found myself wrestling with a desperate urge to intervene, to disrupt their burgeoning relationship, to somehow reclaim the unexpected intimacy we had shared. But the rational part of my brain cautioned against such impulsive actions. I had already laid bare my vulnerability, and the fear of further rejection kept me tethered to a reluctant silence.

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Molly

Friday arrived with a sense of anticipation. My conversation with Lucas earlier in the week had confirmed my suspicions – the dynamic between him and Dominik was far more significant than a casual encounter. His confusion, his admission of a connection, and even his surprising hint of jealousy had piqued my interest even further.

Meeting him at the bar, there was a different energy about him. He seemed less guarded, more willing to explore the messy, unpredictable terrain of his emotions. We talked for hours, delving deeper into our individual histories, our past relationships, and the unexpected turn our lives had taken after The Obsidian.

He spoke candidly about his past heartbreak, the walls he had built around his heart, and the surprising way Dominik had managed to breach those defenses, albeit unintentionally. He admitted to a level of confusion and fear, but also a undeniable pull towards the unexpected intimacy they had shared.

As the evening progressed, I found myself increasingly drawn to his vulnerability, his willingness to confront his long-buried emotions. There was a genuine connection forming between us, a shared intellectual curiosity and a mutual appreciation for honesty, even when it was uncomfortable.

But the unspoken presence of Dominik hung in the air between us. Lucas mentioned him frequently, his tone a mixture of confusion, guilt, and a hesitant form of… longing? It was clear that the night at The Obsidian had stirred something profound within him, something that couldn’t be easily dismissed.

As the evening drew to a close, Lucas reached across the table and took my hand. “Thank you, Molly,” he said, his gaze earnest. “For listening. For understanding.”

“It’s been… illuminating,” I replied, a thoughtful smile playing on my lips. “But Lucas, you need to figure out what you want. With Dominik, with me… with yourself.” He nodded slowly, his expression somber. “I know. And I will.”

As I walked home that night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was part of something far more intricate than a simple romantic pursuit. There was a powerful, undeniable connection between Lucas and Dominik, a current of unspoken desire that crackled beneath the surface of their professional relationship. And my presence in their lives had somehow amplified that current, forcing them to confront feelings they had both kept carefully hidden. The path ahead was uncertain, the emotions complex and potentially volatile. But there was a raw honesty to the situation, a willingness to explore unconventional connections that I found undeniably compelling. Whatever happened, I had a feeling the journey would be anything but boring.

Chapter 7

Lucas

The weekend stretched before me, an expanse of unscheduled time that felt both liberating and daunting. The usual flurry of work emails and social engagements was absent, leaving a void that amplified the internal wrestling match I’d been engaged in all week. Molly’s words resonated in my mind: “You need to figure out what you want.” It was a simple directive, yet the answer felt frustratingly elusive.

I found myself replaying moments with Dominik – the intensity of his gaze at The Obsidian, the unexpected vulnerability in his office, the raw hurt in his voice when he’d asked about Molly. These weren’t the interactions of two colleagues who had shared a one-night stand. There was a depth there, a connection that had taken root in the darkness and now stubbornly refused to wither in the harsh light of day.

But the idea of pursuing something romantic with Dominik still felt… foreign. My entire adult life had been shaped by the assumption of a heterosexual future. The ingrained societal norms, the lack of personal experience – it all created a wall of uncertainty and fear.

Yet, the alternative – dismissing the connection, pretending it hadn’t happened – felt equally wrong. It would be a disservice to the genuine emotion I had glimpsed in Dominik’s eyes, and a denial of the unexpected stirrings within myself.

On Saturday afternoon, I found myself staring out of my twenty-seventh-floor window, the city spread out below like a vast, indifferent landscape. My phone lay silent on the coffee table. I had a sudden, impulsive urge to reach out to Dominik, to break the suffocating silence that had enveloped us.

I picked up my phone, his contact information a familiar presence in my directory. My thumb hovered over the call button, a knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. What would I say? How could I possibly articulate the confusing jumble of emotions swirling within me?

Instead of calling, I typed a text: “Are you busy?”

The reply came almost instantly: “No.”

Another wave of anxiety washed over me. Now what? I typed another message: “Would you want to grab a drink? Tonight, just the two of us?”

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