Raf & Alexander
The divorce was barreling forward. Arbitration was on the table. Ethan’s lawyers were circling, and Raf could feel herself unraveling under the pressure—filings, deadlines, decisions she no longer trusted herself to make.
Everything was moving too fast. Even now, here in session, with Alexander watching her across the room, she can’t quiet the feeling that something’s off. Like she’d misplaced her trust somewhere along the way.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she says. “Every day it’s another letter from Ethan’s lawyers, another threat, another late-night call reminding me what he can take away.”
Alexander leans forward, eyes fixed on hers. “You feel cornered.”
“Cornered? It’s like I’m drowning in paperwork, in meetings, in legal fees I can’t even afford. It’s like he enjoys this. Coming for my house. My kids.”
“You feel powerless.”
“Yes.” She holds still, like waiting for something to pass. “And I hate it.”
“You’re not powerless, Raf. Ethan wants you to believe you are. That’s how men like him win. But you’ve been surviving this for a long time.”
“I don’t want to just survive. I want my life back.”
“Then take it back.”
A tense silence opens between them. Raf lifts her eyes again, slower this time. “I’ve been thinking about something. I always say ‘live with no regrets.’ But… do you think I overreacted with Shane?”
“You’re thinking of giving him another chance?”
“He’s a good guy. At least he wants to be. He’s dependable. Doesn’t play games. I even caught myself picturing him with Luca and Evie, like… some normal future. Idiotic, I know.”
Alexander lets out the faintest breath of a laugh. “You don’t see it, do you?”
“See what?”
“Shane’s a liar, Raf. A manipulator. He pits women against each other for his own entertainment. That’s how he controls you.”
“No. That’s not—”
“I wasn’t going to tell you this,” he says, like he’s already crossed a line, but keeps going anyway. “I overheard him this morning. At the gym.”
Raf’s calm slips. Not all at once. Just enough to crack the surface.
“He was laughing. Talking about how he strung you along. Said you were practically begging for his attention.”
“No. Shane wouldn’t—”
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“He said he only kept you around for the free apartment upgrade. That you’re a sycophantic, gold-digging wannabe socialite. That Wendy did him a favor by driving you off.”
Raf stares at him, her face blanking—because it sounds nothing like the man she knows, and if somehow it were true, then it meant the man she knows isn’t who she thought.
“He was laughing at you, Raf.”
“Shane wouldn’t say those things.”
“Not to you, maybe. But in confidence? To one of his ‘bros’? Shane’s a two-faced, cheating misogynist, you must see that. Why do you think he didn’t fight for you?”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You know it. Somewhere deep down, you’ve always known. You’re better off without him. You’re stronger now.”
“No, Alexander. My strength doesn’t depend on him. Or any man.”
She watches him in the quiet. It’s not that she doesn’t recognize him. It’s something else. A flicker behind his eyes. A shift in the room, like the light has changed and she’s only now seeing him clearly.
Then, he slowly rises. He steps out from behind the desk. The room seems smaller now, like the walls have drawn in with every movement.
“Alexander… what are you doing?”
He doesn’t answer. He crosses the room. Stops in front of her. Then, quietly, he kneels. His eyes meet hers. Calm. Measured. As if nothing’s changed.
“Give me your hand,” he says, without looking away, like this has already been decided.
It doesn’t sound like a demand. Just a request. But her first instinct is to pull back, to ask why, to break the strange silence building between them. He’s watching her so calmly, so gently, it almost disarms her. Still, her hand stays frozen in her lap.
Then, slowly, almost without realizing it, she gives it to him. He takes it, both palms closing around hers. Warmer than she expects. Firmer. Too firm.
“I don’t want you to hurt,” he says, his grip tightening. “All I want is to take care of you. To keep you safe.”
“Alexander…” Her voice hitches, not quite a whisper. “What is this?”
“I couldn’t be honest before,” he murmurs. “Shane was in the way. But not anymore.”
She sees it again: the flicker in his eyes. Her chest tightens.
“No.” She jerks her hand back with a gasp, then freezes, staring at him. His eyes don’t blink. Don’t move. Like he might spring forward at any second. “Alexander, I think you’re misunderstanding—”
He catches her wrist. “No. I know it. I know you feel it too.”
But this time, she yanks her hand free and pushes up from the chair. “I should go.”
“Did I scare you?” There’s a crack in his voice now. Something slippery in his smile. “It’s just… a bit of roleplay. Please, don’t go.”
She adjusts her bag, backing away from the chair, inching toward the door. “This isn’t working, Alexander.”
“Be rational, Raf,” he says, standing smoothly, like nothing just happened. “After everything we’ve worked on? You’ll regret this. It’ll backfire.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says.
“You can’t possibly think—”
“Goodbye, Dr. Beacham.”
Only when she’s outside, hurrying down the stairs, does the panic break loose.
What the fuck was that? How could he mean that? How could I have missed it this entire time?
She thinks back, trying to remember the signs, the patterns. They were everywhere. In his texts. His voice. His eyes. But she hadn’t wanted to see them. She’d been too tired. Too desperate.
It’s so obvious now. The way he tried to isolate her from Shane. The quiet judgment. The subtle power plays disguised as concern. How he made her feel small. Helpless. How he offered to help her fight back. The obsessive texts. The calls. The slow erosion of boundaries until, finally, he crossed the line.
No. She can’t think about that now. She’ll just cut him off. Pretend nothing happened.
Had it happened? Or had she overreacted? It’s already blurring. Had she misread him? Am I losing it? Or is she just searching for another exit, another excuse to run?
From his window, Alexander watches her go. Watches her flee the courtyard. Clearly he’d misread the signs. Fine. But Raf was the one who misunderstood. Because if she thinks she gets to end this? She’s only playing into his hands. Let her run. She thinks it’s over? Let her. Because chasing her?
That’s the fun part.