The next two days were torture. Isaac and I avoided being in the same room as much as possible. Elena was around more, chatting happily about wedding colors and honeymoon ideas, completely clueless. Every time she touched his arm or kissed his cheek, guilt twisted in my gut like a knife. But at night, when the house was quiet, I lay in bed remembering his mouth on mine, his hands on my waist, the hard press of him against me. I touched myself thinking about it, biting my lip to stay silent, hating how much I needed him.
On the third evening, Elena had to stay late at the office for some big meeting. She texted saying she wouldn’t be home until after midnight. Mom and Dad went out for dinner with friends. The house was empty except for me and Isaac.
I tried to stay in my room. I really di
