EMILY'S POVDinner unfolds around us like a slow waltz. The candles flicker, as I nervously swirl the wine in my glass. My stomach flutters in an odd way. “So,” he starts, “how’s the food?”I glance at the plate in front of me—filet mignon, perfectly cooked, drizzled in a wine reduction sauce. I cut into the tender meat, nodding with a soft smile. “It’s incredible,” I say, meaning it. “Everything’s been perfect, Alexander. You really know how to choose a place.”He grins “I’m glad you like it. But you deserve better than this, you know.”His words linger, pulling at something inside me, making me feel special, wanted. But there’s a weight in my chest, an invisible barrier I can’t shake. It’s not just the pregnancy or Carlos—though that part is undeniable. It’s my own heart, still bruised and guarded. Still torn between wanting something real with Alexander, and fearing it.He reaches across the table for mone. The warmth of his touch is soothing, but the connection between us stirs a
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