Page 85 of My Only

I followed her line of sight, my stomach twisting as I saw the name on the screen.

Harper Royce.

Just a name. Just a message alert.

But to Ayla, it was so much more.

Her fingers curled into tight fists. Her jaw tensed like she’d been struck.

I could feel the shift, the way her body went cold beneath my touch.

The warmth, the closeness, the moment we’d just shared… it was gone.

And in its place was something I couldn’t name.

But I knew one thing for sure.

This time… sex wouldn’t fix it.

Like I said, the text only said “message” and Harper’s name, so I had no idea what she was texting me about. But the unknown was enough to make Ayla’s entire body go rigid, her expression shifting right before my eyes, from sated to something else entirely.

She locked eyes with me, her lips pressing into a tight line before she kissed her teeth, loud and sharp. A second later, her palm met my chest, pushing me back with enough force to send me sliding out from her warmth.

I exhaled harshly at the loss.

But it wasn’t just the way she pulled away. It was how she did it. The way she untangled herself from me like I was something she needed to be free of. Like I wasn’t her husband. Like I wasn’t the man who’d just been buried deep inside her, whispering how much I loved her.

And that? That had my pulse kicking up again, this time in panic.

Because sex always worked. Always. No matter how bad the fight, how tense the air between us, we always found our way back.

But now? She was still mad.

And the second my phone chimed with a message… she was gone.

I barely glanced at my phone, but Ayla did. And suddenly, everything changed.

Harper.

A cold knot formed in my stomach as realization sank in. This isn’t just about an argument. It’s not even about the late nights.

It’s about her.

Ayla stalked toward the counter where she’d left her coffee.

“Baby?” I whispered, still breathless, reaching for her.

She stopped when I placed a hand on her hip, and I expected her to ease up, to exhale the tension sitting heavy in her shoulders. I expected her to let the moment carry us back to where we belonged.

Forever us.

But she didn’t.

Instead, her body went cold. Not just physically. Cold in a way I could feel in my chest.

My phone chimed again.

Ayla grunted, snatching up her mug so fast that coffee sloshed over the rim, spilling onto the counter.

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