I don't tell her

I know I should tell her, I know that the correct thing to do but… something deep down inside of me finds idea of watching Wiley trying and failing to knock up Sarah before I do the most sexiest thing I have ever seen. So I do nothing as Sarah walks back in.

The camera shifts as Sarah returns to the living room, her naked body glowing in the warm light of Wiley's apartment. She stretches languidly, making sure her left hand catches the light, the diamond sending prismatic reflections dancing across the walls.

"I'm starving," she announces, twirling her ring finger right in front of Wiley's face as she gestures toward the kitchen. "What's for dinner?"

Wiley's eyes flick momentarily to her hand, a flash of recognition crossing his features before he deliberately shifts his gaze to her face. "I, uh, made us some pasta. Nothing fancy."

In the kitchen, Sarah perches on a barstool, leaning forward with her elbows on the counter, her engagement ring practically sparkling under the pendant lights. She twists it back and forth, watching as Wiley steadfastly keeps his eyes on the food he's plating.

"This smells amazing," she says, drumming her fingers against the countertop, the diamond tap-tap-tapping with each movement.

Wiley sets a plate before her, his gaze carefully avoiding her left hand. "Just something I threw together."

Throughout dinner, Sarah finds every excuse to use her left hand—reaching for her wine glass, gesturing as she speaks, even brushing her hair back from her face with an exaggerated flourish. Each time, Wiley's eyes dart away, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.

"So," Sarah says, twirling pasta around her fork with her left hand, the diamond catching the light with each rotation, "I've been thinking about weddings lately."

Wiley nearly chokes on his wine, quickly recovering as he sets the glass down. "Weddings?"

"Mm-hmm." She takes a bite, chewing thoughtfully. "I've always wanted something outdoors, you know? Under a canopy of trees with fairy lights strung through the branches. Fall would be perfect—not too hot, not too cold."

Wiley shifts uncomfortably in his seat as Sarah continues, her eyes dreamy.

"And I want wildflowers everywhere. No roses or lilies—just natural blooms that look like they could have grown right there. My dress would be simple, maybe vintage lace with an open back." She sighs, taking another sip of wine while making sure to show of her ring hand. "And instead of a traditional cake, I'd have tiers of different pies. Apple, cherry, peach..."

"That sounds..." Wiley clears his throat, his voice strained. "That sounds beautiful, Sarah."

"The first dance would be under the stars," she continues, seemingly lost in her fantasy. "Something slow and romantic. And for the honeymoon—somewhere secluded. A cabin in the mountains, maybe, or a private beach."

Wiley sets down his fork, his food barely touched. "I could give you all that, you know." His voice is quiet but intense. "Everything you just described—the outdoor ceremony, the lights, the flowers. All of it. I'd give you the wedding of your dreams, Sarah."

Sarah takes another bite of pasta, her eyes never meeting his, as if she hadn't heard him at all.

"And the music would have to be live," she continues seamlessly. "A string quartet for the ceremony, then something more upbeat for the reception. I've always loved the idea of guests lighting paper lanterns at the end of the night, watching them float up into the darkness."

Wiley leans forward, his hand reaching across the table. "Sarah, did you hear what I said? I could make all of that happen for you. We could have that life together."

She twirls her pasta again, the diamond flashing under the kitchen lights. "The guest list would be small. Just close friends and family. I'd want it intimate, you know? Where everyone there truly matters."

"Sarah," Wiley tries again, his voice edged with desperation. "I'm saying I want to marry you. I want to give you that wedding. That life."

Finally, she looks up, her expression mild as if noticing him for the first time. "This pasta is delicious. Did you make the sauce from scratch?"

"Yes, It my mother’s recipe."

Sarah smile at him “Wow I know it taste formular”

Wiley suddenly jumps up and kisses her.

Sarah doesn't pull away. Instead, she melts into his kiss, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. The wine glass topples, red liquid spreading across the white tablecloth as she arches against him. Wiley breaks the kiss just long enough to sweep the plates and cutlery to the floor with a thunderous crash.

"I want to give you everything," he pants, lifting her onto the table, positioning himself between her thighs. "The wedding of your dreams."

Sarah gasps as Wiley enters her roughly, the wooden table cool against her back. Her engagement ring catches the light as she grips the edge for stability, her knuckles turning white.

Sarah wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. Her diamond catches the light as she grips his shoulders. “Wiley…” She moans.

Wiley moans back “don’t say anything… Just listen.” Sarah nods as Wiley cock slides deeper inside of her.

"You're going to make the most beautiful bride," Wiley gasps, his hips slamming against hers as the table creaks beneath them. "I'll give you that outdoor wedding—under real cherry blossoms, not just fairy lights." His thrusts grow more insistent, more ****. "I've bought this house just for us."

"I've dreamed of this for years," he continues, his voice breaking as he drives deeper. "Our own nursery upstairs with a hand-painted mural. I've already picked out the colors."

Sarah moans loudly as he hits a sensitive spot, her back arching off the table. The diamond on her finger catches the light as she claws at his back.

"I'll give you everything," Wiley pants, his rhythm growing erratic as his passion builds. "The fairy lights in the garden, the wildflowers along the path. I've already planted them for when you finally realize we belong together."

His hands grip her hips possessively, lifting them slightly to change the angle. Sarah cries out, her head thrown back against the wooden surface.

"Our children will grow up in the best schools," he continues, his voice a fervent prayer against her skin. "I've researched them all. They'll learn piano in the music room I've already soundproofed downstairs."

Sarah's legs tighten around him as she feels herself approaching the edge. "Wiley," she gasps, though whether in encouragement or warning is unclear.

"I'll take you to Paris for our anniversary each year," he promises, his movements becoming more frenzied. "I've been saving for it since college. The cottage in Vermont for winters, the beach house in Maine for summers—I've mapped it all out."

The table rocks dangerously beneath them, wine dripping onto the floor as Wiley's declarations grow more ****.

"Say you'll be mine," he begs, his eyes wild with need. "Say you'll let me give you the life you deserve."

“Ya… ya… you told me not to speak” sarah moans.

“OH fuck sara-bear!” Wiley grunts

Sarah's body tenses beneath him as she reaches her climax, her cry echoing through the kitchen. Wiley follows immediately after, collapsing against her with a sob that sounds almost like relief.

For several moments, they lie entangled on the table, breathing heavily in the aftermath. Sarah's hand rests on his back, the engagement ring gleaming accusingly in the kitchen light.

Finally, Wiley lifts his head, his expression tender as he brushes a strand of hair from her face. "I meant every word," he whispers. "I've been planning our life together since we were teenagers. Everything is ready for you."

Sarah smiles enigmatically, her fingers tracing patterns on his shoulder. "That's quite a vision you have."

"It's not just a vision," Wiley insists, pulling back to look into her eyes. "It's all real. The nursery, the music room, everything. I've been preparing for years, waiting for you to realize what we could have together."

Sarah's expression softens, her eyes suddenly glistening with unshed tears. The confident facade that she's maintained throughout the evening cracks slightly as she looks up at him.

"Wiley," she whimpers, her voice small and **** in a way I've never heard before.

Something shifts in Wiley's expression—hope blooming across his features like a time-lapse flower. He opens his mouth to speak, then seems to reconsider, pressing a finger gently against her lips.

"Shh... don't say anything, not yet. Let's just go to bed." His voice is tender but firm, as if afraid that whatever she might say next could shatter the moment.

Sarah nods, reaching for her purse on the counter. The camera angle shifts as she picks it up, giving me a dizzying view of the kitchen ceiling before steadying again.

"Ok... but just so you know I have to leave first thing in the morning, so we are actually going to have to sleep," she says, her voice regaining some of its usual composure.

Wiley takes her hand—her right one, I notice, still avoiding acknowledging the ring—and leads her toward what must be his bedroom. The camera swings with their movement, occasionally catching glimpses of framed photographs on the walls, all featuring Sarah at different ages. Some with Wiley, some without. A shrine to their shared history and his obsession.

The bedroom door closes behind them, and the camera angle settles as Sarah places her purse on a nightstand. Through the opening, I can see them standing at the foot of Wiley's bed. He pulls back the covers with the careful precision of someone who's rehearsed this moment countless times in his mind.

They climb into bed together, Wiley immediately pulling Sarah against his chest. His expression is visible over her shoulder—a mixture of disbelief and triumph, as if he can't quite believe she's really there. Sarah's face remains hidden from the camera, but I can see her hand resting on his arm, the diamond catching the dim light from the bedside lamp.

"Goodnight, Sara-bear," Wiley whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Goodnight, Wiley," she responds softly.

The room falls silent except for their breathing, which gradually slows and deepens as they drift toward sleep. The last thing I see before my own eyes grow heavy is Wiley's arm tightening possessively around Sarah's waist, his expression peaceful in a way that makes my stomach twist with complicated emotions.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I know, my phone is vibrating with an incoming FaceTime call. The clock on my nightstand reads 5:30 AM. I answer immediately, greeted by the sight of Sarah standing outside Wiley's front door, the early morning light casting long shadows across her face. She's wearing one of Wiley's t-shirts, but nothing else.

Behind her, Wiley appears in the doorway, his hair disheveled from sleep, his expression crestfallen. "Do you really have to leave?" he groans, reaching for her hand.

Sarah smiles, gentle but firm. "Yes, Wiley."

He sighs, then seems to rally, straightening his shoulders. "Ok, then I'll just show you what I'll do for you next week," he says, his voice taking on that familiar tone of **** optimism.

Sarah turns to face him fully, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Who says I am coming back next week?" she challenges, a playful wink accompanying her words.

Wiley laughs, the sound more confident than I'd expect. "I did... Now I see you then, my love, Sara-bear."

The nickname that once made my blood boil now just sounds pathetic, the last gasp of a man clinging to a fantasy that's already slipping through his fingers.

Sarah laughs, the sound light and carefree. "I'll see you then, Wiley."

She turns away from him, walking toward her car with a slight sway to her hips, knowing he's watching every step. The camera angle shifts as she gets into the driver's seat, briefly capturing Wiley standing in his doorway, watching her with naked longing.

As she drives away, Sarah's expression changes, the smile fading into something more contemplative. She glances at the ring on her finger, then back at the road ahead.

"Did you see all that?" she asks, knowing I'm watching.

"Every second," I reply, my voice rough with conflicting emotions.

Sarah smiles at the camera “Ok than, you better be ready when I get home because I am going to need lots of reclaiming.” You could help but notice her take one of the pills that Wiley replaced with fakes from the birth control bottle and swallow it before the phone turns off.