By 6:20 PM, the ibuprofen had dulled the sharp edges of my back pain enough for to venture out. I walked slowly, maintaining a stiff, deliberate posture, but the cool evening air felt good on my skin. Central Park was already shrouded in the golden, fading light of late afternoon, the city noise muffled by the sprawling green space.
I found a relatively quiet path near the Great Lawn, glancing around at the casual crowd—joggers finishing their runs, couples strolling arm-in-arm, and dog walkers enjoying the dusk. I was searching for her familiar silhouette.
After a mont of scanning the benches, I spotted her.
Chloe was sitting alone on a stone bench under a large elm tree. She was dressed in a pair of fitted, dark-wash jeans that hugged her hips and a soft, cream-colored sweater that seed effortlessly stylish. The simple clothes couldn’t hide the undeniable, quiet sensuality that clung to her. She was looking out across the lawn, a thoughtful, almost serene expression on her face, seemingly unaware of the eyes searching for her.
I approached her slowly, careful of my back, the gravel crunching softly under my shoes.
"Chloe," I said, my voice low as I stopped beside the bench.
She turned her head, and the serenity vanished, replaced by her usual sharp, calculating gaze.
I saw her in the flesh for the first ti outside of her picture fra, and she was even more beautiful in person. Her dark, flawless skin glowed like polished bronze in the twilight. Her curly, voluminous hair was neatly contained, framing a face dominated by large, intelligent eyes that seed to hold both deep knowledge and a hint of suppressed fire. Her full, sensuous lips were attractively glossed, drawing my attention.
She reminded instantly of the powerful, sultry beauty of Demi Sutra, but with an added layer of corporate sharpness.
"I didn’t think you would show up," she said, flashing a perfect, genuine smile that reached her eyes, taking the edge off her initial remark.
I montarily hesitated, unsure of the appropriate greeting—a hug felt too intimate given the circumstances; a handshake felt too formal for a forr lover.
She decided for , smoothly extending her hand. "It’s been a long ti since we last saw each other."
Her voice was surprisingly husky and rich, resonating with a low, seductive frequency.
I couldn’t rember when the real Druski and Chloe had last seen each other, but I took her hand, firming my grip slightly.
"Yeah, it’s been a minute," I answered, playing along with their established history.
So this was Druski’s ex-girlfriend. The woman who had him begging. I had finally t her, and I wasn’t disappointed in the slightest.
I sat down beside her, making sure to keep my back straight against the hard stone.
We sat in silence for quite a while, the muted sounds of the park—distant traffic, the rustle of leaves—filling the void. It felt like we were both waiting for the other to break through the history that hung between us.
"How have you been holding up?" she finally asked, her husky voice cutting through the quiet. She turned her body slightly toward , her attention entirely focused. "You look healthy."
"Yeah?" I said, arching a skeptical eyebrow. Given the excruciating back pain I was currently managing, ’healthy’ was a generous overstatent.
"You’ve bulked up since the last ti I saw you," she continued, her eyes lingering on my fra. "I’m starting to feel that maybe I was the problem," she finished, letting out a light, easy giggle.
"Maybe you were," I responded, maintaining the playful, yet slightly guarded, tone of their presud past relationship.
The amusent faded from her eyes. "Are you still mad at , Druski?"
"What?" I said, taken aback by the sudden shift to serious relationship drama. I had to remind myself that I was Druski now, and this was his genuine history.
"Are you still angry at for breaking things off between us?" she clarified, her gaze steady, clearly seeking closure or confirmation.
I let out a small, slightly hysterical laugh—a perfect mask for my internal scrambling.
"Are you even listening to yourself? Who wouldn’t be mad after getting dumped by a girl like you?" I couldn’t deny the truth in the statent. Regardless of the circumstances, being dropped by soone this beautiful and sharp would wound any man’s ego.
She went silent again, turning her head to watch a stately elderly woman walking a ticulously grood poodle across the grass, allowing my semi-confession to hang in the air.
She continued to watch the dog walker until the woman was out of sight, then she turned back to , her expression softening with genuine regret.
"I know it was rough, Druski, and I’m sorry," she said quietly. "But I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep dating a partner that was barely present in my life. You were always working, always pushing for that next level... I felt like I was dating a phantom."
She hesitated, then leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "And honestly, I couldn’t stay with a guy who refused to have sex with ."
I blinked. "Wait... what?"
"You heard ," she confird, giving a pointed, almost exasperated look. "You kept pushing away, saying you were ’savingyourself for marriage.’ Druski, we were adults, living together, and you were working a mysterious job I had zero clues about. I felt ridiculous. I felt unwanted. It made no sense at all."
My internal monologue screeched to a halt. The original Druski had really been a virgin.
The forr Druski had wasted a golden opportunity to smash this perfect 10, this gorgeous woman sitting right beside , because of so bizarre, self-imposed abstinence.
"Maybe the forr Druski had been gay," I thought, instantly disappointed. This was the type of girl that could make any man straight.
I stared at her, genuinely speechless, the absurdity of the situation montarily dulling my back pain.
"I... I understand," I finally managed, shaking my head slightly, trying to reconcile the Druski I inherited with the monk she was describing. "That sounds... frustrating."
I studied her. If she could allow back in, I wouldn’t fumble her like that fucking imbecile. None of the girls working for ca even close to this beauty. Not even Sasha. This was the real prize.
"I’m sorry for everything," I said, trying to infuse my voice with genuine remorse, leveraging the new information about the old Druski. "I was selfish and too focused on myself to notice that you were really that sexually starved."
She smiled faintly at the use of the word "sexually starved," acknowledging the painful truth of her past situation.
God, I wanted to marry her. The thought flashed through my mind, impulsive and powerful. She wasn’t just beautiful; she had the mind and the drive to match.
"So, what did you call here for?" she asked, smoothly pivoting back to the professional reason for our eting.
She looked at , but this ti I realized her expression had changed. The regret and softness were gone, replaced by a cold, sharp anger that made my blood run cold.
"Imagine having a boyfriend that refuses to have sex with you," she began, her voice low and steady, laced with repressed fury. "He tells you he’s ’saving himself for marriage,’ making you feel unwanted and ridiculous."
She leaned in, her eyes boring into mine, demanding my full attention. "Then, after a few months after you’ve dumped him, you find out that he’s been secretly going to the gym... and acting in porn?"
"Oh?" I said, the sound barely a whisper. "Fuck..."
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