Day thirty-one felt like the house was holding its breath. The mist had thickened into a steady rain again, turning the porch into a damp, reflective space that mirrored the uncertainty still lingering between the three of us. Amina had texted early that morning: “Dinner tonight. Same time. I have one more thing I need to say — something I haven’t asked yet. Porch if it’s not pouring too hard.”
Elias read the message in silence, his arm tightening around me in bed. His clingy hold felt heavier today, as if he was bracing for whatever “one more thing” Amina was carrying.
He woke me with his body already pressed close, morning hardness nudging insistently against me. Without a word, he lifted my leg and pushed inside me in one deep thrust. We both groaned at the stretch. He f****d me slowl
