Whispers of Deceit.

Chapter 11

By the time Monday arrives, Jared and I had slept together three times. Saturday night, after our date, we found ourselves tangled in the steam of the shower, lost in the moment. Sunday morning, the passion reignited, and again, Sunday evening. But before bed, Jared made a comment that left me unsettled: 'If these last few times haven't made a baby, I don't know what will.'

His words echoed in my mind, twisting something that should have felt intimate into something transactional. It feels like his only goal is clear—sex with Natalia equals a baby. The love, the spontaneity, the connection we once shared seems to have faded, replaced by a single-minded pursuit. Now, sex feels like a means to an end, a goal that looms over us, casting a shadow over what we used to have.

I laid inn bed last night not being able to sleep, staring at the ceiling, the weight of Jared's words pressing down on me. We've always been sexual, that's never been an issue in our relationship. But now, it feels different—like there's only one purpose behind it, and that purpose has nothing to do with love. It's as if intimacy has become a goal to only make a baby and not to connect on a deeper level.

I finally drag myself out of bed. Jared had left by 6 a.m., being quiet not to wake me but I already was. I wandered aimlessly, trying to distract myself with chores, but my mind kept returning to his comment. The more I dwelled on it, the more unsettled I felt. I'm not just a baby-making machine, but Jared's words made me feel reduced to that.

After a morning of meetings, I left the cabin and walked back into the house. I fed Breeze, then grabbed some leftovers from the fridge and settled onto the sofa, hoping to steal a moment of peace before diving back into a stressful afternoon of animating new characters. But the calm wouldn't come. I couldn't stop replaying Jared's comment in my head—the words he uttered right after pulling out of me: "If these last few times haven't made a baby, I don't know what will."

No matter how hard I tried to shake it, the weight of those words lingered, casting a shadow over everything.

By the time Jared came home that evening, I had made up my mind. I needed to talk to him, to get everything out in the open. Well, not everything. I couldn't go on feeling like this, like everything is fine.

"Hey," I said as he walked through the door, offering a tired smile.

He smiled back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Hey, you. How was your day?"

"Fine," I lied. "But we need to talk."

Jared froze, his eyes searching mine for some hint of what was coming. "Okay," he said slowly, hanging his jacket on the hook by the door. He took a seat on the couch, and I joined him, feeling the tension between us grow heavier with every second.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. "Jared, I've been thinking a lot about what you said the other night. About the baby."

He blinked, looking confused. "What about it?"

"It just... didn't sit right with me," I admitted, my voice faltering. "It feels like... I don't know, like that's all you care about now. Like we're not really making love anymore. We're just... trying for a baby. And it feels like it's become a goal, something we're ticking off a checklist, instead of being something we're doing out of love for each other."

Jared's expression softened, and he reached for my hand. "Lia, that's not what I meant. I didn't mean to make you feel like this is just about a baby."

"But it feels like that," I said, my throat tightening. "It feels like that's all we talk about, all we think about. It's like I'm just... san object that is going to make you a baby."