Nele Opens The Door

He was there. Outside the door. It was barely audible, but unmistakable, a soft creaking. Wood giving way under his weight. Was he listening? Was he coming in?

My pulse quickened. I looked in the mirror at the reflection of the door. And waited.

One second. Two. Nothing.

No knocking. No movement. No sound.

And then he slowly walked away. I could hear his footsteps as he retreated, deliberately and quietly. As if he didn't want to be heard, which meant he knew. He had waited on purpose. Maybe he was imagining me standing there, naked, defenseless. Thinking. Fighting it.

And... he ran away. Coward!

My face burned as if he had slapped me. A sting of rejection. As if I wasn't interesting enough. As if I was the girl standing there with her blouse unbuttoned and no one noticed.

I stared at the closed door in the fogged-up mirror. Water dripped from the tips of my hair. My skin was red from the steam and something else.

He hadn't taken the bait.

He knew I was waiting for him—and he had left anyway.

Coward?

No. Caution. Common sense.

I bit my lip, torn between anger and excitement. If I played my cards right now, I could still gain the upper hand.

I smiled.

Time to raise the stakes!

Without thinking twice, I walked to the door. My hand reached for the doorknob. I paused. Just for a breath.

Then I opened it.

There he stood. Looking at me. Motionless. Not surprised, not shaken. More like someone facing an inevitable disaster. His jaw twitched. Was he going to say something?

If so, he didn't. Instead, he turned around. Walked away. Without a word.

I had stood in front of him. Naked. From head to toe. I had exposed myself to him.

And he had seen me.

Suddenly, I felt hot. My knees felt like jelly. I realized: I hadn't just opened a door. I had done something that could not be undone.