The Spaces Between Us

Through Sheets and Secrets

The next morning, my body ached, and sharp cramps twisted through my abdomen.

I jolted upright without thinking, waking Leo in the process.

His hands were instantly on my face, his voice rough with worry.
"What happened, Amore? You're here, you're safe, you're with me."

He was trying to ground me, to make me feel secure. But my panic wasn't about safety.

"It's not that... I think I've bled through your sheets, Leo."

My eyes dropped to the bed—big, undeniable stain. My pajamas were soaked too. Gosh, what a mess.

For a split second, I caught the flicker in his eyes—concern, then something fierce. But not disgust. Not hesitation. He just pulled me into his arms, holding me close.

I was afraid for a second there, afraid he'd recoil, afraid he'd see me as a burden. But he didn't. Blood didn't matter. Only I did.

Instinctively, I reached for the sheets, panic urging me to clean.
"I need to wash these stains out ASAP, otherwise they won't come out."

But his hand closed gently, firmly, over mine. "Amore..."

No. He wasn't about to let me scrub things like I owed him for bleeding in his bed. This was our space. My space too. He may not have known what to do yet, but I could feel it in the certainty of his touch—I belonged here, mess and all.

"Hey, it's okay, my love. It's just some blood. We can manage that."

Then he kissed me, grounding me in his gaze. His voice was low, steady. "Amore, what should I ask Lilly to bring? What do you need? If you need something specific, I'll get it from the pharmacy nearby."

I laughed softly and asked for my phone. Lilly was downstairs, and when I asked her if she had tampons, she agreed to bring some. But Leo didn't wait. He practically sprinted down himself. No one else was going to hand me what I needed—he would.

I slipped into the washroom, stripping my pajama bottoms, stepping under the warm shower. Fresh clothes clung to me with comfort. When I returned, the sheets were already changed. Lilly gathered my bloody pajamas for washing, leaving aspirin, cramp-relief patches, and a steaming cup of tea on the table.

I wanted to do more for her—wrap her up, take away the ache—but if what she needed was stillness, I'd give her that.

Leo's eyes lingered on me, a little worried. I remembered he didn't have a sister; this must all be new for him. He hadn't been through this before.

"Come here, Mr. Savoy," I whispered, tugging him closer.

He sat beside me, taking my hand. "Rest, Amore."

Instead, I tugged him into bed with me. "I need this medicine," I murmured.

Best prescription I'd ever heard. I wrapped myself around her, feeling her warmth seep into me. At some point, she drifted off again.

When she woke later, I wasn't beside her. I'd left her a note—Off to do some boring things. Lilly will give you dinner if you're hungry. I'm bringing back ice cream for dessert.

She chuckled. She wouldn't eat without me. Instead, she watched funny videos, texted Neha, and told Tina she was in Stockholm.

By 8:30, I returned with a box full of things—tampons, pads, menstrual cups, chocolates, chips, fizzy drinks, wafers, candy.

"What have you done, Leo?" she gasped. I must have cleared half the store shelf.

"I didn't know which one you like, Amore," I said with a helpless smile.

And I didn't care if I looked like an idiot. If it made her life easier, I'd buy the entire store.

"You're impossible," she murmured, pulling me close.

When she hugged me, I let my head fall on her shoulder, breathing her in.

"Do you want to go somewhere, Amore? In a week or two?" I asked, voice softer than I intended.

"That's a no brainer. I'm always ready to spend time with you, Mr. Savoy."

Later, curled up in the upstairs living space, we watched Friends. Her head was in my lap, my hand resting near her belly. If she winced, I was ready to fetch, soothe, hold—whatever she needed before she even asked.

She dozed off, and the next morning, she was back in our bed, wrapped in my arms.

Monday came, and she joined her new office, meeting her colleagues. She video-called Tina, who admitted she missed her at work. Her manager greeted her warmly. Her new office was only ten minutes from mine—close enough that I could be there in less than five if she ever needed me.

That morning, we woke tangled together. She'd called her parents the night before, giving them a tour of our home.

When Neha gasped at the size of it, I smirked quietly to myself. Good. Let them see I could take care of her.

Slowly, she and Lilly moved her things into our room, making the place truly hers. Her toothbrush beside mine, her hands arranging my clothes neatly in the armoire, laying out my office wear in the mornings as if it was her right.

When we decorated further, progress was often interrupted by one of us pulling the other into bed. Sometimes we didn't make it there—floor, armchair, dresser, rug. I liked that she left herself everywhere. It marked her as mine.

One night, we went out to a party. She wore a short dress, we drank, she danced. When she got tipsy, I called Albert to bring the car.

Drunk Rhea was trouble. She climbed into my lap in the backseat, leaned close, and whispered, "I have a surprise for you..."

Her hand guided mine beneath her dress. My breath caught. "Rhea... you're not wearing underwear?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

She smiled, nodding. She'd planned this. She wanted me undone. And God, it was working.

My hand slid higher, fingers finding her already wet. She gasped as I teased her folds.

"You started it, sweetheart," I murmured.

I loved controlling her like this—loved the way her body betrayed her even when she tried to hide her gasps in my chest.

By the time we reached the house, I was hanging by a thread. I carried her to the couch, shut the door, and lost the last of my restraint. She was my fiancée. Mine to claim wherever I wanted.

I slung her over the armrest, dress riding up, legs parting for me—glistening, needy.

"Don't make me wait. I need you."

Those words broke me. My pants were gone, and I was inside her—thrusts hard, fast, relentless. Holding her hips, marking her as mine.

When she moaned my name, I fisted her hair, kissed her neck, driving her higher until she shattered. I spilled into her, not ready to let her go.

But I carried her to our room, covering her in the sofa throw. Laying her on her stomach, I pressed kisses along her thighs, her knees, until she trembled. Then I was inside her again, harder, deeper, until her body clenched around me and I came undone with her name on my lips.

I cleaned her gently, lifted her into my arms, and tucked her into bed. I never slept better than when she was wrapped in me.