#liora

Now all that was behind me; I was curled up in Felix’s arms on the apartment sofa, my legs draped over his, his arm wrapped around my waist, my head resting against his chest. The heat was on, and the living room had that warm atmosphere that makes you want to stay put for hours.

On TV, they were showing that movie where the husband wakes up in a dog’s body. It wasn’t exactly a cult classic, but there was something strangely entertaining about it. The protagonist was trying to adjust to having four legs while his wife suspected that their dog was acting… weird.

— That would be horrible — I murmured when the dog knocked over a vase with its tail.

— You’d get used to it — Felix replied, distracted, playing with my fingers.

I looked up at him, watching him for a few seconds, his relaxed profile, the way he furrowed his brow ever so slightly when something in the movie didn’t make sense.

— If I were a shark — I asked suddenly — Would you still like me? — Felix let out a short laugh

— What?

— Answer me...

— Why would you be a shark? Aren’t you afraid of them?

— It doesn’t matter, just answer — he looked at me with that expression somewhere between confused and amused

— Yeah, I guess

— ‘I guess’? — I asked

— Yeah, I’d love you, ____ shark. You’d have your own fishbowl in the bathtub — he replied. I smiled, satisfied

— What if I were a turtle? — This time he looked at me more directly

— Are you competing with Donatello?

— Just answer

— Yeah

— Even if I were slow?

— You’re already slow sometimes — I gave him a gentle nudge in the stomach

— Felix

— Yeah, turtle, I’d like you too — I nodded thoughtfully; the movie kept playing, but my mind was already elsewhere

— What if I were… I don’t know, a cactus?

— A cactus?

— Yes

— That would be uncomfortable, you know, because of the spines...

— Answer me — I stared at him, Felix sighed dramatically

— Yes, that too

— What if I were invisible?

— Easier to hide when you break things

— Felix

— Yeah, invisible too — each answer came with less resistance, more automatic; I settled in a little closer to him

— What if it were a cloud?

— Uh-huh

— What if it were a ghost?

— Sure

— What if it were a grumpy eighty-year-old lady?

— You probably already are, in secret

— Hey! — I complained, and he laughed.

— Yeah, that too — before I could continue, something hit me on the head; it was a pillow

— Can you two stop asking existential questions and let me watch the movie? — Rhea grumbled from the other end of the couch

— They’re important — I protested

— The dog just figured out he can bark words, and you guys are talking about sharks and who knows what else — Felix laughed and pulled me closer to him, resting his chin on my head

— Hush, pretty girl — he whispered to me

— I’m not done — I tried to ask another question, but he covered my mouth with his hand

— Don't even think about it — I let out an indignant sound against his palm — Shh, we don't want to make Rhea any angrier — he whispered close to my ear

Then he removed his hand just to kiss me on the cheek, a soft, slow kiss; his other hand began to play with my hair, twirling strands between his fingers and untangling them with distracted patience.

I stayed still, not because I wanted to stop asking questions, but because that gesture... always disarms me. There’s something about the way he plays with my hair that makes me feel small in a good way, makes me feel... cared for.

— Do you know why I’m asking? — I murmured softly

— Because you’re bored? — he asked, tilting his head

— No — I shook my head

— Because you’ve watched too many weird movies? — he tried again, but I shook my head again

— No, not that either — he raised an eyebrow

— Then why? — he asked. I stared at him, and for a second I hesitated to speak.

— Because I want to know that you’d be with me no matter what — I confessed. His expression barely changed—not dramatically, just a slightly more serious look.

— ____ — he said softly. — I’d be with you even if you were unbearable.

— I already am...

— Exactly, and I still like you — he pulled me a little closer to him, and I smiled

He kissed my cheek again and kept playing with my hair while his gaze returned to the screen; the movie continued, the dog ran through the garden trying to write with its paws, Rhea sighed dramatically every time we interrupted, and I snuggled closer to Felix.

If I were a shark, if I were a turtle, if I were anything strange and absurd, as long as he kept answering “Yes” with that naturalness… I think I’d be okay.

The movie ended without us really paying attention to the ending; at some point, Rhea got up, grumbling about our inability to keep quiet, and went to her room. Felix and I stayed on the couch a little longer, talking about nothing until sleep began to weigh on my eyelids, and we ended up in his bed.

The room was dark, barely lit by the dim light coming in from the street. I was curled up against him, one leg over his, his arm wrapped around me with that absent-minded firmness he always has, even when asleep.

— Felix — I whispered, catching his attention

— Mmm

— If I were a pufferfish... — I began, but he let out a long sigh

— ____...

— What?

— Go to sleep… please

— Just answer me — I asked

— Yes, I’d love you all puffed up and poisonous too — I smiled against his chest

— What if I were allergic to you?

— That would be a logistical problem; you wouldn’t be able to kiss me

— But answer me

— Yes — he murmured, his patience worn thin — I would — I lifted my head slightly to look at him in the dim light

— What if I lost my memory?

— You’re not going to lose it

— But what if I did? — I asked seriously. He opened one eye and fell into thought.

— I’d win you over again — he said finally, and my heart skipped a beat at that.

— Really? — I asked hopefully.

— Yes, now go to sleep — he asked. I settled in more comfortably, resting my head on his chest.

— All right, get some rest...

I officially decided to sleep. His hand began to stroke my back with slow, steady movements, moving up and down gently, setting a rhythm that made me feel small and protected. He always does that when he notices I’m restless. I listened to his steady, regular heartbeat, my breathing began to match his, and I fell asleep.

I don’t know how much time passed before I woke up; the room was darker, the silence deeper, that indefinite hour of the early morning when the world seems suspended. I was thirsty. I blinked several times, still drowsy, and sat up just enough to reach for the glass of water I always leave on the nightstand, a habit I’ve had since I was a child. That’s when I noticed the light, a small white light illuminating Felix’s face. It was my phone. My phone was in his hands. I blinked again, confused.

— What are you doing? — I murmured in a voice thick with sleep. He didn’t seem startled, or even guilty. He barely looked up at me, but his expression was different, harder, more… cold

— I’m making sure no one tries to take you away from me — his tone wasn’t playful, it wasn’t tired; it was something I hadn’t heard from him before, something deeper. I stared at him for a few seconds, trying to process it. “I guess that’s normal,” I thought. Felix is my first boyfriend; I have nothing to compare it to. Maybe in relationships, people do this, make sure, check, and take care

— Ah, okay — I nodded slowly

I picked up the glass of water and took a couple of sips; the water was lukewarm, but enough to soothe my dry throat. Felix turned his gaze back to the screen. I slid my body toward him again, settling against his chest as before. His arm wrapped around me automatically, but his attention remained fixed on the phone; the light illuminated his tense jawline.

— Why is Lucien sending you hearts? — he asked suddenly. It took my mind a second to connect the question to something coherent

— Because... — I yawned — His dad checks his messages

— And?

— So he sends hearts to make it look like he’s interested — Felix was silent for a few seconds

— Interested in what? — he asked more seriously

— In me — I replied simply — But he isn’t — I felt his chest expand beneath my cheek

— And you?

— No, it’s just until he goes to France — the answer came out automatically and honestly, because there was nothing to hide; he kept scrolling through the conversations as if it were the most natural thing in the world, sometimes pausing

— What does this mean?

— It’s a joke.

— And this other thing?

— That was sarcasm — I replied calmly, without anxiety; there was nothing strange about it, nothing to worry me.

— You should give me your passwords — he said suddenly. He didn’t say it as a suggestion; he said it as if it were a logical step. I stayed silent for a second and then nodded.

— Yeah, sure — I have nothing to hide, no secrets, no hidden motives. If that makes him feel better... Why not? I rested my hand on his chest — Do you want me to give them to you now?

— Tomorrow — he replied without taking his eyes off the screen and kept checking

I snuggled closer to him, letting fatigue pull me back in. The light from the phone kept flickering against my closed eyelids, but the rhythm of his breathing became steady again. Maybe this is part of loving someone, making sure... protecting what’s yours. Felix has always been intense; I know that, but he’s also the one who tells me I’d fall in love again if I lost my memory, the one who plays with my hair until I fall asleep, the one who answers “Yes” even when I ask silly questions. I felt his hand move absently over my arm as he kept looking at his phone.

— No one is going to take you away from me — he murmured, almost to himself. It didn’t sound like a threat; it sounded like a promise, and I decided to believe that was a good thing. I closed my eyes again; the glass of water remained on the nightstand, the light from the phone continued to glow for a few more minutes, and I fell asleep on his chest, convinced that everything was fine

It’s early; the light barely filters through the curtain, soft and grayish as if the day were still deciding whether it wants to fully begin. I’m awake, but not awake enough to want to get up. I’m comfortable, too comfortable.

Felix is behind me, hugging me around the waist, his chest against my back, his warm breath on my neck, one of his legs trapping mine so I can’t escape, as if at some point I’d tried to. I have my phone in my hands, and he’s looking at it too; I swipe the screen slowly while he rests his chin on my shoulder.

— What are you looking at? — he murmurs, his voice still hoarse from sleep

— Nothing interesting... — I reply

Until a notification pops up; I’ve been tagged in a photo. I frown slightly and open it, and then I laugh. It’s from that event I went to several weeks ago, the art exhibition where I ended up running into Adam and Chloe.

In the picture, Adam is staring with an exaggeratedly frightened expression at a completely white canvas with a single red splatter in the center. I’m standing next to him holding a glass of wine that actually belonged to him and pretending that I was the one who ruined the artwork. The scene looks like an artistic crime; Adam looks traumatized, and I look guilty. It’s ridiculous.

— Look, — I say to Felix, tilting my phone slightly so he can see better; he leans in closer to me

— What is that?

— A painting that looked like a stained wall — I smile again — And him pretending to have a heart attack because I “ruined” modern art — Felix looks at the photo for a few seconds

— I didn’t know you had male friends — he says in a light tone — You should’ve told me sooner — then he laughs as if it were a joke, and I laugh too

— It’s Adam; we went to high school together

— Oh — he stares for another second — He looks so dramatic

— He was always like that

I keep swiping my finger across the screen, comments, reactions, Chloe left a crying-with-laughter emoji, Adam wrote something about “artistic vandalism,” but Felix plants a kiss on my neck, first one, then another, and another slower one, and I pretend it doesn’t affect me.

— I’m reading — I tell him

— That doesn’t stop you from listening — he replies against my skin, his lips moving down a little further, my breathing barely changes, but I keep my eyes fixed on the screen

— I need to concentrate — I murmur.

 — Mmm — I feel him smile against my neck before leaving another, more insistent kiss, and I try to ignore it, I really do, but my mind starts to wander. Between one notification and another, I remember something.

— Hey — I say suddenly

— Hm?

— A professor told me something interesting — I begin, and he pauses briefly

— What is it?

— There’s a course I could take in another city; it’s short, but it would be good for my resume — I say. The room falls silent, not awkwardly, just… silence

— In another city? — he finally asks

— Yeah, it’s not that far — he traces slow circles on my stomach with his hand

— But we’d see each other less… — his tone is soft; he doesn’t sound upset — I’m sure you don’t need it right now — he adds. I think about it for a second; maybe he’s right. It’s not urgent, just a possibility

— I don’t know — I say — I just mentioned it

— Mmm — his embrace tightens a little — I like it when you’re here

— I’d rather be here too — and I mean it; with him, everything feels simpler

Later, the day goes by with little things: a quick breakfast, Rhea complaining about something trivial, Donatello moving across the floor at his steady pace. In the afternoon, I have plans with Rhea, so I got changed and picked out a dress I like. It's not over the top, but it is pretty. The fabric falls softly to my knees, and the color stands out a little more in the natural light. When I step out of the room, Felix looks up and stares at me a second longer than usual.

— What? Do you like it? — I ask, turning slightly on my heel

— You look beautiful in it — he says, and I smile

— Thanks — his gaze drops a little

— But out there, people are bound to stare at you too much... Don’t you want something less flashy? — I blink; he doesn’t say it reproachfully, he says it softly, almost worriedly. I look at the dress; it doesn’t seem over the top to me, but maybe it does draw a little attention

— Do you think so? — I ask

— I’m just saying — he shrugs — I like it when you look like this with me... — I feel a strange warmth in my chest, as if it were something special... something only we share

— Okay — I say finally. I go back to the closet and change into something a little simpler, just as pretty, but less... noticeable. When I come back, he smiles

— You still look pretty — he says. I walk over and give him a quick kiss.

— You’re exaggerating.

— Never — I head out shortly after with Rhea, feeling light. I don’t think too much about the class, or the comment about Adam, or the dress; I just think it’s sweet that he cares, that he wants me to be okay, that he’d rather have me close by. As we walk toward the door, I hear his voice behind me — Let me know when you get there — I give him a thumbs-up without turning around

— I always do — and I do, because I like that he cares, because I like that he looks at me as if I were the only important thing in the room, and because somehow, all of that makes me feel...chosen

Sunday started out normally. I had breakfast in my apartment, got dressed at my own pace, and went out to meet Amélie. We’d planned to grab coffee after class and walk around downtown for a while. Nothing out of the ordinary, just light conversation, laughter, and that pleasant feeling of talking again about pirouettes, choreography, and demanding teachers.

— You look tired — Amélie said as she stirred her coffee

— I stayed up late — I replied

I wasn’t lying. Between movies, conversations, and hugs, time with Felix always flew by without me noticing. My phone vibrated on the table, and I looked at the screen.

Felix 💞:

I miss you :c

I smiled involuntarily and replied quickly

Me:

I’ve only been gone an hour

The conversation flowed naturally. Amélie was talking about an audition, and I was telling her about the art event and the ridiculous photo with Adam. Everything was going smoothly, but my phone vibrated again.

Felix 💞:

Where are you now?

I sent him a photo of the café while continuing my conversation, but a few minutes later it vibrated again.

Felix 💞:

With whom?

— Is everything okay? — Amélie asked when she noticed I was looking at my phone again

— Yes, it’s my boyfriend — I replied, almost amused — He cares about me... — I added, and she let out a soft laugh

— That’s nice, isn’t it? I rarely see a man who’s genuinely interested

— Yeah, I’m pretty lucky... — I murmured, a little embarrassed; having someone miss you in real time is kind of sweet

The phone vibrated several more times that afternoon, short messages, emojis, little questions; it didn’t bother me, it was just… there. When I got back to Felix and Rhea’s apartment, it was already getting dark. I opened the door, and the first thing I heard was Rhea’s voice from the living room.

— ____! — she appeared, peeking over the back of the sofa — I was thinking we should go out just the two of us sometime, or even now, a night walk, something spontaneous — she said enthusiastically

— I’d love to — I replied with a smile. Before I could put down my bag, Felix came out of the kitchen

— Are you back already? — He came over and gave me a quick kiss on the lips. — I missed you.

— It was only a few hours.

— Many hours — he nodded as if it were a serious matter; Rhea rolled her eyes dramatically.

— I was suggesting we kidnap her for a while.

— Yeah, that’s what she told me — I played along with Rhea; Felix looked at me with a half-smile.

— Can you stay tonight?

— Tonight?

— Stay with me; I don’t want to share you today — he said it in a light, almost joking tone, but his hands were already on my waist. I thought about it for a second; Rhea raised an eyebrow.

— Well… I can steal her tomorrow — she said, shrugging. I looked at Felix.

— Did you really miss me that much?

— Very much so — he replied. Finally, I sighed.

— Fine, I’ll stay — Rhea feigned indignation.

— Betrayal…

— We’ll go out tomorrow — I promised. — I hope so.

The three of us ended up on the couch watching some random movie Rhea had picked out. I was in the middle, Felix to my right, Rhea to my left with Donatello on her lap. Halfway through the movie, as if it were no big deal, Felix picked up my phone from the table. He didn’t say a word. neither did I. He already knows my passwords; I gave them to him days ago without thinking too much about it. While someone was running in slow motion on the screen, he opened my calendar.

— You have ballet on Tuesday and Wednesday — he commented as if he were reading the weather

— Yeah

— And you’re calling your grandma on Friday

— I always call her on Fridays; they’re special. — I nodded without taking my eyes off the movie. He swiped a little further

— Oh, you’re going out with that French guy on Thursday… I didn’t remember that. — His tone was neutral, almost curious

— Yes, I replied. — We have the “Date” set up — I made air quotes with my fingers.

— What time?

— At eight.

— Where?

— A restaurant downtown; I think my dad picked it — there was a brief silence.

— Do you dress up for those kinds of things? Just curious — I turned my head slightly toward him

— It’s a fancy restaurant, so yes

— Oh — that was all; I turned my gaze back to the screen. The movie continued; Rhea made a sarcastic comment about the lead actor, and I laughed. I felt Felix’s hand on my knee, tracing soft, distracted circles — Do you like getting dressed up for those dinners? — he asked after a few seconds

— I like getting dressed up in general; I’m used to it

— I know — he said with a small smile, resting his chin on my shoulder while he kept looking at my planner as if it were a shared calendar

— We could do something on Friday — he added

— Sure — I finally closed my phone and set it on the table; everything returned to normal. The movie ended; Rhea complained about the happy ending; Donatello tried unsuccessfully to get off the couch; I stayed leaning against Felix, feeling his arm wrap around me with calm firmness

— Did you have fun today? — he asked me in a low voice

— Yes

— I’m glad — he rested his forehead against my temple for a second

There were no reproaches, no strange tone, just that constant feeling that he’s always attentive. As the night wore on and we got up to go to the bedroom, I thought the day had been simple and normal: Sunday, friends, movies. While I was getting changed for bed, I heard his voice from the bed.

— Let me know if anything changes for Thursday.

— I’ll let you know — I replied. I slipped under the sheets, and he wrapped his arms around me almost immediately.

— I like it when you’re here — he murmured. I smiled in the darkness.

— I'm here — and in that moment, I saw nothing else but that

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This has already gone wrong :) I need to get back to work; I fell asleep in my chair

Fun fact: I swear Liora isn’t that naive, but since she thinks Felix isn’t that kind of person, she believes everything he says 😭

Anyway, I hope to see you all crying soon. Don’t forget to hit the heart, comment, and follow me for more updates. Thank you so much for reading. See you on Sunday

[Previous] | [Start] | [Next] <- this will be edited with the next update <3

I nodded, taking a deep breath. Before I could get myself together, we knocked on the door. A boy of about ten opened it. First he looked at Felix curiously, then he looked at me, and finally his gaze dropped to our clasped hands. I was about to greet him when, without saying a word, he turned around and shouted into the house.

— Felix brought a girl!

From inside, a well-placed curse was heard, followed by a laugh so loud that I had no doubt he was Rhea’s family. Then another voice shouted something about two hundred dollars, and Felix snorted.

— Great... they’re still up to those stupid bets.

I hadn’t even crossed the threshold and I already knew this was going to be... intense, chaotic, loud, full of inside jokes and laughter that seemed to go on forever. I took a step forward and then I saw it: a huge golden retriever was coming straight at me, tongue hanging out and radiating dangerous joy.

— Felix... — I managed to say.

I didn’t get to finish the sentence; the dog lunged at me. Felix tried to hold me back so I wouldn’t fall, but the dog’s weight and enthusiasm were too much. I ended up on the floor with the dog on top of me, sniffing me as if he’d known me my whole life. Inside, I was deeply grateful I hadn’t been wearing a skirt.

— ____! — Felix exclaimed, quickly pushing the dog away — Max, get down — he helped me up while I tried to compose myself, laughing nervously

— I’m fine — I assured her almost immediately when Susan approached with a worried expression — Really — Susan smiled and hugged me with that same warm gesture I’d seen before

— I'm so glad you came, ____

That hug broke down any remaining barriers I had. That’s how the afternoon began, with an unforgettable introduction, an overly affectionate dog, and a desperate wish for the ground to swallow me up... but also with laughter. Charlotte appeared almost immediately and hugged me tightly.

— You're finally here! Come on, I'm going to introduce you to everyone before they start asking you weird questions.

Felix stayed behind, intercepted by two guys his age who didn't waste any time starting to grill him. I heard someone say they thought he was going to grow old alone, or that he'd end up marrying his motorcycle. I followed Charlotte, greeting people, smiling, and trying to memorize names while my heart raced. It wasn’t long before Felix reappeared, this time with a man with his arm around his shoulders as if they were old friends.

— This boy — said the man, pointing at him — Made me win two hundred dollars after four years of family reunions. I always knew he’d bring a girl someday.

— Hey — protested Felix.

— Now you’re my favorite nephew-not-nephew — the man continued, ignoring him, then looked at Rhea, who was nearby holding Donatello in her arms... Donatello, who was dressed as a turkey — If you bring someone for Christmas, I win four hundred more — he told her. Susan appeared like a flash and gave him a slap on the shoulder

— Don't use my kids for betting — she scolded. The man raised his hands in surrender and walked away, only to whisper to another that they had to raise the stakes

I watched it all with a mixture of amazement and nervousness. It was too warm, too lively; I wasn’t used to that. I almost always spent those holidays alone, or surrounded by polite but distant people, cold and without raucous laughter or absurd jokes.

And there I was, right in the middle of it all, with a tightness in my chest... but not with sadness, with something very close to feeling at home. If I learned anything that day, it was that in that family, no one asked half-hearted questions; they weren’t intrusive, not exactly, but they were direct, spoken with open smiles and a genuine curiosity that made me feel as if I were taking some kind of test... a kind one, but a test nonetheless.

We were in the living room, some sitting, others standing with plates in their hands and conversations floating through the air. I was next to Felix, his arm brushing against mine, and though I tried to look relaxed, I felt that slight nervousness that settles in your chest when you know you’re being watched.

— How old are you, sweetie? — asked a woman I didn’t know, in a soft tone and with a curious smile.

— I’ll be turning twenty in a few months — I replied without hesitation.

— And how long have you been dating Felix? — Before he could say anything, I spoke up.

— Uh…one year.

I felt her glance at me out of the corner of my eye, as if she were mentally confirming that I’d said the same thing he would have said. Felix didn’t smile, but he didn’t deny anything either, which, coming from him, was saying quite a lot.

— Are you from here or from another state? — another woman asked, settling more comfortably into the armchair

— I’m from California, but I moved to this state when I was fourteen — I replied. There was a general murmur, followed by a cousin who was quick to joke

— Look at that, Felix snagged a Californian.

— She’s nicer than the other girl — added another, giving his brother a knowing look. — Do you remember the Texan? Though I think she was just passing through on Flag Day. — Felix rolled his eyes immediately and glanced at me sideways, shaking his head.

— Don't start, we never went out — he corrected, uncomfortable. I just smiled, not quite sure what to say. I didn't feel jealous or truly uncomfortable, just that strange sensation of stepping into a story that wasn't mine, but one that had already ended. An uncle sighed dreamily, resting his elbow on the armrest of the chair

— California... the beaches there are beautiful. Do you have a favorite? — The question caught me a little off guard; I felt my shoulders tense almost immediately

— No... — I admitted, a little nervously — Actually... I’m afraid of the ocean

There was a brief, automatic, and inevitable silence. My body reacted before my mind, bracing for mockery, for an awkward laugh, or some comment like “That’s ridiculous” or “You’ll get over it with time”, comments I knew all too well. My father’s voice flashed through my memory, downplaying it, minimizing its importance, and making me feel like I was overreacting, but none of that came. My uncle simply nodded as if what I’d just said made perfect sense.

— It makes sense; everyone is afraid of different things — he said, then turned to Felix with a crooked smile — Like him when we go to Iowa for New Year’s — I felt the shift in the air even before I looked at Felix; he tensed up immediately

— That’s not true — he said curtly

— Oh, really? — his uncle continued — Then why don’t you want to leave Grandpa’s house when we’re near the cornfield? — I blinked in surprise and slowly turned my head toward Felix

— Are you afraid of corn? — I asked, genuinely confused

— It’s not fear — he growled — It’s… something else

— It's fear — someone corrected from behind; laughter soon followed; Felix clenched his jaw, clearly hating every second of that public exposure

— I didn't know that — I said quietly, more to myself than to him

— Because it's not important — he replied without looking at me; the same uncle from before, the one who makes bets, appeared as if he'd been waiting for his moment

— I'll give you twenty dollars if you can get him to leave the house this New Year's to help us with the fireworks — he assured me. Before I could react, another one chimed in.

— I'll give you forty if you can get him to sing “Auld Lang Syne” with the kids — I stared at them, and then at Felix, who looked like he was about to explode.

— No way, not even for a hundred dollars

I couldn’t help but laugh, not a nervous laugh, but a sincere one, the kind that just comes out on its own. The proposals started piling up: dancing, wearing a ridiculous hat, telling an embarrassing story. It was absurd… but also heartwarming.

Because deep down it meant something; it meant they were including me, that they saw me as someone who would be there again on other occasions, in other years, that I wasn’t just "the girl who Felix invited", but someone they could joke with, make bets with, and invite to be part of the chaos. Felix, of course, didn’t see the bets that way.

— See? — he complained — They just want me to make a fool of myself

— Because we like to torment you — Rhea replied from the kitchen without even peeking out — Learn to live with it — I looked at him again, this time with a gentle smile

— I’m not promising anything — I said quietly — But… forty dollars is forty dollars — he shot me a withering look.

— Don’t even think about it… you don’t need forty dollars anyway — I laughed again, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t afraid to stay; I actually wanted to come back

Dinner arrived almost before I realized it; somewhere between laughter and overlapping conversations, someone turned up the volume on the TV a little higher, where the football game continued to play as a constant, almost comforting background noise. The living room and dining room seemed to have merged into a single space filled with voices, dishes, footsteps, and comments shouted at the screen.

In the center of the table there were... too many turkeys, three to be exact, golden, shiny, and intimidating; for a second I thought that if one came to life and ran off, no one would be surprised.

Rhea would occasionally glance over at Donatello; the turtle was on the floor, moving with determined slowness behind Thor, who seemed not to notice. . . or to be pretending not to notice that he was being chased. Donatello moved as if he were protecting his territory, convinced that this enormous dog was a direct threat to his reptilian dignity.

— Look at him — someone said — He thinks he’s a security guard.

— Or an undercover turkey — replied another, provoking laughter

Before we started eating, everyone fell silent to give thanks for the food. I was surprised by how natural that moment felt, how simple; it wasn’t long or solemn, just honest. I closed my eyes for a second, took a deep breath, and for the first time in a long time, I felt… good, really good.

Dinner passed amid jokes, family anecdotes that I listened to as if they were someone else’s stories but still welcoming, loud laughter, constant interruptions, and comments about the game. Felix was beside me, and every so often he would take my hand under the table as if he needed to remind me… or to remind himself that I was there. At other times, he would lean in slightly to whisper something in my ear, sarcastic comments, absurd observations, or simple “Are you okay?” that made me nod with a smile; I was more than okay.

When dinner was over, I stood up almost on reflex to help with the dishes. I took a few, but didn’t get very far before several voices stopped me.

— No, no, no — Susan stopped me — You rest

— Yeah, they gave you a hell of an interrogation today — someone else added with a kind smile — Come on, go sit down

I tried to protest, but it was useless; they practically kicked me out of the kitchen with kind smiles and gentle hands pushing me back into the living room.

I went back to Felix, who was sitting on the armrest of the sofa; the sofa, of course, was full of Rhea’s relatives, all talking at once. As soon as he saw me, Felix smiled that crooked smile of his that always disarms me, and without saying a word, he gently pulled me by the waist, sitting me on his lap.

— Felix — I murmured, though I made no real attempt to move

— Relax — he whispered — No one’s complaining

And he was right; no one seemed to be paying us any attention. I settled in a little better, carefully shifting my weight, and felt his arm wrap around me naturally. When no one was looking, he tilted his head and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. I felt the heat rise to my face and smiled, unable to help myself.

The night went on like that, wrapped in a warmth I didn’t know I needed so much, laughter, random comments, the sound of the game, Thor darting back and forth, Donatello following him with infinite persistence, everything seemed to fit.

When it was finally time to leave, I started saying my goodbyes, hugs, smiles, comments of “Come back soon” that took me by surprise. Just as we were near the door, one of the guys looked at Felix with a knowing smile.

— Hey, is ____ coming next Thanksgiving? — I felt my stomach flip a little; Felix glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, just for a second, and then nodded with absolute certainty

— Yes — he replied — We’ll be coming for Christmas, too — The reaction was immediate: applause, whistles, exaggerated laughter. It was as if Felix had just declared independence or saved the Earth from a giant meteorite

— Hallelujah! — someone shouted

— A miracle! — added another

Felix rolled his eyes, clearly regretting having spoken out loud, and without saying another word, he took my hand to lead me out of the house before the celebration got even more out of hand. Outside, the cold air hit my face. We walked a few steps in silence; I couldn’t stop smiling. My cheeks felt tired, but I didn’t care.

— Your mouth is going to hurt later — Felix remarked, amused.

— I don’t think so — I replied, still smiling.

— Well, then… you could use it for something else — he said with a sly smile, clearly implying something. I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at him in disbelief.

— Really? — I gave him a gentle tap on the chest — You can’t say that right out in the open

That didn’t stop him. Felix cupped my face with both hands and kissed me. It was a firm, confident, one of those kisses that anchors you to the ground. When we pulled apart, he looked me straight in the eyes.

— I like you — he confessed. I felt something tighten in my chest, but it was a nice kind of tightness.

— I like you too — I replied, smiling.

Felix looked around to make sure the door was locked, and without warning, he playfully smacked my butt before running off toward the motorcycle.

— Felix! — I complained, laughing as I followed him. He carefully put the helmet on me, adjusting it as if it were something sacred.

— You’re already so pretty and safe — he said before kissing me again. — I like that lipstick — I replied to the kiss, and when we pulled apart, he leaned close to my ear. — Hop on quick, I want to get to the apartment — he whispered. I laughed, climbed on behind him, and clung to his waist as the motorcycle started up, carrying me with him, still smiling, into the night

The living room of my apartment was quiet and lit only by the warm evening light filtering through the curtains. I could still feel the energy from the afternoon at Mrs. Susan’s house, with the laughter, the bets, and the warmth of that whole family. It was a huge contrast to the calm of this place, and I felt relieved to finally be able to sit down and let it all sink in.

Felix emerged from the shower a few minutes later, his hair still damp and wrapped in a lilac towel; the pajamas he’d chosen for the night gave him an air that was both carefree and charming at the same time. I couldn’t help but smile; seeing him like that, so relaxed and so natural, made me feel warm inside, as if nothing could come between this moment and me.

— Hi — I murmured as he walked toward me

— Hi — he replied in that deep, playful voice that always made me blush — You smell good today — he said as he drew closer, burying his nose in my neck

I let him hold me, smiling wordlessly, enjoying the warmth he radiated. His body was firm and confident against mine, and I could feel the beat of his heart even through the softness of his chest pressed against mine. It was a perfect contrast between his strength and the tranquility he offered me.

— Did you have fun today? — he asked, pulling his head back slightly to look at me. His eyes sparkled with curiosity and that mischievous twinkle he always had when he wanted to coax an answer out of me

— Yeah — I replied, letting my smile spread — I liked everything... even the silly bets they made. — Felix laughed, but with a hint of complaint, as if he were remembering all the tension and chaos those bets had caused.

— Idiots — he muttered with a crooked smile — I don’t know how I put up with them.

— Let’s go to bed — I whispered, leaning in a little toward him.

— Wow! I have a naughty girlfriend — he said with that mix of teasing and amusement that always made me laugh.

— Silly — I replied softly, laughing.

We got up together and walked toward my room; his hands were intertwined with mine, and every step made me feel safe and protected. Every time he touched me, no matter how slight, I felt a warmth spread through my chest, reminding me how lucky I was to have him.

Felix was the first to lie down, opening his arms to invite me in. I let myself fall into his arms without hesitation, hugging him tightly as he buried his nose in my neck again and let out a sigh.

— I like you — he whispered, his voice barely audible but firm.

— I like you too — I replied, pulling him a little closer to me.

Our lips met in a gentle kiss, full of affection and intimacy. It was slow and delicate, a silent reminder of everything we shared and what it meant to me to be by his side. When we pulled apart slightly, he continued to hold me, gently brushing my hair as his chest rose and fell with each breath.

I moved closer to him, letting myself hear his heartbeat. It was strange and comforting at the same time, feeling how his heart beat to its own rhythm, so real and close, and how everything in me synchronized with it. I closed my eyes and let the warmth of his body envelop me, leaving behind any worries or noise from the outside world.

— Today was... — I began, but stopped when I saw Felix’s smile, the one that spoke louder than a thousand words.

— Yeah, I know — he replied, gently stroking my back. — It was a good day, right?

I nodded, resting my head on his chest. I felt like I could stay like this for hours, listening to his whispers and his breathing, feeling the security he offered me every time he held me.

— Thank you for bringing me here today — I whispered — for everything.

— You don’t have to thank me — he murmured — I like seeing you happy.

His voice was warm, and the sincerity in it made me smile as I let myself be carried away by the comfort of his embrace. I could feel his hands playing with my hair, gently untangling it while he whispered things in my ear that only I could hear.

I let myself drift off to sleep there in his arms, feeling as though this moment was our little sanctuary. The warmth of his body, his scent, the softness of his hands, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat set the perfect pace for my rest, causing me to close my eyes with a smile as my thoughts slowly faded away. All that remained was the present moment; all that remained was Felix and me, and the tranquility that enveloped us.

The world could wait, but here in his arms everything was fine, and as I drifted off to sleep listening to his heartbeat, I felt that I was exactly where I was meant to be, safe, happy, and loved.

----------------------

Heyyy, I’m back, maybe it’s better this way, this way I can make the chapters longer :)

Fun fact: Now Liora is definitely going to want to kill me, the happy moments are over [First year mwah mwah, second year F, and third year...] Anyway, I hope you loved it because you’re going to cry soon [But obviously we’ll start little by little], don’t forget to click the heart, comment with tears emojis, and follow me for more updates. Thank you so much for reading, see you on Wednesday 🎉✨

[Previous] | [Start] | [Next] <- this will be edited with the next update <3

We passed a small lake; it wasn’t much, but it was full of ducks swimming without a care in the world, as if their only responsibility in life were to float and quack from time to time. ____ stopped almost abruptly, letting go of my hand only to bring it to her chest as if the gesture had come naturally.

— Look — she said with genuine tenderness

I looked at her before I looked at the ducks; I always did that. Her expression was soft and open, as if the world hadn’t worn her out yet. She crouched down a little, not caring about her heels, and stayed there watching as the ducks gathered together, bumping into each other and rearranging themselves, something small and simple, but still enough to capture her full attention.

— They're adorable — she added

— Aha — I replied, but I wasn't talking about them

I smiled without realizing it; I liked seeing her like that, fascinated by small things. It reminded me that not everything had to be loud or intense to be important, that sometimes it was enough just to stop. We kept walking after a while; the sun was beginning to set, tinging everything with a warmer color, and I thought that walking with ____ felt dangerously close to peace, and that was strange for me; I wasn’t used to feeling like nothing urgent was chasing me.

— Hey — she said suddenly, turning her head slightly toward me — What if we go to the ice rink again? — she suggested. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, and it took my brain half a second to process the suggestion... and then it triggered all the traumatic memories

— No — I replied without thinking. She blinked in surprise and then let out a laugh that hit me right in the chest

— Was it that bad? — she asked, amused. “Yes,” too bad; my dignity was still in rehab

— I fell more times than I’m willing to admit, and that was with you there trying to help me

— That made it worse for you, didn’t it? — she insisted with that mischievous smile I knew all too well. I shook my head seriously.

— Never again. My knees and my pride signed an agreement.

She laughed again and, without warning, leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. I felt the heat rush up suddenly, as if that tiny gesture had been enough to reboot my entire system.

— Okay, but someday I’ll make you come back — she said.

— That sounds like a threat — I murmured.

— It is — she replied calmly.

We kept walking, and I realized I was smiling like an idiot, but I didn’t care. ____ had that ability to make even my refusals feel like part of the game, not like an awkward boundary; with her, saying “No” didn’t break anything.

I thought about the money I’d saved, about how simple the plan was, about how unspectacular it must have looked from the outside, and yet there she was, delighted, walking with me and kissing my cheek as if that were enough. Maybe it was... maybe it was always enough. I squeezed her hand a little tighter and she didn’t say anything, she just intertwined her fingers more tightly as if she were answering me without words, and in that moment, with the lake behind us, the ducks still floating, and the ice far away, I knew I didn’t need grand gestures.

With ____, even the falls felt a little less painful, and for someone like me, that was already a huge deal. I should have known that agreeing to step onto the rink was a bad idea from the moment I felt the cold seep through the soles of my skates. It wasn’t just any cold; it was a treacherous kind, the sort that promises fun and then strips you of all dignity in front of strangers, ____, on the other hand, seemed to float, literally; she moved with a confidence that was almost offensive to me, as if the ice recognized her and decided to behave itself only for her.

— Don't let go — she said, turning just enough to look at me — Trust me

Trusting ____ wasn't the problem; the problem was the ice, my feet, and the law of gravity, which clearly had something personal against me. I took a step, then another; my arms moved ridiculously, searching for balance in the air as if that would help in any way, ____ held my hand firmly, but I knew that if I fell, I would fall like a sack of potatoes, without grace, and without dignity.

— You look good — she said very seriously.

— You’re lying — I muttered under my breath.

I didn’t get to finish the sentence when my right skate decided to go rogue, everything happened fast, a slip, an undignified sound escaping my throat, and then the impact against the ice; the only thing that saved me from falling completely on my own was that in my desperate attempt to grab onto something, I ended up taking ____ with me.

— Felix! — she exclaimed, somewhere between surprised and amused, before falling down next to me.

We were both on the floor staring at the rink's roof, me with my pride wounded and her...laughing, not a small laugh, no, a clear, free laugh, the kind that makes several people around us turn to look.

— This is officially humiliating — I muttered.

— It’s adorable — she corrected, turning her head to look at me — Though I admit your technique is questionable.

— Technique? — I snorted — I’m just trying to survive — ____ sat up nimbly, resting one hand on the ice and then offering me the other.

— Come on, I’ll help you — I agreed, though getting up was almost as difficult as falling; once on my feet, I clung to her as if my life depended on it... which it probably did

— You know? — she remarked as we moved forward slowly — If I hadn’t gone into ballet, I think I would have done figure skating — I glanced at her suspiciously

— You already said that months ago

— Really? — she asked, surprised — I forgot...

— Aha, I remember because you were so convinced you would’ve been amazing.

— I would’ve been — she said without a trace of doubt — But I still like that you listen to me, even if I repeat things.

— Listening to you isn’t the problem; the problem is that while you’re talking, I’m struggling not to break something — I remarked. She laughed, slowing down a bit to match my pace.

— Well, Mr. Boyfriend — she added suddenly — if you survive this, I expect flowers afterward — she said with a mischievous smile. I looked at her in disbelief.

— Flowers?

— Yes — she nodded, — I deserve them for bringing you here.

— That’s emotional blackmail.

— And it works — she replied, smiling.

I couldn’t help but laugh, but just then, as if the universe wanted to remind me who was in charge, I lost my balance again. This time it was worse. Not only did I fall, but I dragged her down with me… again. Round two of public humiliation.

— It’s okay — I said from the floor — I need to ask you something — She leaned in a little, still laughing.

— Tell me, Felixie — I ignored the nickname, though I couldn’t fake a smile

— Is this some kind of advanced flirting? Because if it is, I have to admit it’s pretty aggressive — ____ raised an eyebrow and then, without warning, leaned in to give me a quick kiss, just a warm brush of her lips that contrasted brutally with the cold of the ice

— Maybe — she whispered. That was all, that and a smile that left me completely disarmed

She got up first and, with infinite patience, helped me to my feet again. This time I didn’t protest; I just followed her, focusing on not falling again. We managed to take one more slow, clumsy, but complete lap, and for me, that was already a victory. When we finally left the rink, I collapsed onto a bench with an exaggerated sigh.

— Never again — I announced — My body isn’t built for this — ____ sat down next to me, smoothing her hair

— Liar, you’d do it again if I asked you to — she accused me, and I looked at how she was slightly flushed from the cold and the way her eyes sparkled after laughing so much

— Probably, and that’s what’s worrying — I replied. ____ leaned against my shoulder a little, satisfied.

— So… the flowers? — she whispered, looking away and tilting her head. I sighed in defeat.

The walk back to the apartment was peaceful, filled with that kind of comfortable silence that doesn’t feel heavy, ____ walked beside me with the bouquet of flowers pressed against her chest as if it were a newly discovered treasure; every so often she would look down to adjust the stems or straighten a petal that had bent in the wind, and she would smiling, not a big or exaggerated smile, but a small, almost secret one, the kind that appears when someone is genuinely happy and doesn’t need to announce it.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, pretending to pay attention to the road, but in reality I was thinking that there were few things I liked more than seeing her like that, happy over something simple, over flowers, over a date that was nothing spectacular, but that felt right. When we walked into the apartment, the sound of the TV greeted us immediately. Rhea was sprawled on the couch with Donatello settled on her lap as if he were a particularly slow cat; she had an open bag of snacks and an expression that was far too amused for my taste.

— Look at him, Donatello — she said as soon as she saw us. — The great ice champion has returned.

— Don't start — I said, rolling my eyes

— How can I not start? — she continued — You look like someone who got into a fight with the floor...and lost — ____ let out a soft chuckle, but immediately defended me

— It wasn’t that bad, and besides, he was very brave — she clarified. “Brave,” ha, I almost choked on my breath…

— Thanks — I whispered, then looked at Rhea and pointed at ____ — See? Moral support

Rhea raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, while Donatello poked his head out with that eternal expression that seemed to say he’d seen worse. ____ looked at the bouquet again as if she’d just remembered she had it.

— I think I’m going to take a shower; I want to go to sleep

— Good idea — I replied quickly, too quickly; she gave me a suspicious sideways glance

— Felix

— What? — I asked, following her a couple of steps as she headed toward the hallway — I’m just saying... I could join you — I lowered my voice, moving a little closer than necessary — I can be... useful. — ____ stopped and looked at me amusedly, that look that always disarmed me because it mixed mischief with tenderness, as if she knew exactly what I was thinking and still found it funny.

— You can be sexy, but the answer is still no — she said calmly, making me freeze.

— Did you say...?

— No — she repeated — I said no

But it was too late; my brain had gotten stuck on the important part: “Sexy.” She kept walking as if nothing had happened while I stood there smiling like an idiot in the middle of the hallway. Before entering the bathroom, she turned around, placed the small bouquet of flowers on my chest, and shut the door right in my face.

— Hey, that was cruel — I protested, but the door was already shut. I looked down, still holding the flowers, and there was Donatello on the floor staring at me. I swear, if that turtle could talk, he’d be judging me mercilessly. — What? She called me sexy — Donatello didn’t move, not even a blink, nothing, pure judgment. I went back to the couch and plopped down next to Rhea, still wearing a smile I couldn’t wipe off — ____ called me sexy — I announced

— So? — she replied without even looking at me — What the fuck do I care?

— You’re just jealous.

— I’m realistic — she corrected — Now move, I need my personal space.

I settled in more comfortably, carefully placing the flowers on the table. The TV was still playing in the background, but I could barely hear it; my mind was still in the hallway, on that word ____ had let slip so naturally, “Sexy.” It wasn’t something people said to me often—not like that, not her. The sound of the shower began to drift in from the distance, and for some reason, that made me smile even more. I felt ridiculously good, tired and a little sore from the ice, but good.

— You look stupid — Rhea commented without taking her eyes off the screen

— I’m happy — I replied

— That’s worse.... — I laughed. Donatello was still standing there motionless, as if he were part of the furniture. I took one of the flowers from the bouquet and placed it in front of him

— For you, for witnessing my victory — the turtle didn’t react… what an ungrateful creature

A few minutes later, ____ came out of the bathroom with wet hair and comfortable clothes; she looked relaxed, as if the cold from the ice no longer existed. She looked at me for a second and smiled

— Everything okay? — she asked

— Perfect — I replied, and I meant it, because there we were, in the apartment with flowers on the table, a turtle judging me, Rhea being unbearable as always... and ____ walking toward me as if that were her natural place. Maybe I fell on the ice, maybe I made a fool of myself, but at the end of the day, she had taken my hand, kissed me, and called me sexy. I think I won.

I was still sitting on the couch, leaning back casually with my legs spread so that ____ could settle between them; I had a towel draped over my shoulders and my hair was still damp, and I was holding the hair dryer as if it were a sacred tool. I wasn’t particularly good at that sort of thing, but I liked doing it, I liked the way she trusted me enough to stay still and relaxed, letting my fingers weave through her locks while the warm air did its work.

— Don't hold it so close, you're going to burn me — she murmured

— Trust me — I replied — I'm practically a professional

____ She let out a soft laugh, the kind that makes no sound but can be felt. I lowered the dryer a little and took the opportunity to run my fingers through her hair, parting it carefully. It was soft, it always was, and for some reason that detail never ceased to amaze me.

Across from us, Rhea was sitting sideways, completely focused on a task of vital importance: trying a ridiculously small hat on Donatello. The turtle remained motionless and resigned while Rhea adjusted the angle of the hat as if she were preparing for a professional photo shoot.

— Perfect, Donatello, look at me... look at me, this is fashion — Donatello didn’t look at her

— He’s more patient than you — I remarked

— That’s not hard — she replied without looking at me. A comfortable silence followed, interrupted only by the sound of the hair dryer and the TV in the background, until Rhea suddenly turned her head with that dangerous smile I already knew

— Hey, Felix, I have a question — that tone was never a good sign

— I don’t like the sound of that

— What did you do to make ____ call you sexy? — she asked, making me almost drop the hair dryer. ____ lifted her head slightly, clearly amused, though she didn’t say anything; she just waited. I turned off the hair dryer with exaggerated calm, as if I needed a few seconds to mentally prepare myself

— Well — I began — It’s not something just anyone can pull off

— Aha, go on — Rhea murmured

— First, I survived the ice rink; that already earns me points. Second, I protected her from a deadly fall

— You took me down with you when you fell — ____ corrected me, laughing

— Minor details — I replied — Third, I bought her flowers

— That’s certainly true — ____ admitted

— And fourth — I added, puffing out my chest a little — I have a natural charm that’s impossible to ignore — Rhea looked at me with a “This guy is a lost cause” expression

— What a surprise, I thought you were going to say something real

— All of that is real — I defended myself, ____ laughed even harder this time, turning her head slightly to look at Rhea

— Don’t listen to him, he’s exaggerating

— Hey — I protested — Don’t ruin the legend

I turned the hair dryer off completely and left the towel draped over the back of the sofa; ____’s hair was already dry and loose, falling down her back. I ran my hand through it one last time, just because I could.

— All done, job finished, madam — ____ stood up slowly and turned toward Rhea

— I’m going to bed now — she announced — Good night — Rhea raised a hand without taking her eyes off Donatello

— Good night, don’t break anything — ____ shook her head amusedly and then came over to me, leaned in slightly, and gave me a soft kiss on the cheek

— I’ll wait for you in bed — she murmured; I felt my chest swell with pride

— Duty calls — I said, standing up. She rolled her eyes and started walking toward the bedroom; I followed her, clearly with other intentions, reaching out to touch her waist.

— Felix — she warned without turning around.

— I’m just walking — I replied innocently.

— That’s not true — she said, laughing. She walked into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed on her back, taking up the center as if it were rightfully hers. I stood there for a second, watching her.

 — That was an invitation — I remarked.

— It was a strategic retreat — she corrected. I quickly changed into my pajamas without much effort and flopped down beside her. She settled in right away, turning toward me.

 — Aren't you going to take a shower? — she asked in a sleepy voice.

— I wanted to, but my girlfriend shut the door in my face. — I replied. ____ lifted her head just enough to look at me.

— Cheeky. — she whispered, but hugged me without another word, resting her head on my chest as if the matter were settled. Her breathing began to slow almost immediately. — Good night, sexy boyfriend. — she murmured, half-asleep.

I smiled like an idiot, wrapping an arm around her and gently stroking her hair as if it were something fragile. I didn’t know when this had happened to me, at what exact point my life had become... like this, simple, peaceful, and full of little moments that didn’t need to be impressive to feel important. I closed my eyes, listening to her breathing, thinking that maybe I wasn’t perfect, or elegant, or particularly brilliant, but I was her boyfriend, and apparently a sexy one.

I woke up with that strange feeling in my chest, as if something wasn’t quite right. Half-asleep, I reached out my hand out of habit, looking for ____, hoping to feel her warm back or her hair tangled between my fingers, but I felt nothing.

I opened my eyes with a start; the side of the bed was empty, the sheets, barely rumpled, were cold. I sat up immediately, my heart racing without asking permission. This wasn’t normal. ____ never got up without making a sound, much less without telling me. My mind began to fill the silence with unnecessary thoughts.

— ____? — I called out, already standing up; there was no answer.

I left the room, almost tripping over the rug, still half-asleep but fully alert. The apartment was silent, barely lit by the soft morning light streaming through the windows. I walked down the hallway until, as I passed the kitchen, I heard a voice.

I stopped dead in my tracks. ____ had her back to me, leaning slightly against the counter, still in her pajamas. Her nightgown hung loosely, and her hair was tousled. She held the landline phone in one hand and gestured softly with the other as she spoke… in German.

— Nein, Großmutter, ich esse gut, Wirklich (No, Grandma, I’m eating well, really) — she said with a smile in her voice — Du musst dir keine Sorgen machen (You don’t have to worry)

I stood there leaning against the doorframe, watching her as if it were the first time I’d ever seen her; there was something intimate about that scene, something that didn’t quite belong to me, ____ in her pajamas in my kitchen, talking to someone she clearly had known long before I did. As if she sensed my gaze, she turned her head; her eyes met mine, and instead of being surprised, she smiled, a calm and warm smile.

— Ja, ich bin sehr glücklich (Yes, I’m very happy) — she said into the phone, then added, — Eigentlich...ich möchte dir meinen Freund vorstellen (Actually...I want to introduce you to my boyfriend).

____ motioned to me with her free hand, beckoning me to come closer. I walked over, not understanding a single word, until I was standing beside her.

— It's my grandmother, say hello to her — she whispered. Before I could think too much, she put the call on speaker and held the phone a little closer.

— Um... hello, ma'am — I greeted her nervously — Nice to meet you

There was a brief silence followed by a woman’s voice on the other end of the line. She was older, you could tell by her tone, but she had a warmth that came through the speaker with ease.

— Ach, hallo! Wie schön, deine Stimme zu hören (Oh, hello! What a joy to hear your voice) — I went completely blank; I looked at ____, clearly lost. She smiled even more and leaned in a little, almost resting against me.

— She says she’s very happy to hear from you — she translated.

— Ah, tell her that… um… the pleasure is all mine — I said quickly. ____ chuckled softly and spoke again in German.

— Er sagt, dass es ihm eine Freude ist (He says it’s a pleasure for him) — her grandmother replied almost immediately

— Und wie heißt du, junger Mann? (And what’s your name, young man?) — she asked; ____ translated for me in a whisper, and I stared at the phone as if her grandmother were about to appear from it

— Felix, my name is Felix — ____ repeated my name in German, and her grandmother made a small sound of approval

— Ein schöner Name (A beautiful name)

— She says you have a beautiful name — ____ translated, looking at me with that expression of hers that always disarmed me a little

— Tell her thank you — I replied, scratching the back of my neck — And that... I hope I’m not interrupting

— Er hofft, dass er nicht stört (He hopes he’s not interrupting) — she translated; the grandmother’s laugh was soft, almost musical... exactly like ____’s

— Nein, nein, ich freue mich sehr, ____ erzählt mir oft von dir (No, no, I’m very happy; ____ tells me a lot about you) — ____ avoided looking at me, clearly a little embarrassed, but she smiled

— She says...I talk about you a lot — she confessed to me; that made me sit up a little straighter; I felt something strange tightening in my chest, something good and dangerous

— Oh, really? — I asked in a low voice — Well, tell her...that...that I take good care of you — I said after a second — That you’re incredible — ____ looked up at me in surprise and then translated carefully

— Er sagt, dass er gut auf mich aufpasst, und dass er mich unglaublich findet — there was a pause on the other end of the line, and then her grandmother’s voice sounded softer

— Ich bin sehr glücklich, pass gut auf sein Herz auf, er hat seit dem Tod seiner Mutter viel gelitten... (That makes me happy, take good care of his heart; he’s suffered a lot since his mother passed away...) — ____ didn’t translate right away; she stayed silent for a second with her eyes downcast, and then spoke

— She says... she’s asking you to take care... of my heart — I nodded, not quite sure what to say

— I will... really — I said simply. ____ translated, and her grandmother replied in a satisfied tone

— Dann bin ich beruhigt (Then I’m put at peace)

The conversation went on for a few more minutes—simple questions about how we met, whether I was studying, whether I was working. ____ patiently translated everything, sometimes adding a detail of her own. I answered as best I could, aware that I was speaking to someone important, someone who had been a part of ____’s life when I didn’t even exist in her world. Finally, her grandmother said goodbye

— Pass auf dich auf, meine Kleine (Take care of yourself, my little one)

— Ich liebe dich (I love you) — ____ replied softly. She hung up the phone carefully and stood still for a few seconds, as if she didn’t want to break the moment. I looked at her, unsure whether to say something or just stay there

— Your grandmother is... just like you, I said finally with an awkward smile. ____ laughed softly.

— She liked you. That doesn’t happen easily with her — she replied. I don’t know why, but that phrase stuck with me. I moved a little closer and rested my forehead against hers.

— So I guess I’m doing something right — I whispered. She closed her eyes, smiling, and for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was winging it in life; I felt like maybe I was starting to be part of something worth holding onto

____ hugged me without warning, as if the gesture had been waiting its turn for a while. She wrapped her arms around my waist and rested her cheek against my chest, still warm from the conversation with her grandmother. I instinctively lowered my chin, resting it on her head and breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo. It was a simple, domestic gesture, but it straightened something inside me that I didn’t know was crooked.

— Good morning — I murmured before kissing her

It was a quiet kiss, the kind that seeks nothing more than to say “I’m here,” just lips meeting with the confidence of those who already know each other’s rhythm. ____ responded immediately, smiling faintly against my mouth. When we parted, her nose brushed against mine, and she looked at me with those half-asleep eyes that always left me defenseless.

— Good morning — she repeated softly.

I stayed watching her for a second longer, as if I were still processing the scene from a moment ago, ____ speaking in German, introducing me as her boyfriend, patiently translating for me, including me without hesitation. I felt something akin to pride... and also a silent sense of responsibility. She was the first to break the moment.

— Hey — she said, still hugging me — Could you teach me how to cook later?

— Teach you how to cook? You? — I repeated, raising an eyebrow. ____ She pulled away just enough to look at me better, crossing her arms with feigned seriousness.

— Yes, me — she replied. — Not everyone is born knowing how to survive on whatever’s in the fridge.

— Hey, my improvised cooking is an art; few people appreciate the talent — I protested. She let out a soft laugh and shook her head.

— I mean it, Felix — she continued — So when you stay at my apartment... — she paused briefly, as if weighing her words — ...You won't have to cook dinner all by yourself anymore — that sentence sank in slowly, like a piece of a puzzle falling into place; I felt a smile escape me before I could stop it

— Is that a formal invitation? — I asked, resting a hand on her waist — Or are you just trying to save me from my own recipes?

— A little of both — she admitted — Besides, I want to learn. My grandmother always said that cooking for someone is also a way of caring for them — that completely disarmed me

— Your grandmother is wise; she says things that are way too wise for this time of morning — I declared. ____ laughed and hugged me again, this time tighter.

— So… would you teach me?

— Of course I would — I replied without hesitation — Though I’m warning you now, I’m better at eating than explaining.

— It doesn’t matter; I’m a quick learner.

We stayed like that for a moment, hugging in the middle of the kitchen until the silence began to fill with small noises: the distant hum of the fridge, the slow shuffling of Donatello near the wall, the faint murmur of Rhea moving around in her room.

— You know what’s funny? — I remarked

— What? — ____ asked without letting go

— That a few months ago, this apartment was just noise, chaos, and takeout, and now you’re here, talking to your grandmother in German, planning for us to cook together — ____ lifted her head and looked at me with a gentle expression

— Does that scare you? — she asked, and I shook my head

— No — I replied honestly — It calms me down. — she smiled contentedly and rested her forehead against my chest again

— Me too — I leaned in slightly to kiss her hair

— Then later we’ll make something simple, pasta maybe, or something that doesn’t involve setting the kitchen on fire

— Sounds good to me, but you promise not to make fun of me if I cut something wrong

— I don’t promise anything, but I can tease you affectionately — I replied with a crooked smile

— Felix...

— All right, all right — I relented — I’ll behave myself — We parted ways when we heard a louder noise in the hallway; Rhea appeared, her hair a bit messy, holding a pillow and looking suspicious

— Why do I feel like I walked into a scene that’s way too sweet for this house? — she remarked. ____ blushed a little, but didn’t pull away from me.

— Good morning — she said politely.

— Good morning — Rhea replied. — Did I interrupt something?

— Always — I replied, and Rhea rolled her eyes.

— I’m going to pretend I didn’t see anything — she said as she headed toward the coffee maker. — But if you plan on cooking, let me know; I don’t want to die from food poisoning.

— We will — ____ replied with a friendly smile. Rhea looked at her for a second and then at me.

— Make sure she doesn’t cut herself — she told me matter-of-factly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I nodded. When Rhea left, ____ looked at me amusedly

— It seems like everyone’s giving you instructions today

— Yeah, and I don’t mind obeying — I replied. She laughed and took my hand

— So… shall we have breakfast first?

— Definitely. Cooking on an empty stomach is a bad idea.

We walked together toward the table without letting go, as if it were already natural for us to move like that, and as I sat down across from her, I thought that maybe I didn’t know how to cook everything… but there were things that, without realizing it, I was learning very well.

Breakfast in the apartment was never quiet, not because we talked a lot, but because there was always some strange background noise: the coffee maker gurgling as if it were about to die, Donatello dragging his shell with almost offensive patience, or Rhea tapping the table with her spoon when her coffee got cold. That morning was no exception.

____ was sitting across from me with a cup in her hands, still in her pajamas and her hair pulled back in anything but a neat style. I couldn’t stop looking at her, not in a blatant way, well, maybe a little, but there was something reassuring about seeing her like that, so comfortable, so much a part of the place, as if she had always belonged at that table.

— I’m seriously thinking about finding a mate for Donatello — Rhea said suddenly, stirring her coffee — Nesting season is coming up, and I’ve held him back quite a bit — I looked up from my cup

— What’s that? — I asked, confused. Rhea sighed as if she’d been waiting for that question ever since she’d met me

— Nesting season — she repeated. — It’s when the turtles… you know — she murmured, but I didn’t know. I looked at Donatello, who was standing still near the wall, watching us with his perpetually judgmental face.

— Is he moving? Or going on a spiritual journey? — I asked. She let out a small laugh and set her cup down on the table.

— No, it’s when they try to reproduce — she replied

— Oh — I murmured, nodding slowly — So, when they have sex — Rhea shot me a murderous look

— Don’t put it like that — she growled, and I shrugged

— What? It’s biology — ____ laughed again, shaking her head

— It's a little more than that; nesting is when they prepare a place for the eggs — I processed that last part half a second too late, because my brain decided to take a very dangerous shortcut

— So... — I began, leaning back in my chair with a sly smile — Are you saying it's like a special stage? — ____ looked at me curiously, and Rhea already knew something bad was coming — Aha — I continued — A specific season for reproduction... — I made a sweeping gesture with my hand, looking at ____ — Hey, pretty girl, maybe we should have a nesting season too

The silence that followed was spectacular. Rhea looked at me as if I’d just said the stupidest thing she’d ever heard in her entire life. I’m not exaggerating. It was a mix of disgust, exhaustion, and the urge to throw a cup at my head.

— You're... — she began, but stopped — No, I'm not going to waste my breath — ____, on the other hand, froze for a second... and then blushed immediately

— Felix, that's not it — she whispered, embarrassed

— No? — I asked, genuinely confused — You said reproduce

— Yes, but... — she cleared her throat — Nesting implies offspring, babies — that word clicked, the smile faded from my face just a little, enough for my brain to finally catch up with my mouth

— Ah — I said again, this time more slowly. I looked at Rhea, looked at ____, then looked back at Donatello, who was still standing there, completely oblivious to the conceptual crisis he’d caused. — Okay, now I get it.

— Thank goodness — Rhea murmured.

— So no... definitely not the same — ____ looked at me with a mixture of relief and restrained embarrassment

— Exactly

— I mean — I continued because I didn’t know how to stay quiet — I’m not saying I wouldn’t... but no... not at a breakfast table with a turtle in the middle

— Felix! — Rhea exclaimed

— What? I’m just clarifying — I defended myself. ____ brought a hand to her face, laughing softly.

— You have no filter — she murmured.

— I never have. It’s part of my charm — I replied. Rhea shook her head.

— I'm going to move Donatello before this guy explains something to you that you don't need to hear — she crouched down carefully and picked up the turtle — You and I are going to pretend this conversation never happened — she said to Donatello

— Hey, I was just joking — I protested

— Right, and Donatello is a cat — when Rhea left the kitchen, ____ gave me a sidelong glance

— Sometimes I don’t know if you do it on purpose

— I always do it on purpose; it’s just that sometimes I don’t think through the consequences — I replied, and she sighed, but smiled

— Promise me something

— It depends

— That you’ll never use the word “nesting” in reference to us again… it’s embarrassing and weird

— I won’t promise anything, but I can try — I replied, and ____ gave me a light tap on the arm

I rested my elbow on the table and watched her eat breakfast, thinking that despite my stupid jokes and my big mouth, there was something very serious about all of this, and for the first time, that idea didn’t scare me at all.

-----------------------------

Heyyyy, watch your mouth, Felix. If you spit upward, it’ll land right in your face 👊

Fun fact: Liora’s grandmother’s dialogue has different versions, but they all include the line “…take good care of your heart…blah blah blah.”

Anyway, I hope you liked it. Don’t forget to give it a heart, comment, and follow me for more updates. Thanks so much for reading. See you next Sunday ( ‘･･)ﾉ(._.’)

[Previous] | [Start] | [Next]

— Let's go — he had said as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and now here we were

When he finally stopped and turned off the engine, it took me a second to let go; my hands were still clinging to his jacket as if doing so were the only thing keeping me steady. I got off carefully, adjusting my skirt immediately, conscious of every movement, of every possible glance, even though no one was watching.

The house in front of me wasn’t what I’d imagined; it was…friendly. That was the first word that came to mind. It wasn’t big or ostentatious; it didn’t feel imposing. It was a little house with flowers in the garden, soft colors, and a gravel path that crunched underfoot, and a door that looked like it had been opened and closed thousands of times, full of life, of visitors, of stories.

I stood there staring at it for a second too long. Felix came over and untied the jacket he’d tied around my waist to protect me from the wind during the trip. He took off my helmet and smoothed my hair.

— Don’t get nervous — he said, leaning down just enough to kiss me on the cheek. — Susan is kind, really.

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure I fully believed him, not because I doubted him, but because I always doubted myself in these situations; mothers were… a delicate matter, even more so when it came to someone so important to Felix and Rhea. I took a deep breath.

— It's okay, — I replied, more to convince myself than to reassure him. — I'm fine.

Felix glanced at me as if he knew I was lying a little, but he didn't say anything. He simply held out his hand, and I took it without thinking. We walked together along the path, the sound of the pebbles marking each step like a silent count; every step made me think more.

About Charlotte, about how much I loved her, about how she always spoke of her mother with a mix of respect and affection, about how Rhea referred to that house as home even now that she no longer lived there, about what it meant to be invited into that space. Felix raised his hand to ring the doorbell, but before he could, the door opened and Mrs. Susan was there.

She was shorter than I remembered, with her hair pulled back simply and a smile that appeared before I could even say anything; her eyes darted from Felix to me quickly, with curiosity and something else I couldn’t quite identify right away.

— So you must be ____ — she said in a warm voice that caught me off guard; I straightened up immediately.

— Yes, Mrs. Susan, nice to meet you — I replied; she shook her head instantly.

— No need to call me Mrs. Susan, just Susan is fine — she said, smiling even more; I relaxed just enough to return her smile.

— Nice to meet you, Susan

Felix let out a small sigh beside me as if something inside him had settled upon hearing that. Susan gave him a quick hug, one of those that need no explanation, and then turned back to look at me.

— Come in, please. Lunch is almost ready.

I stepped inside carefully, taking it all in. The interior of the house was just as cozy as the exterior, with photographs on the walls, plants in the corners, and a table already set with dishes that didn’t look like they were for a special occasion, but rather for everyday use. It made me think that this was a place where the family really ate together. I took off my shoes instinctively, even though no one asked me to. Susan noticed and smiled.

— You can leave them there — he said. — Charlotte and Rhea aren’t here yet, but they shouldn’t be long.

I nodded as I put my things away, suddenly feeling very self-conscious about every movement. Felix moved with ease, as if the space belonged to him as much as his own apartment; I, on the other hand, walked carefully, as if I were afraid of breaking something invisible.

Susan watched me from time to time without making me uncomfortable, like someone trying to understand a new person without intruding, and I wondered for the first time since I’d accepted the invitation if maybe it hadn’t been a mistake to come. But when Felix took my hand again, gently yet firmly, as if to say, “I’m here with you,” I knew that at least for today, I could try to stay and keep moving forward.

I don’t know exactly when I stopped looking at the house and started looking at Susan, but it was inevitable. Felix was talking to her with that ease he only has with people he’s known forever, leaning back in his chair and gesturing with one hand while holding a cup in the other. I stayed a little on the sidelines, sitting properly with my hands clasped in my lap, as if my body remembered on its own how to behave when it wants to make a good impression.

Susan was laughing at something Felix said, tilting her head back just a little; that simple gesture pierced me without warning. My mother laughed the same way, not loudly, not exaggeratedly, but with a gentleness that seemed like an invitation to come closer, as if the world were a little less heavy for a few seconds. I blinked, surprised by the familiarity of the thought.

It wasn’t sadness I felt, nor that dense knot that sometimes appears when I remember her; it was something different and warm, like when an old song plays on someone else’s radio and yet, you know the lyrics exactly. Susan stood up to greet Rhea and Charlotte when they arrived and hugged them in that enveloping, protective way, running one hand down their back and the other through their hair. My mother used to do that with me after every performance, even when I felt I hadn’t been up to the task; she’d tell me that the body learns, that the heart already knows. I realized I was smiling without meaning to.

— ____ — Susan called out suddenly, turning toward me — Can I ask you a question? — I nodded immediately, sitting up a little straighter

— Sure — I replied; her tone wasn’t inquisitive or solemn, it was curious and genuine

— How long have you been doing ballet?

The question was simple; I’d answered it many times before in brief interviews, on forms, in quick conversations with people who didn’t really expect an answer, but here at that table, surrounded by the aroma of home-cooked food and soft laughter, the question felt different.

— Since I was a little girl — I replied — I formally started at eight at the conservatory, but before that... — I hesitated for a second, not out of pain, but out of respect for the memory — My mom was a ballet dancer; she taught me from as far back as I can remember — Susan nodded slowly, as if that information fit perfectly with something she’d already sensed

— You can tell; there’s a special way of moving when ballet isn’t just a discipline, but a language learned at home — she commented. I felt my chest tighten, not with sadness, but with recognition. — Your mom must have been incredible — Susan added with the same naturalness with which one states that the sky is blue.

There was no awkward pause, no heavy silence that usually follows when someone mentions someone who is no longer here. She didn’t say it with sorrow, nor with excessive caution; she said it as an obvious truth. My heart shrank, but in a gentle way, as if settling into a smaller, safer space.

— Yes — I replied, smiling — she was.

And as I said it, I didn’t feel like she was trying to convince me; I knew it, I remembered it clearly: my mother turning in front of the mirror in the small studio we had at home, correcting my posture with firm, warm hands, telling me not to dance to be perfect, but to be honest.

The conversation continued to flow with an ease that surprised me. Susan asked about the conservatory, about Charlotte, about the long rehearsals and the performances that seemed to last forever from the outside, but that for us passed in the blink of an eye. I answered without feeling that usual knot in my stomach, without the feeling of taking an exam.

At some point, Felix looked at me from across the table with a calm, almost proud expression. He didn’t say anything, didn’t make any comments; he just held my gaze a second longer than necessary, as if to say, “Everything is fine” and it was.

Rhea and Charlotte were chatting among themselves, comparing schedules, complaining about demanding professors, and celebrating small achievements. Susan was coming and going from the kitchen, serving dishes, asking if anyone wanted more, making sure everyone was comfortable. The scene was so domestic, so simple, that it struck me as almost strange, not because it was foreign, but because it felt so close.

For a moment, I felt as if I were thirteen again, not before a competition, not before a loss, but on just another afternoon with the promise of a delicious dinner and a quiet evening, that age when the future doesn’t weigh heavily yet, when Susan sat back down and gave me a gentle smile.

— I'm glad you're here, ____. Felix talks about you a lot — Felix let out a protesting sound from where he was sitting

— Hey... — Susan ignored him completely

— And I like the way he looks at you — she added without malice, just with that calm intuition some mothers have. I felt my cheeks grow warm, but I didn't look away

— Thank you, I’m glad to be here too, — I replied, and I meant it.

As the conversation continued and the afternoon wore on, I understood something I hadn’t been able to put into words until that moment: I wasn’t replacing anything or anyone; I wasn’t betraying memories; I was simply allowing myself to feel that warmth again without guilt. My mother would have wanted that.

I knew it with a quiet certainty as I listened to Susan’s laughter mingle with the voices of everyone at the table, and I thought that perhaps some spaces aren’t filled to forget, but to remember in a different way.

It was already night when I said goodbye to Susan; the warm light from inside the house contrasted with the cool air seeping in from the garden, and for a second I had the strange feeling that time had stretched out inside, as if the hours had been kinder. Susan wrapped me in a warm embrace, the kind that isn’t rushed or awkward; her perfume was soft and clean, and it reminded me once again of something I didn’t know I was looking for.

— I'm so glad to have met you, ____, and if you'd like, we'd love for you to spend Thanksgiving with us — she said. I blinked in surprise, but nodded almost immediately

— I'd love to, thank you so much — I replied. Susan smiled contentedly and then lowered her voice slightly, as if sharing a secret

— And I’m glad Felix has such a nice girl as his girlfriend — she added, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. — If he ever makes you angry… let me know, okay? I’ll take care of scolding that boy.

— Hey! — Felix protested instantly. — Whose side are you on? — I couldn’t help but laugh, a light, sincere laugh.

— I'll keep that in mind — I said, still smiling

Felix shook his head, feigning indignation, and Susan waved goodbye as I walked toward the motorcycle. I tied my jacket around my waist again to protect my skirt from the wind, and before putting on my helmet, I turned around without meaning to and saw Susan hugging Felix again. he exaggerated the gesture, cringing as if it were torture, but he didn’t pull away; there was something very tender about that scene, something that stayed with me, Felix finally came over and carefully placed the helmet on my head, adjusting it snugly under my chin.

— Ready — he whispered. Before we got on, Rhea poked her head through the door

— Remember rule three! — she shouted, leaving Susan confused. Felix gave a thumbs-up with a smile... and then slowly lowered it with a mischievous grin. I gave him a little tap on the arm

— Behave yourself — I murmured. I did give him a thumbs-up.

— Traitor — he whispered, getting on the motorcycle.

I settled in behind him, wrapping my arms around him, and soon the sound of the engine blended into the quiet night. Felix’s apartment was silent when we walked in. As soon as I crossed the threshold, I took off my shoes and collapsed onto the couch with a long sigh.

— I ate too much — I murmured without moving

— I told you not to take that third plate — Felix teased, sitting down next to me as he turned on the TV — Now don’t complain — Donatello walked slowly across the floor, watching us as if evaluating our life choices

— I think he’s judging us — I remarked

— He always does — he replied — It’s his favorite pastime — he settled in more comfortably and, after a few seconds, glanced at me out of the corner of his eye — Did you like it? — I nodded, resting my head against the back of the couch

— Yeah, it was fun, and Mrs. Susan is really nice

— She is; she saved me from a lot of trouble when I was younger — he remarked

— I can imagine

I moved a little closer and rested my head on his shoulder, letting fatigue overcome me while the TV played in the background. Felix slipped an arm around my shoulders without squeezing, just being there. After a while, he spoke again.

— Hey… you’ve barely told me anything about your mom — he said carefully — I know she was German and that she also danced ballet, but not much else — I settled more comfortably in his arms; I didn’t feel uncomfortable with the question, just sincere curiosity

— She was very disciplined — I began — but also very sweet. She had a little music box... she’d play it every morning before practice or when I was sick.

— Do you still have it? — The question came out softly, but something in my chest tightened; I felt my eyes well up before I could stop it.

— No — I replied softly — When she died... after she got sick, that little box was all I had left — Felix didn’t say anything, and I was grateful for that — I was eighteen... — I continued — One day I got really angry, I don’t remember exactly why, I guess it was just everything, and... I threw it on the floor of my room — tears began to fall silently, without warning — I regret it… so much. It was the only thing I had left of her — I confessed. Felix hugged me tighter, a firm hand on my back stroking me slowly, as if trying to calm not just my crying, but something deeper

— It wasn’t your fault... — he whispered. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath, letting him hold me. I didn’t say anything else; there was no need. The silence wasn’t awkward; it was safe, as if, for the first time in a long time, I could rest without fear that the weight of memories would crush me

The silence that followed my words wasn’t awkward; it was... thick, but in a strangely gentle way. Felix didn’t say anything right away, and I thanked him silently. His arms remained firmly around me, as if he had no intention of letting go even if the world tilted a little. I rested my cheek against his chest and closed my eyes, listening to his steady, calm breathing. I thought how I wished my mind could learn that rhythm and stop racing.

I hadn’t lied to him entirely, that’s what I kept telling myself so I wouldn’t feel that lump in my throat grow again. My mother had died, yes, I had broken the music box, too; all of that was true, but there was a bigger, heavier truth that had gotten stuck behind my teeth like a forbidden word, one that, if I said it out loud, I felt could change the way Felix looked at me, or worse, the way I saw myself.

If he knew the whole truth...

The thought appeared on its own without me calling it; I stayed still as if even thinking too hard might give me away. I pressed my fingers against the fabric of his T-shirt ever so slightly, a minimal, almost imperceptible gesture, but one that said more than I dared to say. Felix responded without words; his hand slowly moved up my back and stayed there, warm and present. He didn’t ask for explanations; he didn’t try to fill the space with pretty phrases. He just was there, and that somehow hurt and comforted me at the same time.

I thought of the music box, of how the tiny ballerina spun when I was a child, of how the sound mingled with my mother’s voice gently correcting my posture without harshness, “Relax your shoulders, ____, breathe.” I remembered my hands trembling that day, the pent-up rage I didn’t know where to put, the sharp thud when the box hit the floor, the exact moment I knew there was no turning back. I didn’t break it just out of anger. I broke it because I didn’t know what to do with so much sadness that had nowhere to go.

I swallowed hard; my eyes burned, but I didn’t let the tears fall, not because Felix couldn’t see them, but because those tears belonged to another version of me, a younger, more broken one who wasn’t ready to come to the surface yet—not here, and not now. Someday, I promised myself silently, someday I’d tell him. I didn’t know when or how; I just knew that day couldn’t be today.

Felix shifted his body slightly, settling more comfortably on the sofa, and I let myself drift with him; my back pressed against his side, and for a moment I thought about how easy it was to be like this, how deceptively simple it felt to share a silence without fear that the other would grow tired. I wondered if my mother had had someone like this in her final days, someone who knew how to stay. I didn’t want to keep thinking about it.

— You don’t have to tell me everything — Felix said suddenly, his voice low as if he feared breaking something fragile — Not now

I opened my eyes; I didn’t look at him, but I felt the weight of his words settle gently inside me. It wasn’t a demand or a condition; it was a door left open without pushing me to walk through it.

— I know — I replied, almost in a whisper.

And I really did know it. I knew it because Felix wasn’t demanding the truth like someone collecting a debt; he was offering time and patience, something I hadn’t allowed myself for years. I settled a little deeper into his arms; his T-shirt smelled of detergent and of him, a combination that was already starting to feel familiar. I thought about how strange it was to let someone occupy that space; I thought about how easy it would have been to shut myself off, joke around, and change the subject, but I didn’t do it—that was already a small act of courage.

— My mom… — I began and stopped. Felix didn’t react right away; he didn’t rush me or finish the sentence for me. — She liked her tea with too much sugar — I continued, choosing a safe truth. — She said life was already bitter enough. — I felt him smile, not mockingly, but gently.

— She sounds like an interesting person — he said. She was; she still is, even now.

Exhaustion began to weigh on my eyelids; it wasn’t just physical, it was emotional, as if having brushed against that memory had left me drained. I closed my eyes again and took a deep breath; Felix’s chest rose and fell calmly beneath my cheek. I let myself be carried away by that rhythm. Maybe I couldn’t tell him everything yet; maybe there were truths that needed time to mature before they could be spoken, but in that moment, wrapped in his arms, I knew something clearly: I wasn’t running away; I was waiting. And for the first time in a long time, that waiting didn’t feel lonely.

----------------------------------

Heyyy, how’s it going? I love writing chapters that are the calm before the storm :)

Fact: It’s already 2 a.m. At least I’ve got everything scheduled and transferred a ton of stuff to Doc, the real work. + What do you think was the lie among everything Liora said?

Anyway, I hope you liked it. Don’t forget to hit the heart, comment, and follow me for more updates. Thank you so much for reading. Good night, see you on Wednesday (✿◠‿◠.).

[Previous] | [Start] | [Next] <- this will be edited with the next update <3

That night we were on her couch; the movie had been playing for quite a while, but I had no idea what it was about. There were lights, sounds, and dialogue passing before me without leaving a trace, ____ instead, she was completely absorbed, her legs tucked up on the couch and a light blanket half-covering us; her eyes followed the screen intently, reacting to every scene as if she truly cared about what was happening there.

I held her in my arms, not in a clumsy or awkward way; she fit so perfectly, her back against my chest, her head resting near my shoulder. One of my hands rested on her waist, absentmindedly tracing the curve beneath the fabric of her clothes; the other played with her hair, separating strands and twirling them between my fingers only to let them fall again.

She didn’t protest; sometimes she shifted a little closer, as if seeking to be even nearer. I tilted my head and kissed her neck just below her ear. It was a slow, almost absent-minded gesture, but I felt her breathing change ever so slightly. I smiled against her skin and did it again, leaving small kisses that sought nothing more than to mark my presence.

— Felix — she murmured without taking her eyes off the screen

— Yes? — I replied, my lips still close to her neck

— You're distracting me — he said, though his tone held no real complaint.

I didn't stop. I slid my hand down his arm, tracing soft lines, moving up and down gently. I kissed his neck again, a little higher up this time, and then I stayed there, breathing him in.

I liked how she reacted to such simple things, how she relaxed, how she trusted me, and at the same time something inside me tensed up, an uncomfortable, possessive feeling I didn’t want to name but that was there, lurking.

I found myself thinking of all the people who shared her space when I wasn’t there, her classmates at the conservatory, friends, people who saw her laugh, who listened to her talk about what she was passionate about. I didn’t like the idea at all; my fingers tightened a little more around her waist before I could stop myself. ____ shifted slightly and placed a hand over mine, as if she’d noticed the change.

— Is everything okay? — she asked, turning her head just enough to glance at me out of the corner of her eye. I nodded and loosened my grip, forcing myself to relax.

— Yeah, everything’s fine.

She didn’t press the issue; she went back to watching the movie and left her hand on mine, as if anchoring me there. That simple gesture hit me harder than it should have. I kissed her neck once more, this time more gently, almost like an apology, then rested my chin on her head and stayed still, listening to her breathing and the sound of the TV.

It was strange; in such a tidy, bright place, I felt out of place, and at the same time completely unable to leave, as if my place wasn’t the apartment itself, but the exact spot I occupied next to her on that sofa. ____ sighed contentedly and snuggled a little closer to me; the movie kept playing, I still wasn’t watching it, and for the first time in a long time, I thought that maybe that “Cold” she was talking about wasn’t in her apartment, maybe it was in me.

____’s bed was as tidy as the rest of her apartment, with light-colored sheets, pillows lined up, not a single unnecessary wrinkle. I was already lying there on my side, watching her as she moved around the room with that calmness of hers that seemed rehearsed, as if even the simplest gestures were choreographed.

She was the last to get in; first she sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed lotion into her hands. The soft scent filled the air instantly. I watched her rub her palms together carefully, interlace her fingers, massage her knuckles as if that little ritual were indispensable before sleeping. There was always something about the way she took care of herself that left me speechless.

When she finally settled under the sheets, I didn’t give her time for anything else; I moved closer and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her toward me with an instinctive, almost urgent movement. I kissed her mouth immediately without thinking too much, ____ She responded to the kiss as easily as she breathed, smiling ever so slightly against my lips before returning it and resting a hand on my neck; the world shrank to that touch, to her warmth, to the way we fit together effortlessly. We parted only when we began to run out of air; she looked at me with a gentle smile, the kind that seeks nothing more than to linger there for just a second longer.

— Good night, honey — she whispered

The word fell between us like something too big for the space we occupied. I felt my body tense, not from physical discomfort, but from something deeper. “Honey”, she had never called me like that before, no one ever had, with that naturalness, as if it were obvious, as if there were no risk at all in saying it. I opened my mouth and didn’t know what to do with that.

— No... — I began, frowning — Don’t say that

— That? — she blinked, confused

— Yeah — I replied too quickly — It’s... cheesy and... ridiculous. Don’t be that kind of girlfriend

The words came out worse than they sounded in my head, harsher, more definitive. ____ made a small grimace, not dramatic or exaggerated, just a brief, almost imperceptible gesture, as if something had shifted inside her, then she nodded sympathetically as always.

— Okay — she agreed softly — I’m sorry.

The knot in my stomach appeared too late, when there was nothing left to fix. She shifted again, pulling the covers up to her neck, just enough for me to notice if I was paying attention. She no longer looked at me directly; she rested her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath once before relaxing.

— Good night, Felix — she whispered, using my name as if she’d never thought of calling me anything else

— Good night — I replied, feeling as though something had slipped through my fingers

I turned off the light and the room fell into semi-darkness, illuminated only by the glow of the city seeping through the window. I lay still, staring at the ceiling, listening to the rhythm of her breathing slow to a steady pace. ____ fell asleep quickly; she always did. I didn’t...

Every time I thought about the way she’d said “Honey”, something tightened in my chest, not because I didn’t want to hear it, on the contrary, because I’d wanted it too much, because it had scared me how easy it had been for her to say it and how impossible it felt for me to accept it, “Don’t be that kind of girlfriend.”

What the hell did that mean? I turned just enough to look at her; she was sleeping on her side, with her back to me and a hand near her face. She looked calm, too calm for someone I’d just set a limit on that she hadn’t asked for. The full weight of the screw-up hit me. Careful not to wake her, I reached out and grabbed my phone from the nightstand, I turned the brightness down to the lowest setting and typed the one name I knew wouldn’t soften the blow at all

Me:

I think I screwed up

The reply came quickly.

Mrs. Rhea 🐢:

Wow, that’s nothing new :)

I sighed, closing my eyes for a second before continuing.

Me:

____ called me “Honey”...

Ms. Rhea 🐢:

And?

Me:

I told her not to be cheesy, not to be that kind of girlfriend

There was a longer pause this time... too long.

Mrs. Rhea 🐢:

...

You’re an idiot, I-D-I-O-T

I couldn’t help but let out a dry, humorless laugh.

Me:

Thanks, seems to be my greatest quality

Mrs. Rhea 🐢:

No, seriously, do you know how hard it is for some people to say that?

I looked at ____ again; she was still asleep, oblivious to the conversation.

Me:

I didn’t know what to do :/

Mrs. Rhea 🐢:

Then don’t do anything, but don’t screw it up

Silence fell again. I locked the phone and left it where it was. I approached ____ carefully once more, wrapping my arms around her from behind. I hesitated for a second before doing so, but finally rested my forehead between her shoulders and took a deep breath. She didn’t wake up; she just shifted slightly, accepting the embrace even in her sleep.

There in the darkness, I realized something I didn’t like at all. It didn’t bother me that it was cheesy; what terrified me was what it meant that she was being that way with me, and that said a lot more about me than it did about her.

🔥💋🔥💋🔥💋🔥

I was lying on my back in bed with one leg hanging off the mattress and my phone resting on my chest, swiping my finger across the screen to check my schedule for the week, doing mental calculations that always seemed more complicated than they were: long shifts, split schedules, tips that went up and down depending on people’s moods and the day of the month.

If this month went well for me, if it really went well, maybe I could invite ____ to eat at that place I’d seen near the conservatory. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but it was definitely better than ordering takeout or ending up at the same old spot, or maybe buying her a little something, nothing flashy, something that could say “I was thinking of you” without making her feel uncomfortable.

Because ____ always said it wasn’t necessary, that I shouldn’t spend money, that just being together was enough, and I’d nod, but I’d still do the math, I still wanted to do it. The irony was that she had way more money than I did, “born with a golden spoon” as Rhea would say without a shred of guilt, and yet ____ never let it show, never brought it up, never offered to pay for anything expensive, and when she did, I’d refuse without a second thought. It was a silent war in which neither of us wanted to back down.

— This is a mess — ____ murmured from the floor

I looked up from my phone and saw her kneeling in front of my wide-open closet; most of my clothes were spread out around her, and she was folding, sorting, and frowning every time she found something that clearly didn’t belong in the same universe as the rest.

— My mess — I corrected. — You don’t have t_

— Shh — she interrupted me without looking at me — I’m on a mission

I smiled. She was wearing one of her loose, soft nightgowns that barely reached her knees when she moved, her hair tied back carelessly with a few loose strands falling down her neck. She looked way too comfortable in my space, as if she’d always belonged there.

— If I don’t survive — I added — Tell Rhea I won’t leave her my records

— Rhea already knows you’re a lost cause — she replied — I’m looking for Donatello’s costume… I swear it was here

From the other side of the apartment, Rhea was also searching her room, muttering something about turtles and laundry. I took advantage of the scene; it would be a waste not to.

— You know — I said casually — Looking like that should be illegal — ____ snorted without turning around

— Really?

— Really — I affirmed — Kneeling in my room, organizing my stuff... — I sat up a little — You’re teasing me, ____ — without warning, she grabbed a shirt and threw it right at my face

— Shut up — I laughed, brushing the fabric off my face

— Domestic violence — I muttered — And here I was trying to be romantic

When I looked at her again, she wasn’t standing in front of the closet anymore; she was on top of me. She had crept up silently and straddled my legs with a daring smile that took my breath away for a second. She rested her hands on each of my shoulders, leaning in just enough for me to feel her warmth.

— Did you say something? — she asked

The cell phone was left forgotten on the bed; my hands moved on their own, gripping her hips to confirm it wasn’t an illusion. ____ let out a low, satisfied laugh and began kissing my neck slowly and provocatively, as if she knew exactly what she was doing.

— You’re cruel — I murmured

— I learned from the best — she whispered against my skin

Her fingers reached the buttons of my shirt; she undid one, then another, each movement deliberately slow, as if she wanted to torture me. She lowered her lips a little further with each button, leaving me fully aware of every second, and stopped right in the middle.

— Do you want me to keep going? — she asked in that innocent voice that fooled no one

Heat coursed through my entire body; I nodded without thinking, biting my lip to keep from saying something even more desperate than what I was already thinking. She smiled with satisfaction and finished unbuttoning my shirt; her hands traced my chest, moving down my abdomen slowly and exploratively... and stopped right at the edge of my undershirt.

— ____ — I whispered, almost pleadingly.

— Yes?

— Please — I whispered again, and she flashed that smile... damn it.

She brought her hands to the hem of her nightgown and lifted it calmly, slipping it off as if there were no hurry at all. She stood there in her bra, looking me up and down, clearly enjoying my reaction.

I was already on the verge of losing all self-control when she started moving again, her hands sliding down, her intentions clear; my fingers clamped down on her hips, ready to switch roles, to take her as I always did...

— I found it! — Rhea shouted from across the room — The costume was in my drawer! Come help me put it on!

Reality hit me like a bucket of cold water. ____ stood still for a second, then began to laugh softly. She rose from my lap with cruel ease, picked up her nightgown, and put it back on as if nothing had happened.

— They're calling me — she murmured with a look full of malice — Don't move

— ____... — I managed to say

She leaned down, gave me a quick kiss on the lips, and left the room, leaving me alone with ragged breathing and a completely uncooperative body. I let myself fall back onto the pillows, running a hand over my frustrated face with a single clear image in my head: ____ on top of me, laughing and winning.

Minutes later, when I was still trying to gather my thoughts...and my breath, the bedroom door swung open again without warning. Rhea walked in carrying Donatello with absurd solemnity, as if she were introducing an important member of royalty. The turtle was wearing his famous formal suit, a sort of ridiculously tight-fitting mini-jacket for his size.

— Look at him — she announced proudly — Isn’t he perfect?

Behind her, ____ peeked in, leaning lightly against the doorframe with a smile that was anything but innocent. I could only think one thing: “If I throw Donatello out the window, how many years in prison would that be?”

— Felix — said Rhea, looking me up and down — Can you button up your shirt? We’re not at the beach.

I looked down; my shirt was still open with the buttons askew, as if I’d completely forgotten the outside world existed. I grumbled under my breath and began buttoning it up one by one while Rhea kept talking about fabrics, colors, and how “elegant” Donatello looked. ____ looked at me out of the corner of her eye, and then she winked at me. It was a quick gesture, almost imperceptible, but she accompanied it with a barely audible murmur

— Indecent

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot, because I knew perfectly well that she was faking it, that this “good girl” act was just a performance, and I also knew that as soon as she was alone with me, I was going to make her pay for every second of that teasing. Oblivious to it all, Rhea lifted Donatello to bring him closer.

— I’m going to take some photos of him before he gets tired — she announced — Don’t move

— We never do — I replied; she shot me a withering look

— Especially you

She left the room with the turtle, talking to herself about angles and natural light; the silence she left behind was thick and heavy. ____ came back in completely and returned to her task as if nothing had happened; she knelt down again in front of the closet, folding T-shirts, sorting by color, completely focused… or so she pretended. I stood still for a few seconds, watching her.

There was something dangerously calm about the scene, in the way she moved, in how her hair fell down her back, in how she seemed to be ignoring me on purpose; it was a different kind of provocation, slower, more deliberate. I sat on the edge of the bed, resting my elbows on my knees without taking my eyes off her. “Predator,” I thought, and she undoubtedly knew it.

— You're making more of a mess than you're cleaning up — I finally said

— That's a lie — she replied without looking at me — Your closet is a crime against humanity

— You like my closet.

— No, I like you; it’s different. — That made me stand up. I took a couple of slow, deliberately loud steps. ____ tensed up slightly, just enough for me to notice, but she didn’t turn around. She kept folding clothes as if her life depended on it.

— You like to drive me crazy — I murmured.

— I don’t know what you’re talking about — she replied, focused on one of the T-shirts. I stopped right behind her, leaned in slightly, and rested a hand on the closet wall, trapping her without quite touching her

— Of course you know — I whispered close to her ear. ____ swallowed; I saw it in the subtle movement of her neck

— Rhea’s in the living room, she whispered

— And Donatello too, I added — We’re a very close-knit family — she let out a nervous laugh

— Felix...

— Yes?

— Don’t start something you can’t finish, I smiled

— That's never been a problem for me — she finally turned her face to look at me; her eyes shone with that dangerous mix of defiance and anticipation. She held my gaze without flinching, as if challenging me to cross an invisible line

— You're indecent — she repeated

— And you enjoy every second of it — I replied, and she didn't deny it

I leaned in a little closer, just enough for my shadow to cover her completely. I thought about how easy it would be to pull her against the bed, how quickly I could make her forget the world, the closet, the turtle in a suit. I thought about her hands clutching the sheets, her laughter fading into a sigh. “Make her bite the pillow,” I told myself, but I didn’t, not yet. I straightened up suddenly and took a step back. ____ frowned, confused.

— Was that it? — she asked.

— No — I replied. — That was a promise. — she looked at me silently for a few seconds, then shook her head, amused.

— Dummy

— Indecent — I retorted, and as she went back to tidying my closet as if nothing had happened, I knew one thing with absolute clarity: that later, when there were no witnesses, when the apartment was silent, ____ would pay for every wink, every smile, every tease, and she knew it from the way she smiled

That evening, Rhea announced she was going out to buy dinner with the nonchalance of someone who has no idea she’s about to leave an unsecured bomb inside the apartment.

— Are you coming, Felix? — she asked from the doorway, keys already in hand

I looked over her shoulder toward the hallway leading to my room; ____ was still in there, crouched in front of the closet, completely focused on a pile of clothes that, ironically, no longer belonged entirely to me since she’d decided to bring order to my life.

— No, I have to finish organizing the closet — I replied without thinking too much about it. Rhea watched me for a few seconds, clearly assessing the scene.

— You? — she raised an eyebrow.

— Me — I affirmed with a conviction bordering on the absurd. She just shrugged.

— I guess miracles like that don’t happen every day

And she left the apartment without noticing that ____ was the only one who had done absolutely all the work. The sound of the door closing was soft and definitive, leaving everything in silence, that kind of silence that isn’t empty, but heavy, as if the air itself knew something was about to happen. I stood still for a second, listening.

The apartment seemed to be holding its breath with me. Then I walked slowly toward my room. ____ was finishing folding the last T-shirt with a neatness that was almost offensive to someone like me; her hair fell forward, hiding part of her face. She was already wearing her pajamas, but there was something about the way she moved that made it impossible for me not to look at her. I leaned my shoulder against the doorframe.

— Rhea's already left — I said

— Aha, I heard her go — she replied without looking at me

— We have time — I added

That made her stop. ____ looked up slowly, as if she already knew exactly what I meant. Her eyes met mine, and there it was again, that spark—the one that had nothing to do with innocence.

— Time for what? — she asked, and that made me smile.

— To finish what you started — I replied. She snorted with amusement.

— Felix, I was just organizing your closet, and I’m already done.

— No — I corrected, taking a step forward. — You were teasing me.

— That’s a very creative… and mistaken interpretation.

— I’m creative when I want to be… like in bed, for example — ____ stood up, crossing her arms.

— Don’t start, Felix.

— Too late — I said, closing the door. ____ watched me do it and swallowed hard.

— Cheeky — she muttered, but her voice no longer had the same firmness.

— We already established that, but you also said I was indecent — I replied

— Because you are

— And I’ve never heard you complain

She didn’t answer; her eyes dropped for a second and then returned to me. I moved closer slowly without touching her yet; I liked to prolong that moment, to make her wait, to see how her body reacted before her words.

— Do you know what happens when you look at me like that? — I asked with a crooked smile

— No — she replied — What happens?

— I start to think that all of this... — I made a vague gesture around us — Is a really bad idea

— Then back off — she challenged, and I smiled even more

— You never said you didn’t like bad ideas

— Rhea could be back any minute — she whispered.

— I know.

— Then...

— Then let’s hurry up — this time she was the one who laughed, a low, nervous laugh that confirmed to me I was exactly where I wanted to be

— You’re unbearable — she repeated

— And you were organizing my closet as if it were yours — that threw her off a little; I saw it in her expression, in how her posture relaxed just a bit

— Someone has to do it; otherwise, you’d be living among wrinkled clothes — she said

— I could get used to it... — I replied — To other things, too

I raised a hand and finally touched her, barely brushing her wrist with two fingers, but it was enough to make her breathing quicken.

— Felix...

— Shh — I took another step; she took one back until she bumped gently against the bed. I didn’t push her; there was no need. She sat down automatically. — I told you you’d pay for this — I murmured.

— Pay for what?

— Every wink, every smile, every time you pretended you didn’t know what you were doing — her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t answer; I leaned a little closer to her, resting a hand on the mattress near her hip without touching her directly — Relax — I whispered — I’m not going to bite you.

— That doesn’t sound reassuring coming from you — she replied, and I smiled.

— Trust me, ____

She hesitated for a second, just one, then nodded, and in that small gesture I knew that my revenge had nothing to do with haste or force; it had to do with making her feel it, with reminding her that she belonged to me as much as I belonged to her, even in those moments when we pretended we were just organizing a closet; the rest... could wait, at least until Rhea came back with dinner.

I looked at her in silence for a few more seconds, savoring that moment when ____ was still pretending she didn’t know exactly what was happening. I raised my hand slowly and caressed her cheek with the back of my fingers, carefully, as if I might break her if I pressed too hard. her skin was warm, familiar, and mine; I slid my thumb to her lower lip and left it there, barely touching, marking the line between what I was thinking and what I wasn’t going to say out loud just yet.

— You’re dangerous when you do that — I murmured with a crooked smile — You tease and then play innocent

____swallowed, her eyelashes lowered slightly, as if suddenly the floor were much more interesting than looking me in the eyes. I tilted my head a little, leaning in just enough so my voice was meant only for her.

— So your punishment...— I left the sentence hanging, savoring how her breathing changed — Is to use that pretty mouth of yours for something useful

I didn’t need to explain it, not to her; she understood instantly. I saw it in the blush that rose to her cheeks, in how she looked away with a mix of embarrassment and something else that made me clench my jaw. She didn’t say a word, she never did when she was like that. I smiled with satisfaction, removing my finger from her lips just to rest my forehead against hers.

— Look at me — I whispered. ____ obeyed, still blushing, and in her eyes I saw exactly what I wanted to see: nerves, trust, and that dangerous spark that always made me forget everything else. And in that moment, I knew there was no sweeter revenge than that.

The world shrinks to breaths when ____ kneels before me. I shouldn’t look at her like this; I shouldn’t let her look at me like this, but she does, and I let it happen, because I’ve long understood that denying what arouses me only makes the desire wilder. There’s something in the way she tilts her head, in how her hands rest on my thighs with a mix of shyness and determination that pierces me like a slow electric shock.

— Look at me — I command her in a voice lower than I intended; she raises her clear, attentive, and enchanting eyes. ____ has always been like this, pretending to be docile, but deep down she is fire waiting for permission to burn, and I... I am the one who decides when

When her lips enveloped my member, there was no rush; it’s a caress that doesn’t seek to end anything, but to begin something far more dangerous. The sensation isn’t just physical; it’s a pressure in my chest, a wave that rises up my spine and forces me to close my eyes for a second. I clench my jaw and have no intention of losing control so quickly.

— Like that... — I murmur — Exactly like that

My fingers glide through her hair gently, too gently for the firmness with which I hold it afterwards, not to hurt her, never for that, but to set a rhythm and assert my presence, to remind her that I’m there, that I feel her, that I don’t intend to let her go.

____ responds with a low, almost imperceptible sound that turns me on more than any open moan; that little gesture of hers, that way of accepting without disappearing, is what makes me possessive. I don’t want anyone else to see this; I don’t want anyone else to look at her like that. “Mine”, the thought surges without permission, raw and honest.

— Good girl — I say with a crooked smile she can’t see, but senses in my tone — Don’t stop

Time feels strange; every second stretches and compresses. I feel my breathing change, how my body reacts before my mind does. It’s not just pleasure; it’s… vulnerability. It’s letting her get this close, letting her affect me this way, and that… that’s what scares me the most. That’s why I speak, to maintain control.

— Do you know what I like about you, ____? — I ask without expecting an answer as I continue to set the rhythm of her head — That you never do things halfway, that when you decide to stay... you stay completely

My fingers tug just enough on her hair to lift her face; her lips are parted, her breathing is uneven, and in her eyes there is something that isn’t submission, but contained defiance.

— Felix... — she whispers; that single sound is enough to break what remained of the distance between us

— Felix... — she whispers; that single sound is enough to break down what little distance remained between us

I take her by the arm and pull her up with a firm motion; she lets me guide her, but when our bodies are level, she doesn’t wait—her hands wrap around my neck and she kisses me as if to show me this isn’t a one-sided game, and there it is, the other side of ____.

The kiss is deep and slow at first, laden with everything we didn’t say while I looked down at her; her mouth doesn’t ask for permission now, it just takes and demands, and I let her do it for a couple of seconds… just a couple.

Then it’s me who gently pushes her back until the bed catches her; I lay her down without breaking the kiss, leaning over her, trapping her between my body and the sheets. My hands rest on either side of her head, and when I pull back just a little, my forehead rests against hers.

— See what you’re making me do? — I murmur with a half-laugh laced with tension — You’re making me selfish — she smiles, that small, dangerous smile

— I’m not forcing you to do anything — she replies, her voice still trembling, but firm

My lips trace her jawline, marking my territory without the need for words; when I look at her again, my eyes must say everything I have no intention of softening.

— No — I admit — But I don’t plan on sharing you either.

The kiss that follows isn’t tender; it’s intense, a clash of wills that recognize each other as equals. ____ returns the pressure, barely biting my lower lip near my piercing, and I smile against her mouth. I like it when she doesn’t pull back; I like it when she stands up to me even as she lets herself be guided.

My hands trace her arms, her waist, not with urgency, but with intention; I want her to feel every movement, to understand that this moment belongs only to us, that here and now, no one else exists.

— Stay with me — I say softly, not as a command, but as a truth

She doesn’t answer with words; she kisses me again, this time more slowly, and in that gesture I realize something that shakes me more than any physical sensation: I’m not the only one afraid of losing control, and yet neither of us stops.

The world shrinks to just her when she ends up on top of me again during one of my moments of carelessness. There is no noise, no time, no orderly thoughts, only ____, her weight on me, her breath mingling with mine, and that dangerous smile she gives me when she thinks... no, when she knows she’s in control. I growl involuntarily, a warning that scares no one, least of all her.

— Does this amuse you? — I murmur, my voice deeper than I expected.

____ tilts her head slightly as if considering the question; her hair falls in a soft curtain around her face, and for a second she looks innocent, then she smiles slowly and maliciously.

 — Very much — she whispers.

Damn it, my hands rise of their own accord to her hips in a firm, possessive grip, as if I need to remind her and myself that this is still a game for two, that even though she’s on top of me now, it doesn’t mean she’s won. Her muscles tense ever so slightly beneath my fingers, a minimal reaction, but I feel it—I always feel it. Our clothes scatter across the room without a care in the world

She leans in a little closer, just enough to invade my space, so her shadow covers my face. Her closeness is a silent provocation; she doesn’t need to say a word. ____ has always been like this; she doesn’t need words to challenge me.

— You’re cheating, — I say with a crooked smile that hides nothing

— No — she replies — I’m learning from you

That hits me harder than it should, because it’s true, because every gesture of hers is a reflection of mine, a refined, dangerous, and deliciously self-aware version of what provokes me. ____ doesn’t pretend to be dominant; ____ tells me she is, and that… that disarms me.

My thumbs move slowly, tracing barely perceptible circles on her skin; it’s not an attempt to stop her, it’s an invitation, a “I see you,” a “I know what you’re doing.” She understands, because she shivers, doesn’t pull away, and doesn’t back down.

— Felix... — she says my name as if it were a warning

— ____ — I respond in kind, returning the challenge

Our lips meet in a collision that’s anything but gentle. It’s hunger, it’s defiance, it’s the accumulation of everything we didn’t say before. She kisses me as if she wants to steal my breath, and I return the gesture as if I refuse to lose it. There’s no winner, only fire. I feel her smile against my mouth, and that makes me laugh in the middle of the kiss.

— You like to tease me — I say against her lips

— And you like it when I do — she replies without hesitation. I don’t deny it; I never would.

She moves barely, just enough to make my breathing less controlled. My hands grip her hips a little tighter—not to stop her, but to anchor myself, so I don’t lose myself entirely in that sensation coursing through my body like electricity. I watch her, really watch her.

The way she bites her lower lip when I enter her, the way her eyes sparkle with that mix of nervousness and boldness, the way her chest rises and falls a little faster than usual. ____ isn’t faking it; she never does with me, and that makes her infinitely more dangerous.

— Don't play with me if you're not willing to accept the consequences — I murmur; she leans in until her forehead touches mine

— And you? — she asks in a low voice — Are you willing to lose control?

For a second I don’t answer, because the truth is I’m already losing it; my hands trace her back, marking every inch as if I wanted to memorize her. There’s no rush; the moment stretches thick, heavy with unspoken promises. She closes her eyes when I pull her gently against me, and that gesture… that damn gesture pierces my chest.

— Don't get the wrong idea — I finally say with a crooked smile. — Just because I let you win a round doesn't mean I gave up. — ____ opens her eyes and smiles triumphantly.

— Then don't give up... prove it to me — she whispers

My response is to wrap myself completely around her, reversing the movement with such ease that she lets out a small, surprised laugh. Now I’m the one on top, holding her and looking down at her; her hands cling to my shoulders, not to push me away, but to stay there. Our roles shift, but the tension doesn’t go away, it just transforms.

— Cheeky — she murmurs without any real anger

— All yours — I correct without thinking

She stays still for a second, as if that phrase had taken her by surprise, then she nods and rests her head on the sheets. The moment I decide to take back control isn’t born of haste; it’s born of certainty, of that exact point where her breathing changes, where her body reacts before her mind does, ____ thinks she’s still in control, that she can keep teasing me with that dangerous smile and the slow sway of her body; she thinks she can torture me a little longer—poor delusion.

My hands grip her hips more firmly, not to stop her, but to mark my territory, so she can feel without words that I’ve already figured out the game... and that now it’s my turn. ____ lets out a sigh, not loud, not exaggerated, it’s that treacherous sigh that escapes her when something changes, when the air no longer reaches her the same way; I feel it more than I hear it, giving her away completely and making me smile.

— Ah... — I murmur, tilting my head — Was that a sigh, or are you already giving in?

She tries to hold my gaze, but she’s struggling; her eyelashes tremble slightly, her mouth parts slightly without her realizing it. She tries to pull herself together, tries to remain in control, but her body won’t cooperate... perfect.

I move with more intent, setting the rhythm with a confidence that needs no permission; it’s not rough, it’s firm, slow at first like a warning. ____ lets out another sigh, this time longer, and bites her lip as if that might help her hold back.

— Don't do that, — I say in a low voice, amused — Don't bite your lip... or I'm going to think you're doing it on purpose

Her hands cling to my shoulders, not to stop me... never for that; it's more like an anchor, as if she needs something to hold onto while her control begins to crack.

— Felix... — she says my name softly and restrainedly, as if it were a warning she doesn’t know how to finish

— Look at me — I order without raising my voice, ____ obeys, and there it is, that look that kills me every time, bright and full of that dangerous mix of desire and defiance; she’s even smiling now, even when she knows I’m gaining ground — You like it when I’m in charge — I say, moving close enough for her to feel me completely — But you love it when I shatter the illusion that you can escape

She swallows, I move a little faster, more confidently, and her attempt to stay quiet goes to hell; it’s not an exaggerated sound, but it’s real, torn from her without asking permission. ____ closes her eyes for a second, as if that could protect her from herself.

— No — I murmur close to her ear — No hiding

My hands guide her, forcing her to stay right there, present and aware of every second. ____ nods without realizing it; her smile reappears... but now there’s something else beneath it... surrender.

— You always do this — she whispers, taking a deep breath — You disarm me and then act like it’s not your fault.

— Because it isn’t — I reply, smiling — You started it.

I set the pace more clearly, leaving her no room to think too much; her breathing becomes irregular, her body responds before she does, and each of her reactions is a small victory I savor calmly.

— Come on, hold on a little longer, I know you can — she lets out a low, nervous, broken laugh.

— You’re… — she begins, but doesn’t finish the sentence.

— An Indecent? — I interrupt her — Yeah, we already know that.

I lean in just a little, just enough so she feels there’s no distance between us, no place to hide. ____ sighs again, deeper this time, and no longer tries to be quiet; she just smiles, resigned, accepting the game for what it is.

— Don't be so loud — I say teasingly in a low voice — Or do you want the whole building to hear you? — She shakes her head, but the smile doesn't leave her face

— You're cruel — she murmurs

— No — I correct her, keeping the rhythm precisely — I just know exactly what to do with you

And when ____ lets out another sigh, long, honest, and without trying to hide it, I know that control is no longer in question, not because I’m forcing her, but because deep down, she never wanted to take it away from me entirely.

____ tries to move again; I sense it before I see it, that slight shift in her body, that clear intention to regain ground, to turn the tables in her favor as she’s done before. It brings an immediate smile to my face—not today.

I take her decisively and turn her over in a firm, confident motion without losing the rhythm of my thrusts; I guide her against the pillows, and she understands instantly that I’m not going to give her an inch.

— No, not now — I clarify

____ lets out a muffled sound as her face sinks into the softness of the pillow; she tries to adjust herself and regain her composure, but I don’t slow down. On the contrary, I maintain the same steady, deliberate rhythm, as if to remind her exactly who is calling the shots every second.

I feel her tense up and smile, because ____ can feign surprise, she can play the offended party, but her body always betrays her first; her hands search for something to hold onto, her fingers cling to the sheets as if they were an anchor, and her breathing begins to give her away.

— Shh... — I whisper with gentle mockery — Weren’t you trying not to make a sound?

She shakes her head slightly as if to deny it, as if refusing to admit I’m right even now; the pillow muffles any sound trying to escape her, but not enough, I hear them anyway. I lean a little closer to her, leaving her no space, not letting her turn away again.

— How considerate — I add, amused — So polite... even when you’re struggling to breathe.

____ lets out a stifled laugh that mixes with an involuntary sigh; she tries to hold back, she really tries, and that’s what amuses me the most. Her shoulders rise and fall irregularly, and I can feel how hard she’s trying to maintain the control she no longer has.

— Felix... — she murmurs my name into the pillow in a muffled, vulnerable tone

— Yes, say it again, but this time without hiding

I don’t let up, I don’t change the rhythm, I don’t give her enough of a break to pull herself together. I know exactly how much she can take before losing her composure, and I stay right there, stretching out the moment. ____ tries to lift her head a little, but I guide it back toward the pillow firmly. I don’t need much force, just intention.

— Relax, no one’s listening… except me — that makes her sigh again, less controlled this time

— Liar — she replies with that smile I can hear even without seeing her

— Always — I admit — But it seems you like it when I do

I keep the rhythm steady as if time had shrunk down to just this moment. ____ gradually stops trying to be quiet, and by the time she realizes it, it’s already too late; her reactions are more honest, more open, and each one confirms that I was right not to give in.

— See? — I murmur — It wasn’t that easy to shut you up

She snorts in defeat and lets her forehead fall against the pillow, finally accepting that she won’t win this time; her fingers relax, her body stops fighting the inevitable, and that small gesture is worth more than any loud victory. I lean in to speak close to her ear

— When you want to try to be in charge — I whisper softly — Let me know beforehand — ____ smiles against the pillow, tired, yet still provocative

— Next time — she replies, and I smile, because we both know that even if she tries, she loves losing this way

For a second, I decide to slow down; I do it on purpose. I feel the immediate change in her, how her body reacts even before her mind processes it. ____ squirming restlessly and confused, as if she doesn’t know whether to thank me or scold me, and then I hear it.

— Felix... — my name comes out differently, softer, almost pleading — No... don’t stop — there it is, my smile forms on its own

— Oh, no? — I ask with feigned innocence — I thought you wanted some peace

She shakes her head against the pillow, clearly desperate now, her hands searching for the sheets as if they could convince me of something I’ve already decided to ignore.

— Please... — she adds, unaware of just how much she’s provoking me

I play with her for another second, keeping up that deceptive, slow, almost cruel rhythm. I can feel her skin prickle, how the anticipation makes her more sensitive, more vulnerable, and then I stop pretending. I suddenly pick up the pace without warning, without giving her time to prepare, and ____ reacts with a sound that was definitely louder and more honest than she’d planned.

— ____...you said you were going to try not to be loud — I tease, amused

She tries to cover her mouth with one hand, but it’s useless; she lost that battle a long time ago. Her attempts to control herself only give her away more, and that does nothing but push me to keep going.

— Felix... — she protests between a moan and a sigh — I-it’s not fair

— I never said it was — I reply calmly — And lower your voice... or the neighbors are going to get the wrong idea — that only makes her react even worse

— You’re indecent — she says, but her voice betrays her

— Look at yourself… and tell me which one of us is the indecent one now

I place a hand on her head and guide her back toward the pillows, firmly, with that confidence that makes it clear to her I’m still in charge. I press her down enough to muffle the sounds, though we both know it won’t work entirely.

— This is better — I murmur — Be a good girl, ____... at least try

For a moment, while I maintain control, a doubt crosses my mind: “Am I going too far?” I know her; I know where it comes from; I know how fragile she can be at times, but then I feel her smile again, not a tense smile, not a forced one.

A wide, brazen smile, enjoying every second of the game she herself agreed to from the start. Her body doesn’t pull away, doesn’t close up; on the contrary, it responds, follows me, even teases me now, and that dispels any doubt.

— Look at you — I say, chuckling softly. — You love playing the part of the one who complains.

She turns her head just enough to glance at me out of the corner of her eye with that mischievous expression that always disarms me.

— Shut up — she replies. — And keep going... — The laughter escapes me before I can stop it.

— When you beg like that, you’re not helping your cause much — I say as I lean over her again, maintaining that rhythm that already has her on the edge, knowing exactly how much more she can take before losing all pretense of discretion — Seriously, the neighbors are going to think I’m a problem

____ She lets out a sound that’s meant to be a complaint, but it falls short; she doesn’t even bother to hide it anymore.

— It's your fault — she says without conviction

— It always is — I reply — But now you're part of the problem — my hand on her head relaxes a little, just enough so she can breathe better, so she doesn't feel trapped, but supported; control isn't the same as harm, and ____ knows it — Relax — I whisper — No one is judging you

She nods, defeated, and stops fighting the noise, the moment, me—and feeling that, I can’t help but laugh with satisfaction again, because it’s not about winning; it’s about her trusting me enough to lose with me.

She says nothing, and that, curiously, is what disarms me the most. ____ no longer tries to answer me, or protest, or pretend she’s in control of anything; her words have surrendered completely, replaced by sounds she didn’t plan to make and by that huge, open, almost cheeky smile that appears every time she thinks I’m not looking at her.

But I’m watching her the whole time; there’s something hypnotic about seeing her like this, so different from the ____ who argues, who negotiates, who measures every step as if the world were a chessboard. Here she doesn’t calculate; here she feels, and it shows in every gesture, in every ragged breath, in the way her body responds even before I do anything new.

— Look at yourself... — I murmur, more to myself than to her

Her smile widens even more, as if she knows exactly what I’m thinking, as if she enjoys knowing it; that triggers a dangerous, hot surge of pride that pushes me not to let up, but rather to ramp it up—not out of necessity, but because I can, because she lets me, because she trusts me.

My movements become more confident, more decisive, and the reaction is immediate; ____ arches her back almost without realizing it, as if her body were asking for more before her mind could even formulate the thought. The sound she lets out isn’t restrained or elegant; it’s honest, and I love that.

— Shh... — I say with a crooked smile — You were going to behave yourself, remember?

She shakes her head, still smiling, as if the idea of “behaving” had ceased to exist long ago; she no longer tries to silence herself, no longer tries to feign composure, she’s just there, present, alive, and enjoying herself without guilt, and I… I enjoy watching her like this.

There’s something deeply intoxicating about knowing that I’m the one who provokes that reaction, that I’m the one who brings her to that point where words are unnecessary, where she doesn’t need to ask or explain anything, because her body does it for her.

— That’s how I like you — I admit in a low voice — When you don’t overthink things so much

I run a hand down her back, not to hold her back, but to feel her, to remind myself that this isn’t a fantasy, that it’s real, that it’s ____ with her easy laugh and her intelligent gaze, giving herself to the moment without reservation.

Her eyes sparkle when she manages to look at me, and in that gaze there is no fear or doubt, only complicity, only desire, and only that silent trust that carries more weight than any words.

I let myself fall beside her when everything finally quiets down; there’s no rush, no need to say anything right away. The world seems to shrink to that tiny space between us, to the way ____ still breathes, her breath ragged, to how her legs tremble slightly before seeking me out almost by reflex.

She settles onto my chest with a long, weary sigh, as if she can finally release the breath she’s been holding for a while; her forehead rests just below my chin and her cheek against my skin. I can feel her breathing gradually finding its rhythm, her body relaxing inch by inch.

I slowly and carefully raise my hand and take hers; it’s warm and still a little shaky, but I kiss it anyway, first once, then again and again, not in a hurry, not with hunger, but with something that feels more like gratitude than desire.

My fingers slide toward her hair, gently tangling themselves among the strands, caressing her scalp in that way I know calms her. ____ responds almost immediately, settling herself more comfortably against me, as if that gesture were a sign that everything is okay.

— Hey... — she murmurs, her low voice still heavy with exhaustion — I think you broke me — she jokes; I can’t help but chuckle softly so as not to pull her out of the moment

— You’re in one piece — I reply — Dramatic, but in one piece

She smiles against my chest; I know because I can feel it, because her breathing barely changes, because her body shakes with a silent laugh.

— Liar, I can’t feel my legs

— That’ll pass — I reply, kissing her knuckles again — I promise they’ll be back in five minutes

— Five? — she lifts her head slightly to look at me — What if they don’t?

— Then I’ll carry you, — I reply without thinking — It wouldn’t be the first time

____ watches me for a few seconds in silence; her eyes are bright, soft, and completely different from that provocative look from a moment ago. This is the calm ____, the one who lets her guard down, the one who doesn’t need to prove anything. She sighs against my chest again, creating a comfortable silence between us.

— I like it when you’re like this — she admits — when you don’t talk so much.

— Hey — I protest, though half-heartedly — That hurts my feelings.

— Liar — she replies immediately — You don’t have that many.

— I have enough for you — ____ laughs softly again and presses her hand against mine; her fingers intertwine with mine, as if she’s already regained her strength.

— Thank you — she says suddenly, almost in a whisper

— Why? — I ask, and she pauses to think for a few seconds

— For taking care of me afterward — she replies — I’ve been told not everyone does — the words hit me harder than I expected; I don’t say anything right away, I just bring my lips to her hand again, leaving them there a little longer

— Always — I finally reply. — I wouldn’t know how to do it any other way. — ____ lifts her head just enough to look at me; her eyes meet mine, serious but calm.

— Promise?

— Promise — I say without hesitation. She nods contentedly and settles back against me, wrapping an arm around my torso; her thumb traces slow, lazy circles on my skin.

— Felix...

— Mm?

— Next time — she says with a smile I can’t see but can feel — ...Don’t play the bad guy...you look like a mobster — that made me snort with amusement, and I stroked her hair once more

— I’m not promising anything

— I knew it...you’re indecent — she murmurs

— I know — I reply, kissing the top of her head; she says nothing more

She just lies there breathing with me, as if the world could wait a little longer. I feel invincible, and that’s no exaggeration. Being there with that absurd sense of absolute triumph, as if I’d just won a war that exists only in my head. The world is calm, the door is locked, the messy bed is proof enough that everything went exactly as I wanted, and ____... ____ is practically dead.

She’s lying on her back with one arm hanging off the bed and the other on her stomach; her eyes are closed and she’s breathing slowly, as if she’d decided to shut down without warning. Her hair is a lovely mess, and her expression is so peaceful that for a second I wonder if she’s actually fallen asleep.

— Hey — I murmur, still with a stupid smile — Don’t fall asleep — no response — ____...— nothing. I frown and move a little closer, resting a hand near her shoulder — Ho_... — I stop mid-word and clear my throat — ____ — she makes a low sound, something between a groan and an incomprehensible murmur, barely turning her head toward the pillow

— Five minutes... just... five — she murmurs, and that’s when panic hits me, because right at that moment I hear the apartment’s front door, the unmistakable sound of someone coming in... Rhea

— Shit — I whisper, bringing a hand to my face. My brain makes an immediate, traumatic, and very clear connection: “Rhea + us caught off guard = cold water.” I’ll never get over that — ____ — I say, now faster, lowering my voice — We have to get dressed — she doesn’t move — ____, please

— I’m tired — she replies, her eyes still closed — Really tired

— Rhea’s back — I add, leaning toward her — And if she finds us like this, I swear she’ll spray us again — That gets through to her; ____ furrows her brow slightly, as if the information is taking a moment to process

— She’s not going to do it again... — she says, half-asleep

— Yes, she is — I reply without hesitation — She hates me and enjoys spraying me like I’m a dog

— You’re exaggerating...

— No, I’m not exaggerating — I say, already nervous, glancing at the door — She has a spray bottle ready, I’m sure of it — ____ opens one eye just a crack and looks at me slowly, heavily, and exhausted

— Felix... I can’t move

— Yes, you can

— I don’t want to

— Please — she sighs deeply, defeated, and closes her eyes again

— Then you dress me — she says, making a gesture with her hand

— What? — I blink, confused

— You did this — she speaks with the calmest tone imaginable — Now fix it — I stare at her in disbelief for two seconds, until I hear Rhea’s voice from the living room

— Felix, ____! Are you in your room?

— Yes! — I answer too quickly — We’re still tidying up! — great. . . very believable — Five minutes — I mutter to ____ — Just five

She doesn’t answer; she’s literally already half asleep. I huff in resignation and start with myself. I pull on my pants as best I can, almost getting tangled up in the process. I find a clean T-shirt and put it on backwards without realizing it. It doesn’t matter if we have to survive; then I go back to bed.

— This isn’t fair — I murmur as I take one of her arms to help her sit up

— Don’t be dramatic — she replies softly — I just want to rest

— Rest later, and preferably with clothes on — I help her sit up; ____ rests her forehead on my shoulder, completely exhausted

— You’re so loud — she complains

— Excuse me?

— You talk a lot — she adds, yawning.

— And you don’t move at all — I defend myself, feeling around for her clothes, trying not to make a sound, and I start helping her get dressed while she cooperates minimally, lifting one arm when I ask her to, then the other, and as soon as she can, she leans against me again.

— Felix...

— What?

— This counts as full service; you should be proud — she says very seriously; I can’t help but chuckle softly

— I am, very much so — I reply, and just as I finish helping her get settled, she sits back down on the bed; we hear footsteps approaching down the hall

— I’m coming in! — Rhea calls from outside

— NO! — I blurt out without thinking — I mean... wait — everything goes silent; ____ opens her eyes and looks at me with a small, tired smile

— Don’t worry, we’re already dressed — she whispers

— Yeah... that was close — I reply. Rhea knocks on the door once and then opens it just a crack

— Is everything okay? — she asks, looking at us suspiciously

— Perfect — I reply, standing in front of her like a human shield. She watches us for another second, frowns... and leaves. When the door closes, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding — Never again... — I murmur — Never again under my roof — ____ slumps back, settling onto her side

— Stop it, you survived — she says softly. I lean in and gently smooth her hair

— Sleep, I’ll keep watch — I say. She smiles with her eyes already closed and brings a hand to her forehead.

— Oh, my traumatized hero — she jokes.

And against all odds, I smile like an idiot again. I settle in without asking permission and rest my head on her abdomen. ____ makes a soft, tired sound, but she doesn’t complain. Her legs are warm beneath my hands, and I begin to stroke them gently, moving my hands up and down slowly, enjoying how relaxed she is.

— Look at you — I murmur with a smile that slips out on its own — I left you exhausted — ____ doesn’t even open her eyes; she just raises a hand and gives me a gentle tap on the head, more of a lazy warning than a complaint

— Felix... — she whispers in a voice thick with sleep — Quiet, please

— Hey, don’t hit me — I chuckle — It’s just a technical comment, an objective observation — she shifts her legs slightly, trying to get more comfortable, and I take the opportunity to give her a playful squeeze on the hips — Confirmed — I add — Totally exhausted

— I want to sleep — she replies, a little more firmly this time, though she still sounds sweet — Really

— Five minutes — I say, though we both know it’s a lie — Let me enjoy my masterpiece — this time the tap on the head is a little more forceful

— You’re such a chatterbox... and you’re heavy

— That hurts, my ego just took a hit — I complain, feigning drama

Even so, I don’t move; I stay there listening to her slow breathing and feeling her body relax more and more. I like seeing her so calm, so secure… mine. I’m about to close my eyes too when the door bursts open.

— Come on down for dinner! — Rhea calls from the doorway in that tone of hers that brooks no argument. I react as if I’ve been electrocuted, pulling away from ____ immediately and falling to the floor.

— Shit! — I blurt out without thinking as I get up. ____ barely moves; she just frowns a little and rolls onto her side, hugging the pillow.

— A little longer? — she asks, half-asleep. Rhea crosses her arms and looks at us with a “Don’t lie to me” expression.

— Not even five minutes; lunch is already served — she replies

— We’re coming — I say quickly, trying to sound normal. Rhea watches us for another second, as if assessing the scene, then shakes her head

— Seriously, you two… — she mutters before leaving. The door closes, and I exhale, running a hand over my face

— I almost died — I say under my breath. ____ lets out a small, tired laugh and smiles slightly before trying to go back to sleep, and yeah... I definitely wore her out.

-----------------------

Heyyy, another long chapter full of hormonal stuff, this is the last time I’m writing something like this [On top of that, I got a little poetic in the GOGOGO HAHAHA].

Fact: This chapter has over 10,000 words, and yeah, most of it was pure hot stuff [I woke up crazy]

Anyway, I hope you liked it. Don’t forget to give it a heart, comment, and follow me for more updates. Thank you so much for reading. See you on Sunday (❁‘◡’❁)

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