The carriage ride back was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet than before. The silence wasn't empty; it was heavy, filled with the echo of what had just happened. I was still sitting on his lap, my body aching in a way that was both satisfying and deeply unsettling. I could feel the steady, controlled rhythm of his breathing beneath me, the solid warmth of his chest a stark contrast to the cold knot forming in my stomach.
This changed things, not in a way I could name. Which made it worse.
