Toxic shadows

The first thing I registered was the warmth of a body pressed behind mine, an arm heavy around my waist. A steady, unfamiliar breath brushed the back of my neck.

Then the cold realization hit me. Memories flooded back.

I opened my eyes slowly. My chest tightened when I saw the familiar curve of Javi’s bicep draped across me, his fingertips just barely grazing the top of my thigh; his hard dick nestled against my ass. He lay under the covers in nothing but his boxers.

And I was completely, utterly naked.

My mouth went dry.

Fragments of last night came rushing back: Randy, the overwhelming emotions, the sting of betrayal. The conversation with Kelsey. Her storming over, pouring wine, feeding me while I spilled everything—and then her yelling at her brother over the phone so loudly I had to close the windows.

Then Javi showing up. Saying nothing. Just sitting next to me while I unraveled. I remembered the comfort of his presence, the kindness in his eyes... and then the kiss. My choice. My mistake.

He stayed. I fell asleep in his arms.

But now, sober and filled with guilt, I lifted his arm carefully and slipped out of bed, trying not to wake him. Wrapping myself in a robe, I padded to the bathroom and took a long, hot shower, letting the water wash away some of the shame clinging to my skin. I was emotionally wrecked, but at least I could face the day clean.

After dressing quietly, I slipped into the guest room and scribbled a note. I left it beside his phone on the nightstand.

“Hey—
There are clean clothes in the guest closet, deodorant and a new toothbrush in the drawer. Help yourself to a bagel and those tiny 8 oz bottles of juice in the fridge.
—Me.”

Then I left.

---

Kay opened the door, wearing a hoodie and leggings, her hair piled on top of her head, a steaming mug in hand. “Jesus, you look like hell.”

“Let me in before I change my mind.”

“We have privacy. I sent the hubby and the kiddo out—I had a feeling you’d come over.”

We settled on her couch. I curled my legs beneath me, clutching a throw pillow. She waited patiently, silent. That’s why I loved her.

I looked at her, eyes raw. “I’m going to tell you everything. No interruptions. Just… let me get it out.”

Kay nodded, bracing herself.

“Randy brought his kids over without asking. Just showed up like it was no big deal.”

Her eyes narrowed but she stayed quiet.

“And the kids—Emma and Max—they were rude. Not just kids-being-kids rude. They were snooping. Opening drawers, walking into rooms I hadn’t invited them into. They went through my nightstand, Kay.”

Kay blinked.

“The one with the condoms, lube, and the toys,” I said, voice sharp. “Yes. That one.”

She put her coffee down slowly.

“They even shuffled through my wine bottles, like little wine critics. I was mortified. I hadn’t cleaned or locked anything away because no one warned me kids were coming.”

I rubbed my temples. “Randy just assumed it was fine. Like it was no big deal to bring them into my space without warning or permission. Like I was the one who needed to explain myself for not being ‘kid ready.’ I felt so violated.”

Kay stared at me, stunned.

“I ended it,” I said quietly. “With Randy. I told him it was over. Because it is. He doesn’t respect me—my boundaries, my privacy, my home.”

I took a breath. “I called Kelsey. Told her everything.”

“She came over?” Kay whispered.

“Yeah. Walked in like she lived there, poured wine, fed me fried chicken and sugar, listened. I told her everything—the sex, the good nights, the way it felt like it could’ve been something, all of it.”

Kay didn’t move.

“I told her about the kids showing up uninvited. Her face hardened. Then she called him.”

Kay leaned forward, eyes wide.

“She tore into him. Told him he had no business putting me in that situation and tore him a new asshole. Said I deserved better. Said he should’ve known better.”

Kay let out a low whistle.

“And then,” I said, covering my face, “Javi came over.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh my God.”

“I was a mess. Kelsey had just left. I’d been crying on and off for hours. Javi said nothing at first—just sat with me. And I…” My throat tightened. “I kissed him.”

“Jesus.”

“I kissed him, Kay. I know he has a girlfriend. A serious one. Five years. But at that moment, I wasn’t thinking about her or the consequences. I was so damn tired—tired of being dismissed, disrespected. He was there. Kind. Warm.”

I couldn’t look at her. “We didn’t have sex. I’m sure of that. But I woke up in his arms. He was in boxers. I was naked. I panicked. Showered. Left a note. Got out of there.”

Kay set her coffee down quietly. “Holy hell.”

Just then, her front door opened. Her husband and kid returned with grocery bags. Kay gave me a look—my cue to leave. She values my privacy.

I hugged her tightly. She hugged me tighter. Then I slipped out and headed home.

---

By the time I got back, Javi was gone. My bedroom was cleaned. The bed made. My nightstand neat. No note.

I sighed and ordered takeout. After I ate and washed the dishes, I checked my phone.

Javi had texted: “I’m on my way over. We need to talk.”

He arrived with junk food in one hand and a six-pack of sparkling water in the other. I didn’t ask him in. He just came, like he always had.

We sat at the kitchen island, unwrapping containers, avoiding each other’s eyes.

After a few bites, he said, “I told her.”

I froze, slowly lifted my gaze. “Told her what?”

“That I was going to be here last night. Just for a bit. She didn’t like it. Never does. She’s always been jealous of you. Hates that I spend time with you, even though you and I barely talk anymore.”

I stayed quiet.

He sighed. “She’s known about us for a long time—our past. That we used to sleep together, years ago. She never got over it. Never trusted me. It’s always in the back of her mind when it comes to you.”

He swallowed hard. “When I didn’t come home last night, she knew. She always knows. I told her I stayed here because you were upset and needed a friend.”

I kept my eyes on him.

“I told her I crashed on the couch,” he added quietly.

“But you didn’t,” I said, voice low.

He looked away. “No. I didn’t. But if I said I shared your bed—even just to sleep—she’d lose her mind. If I said I wasn’t here at all? Worse. She hates when I lie, even to soften the truth. So, I told her just enough to be honest.”

I stared at him. “And the kiss? The bed?”

He was quiet, answered that he didn’t and then he left. He received a text message from her.

---

My phone rang. Unknown number. I almost ignored it but answered. The voice was sharp, cold, dripping with hatred. I didn’t recognize it at first.

Then she spoke a few words, and I knew.

“Don’t think you can just steal him from me,” Genevieve hissed. “I know he stayed with you. I know you shared a bed. I know about your history.”

I said nothing.

“I’m not mad at you,” she snarled, “I’m mad at him. But tell me—will you give him back?”

Her words were venom.

She continued, “I feel like Princess Diana begging Camilla for the return of her husband. I want my partner back. I want him to choose me.”

My voice was steady, icy. “Javi isn’t a possession that I can’t return; he’s a human being. He makes his own choices.”

A pause.

Then she spat, “I hate you for what you had with him. For still meaning something to him.”

I didn’t respond. The silence was deafening.

“You’re poison,” she sneered. “And he’s still mine.”

I ended the call and immediately blocked her number.

I texted Javi, telling him, “You need to handle this. She called me demanding that I return you to her. I’m done being caught in the middle.” I shook my head as I typed. “Javi, I’m going to block your number for a while. I need space to figure this out without you popping back in my life.”

---

That afternoon, I reached out to my therapist. I needed a lifeline—someone who could help me unpack the mess swirling inside my head without judgment.

The waiting room was quiet, the muted hum of the air conditioner and the soft ticking of the wall clock somehow grounding me as I sat on the stiff chair. The faint scent of lavender from the diffuser calmed my racing thoughts just a bit.

When he finally called me into his office, the soft light and the gentle warmth of the room welcomed me like a fragile refuge. I sank into the plush armchair across from him, the fabric soft and familiar beneath my fingertips.

The flood gates opened immediately.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” I whispered, voice cracking. “Javi’s in the middle of everything and so is Genevieve. I don’t want to be this toxic triangle. I blocked them both. I thought that would help, but…”

My throat tightened. I blinked, but tears spilled, hot and salty. My chest heaved as the ugly crying took hold—sobs shaking my body uncontrollably.

“It’s just so much,” I choked out. “I’m exhausted… and lonely. And scared I’m making the wrong choices.”

My therapist reached over, pressing a tissue gently into my hands. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Let it out. You’re safe here.”

The clock ticked on quietly as I wiped at my eyes and tried to steady my breathing.

“I’m proud of you,” he said softly after a while. “Blocking them both, standing up for your peace—that takes strength.”

I managed a shaky laugh. “It feels like running away sometimes.”

He shook her head. “No. It’s protecting your heart. You don’t owe anyone access to your emotional space—especially not people who bring pain.”

His words wrapped around me like a protective blanket.

The session was scheduled for ninety minutes, but the clock ticked past two hours as I unraveled everything, piece by piece. I left his office feeling lighter, the weight on my chest easing, my skin tingling from the release. The session was billed for ninety minutes, but the extra time was worth every second.

For the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of hope—a promise that I could protect my peace and rebuild from the ruins.