I stay still.
One deep breath.
Trying to calm a body vibrating like a f*****g theremin.
I stood my ground — at least this time — and I should be proud of that.
But the usual bitter aftertaste hits anyway.
Ada has always been a paradox.
Pleasure and irritation tangled together.
A tension that only ever dissolved in bed.
It’s been years of this: chasing, fighting, relapsing.
And above all, the endless pressure from our fathers, convinced that a bond between us would “unite the families” and “multiply our prestige.”
As if we were in a f*****g nineteenth-century novel.
It’s not like I didn’t try to please them.
I did — with everything I had.
Because Ada… Ada was the first person who ever made me feel something.
Maybe it was my father’s brainwashing, maybe it was just me being an
