“Hey, sleepyhead,” he says, peering in from one side of the doorframe. He looks a little sheepish, maybe even a little concerned. “Can we talk for a minute?”
I nod. “Sure,” as I let out another yawn.
He hands me a box, distinctive and white. An iPhone. The latest kind, and the top-of-the-line version with the best camera and all the storage.
I quirk a brow, not quite sure what to say.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he says quietly. “I know it was wrong.”
“Crushed my phone with your bare hands in a display of caveman-like vandalism of my property?” I can’t help but scoff.
It’s not the first time a man has damaged my property—it was one of my exes favorite pastimes, a way of exerting control and just, well… pissing me off—but there was something about Soren’s sheer show of force that felt like a silent threat.
“Look, I really am sorry. I don’t want to make excuses. But I just felt so annoyed that you can’t get a break from the outside world, Ivy. You—you deserve peace. You deserve to be able to go about your life without demanding people wanting to take from you all the time.” He pauses. “But that didn’t give me the right to destroy your things. I shouldn’t have done it, and I am really sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” His gaze is locked on mine, a hint of something that looks like expectation pulling at me.
It’s disarming that he’s acknowledging it all. Sure, there’s a hint of an excuse—a justification—buried within his disclaimer about not having an excuse. But the apology still rings true.
I pull the phone out of the box and press the button on the side. It immediately lights up, and it’s fully charged. The phone is beautiful, sleek, and matte black—my color of choice. And I quickly realize it’s already set up, with everything transferred over from the cloud. Seamless. Soren, once again making it easy again.
Easy for me to go about my life.
Easy for me to forgive what he did.
The rest of the day is productive. I get a ton of work done, and the phone makes it a hell of a lot easier than before. Itfeelsbetter to use it—brand new. Faster. Cleaner.
The settings look slightly different than I’d expect—I can’t put my finger on it. A couple of extra icons I don’t recognize. But new phones always come with new settings, new features, new preinstalled apps. I make a mental note to look into what’s changed later so I can make the most out of it. In the meantime, it’s already a significant improvement on what I had before today.
The Middle of the Night
Something isn’t right.
I feel it before I understand it. An awareness that something isn’t how it’s supposed to be.
My eyes open slowly, the room still dim, soft with early light. For a second, everything feels normal—looks normal. Quiet. Still.
Then I realize I’m not alone in my body.
My breath catches.
He’s already there.
Not beside me. Not just touching—closer than that.
Inside me.
My stomach tightens, a sharp flicker of confusion cutting through the haze of sleep. “Soren…?” My voice is rough. Unsteady.
He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t even hesitate. “Stay.” His voice is low. Calm. Too calm. Like this is normal. Like there’s nothing to explain as I feel him thrusting inside me.
My body reacts before my mind catches up. That’s the part that makes everything worse. I should be pulling away. I should be asking what he’s doing, why he didn’t wake me—why this feels wrong.
Instead, my breath stutters. My body shifts under him, responding in a way I didn’t choose, didn’t prepare for, didn’t— “Wait,” I manage, but it comes out softer than I want it to. Thinner. Less certain.
He doesn’t stop. His hand finds mine, guiding it, holding it—not tightly, not forcefully—just enough to keep me there. “Don’t think. Just go with it.”
That flicker—that small, sharp hesitation—tries to surface. “Wait—” it comes out breathless this time. Barely formed. Not even resistance.
And once again, he doesn’t stop—not even slightly. Instead, his hand tightens at the back of my neck, holding me there as his mouth returns to mine, deeper this time, harder. “You don’t say wait to me,” he murmurs against my lips. The words are quiet, but they land heavy.