Day twenty-three carried a quiet steadiness that felt almost normal. The sun lingered longer, warming the porch where Amina had now sat multiple times, and the lilacs continued to bloom heavy along Maple Lane. Amina had texted in the afternoon: “Wednesday dinner confirmed. I’ll bring pasta salad and maybe some cookies. Porch afterward if it’s nice. Looking forward to it.”
Elias read the message while I was still wrapped in his arms in bed, his body curled tightly around mine, morning hardness pressed hot against my a*s. His hand was already between my thighs, fingers spreading the slick warmth he’d left inside me the night before.
“She’s confirming and saying she’s looking forward again,” he murmured, voice thick with quiet hope and immediate hunger. “Six dinners now. She’s making this a
