New Identity

Elara's POV,

He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, breaking my hymen with a sharp sting that faded into fullness. I cry out softly, but kiss him deeper, loving the way he's filling me.

He starts to thrust, steady and deep, his cock sliding in and out of my pussy. The library's quiet amplified every wet slap and gasp. I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him nonstop, our tongues tangling as pleasure rebuilt. My second orgasm hit suddenly, my walls squeezing his cock, milking him as I tremble against him.

He doesn't stop, pounding harder now, one hand gripping my ass and the other fondling my breasts. “Cara, come for me again.” He growls.

And I do, the third climax ripping through me, my pussy pulsing wildly around him. He groans, thrusting deep one last time before pulling out and cumming inside me.

He rests his forehead on mine and I reach up to kiss him again. But he chuckles and kiss my cheek, “When you leave, ensure to take birth control”

I promise him. For the first time, I feel chosen and wanted. He dresses up quietly, arranges my hair and asks me to wait.

But immediately he leaves, I dress quickly, heart pounding, and leave without looking back.

------------------

By morning, I create a new identity, buy a ticket and fly to Spain.

I cut my red hair short and dye it blonde, buy thick glasses, an apartment and clothes that belong to me.

The next day, I walk into my new college, pulse as steady as ever in my life.

“Name?” the administrator asks.

I smile.

“Elara Solis.”

And just like that—I am free.

-----------------

The old woman smells faintly of dust. She squints at the book in her hands, fingers trembling as she flips the pages too quickly, missing the words she’s trying to read.

“Take your time,” I say softly, even though I was already frustrated. “There’s no rush.”

She smiles at me like I’m a blessing and then the doors burst open.

“Noemi,” I mutter under my breath.

She storms in like a hurricane, phone pressed to her ear, and voice booming. She’s yelling about something, gesturing wildly as if the person on the other end of the call can see her.

“I told you already, I am NOT doing this again—”

I close my eyes, exasperated. All eyes were on her, irritated, but she didn't even care. The peace and silence was ruined.

I gently guide the old woman toward the desk and whisper that I’ll be right back, then march straight toward my very loud friend.

I grab her wrist and drag her outside as she keeps talking the entire time. When she finally hangs up, she beams.

“Elara! Baby!”

She pulls me into a hug and I shrink away instantly.

“Oh. Right.” She laughs. “Forgot that you're highly allergic to hugs.”

“Yes,” I say dryly. “And noise. Which begs the question—why are you disturbing the peace of my library?”

She scoffs. “It’s my boyfriend again. He’s being an asshole.”

I roll my eyes. It’s always her boyfriend.

“Why not dump him?”

She grins. “Only because he has the most delicious ass. And oh…best sex ever.”

I cringe but my mind betrays me, drifting to a blurred memory from five years ago. Suddenly my neck was hot.

Noemi clicks her tongue. “Too bad your husband’s dead and you’ve sworn off men. You’d understand me.”

I give her a tight-lipped smile and pull out my phone.

“How’s the project coming along?” I ask.

She shrugs and plops onto the bench.

“You’ve done your part. Let me do mine. I promise it’ll be the best among the best.”

“If only you’d focus on the actual project instead of how legendary it’ll be”

We both turn as a familiar irritated voice cuts in.

“If you spent half as much time working as you do yelling, you’d be top of the class,” Camilla says.

The black-haired menace stands there with a Birkin bag in one hand and three phones in the other, looking like the absolute Queen of whatever world she lived in.

“Fuck you, Camilla,” Noemi snaps. “And get lost. I’m talking to my coursemate.”

“Elara would’ve done so much better in law with me,” Camilla mutters, with an eye roll.

They start bickering immediately and I tune them out to look around instinctively.

Camilla notices and thrusts her car keys in my face. “He’s sleeping in the car.”

Without a word, I run to her car.

---------------

I open the car door to see my baby boy is curled up in the back seat, lashes resting against his cheeks, breathing soft and even. My heart melts like it does every time.

I kiss his forehead and his eyes flutter open.

“Mama?” he murmurs. “Aunt Camilla fought another teacher today. It was so funny.”

I chuckle quietly. “I’m going to have to restrict your relationship with Aunt Camilla.”

He laughs and slips his small, chubby hand into mine.

And I close my eyes, remembering.

Five Years Ago

Carla and I were in the kitchen, laughing about something stupid. It had been three weeks since I met Noemi, since she dragged me home and introduced me to her mother like she’d known me all her life.

Carla was warmth personified. A mother I never had but I made sure not to get attached.

Then I threw up.

Three times.

Carla frowned. “You should take a pregnancy test.”

I laughed it off.

“Your husband just died,” she said gently. “It’s possible.”

I didn’t feel guilty for lying. They could never know because that life? It was gone.

We watched the test together. I prayed to every god I didn’t believe in.

Two lines appeared.

I smiled and pretended joy. I pretended to be shocked and happy.

But that night, alone, I cried.

I cried and considered killing the baby, and then claiming a miscarriage.

I just wanted to erase the last tie to a past I ran from.

I placed my hand on my abdomen, whispering to the little creature, “I'm so sorry. I just can't do this…”

The memory fades and I squeeze Asher’s hand gently.

I don’t know what made me keep him. Maybe I needed proof that I could survive.

And so I named him Asher. My light. The only thing I would die for. Second to none.

That night, after I put him to bed, I step into my room and exhale.

Then I open my laptop and I become someone else.

My father didn’t teach me the dark side of the web for nothing. And so, I slip into the Virelli databases like a ghost.

Their numbers fall and their accounts bleed.

And every time their financial status drops, I smile.

Oh, how victorious it feels.

How deserved.