Elara’s eyes narrowed instantly.
“Why are you at it again? He’s sick, he’s fragile—shouldn’t I care about him? If you keep picking on Dorian, don’t blame me for getting angry!”
Then she answered his video call, her tone instantly soft and sweet.
“Dorian, be good. Take your medicine first, alright?”
Her voice—the one I thought was mine alone—poured through the phone to him.
The next morning, Dorian stood at our villa door, suitcase in hand, smiling like a fox.
“Surprise! I had a business trip nearby, so I thought I’d stop in.”
Elara’s eyes lit up. She grabbed his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He winked at her. “Wouldn’t be a surprise if I did. So… which room’s mine?”
“We booked a couple’s villa. One bedroom,” I cut in flatly.
He feigned shock, then waved it off. “No problem. Couch is fine.”
I ignored him and headed into the bathroom. As I reached for my toothbrush, a small box slipped from Elara’s makeup bag—birth control pills.
Before I could even process it, Dorian strolled in behind me, yawning. His eyes darted to the box, and his mouth curled into a smirk.
“I told her to take those. Getting pregnant right after marriage? What a drag. Better to enjoy life, just the two of you—right, Elara?”