“Have you?”
The question was dangerously soft.
I hated how easily he dismantled my argument.
“Loretta,” he said, his voice lower now, “you do understand that being my wife comes with certain expectations.”
The words landed with clinical precision.
My chest tightened.
Air caught somewhere between my lungs and my throat, forcing me to drag in a shaky breath.
“If you’re talking about sex...” I began.
The word alone felt difficult to say.
My voice faltered, and humiliation immediately followed.
“Of course I know what is expected of a husband and wife.”
The words came out quieter than I intended.
“I know this marriage isn’t only a name on paper. There are just...” My throat tightened again. “There are things you should know.”
For a moment, I couldn’t continue.
Not because I didn’t know the words. Because speaking them aloud made them real.
“I don’t have good memories when it comes to sex. When people talk about intimacy, affection, desire...” My voice weakened. “I don’t understand those things the way other women do.”
A painful knot tightened in my chest.
“What I remember,” I said slowly, forcing each word out before I lost the strength to finish it, “is fear... pain... and force.”
I forced another breath into my lungs.
“You don’t have to feel trapped by the vows we made. If there are other women... If there are needs this marriage is supposed to satisfy, then find someone else.”
My voice was steady now.
Not because I was calm.
Because I had finally retreated behind the wall I knew best.
“I won’t stop you.”
He didn’t react immediately.
That, more than anything, made my stomach twist.
I could almost feel his attention narrowing—not on the words I had said, but on everything underneath them.
Rafael moved..
A subtle shift in posture that changed the entire room without changing distance.
Then his voice came again—lower this time, stripped of its earlier cold efficiency.
