Day thirty-two felt like the house had reached a silent breaking point. The rain had returned in full force, drumming steadily on the roof and turning the porch into a wet, shadowed space that matched the heaviness in the air. Amina had texted the night before: “Dinner tonight. Same time. I need to talk about the baby question one more time — not just if, but what it would actually mean for all of us. Porch if it’s not pouring too hard.”
Elias had barely slept. I woke to find him already watching me, his arm locked tightly around my waist, his body curled possessively against mine. His hazel eyes carried the weight of the conversations that kept getting deeper, but the moment I stirred, his hand slid between my thighs, fingers stroking through the slick remnants he had left inside me.
“I
