Se connecterDiane
He leans on the table, bringing his face closer. The candlelight plays across his features.
— I saw that you don't flee. I saw that you observe. I saw a coldness that is not indifference, but control. And I saw, in the steam of that bath, a glimmer of defiance you don't yet quite know how to hide.
My heart quickens. He saw. Of course he saw. He's paid to see.
— It's not defiance, I say, holding his gaze. It's survival. There's a difference.
AurélieThe stairs.Each step is a promise.Our bedroom.He opens the door, ushers me in. The moonlight enters through the window, draws bluish shadows on the bed, on the walls, on us.He turns toward me.He looks at me.For a long time.As if seeing me for the first time."You're beautiful," he says. "So beautiful.""I'm huge."
AURÉLIEThe door barely closed on Béatrice, silence falls again like a thick veil over the house.Lorenzo is still standing near the table. He's staring at the plate I set in front of him, the lasagna still steaming, the fork I placed beside it, too close to the edge, as if all of it posed an insoluble problem."Sit down," I say softly.He obeys. Without a word. He pulls out his chair, sits down, picks up his fork. But he doesn't eat. He stabs a piece of pasta, lets it fall back, stabs elsewhere."It's not good?""It is. It's good. It's just that..."
AURÉLIEI check the table. I relight the candles that blew out somehow. I look at the lasagna in the oven. I smell the scent of tomato and cheese filling the house.It's perfect.Everything is perfect.The front door.My heart leaps.I almost run. I open the door.Lorenzo is there. In the doorframe. He has his jacket over his shoulder, his backpack, his tired look from every evening."Hi," I say, hanging from his neck.
AURÉLIEI get up. I go to Lorenzo. I wrap my arms around his waist, I press my belly against his back, I rest my cheek between his shoulder blades."I'm glad you're both here. Both of you. That's all I wanted. To bring you together. To have you near me."He doesn't answer right away.His muscles are hard under my arms. He doesn't relax against me the way he usually does.Then he places his hands on mine."I'm glad too," he says.His voice is strange. Strangled. As if he were holding something back.
AURÉLIEThe day begins like a lie.I'm in the kitchen, preparing breakfast. My gestures are mechanical. Butter on the toast. Coffee filtering. The sun enters through the window, casting circles of light on the tiles, and all of this should be beautiful, should be peaceful, should be exactly what I dreamed of for months.We are all together.Béatrice and Lorenzo under the same roof as me.My belly against the table, my two loves within reach.So why do I have this knot in my throat?Why can't I stop th
BÉATRICEShe approaches. She takes me in her arms. Her belly against mine, our children separated by so little flesh, so little tissue."Thank you for being here," she murmurs into my neck. "It does me so much good to have you."I hold her tighter. Too tight. As if I could hold back time, hold back the confession, hold back everything that's going to collapse."Me too, it does me good."Lie.She goes upstairs.I stay downstairs, in the darkened living room. Seated on the couch, hands on my belly, eyes in the
DianeThe 10 AM bell rings, tearing through the monotony of economics class. A scraping of chairs, a murmur of voices, and the hallway fills with nervous, youthful energy. I gather my things with calculated slowness, letting the other students rush toward the exit. My gaze, like a magnet, immediate
DianeA ray of sunlight filters through the slats of the blind, striping the white ceiling with dusty light. I blink slowly, consciousness emerging like a swimmer rising from the depths. The room is silent. Too silent.I reach my arm toward the other side of the bed.The sheets are cold. Disheveled
LiamThe nightlight casts a trembling golden glow on the walls, like a slow breath. It dances along the curve of Mona’s hips, the hollow of her arched back, the beads of sweat sliding between her shoulder blades. I’m there, kneeling between her spread thighs, my fingers already buried in her damp h
LIAMI can still feel the shivers from our last embrace coursing through my body, like waves that refuse to recede. Diane is lying against me, her warm, slightly damp skin pressed to mine, her breathing still uneven. I turn my head toward her, watch the way her lips, slightly swollen from our kisse







