Page 121 of Hidden Echoes

Figaro was purring softly, tiny and completely content, as if my heartbeat was the only pillow he needed.

I smiled a little and sent the photo to Livia, who immediately responded with a string of vowels and exaggerated emojis.

As much as I laughed at her reaction, my mind was elsewhere.

There was lingerie in the box. Expensive, delicate, absurdly beautiful pieces. Coming from Livia, it felt so natural, like it was obvious I’d need something like that.

But… for what? What exactly was I supposed to do with it?

Zane and I had been married for a year now.

A whole year of sharing a mattress, breathing the same air in the dark, bumping into each other in the mornings when one of us got out of bed first.

I’d gotten used to his warmth next to mine, to the way he always kept just enough distance, as if he was acutely aware of some invisible boundary neither of us ever crossed.

The strangest part? I’d never really thought about it until now.

A year ago, we had one conversation about sex and decided it wasn’t something that mattered. Then his mother’s accident happened, and we started traveling constantly.

He never changes in front of me. And when he touches me of his own free will, my body welcomes it—because it happens so rarely. There are barriers between us. I know that all too well.

And I don’t expect them to disappear overnight.

But I see the desire he tries to hide.

I feel the morning erections when he wakes up holding me.

I notice how his breathing turns uneven, how his hands linger on my waist just a little too long.

I could feel all of this. And it was a different feeling—one I never thought I’d fully explore.

Figaro stretched and nuzzled into the crook of my neck, distracting me from my thoughts. I laughed softly, holding the little, warm body of the cat.

When he finally fell asleep, I got up and went to take a bath.

The steam from the shower still lingered in the air as I stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying my hair.

The dark blue lingerie hugged my body in a way that made me feel… different.

It wasn’t just the softness of the fabric against my skin or the way it contrasted with the patches of my piebaldism. It was the feeling of wearing something that said something.

Something I wasn’t quite sure how to name yet.

I heard the door open and smiled before I even turned around.

“You took a while,” I commented, throwing the towel over my shoulder as I walked toward the bedroom.

My voice was light, teasing. But something in the air shifted the moment I looked at Zane.

He stood at the entrance of the room, frozen as if he had forgotten how to move. His dark eyes locked onto me, and for an instant, I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.

“Is everything okay?” I frowned.

“Yes,” he answered—too fast. But then I saw it. The slow movement of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed hard. The tension in his shoulders, in his jaw. The heat radiating from his body, filling the space between us.

I followed his gaze, only then registering my own clothing.

Ah.

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