Day twenty-five felt heavier than the ones before it, as if the fragile rhythm we had built was finally being weighed down by reality. The sky was overcast, and a steady drizzle had returned, turning the porch into a damp, reflective space that mirrored the uncertainty hanging over the house. Amina’s last words from the previous night still echoed: “I’m not ready to call you family like that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.”
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 were shadowed with worry, but the moment I stirred, his hand slid between my thighs, fingers stroking through the slick mess he had left inside me hours earlier.
“I need you,” he murmured, voice rough. “Before toni
