What If ~ Kara

"They’ll love it."

Kara balances her phone between her cheek and shoulder, taking a bite of leftover pizza. The taste is familiar, but her mind drifts to memories of you—how you used to steal bites from her plate without asking, your laughter filling the space as if it belonged there.

“Kara?”

Chris’s voice pulls her back. Away from you. Back to where it should be.

"I’m here, sorry.” She rubs the back of her neck, the ball of tension there never fully fading. “I promise I'll keep Mom away from the wine. One more week, and you'll be married—no more worrying about her embarrassing you. Mhm, yeah. Talk soon. You too. Night."

 The second she hangs up, the weight of her emotions settles in again, heavier than before. She exhales slowly, feeling the familiar heaviness in her chest as she drops the slice of cold pizza.

“I’m happy for them.” She says to herself, moving to find a baking sheet. The next few minutes are spent remembering how to work the oven. "Too many buttons.” She grumbles, finally setting it to bake.

It does nothing to stop the thoughts spiraling in her head.

Chris is happy. You’re happy. That’s what she tells herself. Over and over. But no matter how many times she repeats it, the truth eats away at her.

You’d be happier with her.

She doesn’t realize she’s moving in a flurry, shoulders tight and her anger just building the more she thinks about it. The guilt along with it. When she sets the plate on the counter, it clatters—too forceful. A crack splinters along the edge.

 “Seriously? Get ahold of yourself.” She mutters, tossing the broken pieces into the trash.

Then comes the knock.

“Coming,” She reaches for the pants she left draped over the armchair, pulling them on as another hurried knock sounds.

“Just a second.” Fastening the button, she strides toward the door and yanks it open.

“Isaac, I swear if you came here only to tell me to cheer up—“ The words die in her throat.

Of course it’s you. Standing there in rain-drenched clothes. Your chest rising and falling in quick succession. And those eyes… Eyes that see through every fake smile she’s plastered on since the wedding date was set.

“Can I come in?”

She should turn you away. Tell you to leave. Go to your fiancé. Leave her here to rot in her thoughts.

Kara tries to shake her head and make an excuse. Instead, she nods. “…Come in,” she whispers as you walk by, the door clicking shut behind you.

” I thought you were Isaac.”

It’s a weak lie, and both of you know it. Your hands clasp together, fingers trembling as you lace them.

 Ignore it. She tells herself, begs. The look in your eyes, the one she’s noticed more than once. The one she lies and says is meant for Chris.

 Not wanting to admit how hollow you look when you’re with them, and the sight of joy, missing.

 “Does Isaac normally come by this late?”

 She doesn’t answer. She doesn’t have to. No one comes this late.

 Only you.

“Let me get you a towel. You’re dripping all over the place.” As Kara walks by you, your rain-stained touch, cold and shaking, grasps her wrist.

“I’m sorry.”

 “Don’t be, it’s just a little water.” She jerks her hand away—too forceful, because if she doesn’t, she won’t be able to walk away.

Her phone begins to ring, Chris’s familiar ringtone as if to remind her to keep herself in check.

Great timing.

 “Don’t—“ You start, but her hand is already on the button. Turning on the speaker.

“Hey Chris,” she turns to you, pointing a finger at the phone, a small smile on her face. As if to say, ‘It’s your fiancé.’

You shake your head, your eyes darting away.

“—over. They called it fucking off. Off, Kara!” Chris’ words come out in a flurry, full of anger and disbelief.

 Her mind blanks. The words should mean something. They should bring her relief, clarity—something. Instead, she just stares at you.

Chris is saying more, whispering now, their voice tight with frustration. “Just finish getting your dress tailored. This is probably some damn test. Just… if you see them—“

You’re still looking at her. As you always have. Like, you never look at Chris.

 Kara’s reply is quiet, as if it takes every ounce of energy in her to speak. “I said I’ll call you back.” She ends the call quickly, not waiting for Chris’s reply.

Then, she takes a hesitant step towards you.

“Why?” A flicker of anger bleeds into her words, into her gaze. She’s never raised her voice at you before. Never had to.

She knows it’s only there now because she’s scared. She already knows your answer.

“Why did you…” She swallows hard. “Chris is—Chris…”

Chris will hate her. Just like they hate Cam. They’ll turn their back on her the moment they realize—

That she can’t turn her back on you. She never could. But your hands are already in hers, grounding her.

“You called off your engagement?”

“I had to. Kar… Keeks.” The nickname is a slap and a reward all at once. The guilt should be drowning her. But when her hand finds your cheek, it’s not guilt that settles in her bones. It’s something else. Something far more dangerous.

“Why?” she whispers. “Chris loves you.”

 “Then tell me why Chris keeps ending up in Jade’s bed.”

You’re met with silence, a frown on her face and her lips quivering as if she is trying to find something to say. A reason… but she can’t.

“Tell me why I’m standing here with you, instead of with them.”

Kara searches your face for something—desperation, maybe hesitation. Doubt. Anything that might make this easier. But all she finds is you. Unwavering.

The oven dings, loud and shrill in the heavy silence. She doesn't move.

 For once, she doesn't rush to take care of something else and use it as an excuse to avoid what she wants. The pizza will burn like it always does. But right now, it doesn't matter.

"Chris will hate me," she says, barely above a whisper.

"And I’ll..." You see the pain in her eyes—one that won’t fade, only fester the longer you hold back. You take a slow, steady breath. "I’ll keep loving you."

Kara's lips parted slightly as if she hadn’t expected to hear those words. Like she never thought she’d be allowed to have this, to escape the guilt threatening to consume her.

"My parents—" Her voice shakes.

"Don’t own you."

 That’s all it takes. A sharp inhale, a flicker of something wild and desperate in her gaze, and then she kisses you.

 It’s slow and time-consuming. Her tongue traces your lips like she’s memorizing you. The press of your lips, the broken sigh you release. Like she knows she’s wanted this for so long, and now that she has it, she doesn’t want to rush.

 Her hands slide into your hair, gripping like she’s afraid you’ll slip away.

Kara pulls back just enough to look at you, her thumb tracing along your jaw. "And Cam?" she breathes against your lips.

"Will tease the hell out of us," you say, lips still tingling from the kiss. "The same way Isaac will."

 A small chuckle escapes her, soft and breathy, before she pulls you in again, fingers curling at the back of your neck. "Let them."

You barely have a second to think before her lips are back on yours, more certain this time, more claiming

A faint smell of something burning reaches your nose. "Uh… Kara…" you mumble between kisses. "The pizza is kind of—"

"Can wait," she murmurs, dragging her lips along your jaw. "I’m hungry for something else."

The oven beeps again—a distant sound, easily forgotten as her hand finds the small of your back. You shiver against her, your damp clothes clinging to your skin, her warmth sinking into you. You can hear the smile in her laugh before her lips find yours, moving with purpose.

Kara tastes you like a forbidden fruit—one she’s denied herself for too long.

Hers.