Chapter 17
LORETTA
My heart hammered against my ribs as I stepped into the house, the official hospital envelope clutched so tightly in my fingers that the edges had begun to crease beyond repair.
The late afternoon sun poured through the tall arched windows.
Everything felt too quiet.
Even my own footsteps sounded louder than usual as I crossed the entrance hall, each step echoing in a way that made my anxiety tighten further with every second.
Two months ago, Rafael and I had crossed a line we could never uncross.
That first night we had sex wasn’t gentle. It was raw, desperate, almost violent in its hunger—like a dam had finally burst inside both of us and there was no forcing the flood back.
We clawed at each other, breathless and shaking, every touch edged with months of unspoken need.
After that, there was no going back.
We became insatiable.
Rafael especially.
There were days he would pull me into him without warning, the control he wore so carefully around others dissolving the moment we were alone.
Sometimes it was in the quiet of the early morning, sometimes late at night when the house had gone still.
Sometimes he didn’t even bother speaking—just looked at me like restraint had become an insult he could no longer tolerate.
And I had let him.
Willingly.
Now everything had changed.
Because for the past two weeks, something had been wrong with my body.
At first, I told myself it was nothing.
Probably stress. Fatigue. The emotional chaos of everything between us finally catching up to me.
But the symptoms refused to be ignored.
The exhaustion came first—deep, bone-heavy, the kind that made even climbing the stairs feel like dragging myself through water.
