The Wild Virgin (HER POV) のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 81 - チャプター 90

The sun was already high when I opened my eyes, the kind of morning light that slipped lazily through the curtains and painted soft gold across the white sheets. For a moment, I just lay there, letting the quiet sink in. Beside me, Macy slept with her face turned toward the light, her lashes fluttering slightly as she dreamed. There was a kind of peace in that stillness, so delicate, so rare, that I didn’t dare disturb it.It was a Saturday, after all. No school, no rush, no alarm clock dictating the rhythm of our little world. Just the hum of the ceiling fan and the faint scent of morning air mixed with the sweetness of her shampoo.By the time the clock hit nine, Macy stirred, rubbing at her eyes with tiny fists before pushing herself upright. Her hair was a wild halo of brown curls, and the first thing she did, before even greeting me, was look for her dollhouse. I smiled. That dollhouse had become her morning ritual, her tiny kingdom, complete with mismatched furniture and dolls w

I barely registered the blur of the streets outside as the taxi rattled along its usual route, the world slipping past in a series of muted, colorless snapshots. My mind was elsewhere, lost in a tangled mess of thoughts that refused to untangle themselves. Worry clawed at the edges of my consciousness, anticipation gnawed at the center, and I didn’t even notice when the vehicle jolted to a stop in front of Amy’s house to pick up Macy. The familiar hum of the engine, the clatter of wheels over the uneven pavement, barely registered; it was as if I were moving through life behind a thick glass, removed from the ordinary rhythm of everything around me.Amy’s warm voice pulled me back from the edge of my own spiraling thoughts. She stood at the door, smiling like a sun breaking through an overcast sky, and her presence was comforting, almost grounding. “Lexie, come in. Coffee?” she asked, stepping aside to welcome me into her home. I nodded, the gesture almost automatic, though a small, s

I had lost count of how many times my gaze drifted toward Ram Jordan. It was embarrassing how little control I had over it, how my eyes seemed to move of their own accord, drawn to him again and again, even when every rational part of me begged myself to look away. But he was impossible to ignore.Ram didn’t mask his emotions the way he used to. There was no coldness, no carefully constructed indifference, none of the walls he once hid behind. Tonight, every feeling flickered openly across his face, happiness when he looked at a photo of Macy, regret shadowing his eyes when he flipped to the next page, sorrow softening his mouth, frustration tightening his jaw, longing darkening his gaze. All of it lived there, unguarded and painfully sincere. And for reasons I couldn’t begin to understand, he didn’t care that I could see every unfiltered piece of him.And every time my eyes landed on one of those expressions, on what felt like the ghost of the man I once loved, guilt pricked at my ch

I felt a wave of nervousness wash over me the moment I saw Ram Jordan’s house, looming in all its three-story, French-style glory. The same house where, six years ago, I had let myself dream, dream of a life, a family, a future with him. Even from the outside, it screamed wealth and power, the kind of luxury that made your chest tighten, your heart beat faster, as though the very air around you was charged with expectation. And now, standing here, I felt that same weight pressing down on me, a familiar heaviness that seemed to thicken the air, make it harder to breathe.The house hadn’t changed much. At least, not enough for me to notice at a glance. But when I looked closely, subtle transformations caught my eye. The grand entrance door was wider, almost as though it could swallow the world whole, and the garden had been transformed into a vibrant tapestry of colors, lush greens, soft pastels, bright blooms arranged with a perfection that was both welcoming and intimidating. Every de

For the first time in six long years, I slept peacefully. No nightmares clawed at me, no shadows haunted my dreams. I stretched, savoring the rare stillness, letting my limbs extend slowly, luxuriating in the quiet warmth of the sheets. My hand drifted lazily, fingers brushing against something solid, and my eyes flew open.Ram Jordan. Reclining on his side, head propped in one hand, watching me with that steady, unreadable gaze that always seemed to see through me. My heart jolted violently in my chest, every instinct screaming at me to leap from the bed, but the heat radiating from his presence pinned me in place. That slow, almost mischievous smile tugged at my restraint, making any attempt at composure impossible.Right. Last night. I had slept in his bed. Not just slept. My subconscious reminded me sharply, mortifyingly, and I yanked the duvet over my chest, trying desperately to shield myself from him, and perhaps from my own racing thoughts.He raised a single eyebrow, amusemen