The Window Stayed Open

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The window creaked.
Soft. Slow. Familiar.

She didn't turn around.

She knew it was him — that shadow that slipped into her world without warning, without name, without face.

Her body responded before her mind could protest. Every nerve lit up at the sound of his breath behind her.

But tonight wasn't like the others.

She didn't rush to him. Didn't melt at his touch.

She stood still.

He approached, gently, like a predator who knew its prey was already his.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice low, rasped by the wind of the night.

She didn't answer right away.

Her hand tightened around the edge of the sink.

"I'm pregnant."

It dropped like a bomb.

Silence.

Not even the sound of their breathing could cover the explosion in the air between them.

He didn't move. Didn't speak.

She turned around slowly, finally meeting the masked eyes that had haunted her every dream.

"I don't know who you are," she said, her voice shaking. "I don't know your name. But I'm carrying something real. And I have no idea what you've put inside me — besides a child."

Still, he didn't speak.

His jaw tensed behind the mask.

Her voice broke. "Say something. Anything."

A long pause.

Then finally...

"I didn't want this," he whispered.

She laughed bitterly. "Neither did I."

He took a step forward, but she stepped back.

"Don't touch me," she said sharply. "Not until you tell me the truth."

He hesitated.

Then his voice came out, heavy. Honest.

"I'm sick."

Obsession under the Sheets Opowieści tętniące życiem. Odkryj je teraz