Day twenty-seven felt heavier than the rain that fell steadily outside. The sky was a solid gray, and the porch — once a place of tentative hope — now seemed to hold its breath along with the rest of the house. Amina had texted late the night before: “Dinner tonight. Same time. I have one more question I need to ask. 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 shadow 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 need you,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Before tonight. Before she asks whateve
