They were best friends for years, sharing every secret except one. When Felix finally confesses his feelings, Josephine lets him down with a gentle lie: she's not interested in men. Heartbroken but determined to keep their friendship, Felix tries to...
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This chapter has STRONG trigger warnings. Readers discretion is advised. ⚠️⚠️⚠️‼️
/——-\
Josephine stood frozen as she stepped out of the bathroom, Felix waiting eagerly by the door with a wild, gleeful expression. His eyes scanned her face, searching for some reaction, but she remained silent. Numb. It was easier that way. He had taken everything from her—her freedom, her peace, her hope—and now, this. Her body no longer felt like her own.
"How are you feeling now that you're pregnant?" Felix asked, his voice almost childlike in its excitement.
Josephine didn't answer. She didn't even blink. Her silence didn't faze him; he brushed past her into the bathroom. Moments later, she heard him whoop with joy as he saw the test sitting on the sink.
"Yes!" Felix shouted, his voice reverberating through the tiny guesthouse. He rushed back to Josephine, pulling her into a tight hug. "This is amazing news!" He kissed her cheek, his excitement palpable. She stood rigid, her arms limp at her sides, and he pulled away slightly, noticing her lack of reaction.
Felix's smile faltered for a moment, but he shook it off, too caught up in his own delusion to care. He picked up the rope from the floor and loosely tied her hands again before heading into the kitchen again.
Extremely happy.
——-
Felix set the dinner table with care, humming to himself as though they were just an ordinary couple. The table, though small, was neatly arranged. The plates were spotless, the cutlery polished to a shine. In the center sat a dish of roasted chicken and vegetables, steam rising as the aroma filled the room. He moved with practiced ease, his steps light, almost cheerful, as if this was the happiest moment of his life.
Josephine, however, felt the exact opposite. She was numb, her body heavy and unresponsive. Felix approached her and, with unsettling tenderness, carried her to the table as if she were fragile glass. He set her down gently in one of the chairs, brushing her hair away from her face before taking his seat across from her.
"There we go," he said, his voice warm. He pushed a plate of food closer to her, the chicken sliced perfectly into bite-sized pieces. "Here, eat up. You'll need your strength."
Josephine didn't move. She stared at the plate, her stomach twisting. It wasn't just the nausea she'd been feeling on and off for days; it was the sheer weight of everything that had happened. Her body rejected the idea of food, and she couldn't bring herself to lift the fork, let alone eat.
Felix watched her for a moment, his cheerful demeanor faltering. His brow furrowed, and he leaned forward, picking up a fork and holding a piece of chicken to her lips. "C'mon, Jo," he said, his tone soft but insistent. "You have to eat something."
