ABSOLUTE INSANITY: A forbidden bond

Chapter 291: Hide.

Chapter 291

KATYA POV

The bathroom was already fogged by the time I stepped under the shower.

Warm water fell over my shoulders, sliding down my skin in slow, steady streams, washing away the heat of the day, the dust from the mall, the tension that had been sitting quietly in my muscles since morning.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, letting the water soak my hair completely.

For the next few minutes, I tried to focus only on the sensation — the warmth, the quiet, the steady sound that drowned everything else out.

But my mind refused to stay quiet. My first club. The word sat heavy in my chest.

I exhaled slowly, pressing my palms against the cool tile wall. The idea still felt unreal. Loud music. Crowds. Lights. People everywhere. No corners to hide in. No space to disappear into the background.

And I wouldn’t just be going. I would be there as Michael’s guest. My stomach tightened.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go. That wasn’t it. There was a small part of me — quiet but real — that was curious.

That wanted to see what it felt like. To step into a place full of energy and movement and noise. To exist somewhere that wasn’t heavy with rules and expectations and tension.

But curiosity and comfort were two very different things. I reached for the shampoo bottle, working it slowly through my hair, buying myself time inside the steam-filled quiet.

Outside the bathroom, the house had already begun settling into its evening rhythm. Doors closing. Voices fading. Footsteps growing less frequent.

Chiara had knocked on my door earlier, already half-dressed, her energy practically vibrating through the room.

"I’m going to get ready properly," she had said, pointing toward her room. "Do not do anything to your face. I repeat — nothing. I will come back and fix you."

Then she had narrowed her eyes dramatically. "And wear the dress we bought. No last-minute ’I changed my mind’ behavior."

I had nodded. Because arguing with Chiara once she entered mission mode was useless. Before leaving, she had paused at the door.

"Give me thirty minutes," she said. "Then I’ll come make you dangerous." And just like that, she was gone.

I rinsed the shampoo from my hair slowly, watching the foam disappear down the drain.

We’re going to sneak out. The thought returned, heavier this time. Because that was the part we hadn’t talked about too much.

Nonna would never allow this. A nightclub? At night? Loud music, strangers, alcohol, chaos?

The answer would be immediate. Absolute. Final.

No.

Which meant we weren’t asking. We were leaving quietly. Carefully. After dinner. After the house settled. After the lights went off.

I turned slightly under the water, letting the warmth hit the back of my neck. I reached for the conditioner, working it through the ends of my hair more slowly this time.

And then, without meaning to, my thoughts shifted somewhere else.

Romeo. I hadn’t seen him since we got back. Not once. No passing in the hallway. No quiet presence in the living room. No shadow at the edge of a doorway. No heavy, silent awareness that he was somewhere nearby.

Nothing.

At first, it had been a relief. The house had felt lighter. Easier to move through. Easier to breathe in. I hadn’t realized how much space his presence seemed to occupy until it wasn’t there.

No tension sitting quietly under conversations. No sudden awareness of his eyes on me. No carefulness.

Just... quiet. I tilted my head slightly, letting the water run over my face.

Relief.

Yes.

That was the word. And yet. My hands slowed in my hair. Because the relief hadn’t stayed simple.

It had shifted into something else. Something harder to name. Not worry. Not exactly.

Just... awareness. A strange, empty space where his presence usually was.

Like the house was missing a sound you didn’t realize you had gotten used to. I frowned slightly at the thought.

Why does that feel strange? It shouldn’t. If anything, the distance was good. Necessary. Safer.

Less complicated. Less confusing. I rinsed the conditioner out slowly, watching the last of it disappear.

Maybe he was busy. Maybe he had work. Maybe he was avoiding me and he was doing a very good job.

I shook off the last thoughts. Tonight had nothing to do with him. Tonight was about the club. About Chiara. About stepping into something new.

About Michael.

Michael was easy. Gentle. Safe to be around. There were no sharp edges with him. No heavy silences that felt loaded with things unsaid. No intensity that made me feel like I was standing too close to something dangerous.

With Michael, everything felt... normal.

And maybe that was exactly what I needed.

I turned off the shower.

The sudden quiet filled the bathroom immediately, thick and soft after the steady sound of running water. Steam still curled in the air as I reached for a towel, wrapping it around myself and stepping onto the mat.

My reflection was faint in the fogged mirror — blurred, softened, almost unfamiliar.

She stared at herself for a second longer as the fog slowly began to clear. I wiped a circle in the mirror with my palm, then turned away before I could overthink anything else.

Focus. Get dressed. Dry your hair. Survive Chiara. I changed the towel into a robe and tightened it around my body, securing the belt firmly, then wrapped the towel around my hair, twisting it neatly at the back of my head.

With everything in place, I opened the bathroom door. And walked out without looking.

I took two steps into the room, already reaching up to adjust the towel....My head raised and I froze at who I saw.

Romeo froze too.

He was halfway across the room, clearly in motion, one hand on the strap of the watch he removing, like he had just come in through the door and was heading straight toward his own room.

My brain stopped working. Because Romeo was in my room and I was standing here in nothing, nothing but a robe.

And he was looking directly at me.

His eyes dropped once but snapped back to my face. His is brows lifted slightly and that was enough for me to turn around so fast I nearly slipped, speed-walked straight back into the bathroom and slamming the door behind me.

The click echoed loudly in the quiet room. I grabbed the towel on my head, yanked it off, pressed it over my face—

And screamed into it.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my fucking God. I dragged the towel down slowly, staring at my reflection again.

My face was red. Why was he entering the room now of all times? I pressed my forehead against the door, squeezing my eyes shut.

This is fine. This is not fine.

Outside, I heard movement, the faint sound of his door opening and closing.

I exhaled, bracing myself. Slowly, cautiously, I opened the bathroom door and peeped out. He was gone. Finally.

The tension left my shoulders all at once. I took a step forward, out the bathroom and fully back to my room.

I had just reached for my wardrobe when....The door burst open. I gasped and spun around so fast I nearly tripped over the rug, already halfway turning back toward the bathroom to run and hide again.

"Don’t you dare run from me!"

I froze. Chiara stood in the doorway, one hand still on the handle, the other holding a makeup bag the size of a small suitcase.

She took one look at me — wet hair towel, double-tied robe, wide eyes — and narrowed her own.

"...Why do you look like you just survived an attack?"