Page 92 of Their Arrangement
And just when I thought I couldn’t take any more?—
The weight shifted.
His warmth pulled away.
The bed creaked.
I opened my eyes.
He stood beside the bed, staring down at me like he’d just carved the world into something unrecognizable and wasn’t sure if he should burn it or kneel before it.
“You wanted to forget me?” he asked.
I nodded, breathless.
“Then you shouldn’t have invited me back inside you.”
I sobbed.
Not from pain.
Fromneed.
From the ache that bloomed in my womb like a bruise. From the emptiness that curled around my ribs where he could have been.
He walked away.
I reached for him without thinking. One hand. Fingers outstretched like a girl trying to catch the hem of God’s coat as he passed.
He didn’t turn.
Didn’t look.
He reached the door. Paused.
Looked over his shoulder.
“You think this was punishment,” he said. “It wasn’t.”
Then he left.
The door stayed open.
But I didn’t move.
I stayed there.
Naked.
Wrecked.
Thighs still parted.
Heart still pounding.
Body stillbegging.
And when my phone lit up on the nightstand—somehow still alive, somehow still willing—I reached for it.
