All Chapters of The Wild Virgin (HER POV) : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

By the time I reached home, my body felt as though it no longer belonged to me. My legs were unsteady, every step an effort, and my stomach threatened open revolt. I pressed a trembling hand against my lips, certain that if I faltered even once, I would either collapse on the staircase or leave my insides scattered before I ever reached the sanctuary of a room.“It must be that damned taxi’s air freshener,” I whispered bitterly to myself, clinging to the lie. But deep down, I knew the sickness ran far deeper than a smell. It wasn’t nausea of the body alone, it was everything. The slap still burned on my skin. The weight of Rafael’s hands still lingered like a phantom. Ram’s voice, cold, furious, wounded, echoed louder than any scream.What irony... That after the nightmare in that hotel room, after the betrayal carved into my chest, I still had to return here. Ram Jordan’s house. My shelter, my hell. Prison and sanctuary bound in one. Brave or foolish to step inside again? Even I no l

“Come on, eat something.”Claire’s voice cut through the haze in my head like a whip, slicing straight through the silence that had wrapped itself around me. I startled, realizing how long I had been staring at the plate in front of me, spaghetti, the one thing I’d begged for earlier, the one thing Andrew had forgotten to order, and the very same dish that had nearly reduced me to tears when it finally arrived.My fork dangled between my fingers, limp, abandoned over the tangled noodles. I hadn’t taken a single bite. The food sat untouched, its scent curling into the air, turning my stomach instead of tempting me.“I don’t have the appetite,” I muttered, pushing the plate away as if the very sight of it was too heavy to bear.“No.” Claire’s reply came like a steel blade, firm, carrying the authority of someone who had played both sister and mother to me more times than I cared to admit. She shoved the plate back toward me, her eyes burning with a mixture of irritation and desperate co

Ram’s POVLexie’s pregnant.The words wouldn’t leave me. They circled, relentless, pounding in my skull until I thought I’d lose my mind. I could shove them down, drown them in fury, but they always came back. Louder. Heavier. Each time they landed, they left me more unsteady than before.And always, the same question followed.Who the hell is the father?That single thought was enough to gut me. To strip me raw. I hated it, hated myself for even asking, hated her for putting me in this place. I had given her everything. My time, my trust, my goddamn heart. And yet here I was, forced to wonder if the child she carried inside her belonged to me, or to another man.My grip tightened on the wheel until my knuckles blanched. The truth, ugly and stubborn, pressed into me with no mercy. It could be mine. I knew it. We had spent too many nights tangled together, too many hours locked in a hunger that left no room for anyone else. Denying that possibility was impossible.But Rafael’s shadow w

“Lexie Stevens, are you sure about this?”Claire’s horrified voice cut through the air like glass shattering, sharp enough to slice right into my chest. It was the very question I had been dreading, the one I couldn’t bear to answer out loud, because the truth was a wound too raw to expose.For a heartbeat, I said nothing. My lips curled into a sad, fragile smile, the kind that belongs to a woman who already knows she’s lost the war before the battle even began.“N-no…” The word tumbled out of me in a whisper, trembling, broken. A sigh followed, heavy and jagged, as though it dragged every shattered piece of my heart along with it. “I’m not sure at all. God, Claire, I’m not sure of anything anymore. But what choice do I have? I love him, God help me, I love him so damn much. Maybe that’s the cruelest part. Because love… love isn’t enough. Not anymore. He doesn’t respect me, not like he once did. He’s slipping away from me with every look, every silence, and I feel it, it’s like watchi

It had been almost two weeks since my unexpected marriage to Rammel Jordan, and in all that time, nothing between us had changed. He still refused to treat me with the kindness I secretly longed for, and more often than not, he couldn’t even be bothered to show me the basic respect any husband owed his wife. I had tried… God knows how hard I had tried. I bent myself in every direction, searching for ways to ease the tension between us, desperate to find some sliver of warmth beneath all that coldness. But the harder I reached for him, the more he pulled away. Every attempt was a failure, every effort another wall between us, until I simply stopped. Slowly, I learned to live with his anger, to grow accustomed to the way his eyes blazed whenever they met mine, to the silence that filled the space where affection should have been. Somewhere along the way, I became invisible in my own marriage. And eventually, I grew tired of caring. Maybe that was why it didn’t sting as much anymore.