Page 237 of Wrong Marriage. Right Groom
Our sweat-slicked skin mingled despite the cool air from the conditioner.
I stayed draped over him, still trying to recover from the intensity of what we had just shared, already fantasizing about the next round — about climbing on top and taking control.
But exhaustion won.
I didn’t even realize when I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep in his arms.
I WOKE SOMETIME LATERto find myself alone in the large bed.
For a few seconds, I didn’t move.
The world felt suspended in that strange, hazy space between sleep and awareness, where everything still carried the memory of touch even when the hands were gone.
The duvet had been pulled carefully over my naked body, tucked in with an unexpected gentleness that didn’t quite match Rafael’s usual severity.
But the space beside me was empty and cold.
Rafael was gone.
I exhaled slowly, staring up at the ceiling as the silence of the room settled properly into my awareness.
A strange mix of satisfaction and emptiness stirred in my chest, colliding in ways I didn’t know how to name.
Physically, I felt... different. More awake. More alive than I had in years, like something inside me had been uncoiled after being tightly wound for too long.
But emotionally—
The absence of his warmth beside me pressed in harder than I expected.
My thoughts, uninvited and sharp, began to creep in.
Would he consider last night a mistake?
Would he wake up this morning and return to that version of himself that kept distance like it was law?
Or worse—
Would he retreat entirely, sealing himself back behind grief and discipline, convincing himself that what happened between us was a betrayal to Zara?
The thought made my stomach tighten unpleasantly.
I pushed the duvet aside and sat up, letting the cool air brush against my skin.
My body protested faintly—still carrying the lingering ache of everything that had happened—but it wasn’t unpleasant.
If anything, it was a reminder. A quiet, undeniable proof that last night had been real.
I stood.
The floor was cool beneath my feet as I made my way into his bathroom.
The space smelled faintly of his cologne even here, like he existed in every corner of the house whether he was physically present or not.
I took a quick shower.
Not long enough to escape my thoughts, but enough to gather myself again.
Enough to steady the parts of me that felt a little too exposed, a little too changed.
