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She told me she didn’t want to do it—that she knew it was wrong—but the thoughts inside her were louder than reason.

Sometimes, hurting herself felt like the only way to silence them before they drove her to that unfeeling, darker place.

Our days are reserved for more ruthless fucking, while our nights are spent embracing each other, kissing our scars. And, dare I say, this is the happiest I’ve ever been because my woman wants me just as fiercely as I want her.

I also started wearing condoms, knowing she isn’t ready for kids and while I don’t like the barrier, I’d never ask her to take pills that could mess with her body just to make things easier for me.

And even though I ache for a child—to give them the kind of childhood I never had—that dream will have to wait.

One step at a time.

I’ll build a world for my woman and our future kids where fear doesn’t exist, where they never have to flinch, where tears come from something as small as a fallen tooth, never because of the pain of a broken bone.

Where Elara can look at a knife and only think of the slow rhythm of me chopping vegetables, not the echoes of her own trauma.

Elara makes her affection for me quite evident by telling me how she wishes she can kill my father when she licks my scars, kisses my eyelids, providing a warmth I have never experienced before.

Joy settles in my chest, but so does the foreboding that always shadows it, whispering that this moment isn’t mine to keep.

Her cyclothymic mood swings have me bracing for impact.

One moment she smiling and the other she spends locked in the bathroom, with her phone in her hands.

“Dollface, step away.” Roman’s loud roar snaps me back into reality and I turn around to find flames leaping from the pan, licking the air where Elara’s grip is firm on the handle.

She shrieks and I’m on my feet beating Roman to it and grab the pan from her, dumping it in the sink before turning the tap on as the fire hisses and dies.

A sigh leaves my lips as I turn to find a very nervous and almost scared Elara looking at me.

“Are you hurt?” My scrutinising gaze travels all over her frame as she shakes her head awkwardly.

“I-I…just thought—”

“It’s okay, malyshka. Come here.” Her body collides with mine as I hide her in my arms.

“The pancakes…” she mumbles. “I just turned to pour myself some coffee and then they were burning—”

“You were reheating pancakes in a pan, solnyshko?” I ask, too stunned to conjure alphabets together as she sheepishly nods.

I sigh before chuckling, unable to keep it in anymore as I get to work and fix another batch for her.

“I’m sorry.” She says with desolation.

“Don’t be, baby. Just do my sanity a favour and stay away from the kitchen.” I snort, pressing another kiss on her forehead.

The door to my penthouse opens with a click and I find Alina marching in.

Her fists are tight, knuckles white, as rage swirls within her icy blue irises directed towards…Alec?

“I’m going to kill you.” That’s all I hear before she lunges forward and hits Alec’s already swollen cheek, halting everyone in their places.

Did Alina just punch Alec?

“I just beat him up. His face practically begs for a fist.” Roman says, confused. “But why are you so angry?”

This time, Alec catches Alina’s fist before she can punch him again. “Calm the fuck down, snezhinka.”

“I hate you.” Alina scowls and storms past the room, leaving all of us stunned.