The Surrogate He Discarded

Kristoff rose from the bed and glanced back at Charlotte.

She lay sleeping peacefully beneath the soft glow of the bedside lamp, her features relaxed, a faint smile lingering on her lips.

Moments ago, she had looked at him with unmistakable longing. Her eyes had burned with affection, anticipation, and desire.

She went out of the bathroom in that sexy black sheer lingerie, hiding nothing of the curves and fair flesh underneath.

Everything a man should want was right in front of him.

Yet something felt missing.

A knot formed in his chest.

He had wanted to lose himself in her embrace. He wanted to kiss her relentlessly like the way he kissed Isobel. But somehow, something did not click.

He had wanted to feel the same overwhelming pull he once felt whenever Isobel was near. He had wanted to silence the questions that had haunted him for months.

But no matter how hard he tried, he could not find that feeling.

The connection.

The hunger.

The reckless urgency that made a man forget everything else.

It simply wasn’t there.

”I must be tired,” he had told Charlotte earlier.

Yes.

That had to be the reason.

The past few months had been exhausting. The responsibilities, the endless business meetings, the pressure surrounding the engagement party, Alex...

Anyone would be exhausted.

Kristoff clung to that explanation because the alternative was something he did not want to examine.

In the end, he had coaxed Charlotte to sleep content and unaware of the turmoil raging inside him.

Quietly, he left the bedroom.

The adjacent restroom was dark and silent. He washed his hands, splashed cold water on his face, and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

The man staring back looked older than he remembered.

Wearier.

For a brief moment, he barely recognized himself.

He left the restroom and crossed the room toward a small liquor cabinet. Taking a bottle of whisky, a glass, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter, he slid open the balcony door.

Cool night air greeted him.

The city stretched endlessly beneath the stars, glittering with thousands of distant lights.

A recliner sat in the corner of the balcony. Kristoff lowered himself onto it and placed an unlit cigarette between his lips.

For several minutes, he simply stared upward. The stars seemed unusually bright tonight.

He had never been a heavy smoker. Only occasionally during particularly stressful periods.

Then Isobel became pregnant. Without hesitation, he had thrown away every cigarette he owned.

Back then, the smell of smoke clinging to his clothes had suddenly seemed unacceptable.

His grip tightened around the whisky glass. He poured himself a drink and took a slow sip.

He wanted to deny it, but he could not lie to himself. He felt ashamed about the unsettling realization that even tonight, with Charlotte sleeping in his bed, it was Isobel occupying his thoughts.

...

Almost immediately, another memory surfaced.

The rules.

The ridiculous rules he had imposed on Isobel when they first started living together.

One of them had been clear. No kissing on the lips.

At the time, he had declared that privilege belonged solely to Charlotte.

The memory made him let out a bitter laugh. What a fool he had been.

On the very first month, he had broken his own rule.

And after that first kiss, the rule had ceased to exist.

Because no matter how much he denied it, no matter how many excuses he created, he had discovered something he had never experienced before.

A kiss that wasn’t simply a kiss. A touch that lingered long after it ended. A beautiful feeling that followed him everywhere.

He raised the whisky glass again.

The liquid burned his throat.

But it did nothing to quiet the memory of Isobel, especially that time he broke his rule.

The memory surfaced with startling clarity.

It had happened months ago.

That night, Kristoff had come home later than usual after an extended meeting with an important client. Several glasses of whisky had accompanied the negotiations, leaving a pleasant warmth in his veins and softening the rigid discipline he normally maintained.

The house had already fallen silent. Most of the lights were off. And Isobel was asleep.

When he entered the bedroom, he found her curled beneath the blankets, completely unaware of his arrival.

For a moment, he simply stood there.

Watching.

Moonlight spilled through the curtains, bathing the room in a silver glow. It brushed against her face, softened the contours of her features, and turned the dark strands of her hair into ribbons of silk spread across the pillow.

She looked peaceful in a simple white night gown, her long legs escaped from the covers of the quilt.

She looked like she belonged in his bed not just someone temporary.

Kristoff remembered loosening his tie as he stared at her.

Then he took a shower, hoping the cool water would clear his mind.

It didn’t.

When he returned to the bedroom, she was still sleeping. Not even a slight movement. Not even a flutter of her lashes.

He climbed onto the bed and found himself lingering beside her.

His gaze drifted over her face. The gentle curve of her cheek. The faint crease between her brows.

The lips that always seemed ready to argue with him one moment and smile at him the next.

For some reason, he couldn’t look away.

He should have gone to sleep. He should have kept his distance.

Instead, he found himself leaning closer and closer.

The scent of her shampoo filled his senses.

His heart gave an unfamiliar thud.

And suddenly, the rules he had created seemed absurd.

No kissing on the lips. No emotional attachment.

Looking back, he couldn’t even remember why he thought those rules would work.

Perhaps it was the whisky. Or perhaps it was simply Isobel’s lips looked enticing that night.

Whatever the reason, his restraint cracked.

His lips brushed hers. Just once. A fleeting touch.

But the moment it happened, something inside him shifted.

The world seemed to narrow until there was nothing except her.

The silence. The warmth between them. The realization that he didn’t want to stop.

Then Isobel stirred, her lashes fluttered and her mouth opened as a soft moan escaped.

Slowly, her eyes opened. Confusion filled them at first. Then surprise.

Because the first thing she saw was Kristoff hovering above her, far closer than he had ever allowed himself to be.

And then he lowered his lips and crashed into hers with an intensity that left her breathless.