This is a repost due to the last one being removed for formatting
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Here is a little story that my fiancée and I wrote together.
We arrived on the island under the sort of warm sun that makes you think nothing bad can happen.
The villa we’d rented was stunning—perched above a quiet cove, pale stone glowing in the afternoon heat.
Seven of us: me and Eliza, Isaac and Sophie, Kate and Jamie, and Sasha. The last time I was in a place like this, Eliza and I had only just started dating. Now we were engaged.
The first evening was perfect. Barbecue on the terrace, wine, laughter. Akintade arrived late from a match in France—his flight delayed—and when he walked through the archway in a loose linen shirt and that easy, confident smile, the atmosphere shifted slightly. Everyone noticed.
He was taller than I remembered. 6'3", easily. Built like a statue. And when he hugged Eliza—laughing, spinning her briefly off her feet—I felt something flicker in my chest. Nothing definite. Just a tremor.
Day 2
We spent the morning at the beach. I sat in the shade watching Eliza and Akintade play in the shallows, splashing each other like kids. She shrieked with laughter when he lifted her bodily out of the water and flung her back in.
“Bit touchy, aren’t they?” Sophie murmured beside me. She had her sunglasses on, but I could feel the side-eye.
“Just playing,” I said. “They’re old friends.”
Which was true. They’d known each other since uni. But I hadn’t seen them together in years. Not like this.
Day 3
Sasha nudged me after dinner. “You gonna let her keep flirting like that?” she said, half-joking, half-not.
I tried to laugh.
“It’s harmless.”
“Is it?” She sipped her sangria, not looking at me.
That night, I saw them on the terrace. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I watched Eliza tilt her head in that way she does when she’s completely focused. Akintade was laughing softly, his hand resting too casually on the back of her chair.
I didn’t go out. I lay in bed pretending to scroll my phone, pretending not to care.
Day 4
Eliza wore a new bikini. Green, strappy, and daring. I told her she looked incredible. She smiled and kissed me, but when she walked down to the pool, it wasn’t me she was looking at for a reaction.
Isaac came to sit next to me. “Mate,” he said, hesitant. “You alright?”
“Yeah, why?”
He scratched his beard, uncomfortable. “Just… things with Eliza. And Akintade. You know. Looks a bit… I dunno. Intense.”
I forced a grin. “You sound like Sasha.”
He shrugged. “Sasha’s not wrong.”
Day 5
I started noticing little things. Inside jokes between them I didn’t understand. Her laugh a little too loud, too eager. The way he looked at her when she thought no one was watching. Or maybe she did know. Maybe that was the point.
At lunch, she fed him a piece of melon with her fingers. Right in front of everyone. Jamie raised an eyebrow. Kate shifted uncomfortably. But no one said anything.
I watched and said nothing too. My heart felt like it had been cut open with something small and blunt.
And yet… there was a part of me, dark and quiet and ashamed, that wanted to see how far they would go.
Day 6
We went clubbing in Mahón. Loud reggaeton, glowing cocktails, sweat and bodies.
I lost Eliza for a while, and when I found her, she was dancing with Akintade—too close, too synchronised. His hands on her hips. Her head tipped back against his chest.
When she saw me watching, her eyes held mine. She didn’t move away. Not an inch.
Later, in the cab, she sat between us. Her thigh pressed against his. I tried to catch her hand, but she pretended not to see.
Day 7
The morning was heavy with hangovers. Everyone lazed by the pool. Eliza and Akintade disappeared for a "walk along the cliffs." They were gone over an hour.
When they returned, her lipstick was smudged, and she wore his hoodie. She said it was chilly by the sea.
No one believed her.
That night, Sasha pulled me aside. “You don’t have to be okay with this, Ru.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to. My chest was a mess of contradiction—love and betrayal and something else, something strange and perverse. Excitement? Curiosity? Horror?
It was our final night on the island. Everyone wanted to go out with a bang. Jamie had found a place—La Roca, a club carved into the side of a cliff, overlooking the sea.
The kind of spot you only see in films: bass vibrating through the stone, colored lights flashing across the ocean below, the air thick with salt and sweat and the scent of expensive perfume.
Eliza had taken her time getting ready. I waited on the terrace with a beer, watching the last of the sun slide behind the horizon. When she finally stepped out, the conversation around me dipped for a moment.
She wore a white sundress, short and thin, brushing the tops of her thighs whenever the breeze caught it. No bra, of course—just her and the Mediterranean heat. Her blonde hair loose, skin golden from the week’s sun. She kissed me quickly on the cheek like she was already distracted.
Akintade was already looking at her.
At the Club
The place was madness. Lights flickering, reggaeton blasting, people grinding and laughing and shouting over the music. We were all a bit drunk already, the villa’s leftover rosé doing its work.
Eliza had been flirting with Akintade all day. Little touches, shared jokes, hands lingering too long. At the beach earlier, she’d taken his sunglasses and refused to give them back, playfully dancing just out of reach until he tackled her into the surf.
Now, in the club, I was watching her dance.
Not with me.
I’d gone to the bar to get us drinks, just two minutes. When I turned back, there she was—pressed against Akintade in the middle of the dance floor, her back to his chest, moving in time with the music like they were sharing one body. His hands low on her hips. Her head tilted back onto his shoulder.
I froze, both glasses still in my hands.
Then—he kissed her.
I saw it. I saw it. It wasn’t just a peck. It wasn’t innocent. It was slow, heavy, and her mouth opened for him like it had always belonged there.
My chest clenched. I couldn’t breathe for a moment.
When I blinked, they were gone. Swallowed by the crowd.
I moved through the haze of dancers, music pounding in my skull. Eliza was nowhere. I checked our booth. The bar. The terrace. Nothing.
And then—movement to my left.
The corridor toward the toilets. Dim blue lighting, narrow and lined with mirrors. I was about to turn away when I saw the ladies door open.
Eliza stepped out.
She was alone.
She looked… flustered. Her dress was twisted slightly at the hem. She was wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, carefully, as though trying not to smudge her lipstick more than it already was.
And behind her—seconds later—Akintade emerged.
He was doing up his fly.
He didn't even look surprised to see me. Just gave me a brief, unreadable look. No guilt. No apology.
He turned and walked the other way.
Eliza didn’t notice me at first. She glanced around, composed herself, and started walking back toward the club.
That’s when Sasha appeared beside me. I hadn’t even noticed her there.
She leaned in close, her voice teasing and low, just audible over the bass. “You saw that, didn’t you?”
I didn’t answer.
She smiled. “Told you she was getting bored.”
“Sasha—” I started, but my voice broke.
“Oh, Ru.” She tilted her head mockingly, resting a hand on my arm. “You still love her, don’t you? Even after that?”
I stared after Eliza as she vanished back into the strobes, her golden hair catching the light like something from a dream already fading.
And I felt everything at once: the love I’d built with her, the rage I didn’t want to feel, the jealousy like acid in my throat—and the sick, involuntary excitement still lingering in my stomach.
Something in me had changed forever. And I didn’t know who I was anymore.
The club had become unbearable.
After seeing them outside the toilets—Eliza’s lips smudged, Akintade doing up his fly—something inside me had gone numb. Or maybe too awake. I don’t know. I couldn’t feel my hands. My drink tasted like seawater.
I tried to find her again inside, half-hoping, half-fearing they were still in there. But they weren’t. Neither of them. Gone.
I was standing by the exit, watching the people come and go, when Sasha appeared again.
“Still looking?” she asked sweetly, sipping from a tall glass of something fluorescent.
I didn’t answer.
“You’re shaking.”
I hadn’t noticed. But I was.
She followed my gaze to the car park. Just as I was about to turn away, headlights flared and a black taxi pulled out onto the gravel drive, its taillights glowing red as it rolled away into the Menorcan night.
Sasha tilted her head. “Do we follow?”
I blinked at her. “What?”
“Come on,” she said with a wicked grin. “Don’t you want to know?”
“I already know.”
“But you haven’t seen,” she whispered, like it was some dark secret. “Big difference.”
I hesitated—but only for a second.
We ran to the road and flagged down a cab.
The driver didn’t ask questions. Sasha leaned forward and gave him directions to a beach about fifteen minutes away. I didn’t ask how she knew.
“I heard them talking earlier,” she explained. “She mentioned wanting to skinny dip somewhere private.”
She glanced sideways at me. “Guess she found the right company.”
I stared out the window. My heart was pounding but heavy, like it didn’t want to be there.
“I don’t get it,” I muttered.
“Of course you don’t,” Sasha said gently. “You love her. You think that means she owes you something.”
I turned sharply. “She’s my fiancée.”
Sasha just smiled, leaned back, and let the silence hang.
We arrived at a crescent-shaped inlet, empty, lit only by moonlight and the distant glow of our taxi's headlights. The sea lapped quietly at the shore, black and silver.
And there, scattered across the sand—clothes.
Eliza’s white sundress. Her sandals. A man’s shirt. Shorts. His wallet tossed carelessly near the towel they’d thrown down.
Sasha nudged me. “Told you.”
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t.
Then—movement.
Down at the water’s edge, silhouetted against the moon, Akintade stood waist-deep in the sea. Eliza was in his arms, her legs wrapped around his torso, her face buried in his neck as he carried her deeper into the dark surf.
She laughed—a quiet, breathy sound that drifted up the beach. He said something back, voice low and affectionate, one hand spread possessively across her back.
My knees went weak. It wasn’t just sex. It was something tender. Something deliberate.
Sasha stepped closer, slipping her arm around mine. “You could stop watching, you know,” she murmured. “But you’re not going to, are you?”
I swallowed hard. I should have looked away. But I didn’t.
There they were. Naked. Alive. Together. The woman I loved with another man. A man stronger, taller, smoother. The kind of man I could never be.
And yet, for reasons I still couldn’t understand… I needed to see it.
We crouched behind a rocky dune near the edge of the sand, the sea wind brushing the dry grass around us. The air smelled of salt and sun-warmed stone. From here, we had a clear view.
Akintade was waist-deep now. Eliza clung to him like she weighed nothing—arms tight around his neck, legs locked around his torso. The moonlight spilled across her pale skin, tracing the slope of her back, the curve of her shoulder as she leaned back laughing at something he whispered.
She looked… free.
Not like she did with me. Not careful. Not polite.
She kissed him again, deeply, hungrily, like they were trying to breathe through each other. Her hand slid behind his head, fingers curling into his tight-cropped hair, while his other hand disappeared under the water behind her.
My stomach twisted. It wasn’t just what they were doing—it was how they were with each other. Intimate. Natural. Like this was the most normal thing in the world.
Sasha shifted beside me. She’d gone quiet. “She’s never kissed you like that, has she?” she said softly.
I didn’t answer.
“She used to love you,” Sasha continued. “She really did. But it was… safe. You’re safe, Ru. You’re sweet and soft and stable.”
“She’s my fiancée,” I said again, but it sounded stupid even as I said it.
“I know.” Sasha looked at me sideways, almost sympathetically. “But out here, with him? She’s something else. You see it too, don’t you?”
I did. And that was the worst part.
Eliza threw her head back, laughing again as he lifted her higher in the water, then dipped her under. She came up gasping, her hair slicked back, droplets glistening on her breasts in the moonlight.
Then she reached between them—under the water—and he let out a low groan we could hear even from here.
I looked away. I had to. My chest felt like it was splintering. But even with my eyes closed, I could still see it.
Sasha leaned her head on my shoulder. Her voice was quieter now, almost gentle. “You don’t have to pretend this doesn’t turn you on.”
I opened my eyes. “What?”
“You’re still watching,” she said, a sad smile on her lips. “You hate this. But you’re obsessed with it too.”
I didn’t know what to say. My face was hot. My throat tight. But my body… betrayed me.
Sasha noticed. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “You’re allowed to feel both things.”
We sat there in silence a while longer, watching the woman I was supposed to marry melt into another man’s arms—stronger arms. Watching the tide take her further away from me, inch by inch.
And somehow, I let it happen.
Eventually, they came back to shore.
Eliza was in his arms again, her body slick with seawater, hair clinging to her skin. She was giggling as he carried her up the beach, one arm wrapped tightly around his neck, the other lazily holding her sandals.
They didn’t rush to get dressed. They moved slowly, laughing, stealing more kisses as they picked through the scattered clothes. She didn’t even put her dress back on properly—just pulled it over herself, wet and clinging to her body.
Akintade threw his shirt over his shoulder and wrapped his shorts loosely around his waist. Confident. Barefoot. Casual like he’d just conquered something.
I stayed crouched behind the dune, knees aching, heart hollow. I hadn’t said a word in over ten minutes. I don’t think I could’ve if I tried.
Sasha looked at me sideways. “You’re still following, right?”
I didn’t nod. I didn’t speak. I just stood up and started walking.
We took a second taxi back, keeping distance, arriving a few minutes after them. The others were still out clubbing, as far as I could tell. The place was quiet. Lights off except for one: the far guest room downstairs. Akintade’s. They didn’t use the front door. I saw them come around the side, arms around each other, moving in the shadows.
He opened the sliding glass door to his room, and she slipped inside, laughing as he followed, shutting it quietly behind him.
I moved through the garden slowly, silent on the flagstones, Sasha close behind me. We crept around the side of the villa to where his room backed onto the terrace.
The curtain inside wasn’t fully drawn. We crouched by the window, hearts pounding, breath shallow. I wasn’t sure why I was doing this. Maybe I just needed to hear her choose someone else.
Inside, they were standing by the bed. Eliza had peeled off the wet dress again—it lay crumpled on the floor, forgotten. She was completely naked, her skin glowing in the lamplight. He stood behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, kissing her neck.
And then—her voice.
Clear. Delicate. Intimate.
“I’ve never felt this way before…”
He murmured something into her ear.
She giggled. “God, you’re so gorgeous, Ak. I mean it.”
She turned in his arms, placing her hands on his chest. “So strong… so manly.”
My throat closed.
“And big,” she whispered, laughing again. “God, I can feel how big you are even when you’re just holding me…”
Akintade said something I couldn’t hear, low and deep.
Eliza replied, softer now—but still sharp enough to cut: “Ru… I mean, I love him—but he’s so small. You make me feel like I’m with a real man.”
The words hit like a gut-punch. I nearly fell backward.
Beside me, Sasha didn’t move. She just watched, eyes fixed, her mouth tight in something that wasn’t quite a smile.
Inside, Eliza pulled him onto the bed. The sounds shifted—moans, the creak of the mattress, skin against skin.
I wanted to turn away. To run. To scream.
But I didn’t.
I stayed frozen in place, listening to her gasps, her praise, her slow descent into something raw and physical that I had never seen in her before.
And beside me, Sasha leaned in, her voice almost tender. “You needed to hear that, didn’t you?”
I didn’t answer. Because deep down, I knew she was right.
Inside the dimly lit room, Eliza’s voice broke through again—soft at first, then clearer, more breathless.
“Akintade…”
She said his name like it was the only word she remembered. Like a secret she’d been waiting to say aloud.
He answered with something low, too quiet to catch.
And then Eliza’s voice again, trembling:
“Sasha invited you for this, didn’t she?” A laugh, shaky, almost giddy. “She knew exactly what she was doing.”
The bed creaked. The rhythm of movement unmistakable.
Eliza gasped. “God… this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me…”
I felt something hollow open inside my chest. Like the breath had gone out of the world. A part of me wanted to bolt—to run down the road barefoot, disappear into the Menorcan night and never look back. But my feet didn’t move.
All I could see through the gap in the curtain were her legs—pale and smooth—wrapped tightly around Akintade’s back, ankles locked. He moved with deliberate strength, calm and confident, like there was no rush. Like he had all the time in the world with her.
She wasn’t resisting. She wasn’t conflicted. She was choosing this. Choosing him.
Behind me, Sasha exhaled slowly, then crouched down beside me again. I didn’t look at her.
“You didn’t really think she’d stay with you forever, did you?” Her tone was soft—teasing, but not cruel. “She’s been slipping away for months.”
I finally looked at her. “You did this?”
“I nudged,” she said with a shrug. “Eliza just… needed a push.”
“A push to betray me?”
Sasha didn’t blink. “A push to be who she really is.”
Inside, Eliza’s moans rose again. Clear. Raw. She wasn’t holding anything back. I covered my mouth with my hand, barely breathing. “You should’ve seen her that first night,” Sasha said, almost fondly. “She couldn’t stop looking at him. I didn’t have to do much after that.”
“But you wanted this,” I whispered.
“I wanted her to be free,” Sasha said. Then, leaning closer: “And maybe, just maybe, I wanted you to see it. To know what she really wants.”
A silence fell between us. Only Eliza’s voice cut through it now—words muffled, frantic, the sound of someone lost in something far past guilt or shame.
I didn’t look through the curtain again.
I didn’t need to.
The truth was already carved into me.
We were still crouched by the window, the stone beneath us warm from the day’s sun, though the air was turning cool. My legs were numb. My thoughts, even more so.
Inside, Eliza lay curled against Akintade’s chest, her voice soft and dreamy in the quiet after. She sighed, breath hitching a little, as if overwhelmed. “That was… I’ve never felt anything like that.”
Akintade said nothing. Just held her. One hand lazily stroking her back.
Then she spoke again.
“But I’m still marrying Ru.”
I flinched. Sasha stiffened beside me.
Eliza continued, like she was reasoning it out more to herself than him. “I love him. He’s sweet. He’s safe. I want a life with him. A house. A family. He’s good to me.”
Akintade didn’t interrupt. He just listened.
Eliza’s voice dipped lower. “But this—what you and I have? It’s not the same. It’s something else entirely.”
She shifted slightly, her leg sliding over his.
“I’ll marry Ru,” she whispered, “but I’ll never make love to him again. I can’t. Not after this. It wouldn’t be fair. He’s not… built for this side of me.”
Akintade finally spoke, quiet but steady. “You’re sure you can keep the two lives apart?”
“I have to,” she said. “He doesn’t need to know. He wouldn’t understand. And I don’t want to hurt him.”
The irony sliced through me like a knife.
She had already hurt me. She just didn’t know I’d watched it happen.
Sasha leaned toward me, her breath warm at my ear. “She still wants you to be her husband. While he gets everything else.”
I didn’t reply. My mouth felt dry. My thoughts spun—part outrage, part heartbreak, part something I didn’t want to name.
Inside, Eliza nuzzled into Akintade, completely relaxed. “This is where I let myself go. You unlock something I didn’t know was there.”
Then, after a pause: “I’m yours… but he’s who I go home to.”
Akintade kissed her forehead. She smiled, eyes fluttering shut.
I turned away from the window then. I’d heard enough.But the truth wouldn’t leave me. It pressed against my ribs, coiled in my throat. Eliza wasn’t leaving me. She was choosing both of us.
And somehow, in the most painful way imaginable… I was still part of her plan.
It was sometime after 2 a.m. when the others came back—Kate’s laughter echoing off the stone walls, Jamie and Isaac bickering playfully about which route the taxi had taken, Sophie shushing them all like a mother with a sleeping child.
Sasha and I had already slipped back inside through the terrace door. We sat at the kitchen table, silent, pretending to scroll our phones as the others stumbled in. No one questioned where we’d been.
Everyone looked drunk and tired, full of the haze that always follows a long night out. Sophie dropped onto the sofa. Kate made herself a tea she wouldn’t drink.
I caught a glimpse of myself in the dark window—eyes hollow, shirt rumpled, jaw tight.
Then the conversations shifted, quieter now, voices carrying through the villa like whispers meant to float.
“I mean, Eliza was being a total slut,” Jamie muttered, laughing into his drink.
Sophie half-scolded him, but Isaac jumped in, grinning: “Come on, though—did you see her all over Akintade? It was like watching a bloody romance novel come to life.”
Then a pause.
And from Kate: “Honestly? I don’t blame her. She’s always kind of… deserved more than Ru.”
The words hit like a slap.
There was no malice in them. That was the worst part. Just careless honesty, tossed around between sips and giggles.
I stood and left quietly, not trusting myself to speak.
Upstairs. My room was still. I undressed without turning on the light, lay down on the cool sheets, and stared at the ceiling. I tried to pretend it was all just a dream—a bad, blurry mess born of jealousy and a little too much sangria.
But in the early hours, when the house was dead quiet…
I heard it.
Soft at first. A rhythm.
Then the faint creak of a bed through the floorboards.
A woman’s moan—sharp, breathy, unmistakable.
Eliza.
And then it all came back. Her body arched over him, her voice whispering that she’d never make love to me again, only him.
I turned onto my side, pulled the pillow over my head—but the sound came right through it. Moans. Skin. Laughter.
And then—buzz.
I looked at my phone.
Text from Sasha:
“Can’t sleep either? Sounds like your fiancée’s getting a second helping ????”
I stared at the message. My thumb hovered over the screen. I didn’t reply.
Morning
The sun poured through the windows too early. I dressed slowly, each movement feeling heavier than it should have.
When I came down to breakfast, everyone was already there—Isaac, Sophie, Kate, Jamie. Sasha leaned against the counter with a coffee in hand, looking as fresh as if she hadn’t been awake most of the night with me.
Their conversation stopped the second they saw me.
Mugs clinked. Toast was buttered too carefully.
“Morning,” I said, my voice dry.
No one replied right away. Sophie gave a weak smile. Jamie looked at the table.
Only two people weren’t there.
Eliza.
And Akintade.
I sat down at the breakfast table.
The toast was cold. The coffee, still steaming, tasted bitter.
No one said anything.
Jamie was stirring his yogurt with exaggerated focus. Isaac scrolled through his phone like the screen was a lifeline. Sophie tried to smile at me but looked more like someone trying to comfort a stranger at a funeral.
And then, above us—again.
It started faintly, like the house itself was groaning under the weight of something unspeakable. A thud. The creak of the bed.
Then Eliza’s voice. Clear. Unashamed.
“Oh God—yes, yes—like that!”
Someone coughed. Jamie nearly dropped his spoon.
Then Akintade’s voice—low, firm, just audible:
“Say it.”
A pause. Then Eliza, breathless:“I’m your dirty little—”
Sophie stood up abruptly, knocking her chair back.
No one laughed. But no one stopped it, either.
Kate covered her mouth, suppressing a giggle. Isaac elbowed Jamie, who was trying—and failing—not to smile.
Then, through the quiet, we all heard it.
Akintade again: “Get on your knees. I’m sending this one to the boys.”
And Eliza, almost giggling: “They’ll know I’m yours now…”
I stared down at my plate. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t speak.
This wasn’t just private anymore. It wasn’t just between us.
It had spilled out, infected the walls, the floor, the air. Everyone knew. And they weren’t horrified. They were entertained.
There was one final shriek—Eliza’s—followed by a long silence.
Then laughter. Quiet. Girlish.
And moments later, from the terrace window, I saw her Eliza. Barely clothed. Her sundress held tightly to her chest, her hair wild, flushed with the kind of glow I hadn’t seen from her in months. She moved quickly across the patio, barefoot, trying to make it to the stairs unnoticed.
Everyone saw.
No one said a word
.
Jamie shook with suppressed laughter. Kate turned away, biting her lip. Isaac just muttered, “Jesus Christ,” under his breath.
Sasha didn’t laugh.
She just looked at me.
Studied me.
And then—softly, so only I could hear—she leaned in and said:
“Still want to marry her?”
I didn’t answer.
She smiled like she already knew. “Then enjoy it,” she said. “All of it. You’re not just marrying Eliza anymore.”
She looked up toward the ceiling—where Eliza had disappeared—and added, “You’re marrying who she really is.”
"Two Months Later — The Wedding’s Aftermath"
The wedding was over. A day packed with smiles, toasts, and the kind of happy lies we tell ourselves when the world’s watching. I stood next to Eliza in the chapel, hands trembling, heart pounding—not because of joy, but because of everything underneath. The whispered promises she gave me, and the secret ones she’d already shared with Akintade.
Now, here we were again, the same beach where everything had started to unravel. The sun hung low, casting long shadows on the sand. Eliza’s dress fluttered in the sea breeze as she stood up, eyes lighting up like she’d seen something new.
She sprinted across the sand—laughing, breathless.
I followed her gaze. There, leaning against a rock, was Akintade. Tall, broad-shouldered, with that same easy confidence that had thrown me off from day one.
They hugged—too long. His hands lingered on her back, fingers tracing slow circles that weren’t for me. The way she smiled, the way her body curved into him—it was a language I’d tried to learn but never quite understood.
Akintade turned and saw me. He called out, voice booming: “Ru! Congratulations, man.”
I nodded, forced a smile.
They swam out into the water together, arms wrapped around each other like they belonged in a world I couldn’t enter. From the shore, I stepped closer—wading into the shallows until I was near enough to catch whispers carried on the wind.
Eliza’s voice was soft, secretive. “I got it,” she said.
“What is it?” Akintade asked.
She reached down, pulling up the waistband of her bikini just enough to reveal a small tattoo on her hip—a tiny black spade with a ‘Q’ inside it. The ink looked fresh, the edges still slightly red.
Akintade’s eyes darkened. “That wasn’t there yesterday.”
She smiled, a slow, knowing smile.
“There’s something I won’t be able to hide anymore.”
Her hand moved gently to her stomach.
For a moment, the three of us were caught in a stillness charged with everything unsaid—love, betrayal, hope, despair.
“They’re gonna be so cute,” she whispered, almost to herself.
I swallowed hard.
I was a husband.
But I was watching a story that didn’t include me.
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