The business is running smoothly—money coming in by the shovelful.
The family is solid, powerful.
Friends and partners—strong, stable.
The children are fully aligned.
The Earth Angels system is doing its job;
the kids are pointed in the right direction.
Nate and I exchange a glance.
“Kitten.”
“Hm?”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“What will you do?”
I thought for a moment.
“Learn.”
He raises an eyebrow.

8:41
I’m at a body-oriented psychology session.
“Should’ve had a drink,” — Hades.
“Exactly.”
We fist-bump.

Nate is at a leadership summit.
“Baby, I don’t think this is it.”
My reply:
“Agreed.”

The next day
9:15
“Listen, find me someone who’s just a guide.
I don’t need any damn lectures.”
“Understood, miss.”
The assistant calls back.
“Miss, would 8 p.m. work for you?”
Damn. I usually shovel through the mess in the morning.
Alright. Fine.
“Need a drink,” — Mushu.
“Absolutely.”

Nate tried business meetings, summits, leadership events—even a therapist.
None of it fit.

Night
I can’t sleep.
I go to the bathroom.
Then to the kitchen.
And finally, I take the dogs out for a walk into the night.
“Tell him.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to. This isn’t fair.”
I howl into the air.
“Ahhh—why me?”
“Smoke?”
“No.”
“Quit?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t want to right now.”

3:15
Cody.
Knock knock.
“Cody.”
“Damn it, leave me alone, I’m sleeping.”
“Cody.”
“What?”
“Hey. Wanna go shoot with me?”
I look at the clock.
“Okay.”
I pull on a hoodie.
“Should we take her with us too?”
I laugh, a little awkwardly—it feels strange to wake him just to laugh.
“It’s fine.”

Knock knock knock.
“Josh.”
“Josh.”
“Who’s there?”
Cody’s laughing.
“And why are you so energized? What, having sex?”
He hesitates for a second.
“Well damn—” Cody pushes the door open. “Who do we have here?”
I pull her back.
“Cody, that’s not our business. Josh, sorry.”

We run down the stairs.
“You’re such a buzzkill.”
“Cody, you can’t do that. It’s not nice.”
She looks at me, eyebrow raised—you’re telling me this?
“Oh, come on.”
“Let’s go shoot.”

4:16
It’s starting to get light.
We’re both in black—me in a softshell, Cody in a hoodie.
I’m in leggings.
Springy curls. Dior on my lips. Nate’s scent on my skin.
We calmly set everything up for shooting.
I take the bow and aim.
“Come on, Kieran.”
Cody smirks.
“Why do you always give them names?”
“It matters. Things have souls.
They’re loyal to me, just as I’m loyal to them.”
She shrugs.
I whisper to it once more and kiss it.
“Come on, Kieran. We don’t miss.”
Three arrows—dead center.
Cody with the pistol.
Three out of three as well.

Reload.
“So. What’s going on with you and Nate?”
I blush.
“He’s searching for himself.”
“?”
“I know what he needs.”
“?”
“I don’t want to tell him.”
Pause.
“Because I’m afraid he’ll cross the line.
He’s always been fiery—and now darkness could take over.”
She thinks.
“And in sex—does he cross the line?”
I pause.
“Sometimes I see his pupils roll back when he’s barely holding the leash.”
“But?”
“If it’s only sometimes, it means he can handle it.”
Darkness demands strength.
He has to tame it—otherwise it will destroy him.
But he has to learn. Not everything at once.
“Yeah, not everything at once—you either,” — Hades sneers.
I lower my eyes.
“It’s not my choice.
He pulled away.”
“If he can hold it in sex, he’ll manage here too,” — Codie says.
I exhale.
“Got a cigarette?”
“No.”
I walk back into the house to get cigarettes.
I tried to breathe.
Nazokat, come on—
for fuck’s sake, you can’t do this.
You can’t keep his strength boxed in.
Don’t castrate him.
Aaah, God.
This damn, fucked-up world.
Women want men to understand them,
to be sensitive and kind and gentle—
but at the same time wild and free,
yet please, neatly contained.
So his power is always under control,
her fear holding him by the balls,
and he does love her.
Or maybe he’s just a coward — Hades.
I lit a cigarette.
Fair enough.
“So what are you going to do?”
For fuck’s sake…
I don’t know.
You know…
“Kitten.”
I remembered his voice.
The way he believes in me.
“Yeah,” — Hades.
I let off some steam.
Alright.
I’ll tell him.
But tonight I’m going all out.
“Accepted.”
And we bumped fists.

“Hey.”
“Josh?”
“Yeah.”
He blushed.
“Listen, Nazokat—”
I cut him off.
“It’s fine. This isn’t my place.”
“The important thing is that no one hurts him,” — Mushu.
I sighed.
This is life.
I can’t keep everyone in a bubble of happiness.
If he falls, I’ll be there.
Until then — it’s not mine to step into.
“Accepted,” — Mushu.
“Smoke?”
“No.”
“He looks sad,” — Hades.
Fuck. I see it.
I won’t interfere. If he needs it, he’ll say so.
Hades looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
“Fuck off,” I rolled my eyes.
“Vodka?”
“Whiskey — aristocrat.”
“Okay.”
And we went out into the yard.

Josh has a gun too.
Outside it’s even lighter now.
I smoke without stopping.
“Kieran, come on.”
We line up.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.”
Three.
Two.
One.
The clay flies into the sky.
Two pistols and one bow.
The target shatters into pieces.
We high-five.

“What’s going on with Nate?” — Josh lights a cigarette.
“His darkness wants payback.
It fucking hates that he stayed a good boy for too long.”
“Nate?”
“Well, not exactly good—but you get it.
He didn’t live his darkness fully.”
“Isn’t he already integrating?” — Cody.
“No. I think the darkness has integrated.
Now the body is adjusting.”
“Got it.”
I inhale.
“His darkness wants racing.
It wants boxing.
It wants testosterone and a way to let the fire out.”
“Yeah…” — Josh.
No kidding.
“You know Nate—once he gets into something…”
“I wouldn’t say that,” — Josh replies.
“He’s got real restraint.”
Cody nods.
“Guys… I don’t know.”
“Baby, forgive me, but that’s not for you to decide.”
Right.
I lower my eyes.
It’s his nature.
Boys need air.
I can’t put him into a neat little box
and tie a bow on top.
He’s not a girl.
“And even if you could—why the fuck would you want a neutered man?” — Cody says.
I exhale, and Josh wraps an arm around me.
Everyone knew the answer.
“Thank you, guys.”
One more round.
I aim and pull the string.
“They’re getting predictable.”
The target shatters.
Kieran never misses.
And we go get ourselves together.

7:12
“Sam, do you know anyone?”
I outline the situation briefly.
“I’ll check and call you.”
“Accepted.”
I hang up and tilt my head back.
I can’t believe I might have to go through the same fucking thing with Roman.

The phone rings.
“Find him for me.”
“Of course, miss,” — my assistant.
“Make sure they don’t refuse.”
“I will.”

I slip into the shower,
as if I’d been sleeping beside him all this time.
A knock on the door.
“Little mouse?”
“Hey?”
“Hi.”
He steps in.
I soften.
“Hi, love.”
He reaches for me.
“I love you so much, kitten.”
He kisses me slowly, deeply—
my head spins.
And the bathroom stretches wide enough for two.

Nate leaves, and I start getting ready.
Smoky eyes.
Dior on my lips.
Silk lingerie, as always.
Stockings.
A pencil skirt, cashmere on top.
Heels.
On my skin — wild.
I walk down to the dining room.
On the stairs I see Codie — it looked like she was buttoning up her blouse.
“Did you tell him already?”
I shake my head.
She kisses me on the cheek.
I smile.

In the dining room everything is perfect.
Nate with a newspaper.
Beautiful as a god.
A blue shirt and jeans.
Caterpillar boots on his feet.
“Kitten.”
I smile.

“Miss.”
Sebastian hands me an envelope.
“This is for Mr. Nate,” I say.
“My apologies, miss.”
“It’s fine.”
Nate opens it.
I exhale.
God, you’re not sending him to his death, — Hades.
My eyes fill with tears.
I fold my napkin carefully.
“Excuse me.”
I stand up from the table.

In the hallway I press myself against the wall.
Tears pour down my face.
God, Nazokat, pull yourself together.
“Leave me alone!” I scream into the air.
“Leave me alone, I’m sick of this.
I’m not a boy.
I don’t want to pull myself together.
I’m sick of it.
I’m upset.
I’m overloaded.
I’m fucking terrified for him.”
The inner voice goes quiet.

Nate rushes out after me — first to the stairs, then down, then back up — and finally sees me.
“Little mouse…”
He wipes my eyes.
“My love. My angel. What happened?”
“I know what you’re looking for.
Your darkness needs an outlet.
It wants destruction.
It needs racing and risk.”
He shook his head.
“What are you talking about, my love?”
“You don’t like business meetings and all that anymore because your darkness doesn’t want to sit quietly and observe.
It craves danger.”
I keep crying.
“So, little mouse…”
He tries to pull himself together.
“My love, if you don’t want me to go — I won’t.”
Hades makes a scissor-snipping gesture.
“Hey, aren’t you opening your purse?
Now in our collection — Nate’s golden balls.
Oh wow, they’re heavy.
What a shame.
The world has lost such a man.”
I roll my eyes and keep crying.
“Nate, no. I’m not against it.
Just please — be as safe as possible.
I’m begging you.”
He kisses my forehead.
“Yeah, at least pretend,” — Hades sneers.
“He’s glowing like you when you’re allowed to bring home another cat.”
I laugh.
“Oh fuck off already.”
“Nate?”
He really is glowing.
“Kitten, do you know how lucky I am with you?”
“Yeah. That’s true.”
He kissed me, and we went back to breakfast.
Inside the envelope — contacts.
The best of the best.
Marcus Stillman.
Ten out of ten.
Personally trains top-tier racers.
Better not even think about the cost of his services.
Training. Conditioning. Track. Cars.
Nate’s new hobby costs a fortune —
but what else is money for?
“You did good,” — Hades.
I lower my eyes.

Day One
“My love, will you come to training?”
“So, will you go?”
“You’ll cut your own hand off if he doesn’t take you along?
Or what — will you let go of control?
Ooooh, maybe you’ll even trust him?” — Hades presses hard.
“Fuck off.”
“No, I’m not going.”
Nate flinches.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’ll go do my own things.”
“You mean girly things?” — Hades.
“Leave me alone!”
Nate frowns.
“My love…”
I exhale.
“I want to gather flowers for candles.”
I blush.
“Do you think I’m stupid?”
“You’re the sweetest flower in the world.”
I smile.
“If my wife hadn’t given me such a killer surprise, I’d go with you.”
He raises his hands.
“I swear to God.”
I laugh.

Nate trains like a madman.
Racing and boxing.
Racing and boxing.
Then underground fights.
MMA. Muay Thai.
Everything his darkness needs.
I try not to notice the bruises and cuts.
And the jaw that, I swear, doesn’t close properly anymore.
“So, going to kindergarten to deal with whoever hurt your kid?” — Hades.
I lash out at him.
I exhale.
He was growing.
Becoming more and more solid.
The darkness was calming.
The rage was finding an outlet.
Nate was entering real balance — and I liked it.
I’m glad I trusted him.
He was handling it.
The Mustang finally calmed down.
Nate became calmer.
“And if this turns into destruction?” — Hades.
“Nate won’t allow that. He’s a smart guy.”
Silence.

Months of preparation grew more intense.
I asked the coach directly:
“What are you preparing him for?”
He shrugged.
“Ricxton.”
“Miss?”
“Find that guy’s number.”

Ringing.
Again.
“Come by at seven. We’ll agree on the terms.”
I stub out my cigarette.
Something is going wrong.
And I really don’t like it.
Jonathan starts arguing with Nate more often — and they used to be inseparable.
I watch Nate like a hawk.
Something’s wrong.
Something’s wrong.
Racing isn’t just sport.
It’s big money.
And it’s not that I don’t trust Nate —
but his hot temper sometimes blinds him.
“What are you going to do?” — Hades.
I exhale and clench my fists.
This pisses me off.
You have to know the difference.
You can play — but don’t cross the line.
He’s not a boy.
He has responsibility for his family.

Sex drops sharply.
Nate is hot like before — but he’s not my Nate.
My desire turns into waiting.
I don’t want to sleep with a man I don’t love.
Nate keeps joking it off.
My anger builds.
Fights begin.
I get angry at myself.
Am I to blame for pushing him into this?
But fuck — he wanted it.
How do you deny someone you love?
Fuck.
I curse and kick the dresser.
I become twitchy and nervous again.
No man around.
Jonathan and Josh hold the line.
Nate is God knows where.
So I’ll have to carry it myself.
I’m furious.
Nate stays out later and later.
Waves me off more and more.

The 21st.
The X date.
I’m in the stands.
All jittery inside, but composed on the outside.
Nate is glowing like a fucking idiot.
Journalists swarm him, talking over each other.
“Is this your first major race?”
He’s shining.
Women casually brush against him.
I turn away.
Bastard.
Finally the bitches cleared off, and Nate gets ready for the run.
Thirteen laps total.
I’m watching the field.
The track isn’t very dangerous — but it’s racing.
For fuck’s sake.
Tears stream down my face.
Nate has changed so much that none of our people showed up.
The VIP box.
I’m alone.
The laps fly by like wind.
Engines roar.
The cars are insane.
The commentator is focused on Nate.
Everyone is restless.
Everyone wants to see Nate in action.
Huge expectations.
Enormous bets.
Lap nine.
I can barely stand.
If before we drank for fun, now I drink just to hold myself together.
Ten. Eleven. The final laps.
Nate is focused, precise.
He’s in the top five.
“Stop him.”
A soft voice.
I turn around.
And immediately back.
A second is an unforgivable luxury.
My distraction cost just one second.
One fucking second.
A micro-shift in space.
Nothing by the universe’s standards.
The commentator is screaming.
I don’t understand what’s happening.
German.
What is he saying? I don’t understand.
Number fifty-three.
The cameras pull in a replay.
Zoom.
Nate’s car clips another wheel.
Zoom. Slow motion.
The Pagani Zonda flies into the air like a can lid.
Three rotations.
Then it crashes down, dragging the entire metal shell behind it — empty.
I scream into the air and go deaf.
I can’t hear myself.
I don’t hear people.
I don’t know where I am.
My security tries to calm me.
Nate’s car is on fire.
Everyone is rushing.
The car is done.
They pull Nate out of the car.
My heart stops.

21.
Silence.
23.
Silence.
31.
No news.

I wake up after two months in a coma.
Cody is beside me.
“Where’s Nate?”
She shakes her head.
I arch my body in a spasm.
I scream with an inhuman voice.
Probably a rupture.
Hysteria.
All the signs that my mind has snapped.
My consciousness couldn’t handle the overload.
Doctors strap me down with restraints.
Codie is led out of the room in tears.
I’m almost immobilized.
It’s elite.
Soft.
But still a psychiatric ward.
A madhouse.
They inject me with a sedative.
I lie there as tears pour down my face.
I don’t care.
There is no world.
There is no world anymore.
I don’t want to live.
I don’t need this life.
I don’t want anything anymore.
Without Nate.

Three more months pass like hell.
I don’t eat.
Why?
Sometimes I force myself to eat a little so the children won’t hate me completely.
I abandoned them for almost five months.
The children grew up so fast.
I sob like a madwoman.
Please forgive me.
Please.
Guys, forgive me.
…

Finally, they let me go home.
Apparently, I’m “healthy.”
I try to live.
I try to breathe.
I don’t drink, but I don’t live either.
I’m not here.
I exist, sort of.
The estate is dead.
Earth Angels is dead.
Nothing makes me happy.
Nothing.
I don’t want to live.
I’m here only for the children.
Life turned into hell in a second.
“Summer is coming,” Cody says.
“Okay.”
Tears stream down my face.
“Will you go to the celebration?”
“No.”
“Baby, you need to start coming back to yourself a little,” — Josh.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Tears kept streaming without stopping, and I looked at him with hollow eyes.
Pain filled my entire existence.
I moved into another bedroom,
not understanding how to breathe in the old one.
The episodes got worse, and Sam arranged everything with the doctors,
but the facts spoke for themselves — I’m fucked up now.
I have a disorder.
I need treatment.
I gave a weak smile.

“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“How are you?” — he sniffed.
“Sam… how do you survive something like this without madness?
You can only lose your mind yourself.”
He gave a bitter smirk.
My life at home was falling apart.
Love was dead.
Money had never really interested me.
The children grew distant.
And my people didn’t know how to support me.
I was trying to live.
I tried.
…

“Kitten…”
Nate appeared in the doorway.
I smiled. “Hi.”
And the tears spilled like a river.
“Hi, my love.”
“What were you doing?”
“I was crying.
Remembering you.”
He sat down beside me
and took my hand.
I thought I knew what was happening.
Or at least that’s what it felt like.
I started packing my things.
Soon they would declare me insane,
and once you end up in a psych ward, you don’t get out.
But for now — he’s here.
I missed you.
The tears kept flowing.
“Nate, I love you so much.”
“I love you too, kitten.”
He hugged me, and I fell asleep again in his arms.
“Nate, do you remember how we scared the kids together?
Sneaking up on them — aaaah, got you!”
He smiled.
“You’re still so beautiful.”
And I collapsed onto the floor,
gasping for air from pain and grief.
“Kitten…”
My eyes closed.
“Kitten…”
I didn’t want him to stop calling me that.
Always kitten.
Always kitten.
He is always Nate.
I am always his kitten.
I howled with grief.
We have a family — three children, the estate, the kindergarten, all of ours.
This is our life, not where I am now.
None of this is true.
Nate, this can’t be true.
…

A year passed.
Nervous exhaustion almost killed me, and I had to pull myself together.
I tried to pull myself together.
I didn’t want any of it, but there were no options.
Someone had to hold the world.
The decision was obvious.
Everything was clear without words — I had to marry Jonathan.
I didn’t know how to breathe.
This nightmare didn’t stop.
When I would level out — I had no idea.
I tried, for the first time in a year and a half, to sit down for breakfast.
I have no soul.
It died with Nate.
I don’t want to eat, but I have to.
I’ll try to return.
I put on a pencil skirt
and buttoned my blouse with trembling hands.
Finally, everyone finished eating.
Only Jonathan remained.
I looked at the marriage contract —
and I threw up.
My God.
I felt so bad.
Convulsions.
I collapsed onto the floor.
Foam at the mouth —
and immediately after, another cardiac arrest.
Another clinical death.
Another three months in a coma.
The children went through hell.
I look at my people.
There is no one else here.
Everyone is dead.
Only shells remain.
…

And I had to stand up.
I had to accept it — there were no other options.
I am alone now.
I asked for food
and went to the shower.
I was so weak that they walked me everywhere,
and if they didn’t, I leaned on a cane.
My body couldn’t cope.
I ordered myself to pull together.
I went to sessions.
I ate.
I drank juices, water — everything necessary.
Vitamins.
Doctors.
After three and a half months, I entered my strength again.
I need to hold the world.
I must pull myself together.
Heels.
A skirt.
My favorite Dolce jacket.
I died.
I wasn’t there.
All of this was just a game.
Without Nate, I don’t exist.
But I owe my people.
So I will do this.
I will endure it.
I sat down and looked at the marriage contract again.
I didn’t love Jonathan.
But he and Nate were best friends.
So, if we’re dry and factual, Jonathan could suit me.
The tears flowed again.
Nothing made me happy.
Nothing.
A wedding — what difference does it make?
Betrayal.
That I’m marrying his best friend.
This isn’t me.
It’s just my body.
I am with Nate somewhere in another world.
Here there is only a body — Nazokat.
In the marriage contract, sex had to be specified separately.
Jonathan was a gentleman, but I insisted.
This is a contract.
I have no choice.
This is not love.
This is a contract.
No physical contact.
No sex.
No intimacy.
No hugs.
No touch at all.
All of my unrestrained passion was for Nate,
and it was Nate.
I didn’t want sex anymore.
No tenderness.
No closeness.
We live separately.
Just as we always did.
Jonathan’s eyes filled with tears.
I didn’t give a damn.
I stood up and walked out.
You have to live somehow, Nazokat.
You have to pull yourself out somehow.

At 6:15
my phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hi.”
My chest slowly tightened.
“Sam. Hi.”
He was trying with all his strength.
How much it cost him to protect me —
he spoke up, risking his license, to get me released from the psych ward.
“Can you come by?”
“Of course.
What’s going on?”
I tensed up.
If this is about more medication again — no.
I’m not taking that shit.
He took the keys, and we drove to the garden.
I love walking in this garden.
Before, Nate and I always ate here and talked.
He carried me on his back
or like a trophy.
“How are you recovering?”
I smiled bitterly.
“Like a proper crazy person.
Sometimes with breakdowns.
Then I breathe.”
He nodded and looked down at his feet.
We talked about a few other things,
but my mind regained its old sharpness.
I realized he wasn’t asking me these questions for nothing.
He was diagnosing me. Right there.

We returned to the clinic.
Sam asked me more questions.
And I signed the documents.
The patient’s condition is stable.
Words short like knives.
Now I was a patient, not a human being.
I swallowed.
He led me into the courtyard.
We walked around the clinic.
A vast territory of a luxurious clinic.
A paradise on earth.
We walked, and I looked down at my feet
so I wouldn’t fall in heels.
Sam stopped.
I raised my head.
Nate.

I instinctively stepped back.
I couldn’t find any ground in the world.
Sam gave me his hand.
I dropped to my knees.
I completely lost my grip on reality —
where truth is and where imagination is.
Nate reacted.
“Miss, can I help you?”
But because he was in a wheelchair, it was unfamiliar to him —
he didn’t know how to help me.
“You don’t remember me?”
“I’m sorry, miss.”
I see.
I see.
I see.
My head started spinning.
I threw up.
And then I lost consciousness again.

I came to three days later in emergency care.
Everyone was fighting for my life.
Sam…
He cried.
“How is this possible?”
He hugged me.
“How can this be?
Why didn’t you tell me?”
He sobbed like a child,
and once again I had to become the savior of men.
A familiar role —
saving male souls, protecting them, restoring them.
I waited until he steadied himself.
I didn’t cry.
I had simply run out of tears.
For almost three years
I no longer felt anything or anyone close to my heart.
Everything became the same.
My soul left my body
at the moment of Nate’s crash.
Sam finally calmed down.
“Please forgive me.”
He kissed my hands.
“Sam, walk me.”
He helped me stand up.
I blushed with shame.
My bones were sticking out so much
they were visible — almost like a skeleton.
He recoiled.
I cleared my throat.
“Shall we go?”
“Yes, yes,” he blinked rapidly.

Nate is in the ward.
Doing exercises to develop and restore skills.
I came in after his session.
“Hi.”
“Hi, kitten.”
Tears poured out of me,
and I fainted again.
The situation became even worse.
I couldn’t eat.
Medications were administered manually —
everything through the vein.
A week later I almost crawled to him.
Security carried me in — a skeleton.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
I stood there, tears streaming, cheeks red.
Once large, lively eyes had gone dull
and sunk deep into the skull.
He immediately reacted.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I couldn’t breathe
and leaned on a cane with an IV attached.
Nate fussed.
“Sit down, you need to sit.”
“Okay, okay.”
I obeyed — to spare him the pain.
“Do you remember anything about your life?”
I kept trying to swallow, but the tears wouldn’t stop.
Nate was almost crying too.
“How can I help you, miss?”
“If you talk to me, I’ll feel better.”
“Of course, of course, miss — yes… yes,” he said, trying to pull himself together.
And I burst out laughing, wiping my tears.
Nate always used to do that —
whenever I felt bad, he would panic.
“Right, right… you asked about life. About my life.”
I kept crying.
Pain.
Unbearable pain — he is here, and I can’t touch him.
He doesn’t remember me.
Nate doesn’t remember me.
I am nobody to him.
I’m just some “miss.”
Some sick, insane patient.
I am no longer his beloved.
In his world, I don’t exist.
“Miss, I don’t remember almost anything.
Sometimes I see images.”
I raised an eyebrow.
He blushed.
I smiled.
I see.
We were both embarrassed.
And it got just a little easier.
…

That’s how another year passed.
Nate regained his physical strength.
And I learned how to be near him.
I was terribly afraid of becoming just his friend.
Not his wife — but what difference does it make?
The main thing was to be near him.
On Monday, he was being discharged.
I had been discharged two months earlier.
I was nervous.
Sam was even more nervous.
I didn’t tell the children anything.
How do you explain something like that to little ones?
I stood in the dining room.
The kids were holding my hands.
Everyone was shaking with terror and fear.
Sam’s car pulled up.
Nate walked into the living room.
He saw me —
and rushed to embrace me.
I was drowning in tears, shaking, dying.
“Nate…
Nate…
Nate…”
I cried and howled like a wolf.
I howled into the air.
We both dropped to our knees.
Everyone quietly stepped out.
I stayed there, holding him, unable to release him.
“Nate…
Nate…
Nate…”
“My love…”
He was crying.
And I was crying.
He carried me into the bedroom.
Into our bedroom.
Nate held me.
And I either fell asleep or lost consciousness.
I didn’t care.
The only thing that mattered —
tight and warm, next to him.
With him again.
Again with him.
With Nate.
My God.
With him again
Again
With Nate