The house had finally gone quiet.
After the chaos of the day, Tessy found herself moving silently beside Roman down the corridor that led to his bedroom. No one said a word. Not a whisper. But something pulsed heavily between them… something thick, unspoken, and waiting.
Inside the room, the atmosphere shifted. The thick velvet curtains were already drawn, cocooning the space in warmth. Tessy stood near the bed, her fingers brushing lightly over the silk sheet, while Roman walked toward the dresser and slowly undid the buttons of his black shirt.
She watched him.
Her eyes lingered over his back, the tension in his shoulders, the ridges of muscle beneath his skin, the veins that stood out on his forearms as he moved. He was still wound tight, the day's frustration barely held beneath the surface. And he hadn't touched her… not in that way… not since the miscarriage.
