Fragile

Anastasia I don’t notice the room around me anymore. All I can feel is him—Levi, Crosswalk—pressed against me, his lips moving over mine, his hands firm and warm, anchoring me in a way that makes my knees weaken. My body twists slightly toward his, instinctively reaching for him, craving the nearness we’ve been denying each other for weeks.The warmth of him seeps into me, and my chest rises and falls with every shared breath. I feel like I could melt into him completely, let the world disappear, and just exist here, tangled up and burning with the desire that has been simmering far too long.But then he pauses.I feel it first in the way his hands hesitate on my waist, the way his forehead presses lightly against mine. He steps back just a fraction, eyes dark with something I can’t immediately name.“Anastasia… you’re still sore,” he murmurs, his voice husky, but careful, as if t

Names Again

Anastasia I wake to the soft hum of the house, the morning sun slicing through the blinds in thin lines across the floor. Ray is asleep in his crib, the quiet rise and fall of his chest the only sound, aside from Greta’s low humming as she fusses in the kitchen. My robe is wrapped tightly around me, tighter than usual, almost like I’m trying to contain myself in more ways than one.I stay where I am for a long moment, staring at Ray. He looks impossibly small and fragile, and I feel the weight of the truth pressing against my chest: he belongs here, in this world, and I am the only one standing between him and anything that could unsettle him. Levi is working downstairs, probably already buried in numbers or meetings. He doesn’t notice how quiet I am, how I linger in the doorway watching my son, and maybe that’s a small mercy.Greta’s steps approach, careful and deliberate. She doesn’t speak at first; she k

The Thread of Distance

LeviI sit at my desk, laptop open, emails half-read, contracts half-signed, and yet none of it registers. My mind keeps returning to the way Ana clutches Ray in her lap, how she leans slightly away from me even when I’m in the room, how her eyes—though always soft on the baby—shift just enough that I know she’s guarding herself. I should be furious, I should be impatient, but instead, I feel hollow, the kind of emptiness that makes even the perfect office setup seem meaningless.I glance up at the living room. She’s sitting on the couch, Ray in her arms, Greta at her side. The way Ana tucks the blanket over his tiny body, the way her fingers brush through his hair—precise, gentle, protective—I can’t breathe past it. I’ve been trying to give her space, I remind myself, burying myself in work so I don’t have to apologize for the things I haven’t yet understood. And still, I can’t help noticing every

Planning

Anastasia The house feels heavier with each passing day, though no one says it aloud. I see the weight of expectation in Levi’s posture, the careful attention in Greta’s eyes, the quiet concern in Jenna’s. I try to act normal, try to move about like I belong, but every glance at Ray, every touch, every tiny gesture he makes toward me reminds me that I am here under their watchful eyes. I can’t let him—or anyone—see the plan forming in my mind, so I keep my movements deliberate, measured, calculated.I’ve taken to hiding little things in my room, transferring small amounts of money into a separate account whenever I can, under the guise of bills or savings. I take only what I can conceal, what can’t be traced, what won’t raise suspicion. Day by day, I prepare quietly, careful not to draw attention to myself. Greta fusses over me when I linger too long in my room, asking if I’m tired, if I ne

All Chapters of Beyond Rejection.: Chapter 61 - Chapter 64

Fragile

Names Again

The Thread of Distance

Planning