บททั้งหมดของ Divorce ?... That's Foreplay : บทที่ 51 - บทที่ 60

AriaMoving on turned out to be less dramatic than I’d expected—there were no sweeping orchestral swells, no cinematic montage of self-discovery.There was no grand, singular moment where I woke up miraculously healed or suddenly indifferent to the memory of his touch. No burst of cinematic clarity that made the path ahead sparkle. Instead, it was a quiet, grueling decision I made every single morning when my alarm went off—a mental grit that forced me to get up, get dressed, and keep going before my heart had a chance to argue.So I did. I chose the routine until the routine became my reality.I threw myself into my studies first. Hard. I reclaimed my spot in the front rows, sitting rigid and attentive, taking notes with a frantic precision as if the ink could tether me to the present. I took notes like they mattered—because they did; they were the only currency I had left. I stopped letting my thoughts wander to dark gyms and matte-black signs, pulling my focus back every time it d

Marcel's POV I woke up hard. Like painfully hard. The sheets were tangled around my legs, and my dick was already straining against my boxers like it had been waiting for permission all night. The dream I had clung to me in vivid flashes: Aria’s mouth on me, slow and hot, her tongue dragging up the underside while those dark eyes locked on mine. She’d taken me deeper than I thought possible, throat working, no hesitation. Then she’d pulled off just to whisper my name—low, rough, like she hated how much she wanted it.I groaned and palmed myself through the fabric. My hips bucked once before I forced myself to stop. If I finished here I’d still be thinking about her all day. I needed more than my own hand, but it was all I had.The bathroom tiles were cold under my feet. I cranked the water to near-scalding and stepped under the spray as steam rose fast. I braced one forearm against the wall, wrapped my fist around my cock, and started stroking. Slow at first. Base to tip. I pict

AriaI agreed because it was easier than arguing.That was the lie I told myself as I stood in the frozen parking lot, arms folded so tightly across my chest that my knuckles were turning white.I was staring up at Marcel like he’d personally offended my entire existence just by breathing the same air as me.“Fine,” I said, my voice coming out sharper than I intended, cutting through the silence of the lot. “I’ll change. Just—stop acting like this.”Marcel didn’t smile.He didn’t soften or give me that smug look of victory I expected.He only watched her for a long second, eyes dark and unreadable, like he was deciding whether her answer was enough or merely acceptable.“Good,” he said finally, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the space between us. “Where’s your other shirt?”The question landed with a dull thud against my ribs.I blinked, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks. “I don’t have one.”Something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe, or a momentary crack i

Marcel I watched her swallow, her delicate throat working in a way that made my chest tighten with a sudden, sharp possessiveness.Aria sat there on the edge of the leather, drowning in the heavy cotton of my shirt, her legs tucked tightly under her as if she could physically hide the raw vulnerability etched into every line of her frame.But she couldn't hide from me, not after tonight, and certainly not after the way she had looked at me in the car.The air in the penthouse hummed with a low-frequency vibration of unspoken promises, the kind of heavy, jagged tension that could shatter both of us into a thousand pieces if we weren't careful.“Good to know,” I said, my voice coming out rougher and more gravelly than I had intended it to be.I stood up, the movement slow and predatory, and extended my hand toward her in the dim light.She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes flicking up to mine—wide, uncertain, but laced with that same defiant fire I’d glimpsed through the g

MarcelI pushed open the heavy door to Aria’s dorm room, my muscles still burning with a dull, throbbing ache from the extra hour of grueling drills Coach had thrown at us as punishment for a lackluster practice.Sweat clung to my shirt in damp patches, the fabric sticking to my skin, and my legs felt like lead weights that I was forced to drag behind me.The second I stepped inside that small, cramped space, the exhaustion and the lingering irritation of the day simply dropped away, replaced by an immediate, jarring focus.The room was dim, swallowed by shadows and lit only by the soft, ethereal blue glow of her string lights looped haphazardly around the metal headboard.Aria was on her bed, her body twisted violently in the thin sheets as if she were wrestling with an invisible shadow, her chest heaving with shallow, panicked breaths like she’d been running for miles through a forest.Her forehead glistened with a fine sheen of sweat that caught the blue light.Small, choked sounds