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Debit: one broken system Credit: one story scaffolded from its ruins

Balance: unsettled.

I heard my name last night.

Not out loud. In that way you feel it. The kind that finds you between sleep and sighs.

“Elena.”

And for a second, I wanted to answer.

But I was alone. And she wasn’t calling for me anymore.

Still… She said it. She still dreams of me.

I said the wrong name.

Not loudly. Just enough that she heard it— the hush of it against her bare shoulder.

“Elena…”

And I felt her body tense. Cassandra. The woman I should be obsessed with. The one who checks every box.

But boxes don’t kiss you like you meant it. Boxes don’t argue in your kitchen about politics and then kiss you harder because of it.

Elena does.

Or did.

God. What is wrong with me?

She rolled away. Said she had an early morning.

I laid there, still aching.

Not for Cassandra. Not for comfort.

I lit a candle tonight. Didn’t mean to, it just… happened.

Same scent you loved. That one from my kitchen. The one you said made my whole place feel like foreplay.

I sat on the counter like you used to, legs swinging, glass of wine in hand.

And then it hit me—

You’d laugh at this version of me. Still trying to look cool alone in my own damn apartment.

I swore I was over you.

But I’ve got a fresh manicure, soft lips, and no one to kiss.

And all I can think is— if I texted you, would you come?

Would you?

You left that night like it was nothing. Just a favor. Just a quick visit. Just a virus cleanup.

But the apartment smelled like you for days.

Your perfume clung to my couch. Your jacket brushed my arm. Your breath hit my skin and refused to leave.

I kept replaying it.

The way you stood up. The pause before you opened the door. Like you were about to say something.

But didn’t.

Did you know I touched myself that night?

Of course you didn’t.

You always leave just before it gets real.

That’s your magic.

You said my laptop had a virus. Said you’d help me get rid of it.

You swung by, all nonchalant—jacket half-off, that crooked smirk on your face.

But let’s be honest, Elena.

You weren’t there to fix my computer.

You wanted to see me.

You wanted to touch something, didn’t you?

Anything.

The air between us was thick. One brush of your fingers on the trackpad and I forgot what we were even talking about.

You stood behind me.

Too close.

Breath hot on my neck.

And still... you didn’t pull me in.

Did I want you to?

Would I have made out with you, right there on my couch?

I guess we’ll never know.

But sometimes…

I think I saw her again.

Just a flash.

Her hair. Her laugh. Her walk. Like a glitch in my memory.

Elena.

Why the hell does she haunt me?

Cassandra’s everything I ever asked for. Powerful. Brilliant. Beautiful.

But when I close my eyes…

It’s Elena’s mouth I remember.

It’s Elena’s thighs I ache for.

It’s Elena’s voice that wrecks me.

And I hate it.

God, I hate that I still want her more than anything.

More than sleep.

More than peace.

Three women. One mission. Not to rescue—but to reveal.

They weren’t born into power. They became it. Each scar, each smirk, each stolen glance? A chapter.

One handles enemies with her fists. One with her mind. And the third? She just walks in—and reality reshapes itself.

One of them’s too poised, too graceful. The other? All smirks and secrets.

They don’t look like they belong together. Which is exactly why they do.