Chapter 5 Meeting Lena

The knock came earlier than expected.

I had just lit the last candle on the console table when it happened. A soft, deliberate knock. Like she already knew she didn't need to be loud. Like she already knew she'd be heard.

Ethan and I froze. We were standing near the kitchen, his phone still in his hand, my fingers curled around the stem of a wine glass I hadn't yet filled.

We looked at each other. His jaw tightened. I could tell he wanted to say something but didn't. There were so many things we hadn't said.

I stepped forward first.

The hallway beyond the door was dim, lit only by the industrial bulb above the elevator. And there she was. Standing with her coat still buttoned, a calmness to her posture that unnerved me. She had red lipstick on, deep like garnet, and a small beauty mark just above her lip. Her dark eyes were still, patient. Watching.

"Claire?" she asked.

I nodded. "Lena?"

She smiled, just barely. "May I come in?"

I stepped aside, and she crossed the threshold like she'd done it before. Not rushed. Not hesitant. She moved like someone who had decided long ago that she belonged anywhere she stood.

Ethan came around the corner. His mouth parted like he meant to greet her, but she beat him to it.

"You must be Ethan," she said.

He nodded and extended a hand. "Thanks for coming."

She shook it. "Of course."

There was a pause. That strange moment where reality collides with the version of it you rehearsed in your head. We'd pictured her. Talked about her. I had imagined her voice, her presence, how I would feel when she walked into our home. But now she was here. And I felt nothing I expected.

She looked around slowly. "Nice place. High ceilings. Exposed brick. It suits you."

"You don't know us," I said. The words slipped out before I could soften them.

She looked at me again, and this time, her smile reached her eyes. "I don't need to. Not yet."

I exhaled and moved to the kitchen. "Wine?"

"Yes, thank you," she said, removing her coat. Beneath it, she wore a black silk blouse and tailored pants. Nothing showy. But everything about her seemed intentional. She draped the coat over the back of the armchair like she knew she'd be staying a while.

We gathered around the island. Three wine glasses, three people. I poured slowly, the sound of the wine spilling into glass louder than I wanted it to be. Everything was too quiet. The city outside felt far away, muffled by candlelight and nerves.

Lena took the middle stool between us. She didn't sip immediately. She studied the glass, then looked up at me.

"You look nervous."

"I am."

She glanced at Ethan. "You?"

He shrugged. "I'm alert."

She grinned. "Good. That's honest."

We all drank then. The first swallow hit harder than I expected.

I sat. "So this is strange."

"It is," Lena agreed. "But it doesn't have to be bad."

"How long have you been doing this?" Ethan asked.

"This? You mean being invited?"

"Yes."

She tilted her head. "A while. On and off. Not always with couples. But when it is, I'm selective."

I licked my lips. "Why us?"

She met my eyes. "Your message. The way you described what you wanted. Most people don't know how to ask for hunger without turning it into a performance. You didn't try to sound sexy. You just sounded honest. Starved."

I shifted in my seat.

Ethan's knuckles tapped the counter. "We're not performers."

"No," Lena said. "But this still has to be something you both want."

I nodded. "We do. I mean, I asked. And he said yes."

"And what does yes mean for him?" she asked, turning to Ethan.

"It means he watches."

She waited for a beat. "And for you, Claire?"

I swallowed. "It means I stop apologizing."

Something shifted in her face. Not quite sympathy. Not amusement either. Recognition, maybe.

"That's a good place to start," she said.

Silence stretched again. Not awkward. Just weighted. The kind that makes you aware of every move, every glance. She sipped her wine and placed the glass down gently.

"Let me ask something simple," she said. "Why now?"

I opened my mouth. Closed it. "Because I couldn't ask anymore."

Ethan didn't speak. Lena looked at him again. "And why did you say yes?"

He looked at me, then back to her. "Because I didn't want her to disappear."

Lena nodded, slowly. "That's honest too."

She slid her glass aside. "I'm not here to fix anything. Or break it. I'm here because something in your message told me there was more happening beneath the surface. You didn't want a stranger. You wanted a witness who wouldn't flinch."

My hands tightened on the glass. "That's what I said."

"Yes," she said softly. "But I need to ask something of you too."

We both looked at her.

"You don't hide," she said. "You don't pretend you're okay when you're not. This doesn't work if you're lying to yourselves or each other."

I nodded. Ethan gave a quiet "okay."

Lena turned slightly on the stool, facing me now. Her knee brushed mine. Her eyes searched my face like she was memorizing it.

"You said you want to be seen. So let me look."

The breath caught in my throat. I couldn't move. She didn't touch me. Not yet. She just looked.

Ethan watched, silent. His jaw clenched once, then relaxed.

Lena finally reached out. Not for my hand, but to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. Her fingers lingered, then trailed along my jaw. My skin burned under the touch.

She leaned in, slow enough that I could stop her. I didn't.

Her lips touched mine. Soft and unhurried. Not asking. Claiming.

And I kissed her back.

The room spun slightly. My pulse raced. When she pulled back, I stared at her like she'd cracked something open.

"That's all for tonight," she said quietly.

I blinked. "What?"

Lena stood and reached for her coat. "Next time, you'll ask me to stay."

Ethan spoke for the first time in minutes. "You're just leaving?"

She slipped on the coat. "Yes. Because this isn't about teasing you. It's about readiness. And I've seen what I needed to see."

I stood. "What did you see?"

She paused at the door. "That you want this. But even he didn't sound sure."

The door clicked shut before either of us could respond.

And in the silence that followed, I realized something had shifted. Not just in me. In him too.

Because when I turned to Ethan, his face was pale and his eyes narrowed. Not with fear, but with something deeper. Something he didn't know how to say.

He didn't speak for a long time. Just poured more wine into his glass, then mine. Three glasses. One untouched.

Then he asked, without looking at me,

"What if you like her more than you like me?"