Kolli
The steam followed me out of Danilo's bathroom like it didn't want to leave me either. Towel in my hair, another one slung low around my waist. Water still dripping down my neck.
It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made my brain loud.
It was ironic, wasn't it? That it took a divorce and a positive pregnancy test to get Danilo to act like a husband. Like a man with responsibilities. Like the man I married eight years ago.
He should've known better. He had a ring on his finger. He had me. What was he thinking, trying to play the carefree playboy when he had a home waiting?
I sighed. The sound bounced off the tiles. And then, stupidly, a smile pulled at my mouth. I caught myself in the closet mirror. Damp hair, bare chest, the towel barely hanging on. I turned sideways on instinct. My stomach was still flat. For now.
I put a hand there.
