Madison

A week passed.

Jadon checked the time again, even though he already knew, with a kind of quiet certainty, that he had not been standing there long enough for it to matter, and yet the act of checking it gave him something to hold onto while everything else around him moved too quickly.

6:07 PM.

The glass façade of the corporate office tower stretched upward in front of him, catching and breaking the fading evening light into muted tones, while the steady stream of people exiting through the revolving doors created a rhythm that felt almost mechanical, heels striking pavement, lanyards swinging, conversations already loosening into something softer, something removed from the sharp edges of the workday.

He leaned against the low concrete edge across the street, his phone still loosely held in his hand from the call he had made only moments ago, replaying her voice in his head.

Five minutes, she had said.

“Yeah, five minutes,” he murmured under his breath, shifting his weight slightly, his fingers tapping once against the side of his phone. His gaze stayed fixed on the entrance, unblinking, as though looking away might cause him to miss her.

“Come on, Lexi,” he muttered quietly. And then she stepped out. For a brief, fragile moment, everything in him softened in a way that felt instinctive and unguarded.

“There you are,” he said quietly to himself, straightening slightly, his shoulders loosening as his expression eased.

There was something grounding about seeing her like that, stepping out of the structured environment she had just been part of, already shedding that version of herself as her shoulders relaxed and her pace slowed. But that moment did not last. Because someone walked out beside her. At first, it barely registered, just another figure moving in sync with her.

“Probably a coworker,” he murmured absently. Then the angle shifted. The streetlight caught her face. And everything inside Jadon seized. His breath caught sharply.

“No,” he whispered, the word instinctive and quiet. His jaw locked, tension shooting through his face, his fingers curling into his palm until his nails pressed into his skin. “Not her,” he muttered, shaking his head once.

Madison.

The name landed like weight, not thought. The sound around him dulled, everything pulling back until all that remained was her. Fragments flickered.

“You said you would not walk away.”

“I said I would not stay like this.”

“Then what is this?”

“Something that is already over.”

He blinked hard. “Get it together,” he whispered. “Just stand there.” Lexi saw him first. “Hey!” Her voice pulled him back. He straightened, forcing composure into place. “Hey,” he said, steady enough. Madison followed her gaze. And when her eyes met his, she stopped.

“Jadon?”

He swallowed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Hey.” Lexi looked between them. “You guys know each other?”

Madison gave a small, uncertain laugh. “Yeah… we’re from the same hometown.”

Jadon let out a short breath through his nose. “Yeah,” he said. “Something like that.” His gaze stayed on Madison, guarded, restrained, unreadable.

Lexi caught the tension immediately. “Small world,” she said carefully.

“Too small,” Jadon replied without hesitation.

A pause stretched between them. Madison shifted slightly. “I should go. Early start tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Lexi said, though her attention stayed on Jadon.

Madison hesitated, then looked at him again.

“Take care, Jadon.”

He held her gaze.

“Yeah,” he said.

She turned and walked away, her pace just slightly quicker than before. Jadon watched her leave, his expression tightening just a fraction. “Still leaves first,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?” Lexi asked.

He blinked, pulling himself back.

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

They started walking without really deciding to. The noise of the street faded behind them, replaced by something quieter, more contained, the kind of space where things that had been held back start to surface whether you want them to or not.

Lexi glanced at him as they walked.

“That was weird,” she said.

He let out a breath. “Yeah.”

“You wanna explain it?” she asked, her tone not sharp, but direct enough.

He hesitated, looking ahead instead of at her.

“We knew each other back home,” he said.

“You already said that,” she replied. “That wasn’t just ‘knew each other.’”

He gave a small, humorless exhale. “No,” he admitted. “It wasn’t.” A few steps passed in silence. Then, quieter, he said, “We dated.”

Lexi looked at him properly now. “Okay,” she said. “That makes more sense.”

“For a while,” he added.

“How long ago?”

“Couple years.”

She nodded slowly, processing it. “And it ended badly,” she said, more like a statement than a question.

His jaw tightened slightly. “Yeah.”

Another silence settled between them, heavier now. Then he asked, almost too casually, “How long has she been working with you?” Lexi glanced ahead. “Not long. Three, maybe four months.”

He nodded once, but something in his expression shifted again, subtle but immediate. “Three to four months…” he repeated under his breath.

Lexi caught it. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

“Jadon.”

“I said it’s nothing,” he replied, sharper than he meant to, before exhaling and running a hand over the back of his neck. “ I just didn’t expect to see her. Especially not like that.”

“Clearly,” Lexi said.

He let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah.” They kept walking, the quiet stretching just a little too long. Lexi glanced at him again, softer this time—but more intent.

“What happened?” she asked. “Like… what actually went wrong?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His shoulders stiffened slightly, eyes fixed ahead.

“Nothing crazy,” he said, too quickly. “Just didn’t work out.”

She slowed a step, not fully convinced.

“That’s not how you reacted back there,” she said gently. “It felt like more than that.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose. “Lexi—”

“I’m not prying,” she added, still calm. “I’m just trying to understand why it affected you like that.”

That did it. He stopped walking. “It doesn’t matter, okay?” he snapped, the edge in his voice sudden and sharp.

The words hung there, louder than he intended. Lexi blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected that—not from him. For a second, neither of them moved. Then he looked away, running a hand through his hair, frustration already turning into regret.

“Hey… I’m sorry,” he said, quieter now. “That wasn’t— I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

She studied him, still a little surprised, but not upset—just recalibrating. “It’s fine,” she said, though her tone had shifted slightly.

He shook his head. “No. It’s not. I just…” he paused, searching for the right words. “I don’t wanna get into it right now.” A beat. “Not today.”

Lexi held his gaze for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Okay,” she said simply.

They started walking again—but this time, the silence between them felt different. Not empty.

Just… guarded.

A brief pause.

“You still want coffee?” she asked.

He hesitated, just slightly. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I do.”

Even though his voice no longer carried the same ease.

Even though something unresolved had followed him out of that moment and into this one.

They reached their building just as the sky began to dim, and the warm glow of the streetlights settled around them, softening the edges of everything. The walk up had been quiet, comfortable on the surface but still carrying the weight of what had just happened between them.

At the entrance, Lexi slowed down and reached for her keys while Jadon lingered for a moment behind her.

“Hey,” he said.

She turned back to face him.

He looked different now, not defensive like before, just tired in a way that made his apology feel more genuine.

“I’m really sorry,” he said. “For earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Lexi studied him for a moment before giving a small nod.

“I know,” she said. “You just caught me off guard.”

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “Me too, honestly.”

A faint, almost apologetic smile crossed his face.

“I’ll explain it properly at some point, just not right now.”

“That’s okay,” she replied. “You don’t owe me everything at once.”

He nodded, visibly grateful for that.

“Goodnight, Lexi.”

“Goodnight.”

She stepped inside her apartment, and the door closed softly behind her.

Jadon stood there for a second longer before turning and walking to his own door.

As Lexi closed the door, she barely had time to slip off her shoes before a voice came from the couch.

“That sounded tense.” Daisy leaned forward with a raised eyebrow.

Lexi sighed and dropped her keys on the table. “It was a bit,” she admitted.

“What happened?”

Lexi hesitated briefly, then shrugged. “He ran into someone from his past. Turns out they dated,” she said, pausing slightly. “It didn’t end well.”

Daisy’s expression sharpened with interest. “And?”

“I asked about it,” Lexi continued. “He snapped a little, then apologized and said he doesn’t want to talk about it yet.”

Daisy leaned back, thinking it through. “Huh,” she murmured. “I didn’t take him for the snapping type.”

“Me neither,” Lexi said quietly. There was a brief pause before she added, “It didn’t feel like anger though. It felt more like something he hasn’t dealt with.”

Daisy nodded slowly. “Yeah, that kind of reaction usually comes from somewhere messy."

"Either he messed up or she messed him up, and honestly neither of them looks like someone who would easily do that kind of damage.” said Lexi as she went inside her room to freshen up.

---

Next door, Jadon closed his apartment door a little harder than he meant to, and the silence that followed settled heavily around him.

He exhaled and tossed his keys onto the counter, but the uneasy feeling did not leave. If anything, it grew stronger.

He leaned against the kitchen bench and stared ahead, his mind already pulling him back to a place he had tried not to revisit.

Madison.

He had not thought about her like this in a long time, not in detail, not in a way that made everything feel so immediate again. But now it was all there, clear and sharp.

He remembered how it started, easy and effortless, the kind of connection that made everything else feel secondary, and then slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, things began to shift.

There were subtle comments about his friends, about how they did not really understand him and how they were holding him back. At the time, he brushed it off and defended them, never imagining how those small seeds would grow.

Over time, the distance formed anyway. Calls were missed more often, plans fell through, and arguments appeared that he could not quite trace back to a clear cause.

Then came the tension at home. There were small remarks from his family, things that did not quite sound like them, things that felt strangely familiar because they echoed things Madison had said before.

He clenched his jaw as the realization he had once ignored now replayed with painful clarity. She had been planting those ideas quietly and consistently, and he had not seen it soon enough.

The memory shifted again, faster this time, moving toward the moment everything broke. The night he found out. Not just that she had cheated, but that she had done it with his brother. His hand tightened into a fist at the thought.

What followed had been even worse. There were lies, carefully twisted versions of events that somehow turned him into the problem, and slowly the distance between him and his family turned into something colder and more permanent.

He had not just lost her. He had lost them too. That was the part that still sat heavy.

He pushed himself away from the counter and paced once across the room as the tight feeling from earlier crept back into his chest. No wonder he snapped. He dragged a hand down his face and let out a slow breath.

“I’m not doing this tonight,” he muttered under his breath.

He grabbed his gym bag and headed for the door, knowing that if he stayed any longer his mind would keep digging deeper into something he was still not ready to face. He pushed open the gym door to find Alina already there, mid-stretch on the mat, one leg extended, arms reaching forward with practiced ease.

“You’re late,” she said without looking up.

“Yeah,” Jadon muttered, dropping his bag.

She glanced over then, immediately catching the edge in his tone. “You okay?”

He joined her, half-heartedly going through the motions of a stretch beside her. “Ran into my ex.”

Alina paused. “That enough to mess you up like this?”

He exhaled through his nose. “Stirred up stuff. Didn’t expect it.”

She studied him for a second. “You want to talk about it?”

He shook his head, already pushing himself up. “No. I’ll deal with it.”

“How?”

He nodded toward the boxing area. “That.”

Alina gave a small, knowing smirk. “Of course.”

The rhythm of training took over quickly.

Gloves on. Feet moving. Breath steadying.

Jadon hit the bag harder than usual at first, not wild, but focused. Each strike grounding him, pulling the noise out of his head. Between rounds, he caught glimpses of Alina.

The way she moved—fluid, controlled. The strength in her stance, the way her body held power and softness at the same time. Sweat caught the light across her shoulders, her waist tapering into her hips in a way that was hard not to notice.

He looked away, then looked again.

There was something about her that cut through everything else in his head. Not just distraction… something sharper. A pull he didn’t bother trying to name.

“Eyes up,” she called, snapping him back as she feinted a jab. “They they don't box.”

He smirked faintly. “I am.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” she said, circling him slowly, a teasing edge in her voice. “You’re practically drooling.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“Mm,” she hummed, stepping in closer, just enough to test his focus. “You sure it’s not me?”

He hesitated, just a fraction. That was all she needed. A quick jab slipped through his guard, light but precise.

“Too slow,” she teased, a grin tugging at her lips. He scoffed, resetting his stance. “Cheap shot.”

“Or maybe,” she tilted her head, eyes holding his for a beat longer than necessary, “you just weren’t paying attention.”

He didn’t look away this time. “Maybe,” he said. Something unspoken passed between them—brief, but charged. Then they were moving again. And slowly, the tension in him shifted. Burned off. Replaced by something steadier.

After they finished, Alina pulled off her gloves, rolling her shoulders. “Well?” she asked, glancing at him. “Better?”

Jadon wiped his face with a towel, breathing easier now. “Yeah,” he said. “Much better.”

“Good,” she nodded. “Means you didn’t completely destroy my equipment for nothing.” He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Wasn’t the equipment I was worried about.”

“Oh?” she raised a brow, grabbing her water bottle. “Yeah,” he said, glancing at her. “Would’ve been a shame if I knocked out my only decent sparring partner.”

She smirked. “Decent?” He shrugged, a faint grin forming. “On a good day.”

She nudged his shoulder lightly as she passed him. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like yourself again.”

“That’s the goal, right?”

“Something like that.”

They stepped out into the cool air, walking side by side.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then Jadon broke it.

“The complicated stuff I told you about the other day… I’ve been seeing people.”

Alina raised a brow. “That’s not exactly shocking.”

He glanced at her. “Lexi and Daisy.”

She frowned slightly. “Okay…?”

“They’re sisters. Cousins.”

Alina stopped walking. “You’re kidding.”

“No. And they know?”

“Yeah.” He hesitated, then added, quieter, “We’ve… crossed lines. Together.”

Her expression shifted somewhere between disbelief and amusement. “That’s… a situation.”

“It’s getting worse,” he added. “They both know. And now it’s like” he exhaled, searching for the words, “they’re competing. Like it’s some kind of game.”

“And you’re stuck in the middle,” she said.

“Not just that,” he muttered. “I’m exhausted.”

She glanced at him. “Exhausted with what?”

He huffed a dry laugh. “The physical demand part of it. There’s only so much a person can handle in a day. It’s like—one shows up demanding my dick, then the other. And it just… keeps going until they're satisfied.”

Alina let out a short, incredulous breath. “That’s… a problem most people wouldn’t complain about.”

“Trust me,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “it stops being fun.”

She shook her head, a half-smile slipping through. “You really did this to yourself.”

“Yeah,” he admitted.

She started walking again. “You always find the most complicated way to live your life.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Didn’t plan this.”

“You never do,” she said dryly.

A few quiet steps passed.

Then she glanced at him, something lighter—teasing—settling in her expression.

“So,” she said, “you’re handling two.”

He exhaled. “Wouldn’t say handling.”

“Surviving, then,” she corrected. “Still counts.”

He huffed a small laugh.

Her shoulder brushed his—this time she didn’t move away.

“And honestly,” she added, casual but pointed, “if you can deal with two…”

He glanced at her, already catching the shift.

“…adding a third isn’t exactly going to break you.”

He stopped for half a second. “…You serious?” he asked.

She met his gaze, calm, almost amused. “Relax. I’m not trying to complicate your life.”

“Sounds like you are.”

She shook her head slightly. “No. Opposite.” A beat. “No expectations,” she added. “No drama. Just… if you ever feel like keeping things simple.” She let it hang there. Didn’t push it further. Didn’t need to.

He looked at her for a moment longer than necessary, something unreadable settling in his expression. “…Right,” he said finally.

She smirked faintly, like she already knew that was enough. And as for him, he would get down to business right then and there, but he didn't wish to ruin whatever they had as well as complicate things further for himself.

“Just saying, you're going through relationship drama, and so am I. We could both blow off some steam..” she added lightly, ".. together." with an intent as they kept walking.

They reached her place not long after. She stopped at the entrance, turning to him.

“You good now?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Better.”

“Good,” she nodded.

A small pause. Then she stepped back slightly, already half-turning toward the door. “Try not to overcomplicate things tonight,” she said, a hint of that earlier edge returning.

He smirked. “No promises.”

“Figures.” She gave him one last look—brief, but deliberate—then headed inside. The door closed behind her.

Jadon stood there for a moment. Then turned and started walking. At first, his mind went back to everything—Lexi, Daisy, the mess of it all. But it didn’t stay there. Not for long. Instead, it drifted back to her. The way she said it. Casual. Controlled. Like it didn’t matter. Like it could be simple.

He let out a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly. “…Third, huh,” he muttered to himself.

There was no plan.

No decision.

Just the thought.

And for some reason, it didn’t leave.

He kept walking, the city stretching out in front of him.