There was something wrong with me.
I'd woken up nauseous again. Not sick enough to throw up, but just enough to make me lean over the sink, grip the sides, and whisper curses into the drain. My body felt… foreign. My emotions didn't follow logic. My favorite perfume made me gag. My breasts hurt. And last night, I'd cried watching a stupid commercial about laundry detergent.
I knew something was off. I just didn't want to believe what it might be.
Still, I forced myself into the black dress I'd picked for tonight's dinner. Elias had made it clear: I was to show up with Lila. Pretend like everything was normal. Smile while my best friend giggled beside me — completely unaware that I was the woman Elias touched like she didn't exist.
The dress hugged tighter than usual. I blamed the mirror, blamed the lighting, blamed anything but the truth swirling in my stomach.
Lila buzzed around the room behind me, brushing her hair, fixing her lipstick. "You look pale, Lu. You okay?"
I forced a smile. "Fine. Probably just didn't sleep well."
She leaned forward and pressed a hand to my forehead. "You sure? You've been acting kind of weird lately."
"I'm fine," I repeated, sharper now.
She blinked, then backed away. "Okay. Just… let me know if you need to talk, alright?"
I nodded, my guilt rotting my insides like poison.
---
Dinner felt like slow torture. Every time Elias looked at me, my body reacted like it had a memory of its own. Heat rushed through me. Shame burned at my throat. I avoided his eyes, but I could feel him watching me.
At some point, I felt a warm hand graze across my stomach — subtle, like an accident.
But I knew it wasn't.
I looked up sharply. Elias was mid-conversation with Lila, but his hand remained just lightly brushing my side. When his eyes finally met mine, there was something feral in them.
Possession. Hunger. Knowing.
I turned away, bile rising up my throat.
---