She didn’t wipe the tears.
Not because she didn’t feel them.
But because they deserved to fall.
They slid down her cheeks in hot, aching trails, carving through the heat still clinging to her skin like the aftertaste of sin.
They soaked into her jaw, the corners of her mouth, the hollow of her neck. And still, she didn’t move. She didn’t lift a hand to stop them.
Didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. It was like her body had been emptied of instinct. Like the part of her that used to feel things had crawled out of her chest and died.
Her legs trembled beneath her. She could feel the soreness between her thighs. Her p***y was still wet… not from pleasure, but from everything that came after. The mess. The ruin. The brutal knowing.
Her heart wasn’t breaking anymore. It had already cracked c
