Page 31 of Ava After Midnight

"You did. And I’ll remind you of it every time you pretend you don’t love how it feels to be ruined."

The words settle between us, heavier than they should be. He doesn’t mean them lightly.

His hand drifts lazily up my arm, over my shoulder, across my collarbone, as if he’s memorizing me through touch alone. His fingers find my wrist, his mouth ghosting over the thrumming veins beneath.

Soft. Intentional. Like a promise he won’t say out loud.

I should stop this. I should feel ashamed. I should be drowning in regret.

But all I feel is warm.

For the first time in a long time, I feel safe.

I exhale, letting my body mold into his, our legs tangled in the sheets as the storm outside begins to fade. The darkness thins, shifting into the muted blue of early morning.

We stay like that, wrapped in something too sacred to name.

Domingo disappears at some point, only to return with a tray I didn’t even hear him bring in. He presses a piece of fruit to my lips. "Strawberry or mango,princesa?"

I bite into the mango slice, eyes narrowing. "Are you trying to win me over with food?"

He smirks. "Is it working?"

I chew, pretending to think about it. "Mmm. Maybe. A little."

His gaze darkens with something softer than desire. "Good."

I roll onto my stomach, chin resting against his chest, fingers tracing idle patterns along his forearm. "Tell me something real. Something about you."

He’s quiet for a moment. Then, "I once spent three months living out of a car in Mexico."

I blink. "What? Why?"

His fingers continue their slow path up my spine. "Had a job that went sideways. Lost everything. Had to start over."

There’s no shame in his voice, just quiet, measured honesty. The weight of it presses against my ribs.

"And you?" he asks.

I hesitate. "I used to believe in love."

His brows lift slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

“Real, big, all-consuming love. The kind that swallows you whole,” I murmur. "But now... I don’t know. I think I just believe in obligation."

Domingo watches me like he’s peeling back my layers one by one, seeing past the walls I’ve spent years reinforcing. "Obligation isn’t love, Ava."

I swallow hard. "Yeah. I know."

We don’t say anything for a while. He just holds me, his fingers never ceasing their slow, reverent path over my skin.

And for a little while, I let myself believe this moment can last.

We must have fallen asleep like that, tangled together. His heartbeat my lullaby, the storm our witness. The last thing I remember is his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin, his voice rough with satisfaction as he whispered,Descansa, mi alma. Sleep.

I dream of Spanish endearments and passionate touches, of freedom and possibility.

Until sunlight replaces lightning, warming my skin as consciousness creeps in.

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