Day forty-seven started with the same low mist pressing against the windows of the house on Maple Lane, but the silence felt sharper today. Amina’s text had arrived at 6:50 a.m.: “Still thinking about this weekend. I’ll decide by tonight. The dorm feels too loud already. Talk later.”
Elias read it out loud while I was still tangled in his arms, his body curved tightly around mine from behind. His morning hardness was pressed hot and insistent against my a*s, but his grip felt different — tighter, almost possessive, like he was bracing for whatever answer came tonight.
“She’s deciding today,” he murmured against my neck, voice rough with sleep and something heavier. “If she comes home this weekend… everything changes again.”
He didn’t wait. He lifted my leg and pushed inside me in one sl
