Chapter 60 MORNING AFTER
Eli's POV
I woke up sore… like really sore and aching all over.
Not the gentle, vague ache of bad sleep. No, this was my body very clearly filing a complaint. Every muscle protested when I shifted, and the dull tenderness between my thighs and my rim made me groan into the pillow.
Bad decisions. Very good, very hot, very spicy, very bad decisions.
I stared at the ceiling for a long moment, blinking myself fully awake, then muttered, “You did this to yourself,” like that would somehow help. It didn’t. My body answered by tightening painfully when I tried to swing my legs off the bed.
I hissed.
Carefully, very carefully, I stood. My knees wobbled like I’d just learned how to walk yesterday. I shuffled toward the bathroom, cursing under my breath the whole way, brushing my teeth like it was a personal insult and stepping into the shower with a dramatic sigh of relief when warm water hit my skin.
The heat helped. A little.
Still, by the time I got dressed— throwing on the softest, loosest outfit I could find— I already knew walking was going to be a problem. I made my way out of the bedroom, down the hall, and started descending the stairs with the exaggerated caution of someone twice my age.
Halfway down, my legs gave a particularly sharp warning.
I halted my steps.
Then, because I am who I am, I dramatically clutched the railing and screamed, “HELP— I’VE BEEN ABANDONED—”
Footsteps thundered almost immediately.
“What happened?” Julian’s voice snapped, sharp with concern.
Anton appeared beside him, eyes wide. “Did you fall?”
I looked at both of them, pained and offended. “Carry me.”
There was a beat of silence.
Julian blinked. Then he chuckled like my helplessness is funny. “You’re serious.”
“I can’t walk,” I said tragically. “You took away my ability to walk and left me alone. You let me suffer. I had to scream.”
Anton’s expression softened into guilt. “We thought you’d sleep longer. I’m sorry.”
Julian shook his head, amused, and bent down without another word. He scooped me up easily, like I weighed nothing, and I immediately wrapped my arms around his neck with a pleased little sigh.
“This is wicked,” I complained as he carried me the rest of the way down. “You just let me limp around.”
“You were very brave,” Julian said dryly.
“I’m hungry,” I added.
“Breakfast is ready.”
That, at least, improved my mood.
He set me down gently at the dining table, made sure I was settled, then grabbed his suit jacket from the chair nearby. Suddenly the atmosphere shifted, work mode sliding back into place.
“I have to go,” he said, already slipping into that other version of himself.
I looked up at him. “Will you come back early?”
“No,” he answered honestly. “After work hours, I have to attend end-of-year dinner with allies.”
I nodded, trying not to let it sting, and watched him leave without much ceremony. The door closed softly behind him.
Anton sat across from me and promptly took over feeding duties, which I did not object to in the slightest. He cut things up, handed them to me, watched carefully like he expected me to vanish if he looked away too long.
After breakfast, I tugged at his sleeve. “Can we just… watch TV? I don’t want to do anything today.”
“Of course,” he said easily.
“Or are you leaving too?” I added, just cuz I want to whine.
“No, baby. I'm not going anywhere. My work doesn't demand as much time as your husband's does.”
“Thank goodness.”
We curled up on the couch, the house quiet around us, the TV flickering through mindless programs. At some point, food appeared again… lunch eaten lazily, half-focused, crumbs on napkins and fingers brushing by accident.
The hours blurred together.
By nightfall, the TV had switched to the news, droning on in the background. Anton sat beside me, arm draped behind my shoulders. I was fighting sleep, eyes heavy, head tipping slightly toward him.
Julian still wasn’t home yet.
Then the anchor’s tone changed.
“…breaking update involving Julian Thorne—”
My eyes snapped open.
The screen changed to a photo of Julian and a woman… and his mouth on hers.
It wasn’t a video. Just a still image. But it was clear enough. Clear enough to make something hot and sharp twist in my chest.
The headline crawled across the bottom of the screen, speculating: cheating, motives, whether his marriage to a man was genuine or strategic.
My hands clenched in my lap.
“What the hell,” I whispered.
Anton tensed beside me. “Eli—”
“He kissed her,” I said, my voice tight. “He actually—”
“That picture could be old,” Anton said quickly. “Or staged. You know how this works.”
I stared at the screen, jaw trembling. “It’s not old. He's supposedly out for dinner with allies, what if he's rather out with her and not some business allies? And who's that woman?”
Anton shifted closer, his hand warm on my arm. “Relax. Let’s not spiral before we know anything. Julian wouldn't kiss anyone, especially not in public.”
I swallowed hard, eyes burning, anger and hurt tangling together until I couldn’t tell which was louder.
The screen kept talking.
And suddenly, the house felt too quiet.
I couldn’t look away from the screen.
My chest felt tight, like I’d swallowed something sharp and it was lodged there, scraping every time I breathed. Anton was still talking softly, carefully… but his words slid past me. All I could hear was my own head getting louder.
Of course.
Of course this is how it is.
I don’t know when the turn happened, when my hurt twisted inward and started eating itself, but suddenly it was all so clear it almost made me dizzy. I’d read too much into everything. Every lingering look, every touch that lasted half a second longer than necessary. I’d taken tension and attention and spun them into meaning because I wanted to. Because I was stupid enough to believe warmth meant something more.
I let myself believe there was softness there.
I let myself believe they… like me.
God, I’m such an idiot.
Julian didn’t fall for me. He trapped me. A marriage built on lies and strategy and paperwork I didn’t even understand when I signed it. And Anton… Anton admitted to stalking me like it was some charming confession, like it didn’t already say everything I needed to know about control and obsession. And instead of running, instead of protecting myself, I opened my mouth and sucked his dick.
All those red flags but I smiled and stepped closer.
I bared myself.
I gave them parts of me I’d guarded my whole life, like it was nothing. Like it was safe. Like they’d earned it.
My throat burned.
I’m the only one who thought any of this was important, aren’t I?
To them, it’s just sex. Convenience. A body that reacts, that fits between them, that fills some space they needed filled for a while. I don’t know their pasts. I don’t know what they hide behind closed doors or what they’re capable of when I’m not in the room. I only know what they’ve allowed me to see… particularly, what they wanted me to see.
And I mistook access for intimacy.
I mistook desire for care.
I let them take my first time like it was proof of something instead of just… taking. And now here I am, watching a screen show me exactly how replaceable I am, how easily Julian can kiss someone else and still walk into this house like nothing’s wrong.
My eyes stung, but I refused to cry again. I’d already done enough of that. Enough stupid tears, enough softness…
Anton’s hand tightened slightly on my arm like he's worried.
But even that…
Even that felt different now.
I pulled my knees closer to my chest and stared at the dark TV screen after the segment ended, or Anton turned it off, my reflection faint and warped in the glass.
It was just sex, and I was stupid.