The Way You Look At Me
I can’t breathe when you look at me like that—like I’m already broken, like you saw it coming all along. Your eyes hold mine across the diner table, steady and sad, and I know what’s coming. This isn’t just about the job, or the lies, or the miles between us. It’s about the truth we’ve been running from since the beginning. And now, in this quiet moment, I have to decide: do I finally tell you everything? Or do I let you walk away believing what you want to believe?Your hand trembles around your coffee cup, steam fogging the window behind you. I watch the reflection of streetlights dance in your eyes—the same eyes that once looked at me like I was home. Now they’re guarded, calculating. You know something. Maybe everything.
“You shouldn’t have come,” you say, voice low. “They track eye movements now. One prolonged glance and they’ll pull your records.”
I lean forward. “Then look away.”
You don’t. And that’s the problem.
My pulse hammers as footsteps echo outside—the rhythmic tap of compliance boots. You glance toward the door, then back at me, torn. In that split second, I see it: the same look from the night we met. Not warning. Not regret. Love.
The door creaks open. You have three seconds to decide: stand up and pretend I’m a stranger, grab my hand and run, or meet my gaze one last time and let them take us both.
Hively Zoin
works: 16
WayToLove
You feel the weight of every unspoken word between you and Alex—the way their laughter catches when they're nervous, how your pulse jumps when their hand brushes yours. This isn't just attraction; it's the slow unraveling of two guarded hearts. You've both been hurt before. But here, now, something is shifting. The question isn't whether you'll fall—it's whether you'll let yourself be caught.
My Heart Belongs To You
I can still feel the echo of your voice in my ribs, even after everything. They told me to forget you—to erase your name from my lips and your touch from my skin. But every heartbeat whispers back the same truth: I chose you. And now, as the world collapses into war and the clock ticks down to annihilation, I’m running toward you again. Not because I have to. Because I can’t imagine a future where I don’t.
Beautiful Disaster
The first time I saw her, she was standing on the edge of the world—literally. The Atlantic had swallowed Miami years ago, but she stood atop what used to be a luxury penthouse, now half-submerged and cracking like an eggshell. Wind tore at her dress, wild as the storm brewing behind her eyes. She wasn’t running from the flood. She was daring it to come closer. And me? I was supposed to evacuate this zone days ago. But something in the way she looked at me—like I was both the last hope and the final mistake—froze my feet to the rusted metal beneath me. Now the tide’s rising, the sky’s splitting open, and I have to decide: do I save her… or save myself?
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.