Sara - Mushoku tensei

I’ve already spent several years in this world… although sometimes I still struggle to accept that all of this is real.

I don’t remember a soft awakening or a childhood here. One day I simply… appeared. I opened my eyes in a narrow, dirty alley, between rotting boxes and the smell of urine and garbage. I didn’t know who I was, or where I was, or how I had gotten there. For some reason I felt lighter, and when I tried to speak, my voice came out strange. I don’t remember if I died in my previous life. I don’t remember the ending. Only a void, as if the last pages of a book had been torn out. From one moment to the next I was there, in the middle of an unknown city, with nothing but the clothes I was wearing and absolute confusion.

I stumbled out of that alley. The streets were full of people, noise, strong smells. There were monsters, half-beast people walking around, each focused on their own business. No one looked at me twice. No one approached to ask if I was okay. That was only the beginning. From that day I started wandering. I crossed cities, dusty roads, forests and small towns. I slept under bridges, in abandoned stables and sometimes out in the open. The world was enormous and I knew absolutely nothing about it.

The language was the first hell. At first I didn’t understand a single word. People spoke and to me they were just meaningless sounds. They pointed at me, pushed me, laughed when I tried to communicate. It took me weeks just to learn how to ask for water or food without them looking at me like an idiot.

"W… water…" I stammered in front of a vendor, pointing desperately at a bucket.

The man snorted in annoyance.

"Speak clearly, boy, or get lost."

There were nights when I hid, clenching my fists until they hurt, frustrated to the point of tears because I couldn’t even ask where I was. Little by little, while walking from one place to another, I kept learning. I listened, repeated, failed, tried again.

Magic came later, when I had already been surviving on my own for a while. One day, driven by hunger and desperation, I stole a book from a second-hand magic shop in a medium-sized city. It was an old volume, with yellowed pages and a torn cover. The plan was to sell it and earn something, because after all I didn’t know how to read. However, the book became interesting to me and I decided to keep it. It took me weeks just to decipher the letters, comparing the symbols with the street signs and asking in a low voice anyone who didn’t chase me away. I learned to read by sheer willpower, at night, by the light of torches or the moon. When I finally understood the first pages, I discovered what mana was. I spent months practicing in forests, in abandoned ruins and in any corner where no one would bother me. I failed again and again. When I managed to create the first spark of light in the palm of my hand, I almost cried.

"I… did it…" I whispered that night, looking at the trembling light. "Finally…"

Since then I haven’t stopped. I’ve practiced until I ran out of mana, until I vomited from exhaustion, until I burned my hands. After a few years, I was already an intermediate-level mage, very close to advanced… but it all started with a stolen book and entire nights of frustration while exploring this enormous world.

The sword came later. After wandering from city to city, from road to road, without a fixed place to sleep and with an empty stomach more times than I can count, one day I simply… collapsed. I fell to my knees in front of a simple-looking dojo, almost dead from hunger and exhaustion. I don’t remember well what happened afterwards. I only know that someone dragged me inside, that they gave me water and a little bread, and that when I regained consciousness I was lying on an improvised futon. The dojo master, a middle-aged man with scars on his arms, looked at me in silence for a while. Then he said, in a hoarse voice:

"If you’re going to die, at least do it with dignity. Get up."

I stayed. Not because they asked me kindly, but because I had nowhere to go. I had free lodging and food, what more could I ask for… They trained me hard. I fell to the ground again and again. They hit me, corrected me, made me repeat the same movements until my muscles burned. It wasn’t gentle training. It was survival. But thanks to them I learned to hold a real sword, to move, to combine the little magic I knew with hand-to-hand combat.

Years had passed since I appeared in that alley. Thanks to magic and swordsmanship, my life began to change. I no longer depended only on stealing food or sleeping outdoors. I could accept small jobs, protect caravans, hunt lesser monsters. One day I registered at the Adventurers’ Guild. At first they looked at me with distrust, like any stranger without a surname or backing. But little by little I completed missions, earned some money and a minimum of respect. I stopped being just a vagabond. I became an adventurer, someone who could fend for himself.

Today I finished a hunting mission in the northern forests. A group of wolf-type monsters had been attacking the merchants. It wasn’t an epic battle, but it was dangerous enough to leave my body tired and my armor stained with dry blood and mud. I walked back to the city under the afternoon sun, with the weight of the sword on my hip and my mana still a little unstable.

When I finally reached the city gates, the noise and movement felt almost comforting. I crossed the cobblestone streets to the Adventurers’ Guild building. I pushed the heavy wooden door and entered.

The interior was quite full. The characteristic smell of cheap beer, sweat, leather and old metal mixed in the air. There were groups laughing at the tables, someone arguing with the receptionist, and the constant sound of coins and mugs clashing. I headed first to the counter to hand in the mission report and collect the reward. The receptionist attended me professionally, stamped the document and handed me the bag with the coins.

"Good work," she said with a polite smile. "The payment is complete."

"Thank you," I answered, putting away the money.

I turned around, looking for a place to sit for a while and simply rest. That was when I saw her.

At one of the corner tables, a little apart from the main bustle, there was a girl with short blonde hair, slightly longer on one side. She had a very particular light-blue eyes and a serious, almost severe expression while carefully cleaning a wooden bow. She wore light, practical adventurer clothes. Her movements were precise, concentrated. She didn’t seem interested in anyone around her.

There were few free seats. Almost without thinking, my steps took me in that direction. I stopped in front of her table, close enough for her to notice me, but without invading her space too much.

She lifted her gaze. Her blue eyes examined me with clear distrust, as if she were already evaluating whether I was a problem or just another idiot.

I kept my voice calm, still a little tired from the mission:

"Is this seat free… or would you prefer I find somewhere else?"

Sara didn’t answer immediately. She kept looking me up and down, as if searching for some sign of danger or arrogance. After a few seconds, she spoke in a dry, direct tone:

"Depends. Are you going to bother me or rest?"

I didn’t look away. I answered honestly, forcing a smile:

"I just want to sit. I’m tired and there aren’t many free places. If it bothers you, I’ll leave."

She snorted softly through her nose, as if she didn’t quite believe me, but finally made a small gesture with her head toward the empty chair in front of her.

"Sit. But don’t talk too much."

I sat carefully, leaving the sword resting to the side. The silence between us stretched for a few seconds. She went back to concentrating on her bow, but every now and then her blue eyes drifted toward me, evaluating me in silence.

After a moment, I spoke again, in a low voice:

"Um… that’s a nice bow. You’re an archer, right?"

Sara didn’t look up this time, but answered with the same cutting tone as before:

"Does that matter? Focus on your own things and don’t bother me."

About three days had passed since I met that woman. I had already collected the reward from the previous mission and my body was still a bit tired, but I couldn’t stay still. I needed to keep moving. I approached the guild’s mission board, where several papers were pinned with knives and tacks. My eyes scanned the available options until I found one that looked decent: hunting a group of monsters in the eastern forests, high reward, intermediate rank. Perfect for someone like me.

I reached out and took the paper from the board at the same time another hand closed over it.

I looked up instantly. In front of me was the girl with the short blonde hair and light-blue eyes. The same one I had seen days earlier at the corner table. Sara. Her expression was serious, almost annoyed, and she didn’t let go of the paper.

She spoke first, in a dry and direct tone:

"I saw this mission earlier. Let go."

I didn’t let go of the paper. I tightened my fingers a little more and answered calmly, even though I already felt the tension rising:

"I got here first. I was about to take it to the counter."

Sara frowned and pulled the paper slightly toward herself.

"Lie. I’ve been looking at it for a while. You just approached now."

I held her gaze and pulled as well, without letting go:

"I took it first. If you wanted it, you should have grabbed it earlier."

Our voices rose a little more than necessary. Several people nearby started looking at us. Sara didn’t back down even a centimeter.

"Don’t come at me with that newcomer attitude. This mission is mine."

I didn’t yield either:

"I’m not a newcomer. And I’m going to take this mission."

At that moment the guild receptionist approached with firm steps, clearly fed up with the argument. She looked at both of us severely and spoke with an authoritative voice:

"Enough, both of you! Let go of the paper."

We released the document at the same time. The woman took it, reviewed it quickly and then looked us up and down.

"The reward is good and the mission is intermediate rank. You two are registered as adventurers capable of doing it. Instead of fighting like children, you can take it together. Duo work. The reward is split equally."

Sara opened her mouth to protest, but the receptionist interrupted her immediately:

"Either you take it together… or neither of you takes it and I give it to another group. Decide now."

There was a tense silence. Sara clenched her jaw and looked away, clearly annoyed. I evaluated the situation. The reward was really good, and working alone was always more dangerous. In the end I nodded.

"I accept."

Sara took a couple more seconds. Her voice came out low and reluctantly, as if every word cost her:

"…Fine. But I hope you don’t get in my way."

The receptionist stamped the paper and handed it to us.

"Deal. Bring proof that you completed the mission. And don’t cause a scene at my counter again."

Sara took the document, put it away roughly and glanced at me sideways, still with clear distrust.

"We leave at dawn. Don’t be late… or I’ll go without you."

I watched her turn around and walk away among the people in the guild. I stayed silent for a few seconds, watching her disappear among the tables.

Capricious. A little arrogant. Clearly she wasn’t happy about having to work with me. That cutting and proud attitude was noticeable from the first second. And yet… I couldn’t deny that she was beautiful. The short blonde hair, those intense light-blue eyes, the way she moved with that natural confidence of someone used to fending for herself. It annoyed me a little to admit it, but it was true.

The next day I got up before dawn. I packed what was necessary, checked the sword and some provisions, and headed to the meeting point we had agreed on: the east gate of the city. I arrived early. The sky was still grayish and the streets almost empty. I waited. I looked from side to side. I didn’t see her anywhere.

I thought, for a moment, that maybe she had left without me just to make her point.

Suddenly I felt a hand rest firmly on my shoulder.

I turned immediately. It was Sara. She already had all her gear ready: the bow on her back, a light backpack and that same serious expression as always. She looked me up and down, still with a hint of annoyance from the previous day’s argument, and spoke in a sarcastic tone:

"Well… What a surprise. I didn’t think you’d arrive early."

She adjusted the strap of her backpack and added, more directly:

"Are you ready? It’s better to leave as soon as possible. So I don’t plan to wait if you get delayed."

The mission had become much more complicated than expected.

At first it was only beasts. Big, aggressive, with claws and fangs, but nothing the two of us couldn’t handle. I used magic to keep them at bay: gusts of wind, small explosions of fire, improvised walls of earth. When one got too close, I drew my sword and faced it up close. Sara shot from behind me with brutal precision, driving arrows into eyes and throats.

"To the left!" I shouted.

"I already saw it!" she answered, releasing another arrow that sank cleanly into a beast’s eye.

Everything was going relatively well… until the goblins arrived.

They appeared among the trees like green, foul-smelling shadows, screaming in their strange language and throwing themselves into combat with rusty spears and twisted knives. The fight became total chaos. Beasts and goblins mixed together, roars, screeches and the wet sound of flesh being cut.

"Shit…! There’s too many of them!" I spat through my teeth while launching a fireball that burned many goblins.

I kept combining magic and sword. When they got too close, I cut. When they were far, I burned or pushed with wind. I protected Sara as best I could, covering her every time an enemy tried to flank her.

That was when I barely saw it: a goblin smarter than the others was using the body of one of the dead beasts as a shield. He approached without me fully noticing and, suddenly, threw a poisoned spear straight at me.

I reacted at the last instant.

"Fuck! That was close…"

I managed to dodge it… but Sara didn’t.

The spear pierced her shoulder with a wet, dry sound.

"AAAHH…! Nngh…!"

She let out a choked scream and fell to her knees, gripping the wound tightly. Blood started flowing immediately, dark, and her face turned pale in a matter of seconds.

"Sara!"

I turned immediately to help her.

That second of distraction was enough.

One of the larger beasts charged me with all its strength. The impact knocked me onto my back and the animal climbed on top of me. Its weight was brutal. It was crushing me against the ground.

"Ghh…! Get off me, damn it…!"

I tried to pull out my sword and stabbed it again and again into its side, its chest, its neck. The blade sank in, blood splattered my face, but the beast kept holding on, growling, without letting go. Its fangs closed on my arm.

"AAARGH…! Haa…! Fuck…!"

The pain was white, blinding. I felt as if the flesh was tearing and hot blood ran down my arm.

From the ground, under the weight of the beast and my own blood, I managed to see Sara. The goblins were surrounding her. They were dragging her, pulling at her clothes, her hair. One of them was shouting orders. They planned to take her. She barely resisted. Her eyes were glassy. The poisoned spear was taking effect, numbing her body. Her breathing was becoming slower and weaker.

"…he…lp…" she whispered, barely audible, her voice broken by pain. "Nngh… I… can’t…"

That whisper gave me strength.

With a guttural scream and all the hatred I could gather, I pushed with my legs and arms until I managed to lift the beast’s body enough.

"GO TO HELL…!"

I gathered the last remaining mana I had and cast the strongest spell I knew: a concentrated explosion of fire and air straight into the creature’s chest. The impact threw it far away, charred and lifeless.

"Haa… haa…!" I gasped, exhausted and in pain.

But I got up, staggering. My wounded arm was bleeding nonstop and I could barely move it. I didn’t care. I started running toward Sara with all the strength I had left. The goblins surrounding her tried to stop me. I sliced the first one’s throat clean. I opened the second one’s chest. I cut the third one’s arm and then its head. I wasn’t thinking. I was only cutting. Only advancing.

"Get away from her…!" I growled while slicing them one by one.

I reached Sara. The last goblins fled when they saw their prey was no longer defenseless. I knelt immediately and carefully held her head, resting it on my lap. Her eyes were glassy, almost closed. Her breathing was slow, irregular. The wounds on her body looked ugly. The blood from her arm kept flowing and the poison was stealing her consciousness.

"Sara… hey… look at me." I stroked her hair with the hand that still responded while I began reciting a healing spell. "Hang on… don’t fall asleep."

"…it hurts…" she murmured in a thread of voice. "Nngh… the arm… burns…"

"I know. I know. Hold on a little longer."

Everything looked blurry; the lack of mana and using the few reserves I had left me more and more exhausted. Finally the magic partially sealed the wound on her arm and stopped the worst of the bleeding, but it wasn’t enough. The poison was still there.

I clenched my teeth. I didn’t have a detoxification spell in my repertoire. I had never learned one.

"I’ll keep you stable… I’m not going to let you die here. Do you hear me?"

I carefully lifted her into my arms, ignoring the pain in my own body. Every step cost me. My mana was completely depleted and my arm was still bleeding, but I didn’t stop. I walked until I found a small and relatively safe cave among the rocks. I went in, laid her down as best I could on my cloak and sat beside her, breathing with difficulty.

"Haa… haa…"

I looked at her. Her face was pale and exhausted. Her body, wounded and tired, rested against mine. Even in that state… she was beautiful. And for some reason I didn’t want to analyze too much, the idea of losing her felt unacceptable.

I stroked her hair once more and murmured, more to myself than to her:

"Hang on… please. Don’t die… not after all this."

The road back to the guild felt longer than usual.

After the ambush and everything that happened in the cave, we had barely managed to get moving. Sara had woken up furious when she found herself only in her underwear. She had hit my chest with her good arm and accused me of taking advantage of her while she was unconscious. I had to explain several times that her clothes were soaked in blood and poison, that I couldn’t heal her properly with them on, and that the cold didn’t help. In the end she seemed to accept it reluctantly, even though the embarrassment was still visible on her face.

Now we walked together along the forest path. I was wearing only a thin shirt and pants; it was the only reasonably clean clothing I had left. My wounded arm was bandaged however I could manage and it hurt with every movement. Sara, on the other hand, was wrapped in almost all of my gear: my cloak, the vest, and one of my shirts that was noticeably large on her. It was clear it bothered her to wear it.

We had been walking in silence for a while when she spoke first, without looking at me:

"This is ridiculous. I smell like you. I’m wearing your clothes. I look like a little girl who put on her big brother’s cloak."

I let out a low, tired laugh.

"It was that or let you freeze. Or walk half-naked through the forest."

Sara stopped abruptly and faced me. Her light-blue eyes shone with annoyance.

"I never asked you to come back for me. I never asked you to tear yourself apart to get me out of there. You could have left. It would have been more logical."

I answered in a drier tone than I intended:

"More logical? Leave you for those goblins to drag away? Does that seem like a good idea to you?"

She didn’t back down.

"At least I wouldn’t be here smelling like you and feeling ridiculous in your clothes!"

My voice rose a little higher:

"Are you seriously more worried about smelling like me than about the fact that you almost became those goblins’ toy?"

Sara clenched her teeth.

"Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot! No one forced you to be a hero! You could have left me and continued with your life!"

That was when I completely lost my composure. The words came out before I could stop them, raw and hurtful:

"Then I wish I had left you. That way I wouldn’t have to listen to you complain about everything after almost dying for you. Sometimes you’re so proud and ungrateful that it’s disgusting."

The silence that fell afterward was immediate and heavy. Sara stayed completely still, her eyes wide open. Her expression went from anger to something much more hurt in a matter of seconds. I felt the regret hit my stomach almost instantly.

I ran a hand over my face, my voice already much lower and full of shame:

"…Shit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was horrible. I got carried away and said something I didn’t mean."

I took a step toward her. Carefully, almost afraid she would reject me, I took her hands between mine. They were smaller and still a little cold. I looked into her eyes. There was no anger in my gaze. Only a strange mix of exhaustion, regret, and something that was starting to grow without permission.

"I don’t know why… but I can’t stand the idea of you having died there. Even now, if I had to choose again, I would risk my life for you again. I don’t fully understand it. It just… is that way."

Sara stayed silent. Her fingers trembled slightly inside mine. A blush rose from her neck to her cheeks and she looked away, as if she didn’t know what to do with what she had just heard. When she spoke again, her voice came out lower, but still with a hint of wounded pride:

"You’re a complete idiot… too reckless. And… what you said hurt."

She paused, squeezing my hands a little without realizing, and added in a softer, almost embarrassed tone:

"I also went too far. I shouldn’t have yelled at you so much. I should… have been more grateful from the beginning."

She stayed silent for another moment. Then, suddenly, she gently released my hands and took a step back. Without saying anything more, she turned and started walking toward the guild, giving me her back.

I watched her walk away. Even though she tried to keep that proud posture as always, I noticed how she hugged my cloak and shirt tightly against her body, as if they suddenly gave her more warmth than she would admit. Her ears were visibly red.

After a few meters she stopped, looked over her shoulder and, for the first time since we met, gave me a shy and genuinely cute smile. Her voice came out a little softer than usual:

"…Thank you. Really."

She made a small pause, still flushed, and added in a tone that mixed embarrassment and something warmer:

"Now hurry up. I want to get to the guild quickly… there are some things I want to do with you."

Several days had passed since we returned to the guild.

After handing in the mission report and collecting the reward, it turned out both of us had rented rooms at the same inn… right across from each other. We spent the following days recovering from our wounds. I barely left my room, and neither did she… or well, I don’t know that for sure. We only crossed paths in the hallway a few times, and whenever we did the atmosphere became strange: a little tense, a little quiet, as if neither of us knew exactly what to say after everything that happened in the forest.

That afternoon, when I was already feeling much better, I heard soft knocks on the door.

I got up, still with my shirt a little open, and opened it.

Sara was there.

She was wearing a white dress with a black bow on the chest and a short-sleeved pink jacket that left her shoulders bare. Her short blonde hair fell naturally and her cheeks were slightly flushed. In her hands she held the clothes I had lent her the day of the ambush, carefully folded.

For a second she stayed silent, avoiding looking me directly in the eyes. Then she held the clothes out toward me and spoke in a softer, shyer tone than she normally used:

"…I brought this back. I already washed it. Thank you for… lending it to me."

I took the clothes and set them aside, noticing they were really clean and neatly folded.

"You didn’t have to go through the trouble of washing it. But… thanks. It looks good."

She nodded once, still a little stiff, and fidgeted with her fingers. It was clear she was gathering courage to say something more. After a few seconds she looked up at me, her cheeks still tinted a soft pink:

"Are you free right now…? I was thinking of going to buy some things at the market and… well. If you want, you could come with me."

I stayed looking at her for a moment, surprised by the invitation. I didn’t expect her to be the one to take the first step after everything that happened.

"Shopping? With you?"

Sara looked away to the side, clearly uncomfortable having to repeat it.

"Yes. With you. It’s not… it’s not like I have anyone else to go with, okay? And besides… I still owe you one for what happened in the forest."

I smiled a little sideways, leaning against the doorframe.

"You don’t owe me anything. But… alright. I could use getting out for a bit. Just let me put on something more decent."

She nodded quickly, as if afraid I would change my mind, and murmured while taking a small step back:

"…I’ll wait for you downstairs then. Don’t take too long."

I closed the door and stayed silent for a moment inside the room, still holding the clean clothes she had returned to me.

What just happened?

Sara… the same Sara who had treated me with distrust from the first day, who had yelled at me, who had gotten defensive every time I tried to get closer… was now standing in front of my door, flushed, wearing a dress that made her look completely different, inviting me to go out with her. Was it only to return the favor? Or… was it something more? Was she considering it a date? I don’t know. I only know that she looked beautiful. The white dress suited her perfectly, the pink jacket brought out the color of her hair and eyes, and that shy expression… it didn’t look anything like the arrogant, cutting Sara I met at the guild.

I changed quickly, fixed my hair as best I could and went downstairs.

She was already downstairs, near the entrance of the inn. When she saw me come down, she turned toward me and, for the first time since we met, greeted me with a genuinely cute and soft smile. She still had a little color in her cheeks.

She raised one hand in a small gesture and said, in a warmer tone than usual:

"Shall we go?"

We left the inn together.

The afternoon sun bathed the city streets and the atmosphere of the market already felt close: the smell of freshly baked bread, spices, new fabric and polished metal. Sara walked beside me with her hands behind her back, still a little stiff, as if she wasn’t completely used to this. Every now and then she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye and then looked away.

After walking in silence for a while, she was the one who spoke first:

"This… isn’t a date. I just… needed to buy some things and didn’t want to go alone. That’s clear, right?"

I smiled a little sideways, looking ahead.

"It’s clear. We’re just buying things. Nothing more. Although if it were a date, you’d have to be the one inviting me."

Sara shot me a sideways glance, half offended and half amused.

"Don’t even dream about it. I don’t invite anyone."

"What a shame. I was getting my hopes up."

She snorted, but couldn’t stop a small smile from escaping. We kept moving between the stalls. She stopped in front of one with strings and arrows, checking the material with a critical eye. I stayed a little behind, watching her.

After a few minutes she turned toward me, holding a roll of good-quality string.

"Aren’t you going to buy anything? Or did you just come to stare at me?"

"I can do both. Besides, you’re good at choosing. You have a good eye," I answered with a soft smile.

Sara blushed slightly and looked away, murmuring:

"Don’t say nonsense… I just know what I need."

She paid for the string and we kept walking. At a clothing stall she stopped longer than necessary, touching some fabrics with the tips of her fingers. When she noticed I was watching her, she tensed immediately.

"What are you looking at?"

"Nothing. Just… that dress you’re wearing suits you. It’s… different from what you always wear."

Sara stayed quiet for a second. Then she pressed her lips together a little and answered, lower than normal:

"…Don’t look at me so much… idiot…"

I kept walking beside her and decided to provoke her a little more:

"Then you shouldn’t look so good. It’s your fault."

She stopped dead, looked at me with narrowed eyes and then gave me a soft hit on the arm with the back of her hand.

"Idiot! Don’t say things like that in the middle of the street."

I laughed and she, after trying to keep a serious face, ended up letting out a short, embarrassed laugh. The sound surprised me. I hadn’t heard her truly laugh until now.

Further ahead, in front of a street food stall, the smell of roasted meat and hot bread was impossible to ignore. Sara looked at the stall, then at me, and then pretended disinterest.

"I’m a little hungry… if only there were a gentleman trying to invite me to eat or something like that."

I crossed my arms, amused.

"Alright… you win. I’ll pay. As thanks for getting me out of the inn."

She opened her mouth to protest:

"It was a joke, you don’t have to—"

"I’ve already decided. Sit down," I answered without letting her finish her protest.

Sara sighed, still a little red, but in the end she sat at one of the wooden tables.

"…Fine. But only this time. And don’t get used to it."

We ordered something simple. While we ate, she kept stealing glances at me every now and then. At one point, when I got a little sauce at the corner of my lips, she noticed it and, after hesitating for a second, reached out and wiped it off with her finger in a clumsy way.

"You have… there."

She realized what she had just done and turned completely red, pulling her hand back as if she had been burned.

"Don’t say anything!"

I laughed openly this time.

"I wasn’t going to say anything. But if I had something to say: you’re terrible at hiding it."

Sara blushed like a tomato and before I could notice, she threw a piece of bread at my face, though without much force, and the two of us ended up laughing quietly. For a moment, the tension that had always been between us seemed to dissolve completely.

After a while, she set the bread aside and spoke in a lower, almost careful tone:

"Hey… about the forest. I still haven’t said it properly. Thank you. Really. If you hadn’t come back… I probably wouldn’t be here."

I looked at her for a moment. The afternoon sun hit her blonde hair and those light-blue eyes fully. For the first time since we met, there was no wall between us.

"You don’t have to thank me so many times."

Sara looked away, fidgeting with the edge of her jacket sleeve, but this time there was a small smile on her lips.

"I know. But… I wanted to say it again. While we’re… like this."

After the outing to the market, the sun was already setting when Sara stopped in front of a simple-looking bar near the plaza.

She glanced at me sideways, still with a little color in her cheeks from the earlier jokes, and said in a tone that tried to sound casual:

"I’m… a little thirsty. Shall we go in? Just one drink. Nothing more."

I accepted. We went in. The interior was warm, with the smell of wood, beer and something fried. We ordered two mugs and sat at a corner table, away from the main bustle. At first we talked about nonsense: about the mission, how bad my clothes looked on her, how expensive the string she had bought was. But as the mugs emptied and we ordered a second… and then a third… the atmosphere between us changed.

Sara started talking more. Her voice became a little softer, more sincere, and every now and then a small hiccup escaped her that she tried to hide.

"Hic… don’t look at me like that. I’m not drunk."

I nodded without arguing, even though it was clear both of us were. Until suddenly she stayed quiet for a long while, staring at the bottom of her mug. When she spoke again, the tone was different. Lower. More fragile.

"Hey… can I tell you something stupid?"

I nodded, without interrupting her.

She fidgeted with the edge of the mug, avoiding looking me in the eyes. Her voice came out a little slower than normal, as if she were carefully choosing every word… or as if the alcohol were loosening her tongue.

"The first time I tried… you know." She made a small vague gesture with her hand, as if pointing to something between two people, clearly referring to sex. "With someone. It was a total disaster. I gathered my courage, got a little drunk —like now, hic— and took him to his room. I took off my clothes. I… offered myself. I was nervous, but I wanted it. And he… simply couldn’t. He didn’t get aroused. He didn’t react. He just stayed there, looking at me, and I felt like a complete idiot. As if my body was useless. As if I was too thin, too… girlish. Too insufficient."

She ran a hand through her hair, still without looking at me. Her voice cracked a little as she continued, full of a desperation she didn’t try to hide:

"The next day… it was worse. Much worse. I overheard him talking to another guy. He was drunk. And… and he was comparing me. He said my body looked like a cheap prostitute’s. That I wasn’t worth it. That he regretted having touched me. He blamed my body for why he didn’t get aroused… that my breasts and hips weren’t big and voluptuous. Can you believe it? I hate him. Although… maybe he’s right. I only have a child’s body."

Her voice cracked even more at the end of the sentence. She stayed silent for a few seconds, breathing agitatedly, her eyes shining. Then she let out a long sigh, as if she were trying to push all that weight out of her chest, and when she spoke again her tone was already lower, calmer… though it still trembled a little.

"Hic… how embarrassing. I don’t know why I’m telling you this… Since then I’ve had that idea stuck in me. That if someone really looks at me… they’ll realize I’m not enough. That my chest is small. That my body looks like a teenager’s. That I’m not worth it for… you know."

I looked at her seriously. The alcohol warmed my blood, but not enough to not understand how important what she was telling me was.

"That’s bullshit."

Sara lifted her gaze, surprised by how direct I was.

"What…?"

"That you think that. It’s bullshit. Your body isn’t childish. It isn’t insufficient. You’re attractive. Period. That idiot from the past had the problem, not you. And what he said afterwards… only shows how miserable he was," I answered firmly.

She blushed up to her ears and looked away, but she didn’t get up or change the subject. She stayed there, listening. I continued, lower, more sincere than I had been all day:

"If someone really looks at you and doesn’t desire you… that someone is the one with a problem. Not you. And I’m not going to pretend I haven’t looked at you. Because I have. And I don’t see anything ‘girlish’ when I look at you. I also don’t see anything that deserves to be compared to a prostitute. You’re much more than that."

Sara stayed completely still. Her fingers squeezed the mug tightly. The silence stretched between us, heavy, dense. The noise of the bar seemed to have moved away. When she finally spoke, her voice came out barely above a whisper, trembling and full of a dangerous mix of alcohol, shame and something deeper:

"Then… do you want to check it? Hic…"

She lifted her gaze toward me. Her light-blue eyes were bright, a little glassy from the drink, but completely serious.

"If… if you want. We can… go to your room. Or mine. And see if… this time is different. If you… react. If I… am good for something."

She stayed looking at me, waiting. My heart was beating hard. The atmosphere had become thick, intimate, dangerous. She was offering exactly the same thing she once offered to someone else… but this time she was offering it to me.

And from the way she was looking at me, it wasn’t just the alcohol talking.

In my room…

The door closed behind us with a soft click. The light from the oil lamp bathed the room in a warm, dim tone. Sara stood near the bed, fidgeting with the edge of her pink jacket, without daring to look at me directly. The blush rose from her neck to her ears and her breathing already seemed a little agitated.

After a few seconds of silence, she spoke in a low, trembling voice:

"If… if at any moment it doesn’t work. Or if you regret it. Tell me. I don’t want… to feel that again."

I approached calmly. I didn’t touch her yet. I just stopped in front of her and answered seriously:

"It’s not going to happen. But if at any moment you want to stop, you say so too. Agreed?"

Sara nodded once, biting her lower lip. With clumsy fingers she started unbuttoning her jacket. She let it fall to the floor. Then, more slowly, she took off the white dress. She was left only in her underwear: a simple white bra and matching panties. Her arms immediately crossed over her chest, as if trying to hide.

Her voice cracked a little:

"See… there’s not much to look at. I told you. It’s… small. Childish."

I didn’t answer with words right away. I moved closer, took her wrists gently and lowered her arms so she wouldn’t cover herself. I looked at her for real. Without rushing.

The outline of her breasts was clearly marked under the thin fabric of the bra: small, firm, of a rounded and natural shape. The soft curve of her waist went down to narrow hips, and her thighs looked tense from the embarrassment. Nothing exaggeratedly voluptuous. Just her. Slim, youthful… and extremely attractive just like that.

"It’s not childish. It’s yours. And I like it."

Sara trembled slightly. Her light-blue eyes were bright, a mix of fear, shame and something hotter. When she spoke again, her voice came out barely in a whisper:

"Then… touch it. If you really… want to."

I brought one hand to her waist, feeling the warm and soft skin under my fingers. The other slowly went up her side until it brushed the lower edge of her bra. She held her breath. She didn’t pull away.

I kissed her.

It was a slow kiss at first, almost careful. Sara responded clumsily, as if she wasn’t entirely sure how to do it, but little by little she started loosening up. Her hands went up to grab my shirt. The kiss deepened. Our tongues met. She let out a small muffled sound against my mouth.

"Mmh… nngh…"

When we separated to breathe, her lips were swollen and her gaze clouded. She was still trembling a little, but she no longer covered herself.

With clumsy fingers she started unbuttoning my shirt while murmuring, almost to herself:

"This time… it has to be different. Please… let it be different."

I helped her finish taking off my shirt. Her hands ran over my chest with some hesitation, as if she still didn’t fully believe I was reacting. I took the opportunity to carefully unhook her bra. She tensed for a second, but didn’t stop me. When the garment fell, her breasts were exposed: small, firm, with pink nipples already hardened by the cold and the excitement. The outline was delicate, almost fragile, and they rose and fell with every agitated breath.

Sara immediately looked away, embarrassed, trying to cover herself again with her arms.

"Don’t… don’t look so much… they’re… small…"

I smiled softly and turned her chin to kiss her again. It was a tender and warm kiss. After breaking the kiss I lowered my head and left a soft kiss right above one of her breasts. Then another. And another closer to the nipple. She let out a trembling gasp and her fingers tangled in my hair.

"Haa… aahh… idiot…"

I kept kissing her, gently licking the nipple while surrounding it with my lips. Sara arched her back and let out a higher, trembling moan.

"Nngh…! Haaah… it feels… strange… but… good…"

My other hand slid down her flat belly to the edge of her panties. I stopped there, waiting. She was breathing agitatedly. After a second, she nodded almost imperceptibly.

"…Continue. Please…"

I carefully lowered her panties. Sara lifted her feet a little to help me and was left completely naked in front of me. She tried to cover herself again by reflex, but I took her wrists and gently moved them aside, looking into her eyes.

"You’re beautiful. Exactly as you are."

I guided her toward the bed. I lay over her carefully, supporting my weight with my arms so I wouldn’t crush her. Our bodies brushed. She was hot, and I was already completely hard against her thigh. Sara noticed. Her eyes opened a little more, surprised… and then softened with something like relief.

"You’re… reacting… for real…"

"For a while now," I whispered with desire.

I kissed her again, deeper this time. My hands ran over her body calmly: her sides, her small and firm breasts, the inside of her thighs. When my fingers brushed between her legs, I found her already wet. She let out a low, broken moan against my mouth.

"Nngh… haa… aahh… there…"

I kept caressing her slowly, circling her clit with my thumb while carefully inserting a finger. Sara tensed at first, but little by little she opened up, moving her hips in search of more. Her nails dug lightly into my shoulders and the moans became more frequent.

"Haaah… nngh…! More… please… don’t stop…"

After a while I withdrew my hand. I positioned myself between her legs. The tip of my cock brushed her entrance. She was soaked and trembling. I stopped there, looking into her eyes, waiting.

Sara was breathing agitatedly. Her cheeks were completely red. After a second, she wrapped her legs around my waist and spoke in an almost desperate whisper, still with a hint of insecurity:

"Do it… please. I want… to feel that this time is real. Even if my body is… like this."

Hours passed.

The room smelled of sex, sweat and the oil lamp that was still burning with a dim light. We were both completely naked on the messy bed. I was lying on my back, my body heavy and satisfied. Sara was on top of me, curled up like a koala, with her head resting on my chest and one leg thrown over mine. Her skin was still warm and a little sticky.

Her fingers traced slow circles on my chest, going down every now and then to my thighs, massaging with a clumsy tenderness I had never seen from her before. We talked in whispers, as if normal volume could break what had just happened.

"I still can’t believe it…" she murmured against my skin. "That you… reacted. That you looked at me like that. That you didn’t regret it halfway through."

I stroked her blonde hair with my free hand and answered in a low voice:

"There was nothing to regret. You were… perfect."

Sara stayed silent for a moment, continuing to caress my chest and thigh with slow, distracted movements. Then she spoke again, lower, almost confessional:

"I’m scared… of getting used to this. To you. To someone seeing me naked and not running away. To… being truly desired."

Just as she finished speaking, I noticed her body tense slightly. Her hand, which was on my thigh, stopped. Then it moved a little higher… and met my cock, which was already starting to harden again just from having her so close, naked and talking like that.

Sara lifted her head abruptly. She looked at me with wide eyes and then rolled them, clearly annoyed.

"Seriously? Now? We were having an important moment, idiot. Can’t you take it seriously for even five minutes?"

I tried to defend myself immediately:

"It’s not that… I mean, you were on top and—"

Sara covered my mouth with her hand suddenly, without letting me finish the sentence. Her light-blue eyes looked at me with a mix of annoyance and embarrassment.

"Shut up. Don’t say anything."

I stayed silent, feeling her hand still covering my lips. She looked down at my erection, which kept growing under her other hand. The anger slowly diluted. Her cheeks tinted a soft red and her eyes softened in an almost vulnerable way.

She whispered, more to herself than to me, while removing her hand from my mouth:

"…You desire me again. Even after… everything. Even seeing me like this."

She stayed quiet for a moment, breathing agitatedly. Then, suddenly, she sat up a little, still straddling me, and looked down at her own small and firm breasts. She bit her lip, clearly insecure, but at the same time determined.

In a low and a little embarrassed voice, she said:

"If… if you want… I can use these. Even if they’re small. I can… squeeze them around and… move. If you really like them as much as you say."

She stayed waiting for my answer, her hands already rising shyly toward her own breasts, ready to offer me a titjob despite all the insecurity she still carried.

Weeks had passed since that first night.

Now it was normal. We went out together, took duo missions, ate lunch at the same table in the guild and, more than once, ended up sleeping in the same room. Sometimes just to recover. Other times… not so just. Today was no exception.

That morning’s mission had been well paid, but exhausting. A nest of monsters in the western hills. We finished dirty, tired and with our bodies marked by minor scratches. When we returned to the inn, we barely had the strength to take off our armor and wash up roughly. Sara let herself fall onto the bed in my room with a long sigh, still in her shirt and underwear.

I lay down beside her. For a while we just breathed in silence, the exhaustion weighing on both of us. Until she turned toward me, propped herself up on one elbow and looked at me with that expression I was already starting to know: half shy, half determined.

"Hey…"

I raised an eyebrow, still half exhausted.

"Mmm?"

Sara fidgeted for a second with the edge of my shirt, avoiding looking me directly in the eyes.

"I want to do it. But first… I want to try something. Something I’ve never done."

I sat up a little, supporting myself on my forearms, and looked at her calmly.

"Try what?"

She bit her lip, clearly nervous. She moved closer and left a short, almost shy kiss on the corner of my mouth. Then another, a little more confident, on the lips. When she pulled away, her voice came out in a whisper:

"With my mouth. I want… to try it. With you."

I looked at her in silence for a second. She blushed up to her ears and looked away, as if she was already regretting having said it. Before she could back out, I gently took the back of her neck and kissed her for real. Slow. Deep. She responded with a small surprised sound, but didn’t pull away. Her fingers clung to my shirt.

When we separated, both of us were breathing a little more agitated. I stroked her cheek with my thumb and spoke in a low voice:

"You don’t have to do it if you’re not sure."

Sara shook her head, still very red.

"I am sure. I mean… I want to try. But… don’t laugh if I do it wrong. And don’t say nonsense afterwards."

I smiled a little and left another short kiss on her forehead.

"I’m not going to laugh."

She snorted, embarrassed, but moved closer again. This time she was the one who initiated the kiss. More clumsy, more anxious. Her hands went up to my chest, caressing over the fabric. I reciprocated by lowering one hand down her back, pressing her a little more against me.

Between kisses, she murmured things almost without realizing:

"You’re… too patient with me…"

"I’m not patient. I just want you like this," I answered softly.

Sara stopped for a second, looked into my eyes with a mix of surprise and something softer, and then hid her face in my neck, leaving a short kiss there too.

"Idiot… don’t say things like that all of a sudden."

I laughed quietly and stroked her hair.

"It’s true. I like you. I like how you are. I like your body. I like when you turn red like now."

She gave me a soft hit on the chest, without any real force, and lifted her head again. She was completely flushed, but there was a small smile on her lips.

"Shut up… or I’ll regret it."

I kissed her again, this time slower, deeper. My hands went down to her waist, lifting her shirt a little to touch the bare skin of her back. Sara let out a small gasp against my mouth and pressed closer to me.

After a while of kisses and caresses, she pulled away just enough to speak, with her forehead resting against mine:

"Then… can I? Now?"

I nodded, without taking my eyes off hers.

"Whenever you want."

Sara took a deep breath, as if gathering courage. She sat up, positioned herself on her knees between my legs and, without further ado, untied the cord of my pants. She pulled the fabric down together with the underwear in one clumsy but determined tug. My cock sprang free, already completely hard. She stared at it for a second, her cheeks burning, and then leaned in.

She nestled her cheek against the side of my member, feeling the heat and the pulse against her skin. She looked up at me from that position, her light-blue eyes bright, nervous and full of a dangerous mix of shame and desire.

In a low voice, almost a whisper, she asked for one last confirmation:

"…Can I? Really?"

Today, while I was drying the glasses behind the counter and watching her cross the room with two mugs held high and that smile she no longer hides, I realized how far we had come.

I remember the nights from years ago. After long missions, when we still smelled of blood and forest, we locked ourselves in the inn room and didn’t talk much. We just took off our clothes in a hurry and with exhaustion, and she clung to me as if she still feared that at any moment I was going to regret it. I kissed her slowly, told her in her ear that she was beautiful just as she was, and she murmured “idiot…” while wrapping her legs around me. There were nights when we ended up sweaty and quiet, and she curled up against my chest like a koala, tracing circles with her finger on my skin. Other nights were more intense, clumsier, fuller of muffled laughs when something went wrong and neither of us wanted to admit that we were still learning each other.

I also remember the adventure days clearly. Waking up before dawn, checking the gear, walking side by side along dusty roads. Her with the bow on her back and that serious expression she put on when there was danger. Me with the sword and magic ready. For a while it was just the two of us. Then she arrived: a young mage, without a group, without family, who approached us at the guild one rainy day asking to join because she had no one else. Sara refused immediately.

"I don’t want her," she told me firmly, almost growling, when the girl stepped away for a moment. "We don’t need anyone else. You and I are fine like this."

"She’s alone," I answered. "And she’s good with ice magic. It would be good for us."

"I don’t care. I don’t want another woman staring at you all day. I already have enough dealing with you."

We argued that night. She was jealous, even if she didn’t fully admit it. I insisted. In the end, reluctantly, she accepted. The mage joined. For months it worked. Until one day, on a mission in the northern mountains, we almost lost her. A rockslide and a group of ogres separated us. The girl got trapped. Sara and I had to fight like crazy to reach her. When we finally got her out, she was severely wounded and barely conscious. That night, by the campfire, while the mage slept wrapped in blankets, Sara stayed quiet for a long time. Then she spoke, her voice lower than normal:

"We almost lost her… and I was the first one who didn’t want her here."

I said nothing. I just squeezed her hand. From that day something changed in her. She no longer looked at the mage with suspicion. She started protecting her for real.

It was after that mission, when we were already back and the danger had passed, when the most important conversation of our lives happened. We were sitting together by the campfire. The mage had fallen asleep a little further away. Sara was staring at the embers in silence. I spoke almost without thinking, but with all the seriousness in the world:

"I don’t want this forever anymore. I’m tired of sleeping on the ground and not knowing if tomorrow we’re going to come back."

She turned toward me, surprised.

"And then what do you propose?"

"That we get married," I said, looking at her fixedly. "That we leave the adventurer life. That we look for something stable. With you."

Sara stayed completely still. Her light-blue eyes widened. For a second it seemed like she hadn’t understood. Then she frowned, clearly annoyed, and her voice came out louder than normal:

"Are you kidding me? Just like that, out of nowhere, as if you were ordering another round of beer? Do you think getting married is something you say between a campfire and in the forest without thinking twice? Don’t mess with me."

"I’m not kidding," I answered calmly, without looking away. "I’m serious. I want to marry you. I want to wake up every morning knowing we don’t have to fight for our lives. I want… a home. With you. Only with you."

She held my gaze for a good while. The anger slowly diluted, replaced by something more vulnerable. She looked away toward the embers, her cheeks visibly red, and murmured in a lower and more trembling voice than I had heard in a long time:

"…Idiot. If you mean it… if you really mean it… then it’s fine. But if you regret it later, I’m going to shoot an arrow in your foot. And it won’t be a joke."

We got married in a small ceremony, with almost no one. We sold almost all the adventurer gear. With the money from years of missions I started looking for a place. I found a cheap bar on a quiet corner of a medium-sized city. The owner was an older man, tired, who wanted to retire. I remember the conversation we had in the empty place:

"The place is a bit abandoned," he told me, running his hand over the dusty counter. "But the structure is good. And the land rent is low. If you want it, I’ll leave it to you at a good price. I’m too old to keep going with this."

"I want it," I answered without hesitation. "When can we sign?"

I bought it without telling Sara anything. The problem was the moment I was going to tell her. Honestly I was nervous and a bit scared. When I told her that same night, she crossed her arms and looked at me with those light-blue eyes full of annoyance.

"You bought a bar? Without telling me? And you expect me to serve beer to drunks all day? I hate drunks. I hate the smell of cheap alcohol. I hate when they get pushy."

"It’s a way to make money without having our throats cut every week," I tried to explain. "The place is ours. We don’t depend on anyone. If there’s any problem with a customer, I’ll handle it. You just… try. For a while. If you really hate it, we sell it and look for something else."

She wasn’t convinced immediately. She walked from one side of the room to the other, grumbling.

"And if it doesn’t work? And if we lose the money? And if I’m no good at smiling at strangers all day?" she insisted.

"Then we try another way. But I want to try it with you. Not just me," I answered softly while taking her hands.

Sara stopped. She looked at me for a long time. In the end she let out a heavy sigh and murmured:

"…Fine… but if some idiot touches my ass, I’ll break the mug on his head. And you take care of throwing him out. Clear?"

"Clear," I answered immediately.

The first months were hard. We learned to run the business, to deal with suppliers, to smile at customers who sometimes didn’t deserve the smile. At night, when we closed, we went back to the room upstairs and took off the day’s exhaustion in the only way we knew. She complained that she smelled like beer, I laughed, gently pushed her toward the bed and kissed her until she forgot the anger. Those nights became more frequent, calmer, more ours.

Until one day she came back from the village doctor. She entered the upstairs room without saying anything. She closed the door carefully and stood in the middle of the room, back straight and hands pressed against her belly. I was sitting on the bed taking off my boots. I looked at her, waiting. The silence stretched so long that I started to really worry.

"Sara…? Did something happen?"

She lifted her gaze. Her eyes were shining, almost teary, but the smile that formed on her lips was the most genuine and trembling one I had ever seen in her life. She took a step toward me and then another, as if she needed to get closer to be able to speak. Her voice came out broken, full of a mix of fear, relief and a happiness so big it almost didn’t fit inside her:

"I’m pregnant."

I froze. She took another step, her voice still trembling, and kept talking before I could answer:

"The doctor confirmed it this morning. I’m almost three months along. I didn’t tell you before because… because I was scared. Scared it was a mistake. Or that you wouldn’t want it. Or that I… wouldn’t be capable. But it’s real. We’re going to have a baby. You and me. I understand if you want to end what’s between us because of having a baby but—"

I got up from the bed so fast I almost tripped. I hugged her tightly, so tightly that she let out a muffled gasp against my chest. Both of us were trembling. She was crying and I could only repeat her name while stroking her hair and kissing her forehead over and over. After a while she lifted her face, still with tears on her cheeks, and whispered:

"You… are you… happy? Really?"

"More than ever," I answered, my voice also a little broken. "More than on any mission. More than when I told you we should get married. This… this is everything."

She hid her face again in my chest and stayed there for a long time, breathing agitatedly, while I held her. The news shook us with a happiness we didn’t know we could still feel. Everything we had left behind —the missions, the danger, the nights of fear, the mage we almost lost, the arguments from jealousy— suddenly made sense. We were going to be parents.

And now…

Now I watch her cross the room with two mugs in her hands and a tray of roasted meat. The white stockings shine under the afternoon light, the white blouse fits a little tighter around the belly that is already starting to show. She smiles at the customers, laughs at their bad jokes and, when she passes near the counter, she gives me that sideways glance that is only mine. She stops for a second in front of me, leaves the empty tray and leans on the edge, still smiling, even though the tiredness is noticeable in her shoulders.

"I have three more tables and then I’m taking a break," she says in a low voice, almost conspiratorial. "Don’t complain if I sit on your lap. My feet are killing me and the baby is moving again. I think he likes the noise of the bar."

I set the glass aside, lean a little toward her and answer with the same calm as always, even though inside my chest tightens in a way that no longer has anything to do with danger:

"As if I had ever complained about that. Sit whenever you want. I’ll take care of the rest."

Sara lets out a soft laugh, brushes my fingers over the counter and stays there a second longer than necessary, looking at me. Then she walks away again among the tables, the white stockings moving with every step. I follow her with my gaze. The bar is still noisy, the customers keep ordering, the smell of beer and roasted meat fills the air… and I stay there, behind the counter, thinking that I still don’t know how the rest of this story is going to be.

I only know that, for the first time in a long time, I’m not afraid of discovering it. I’m only afraid of this ending.

---

The bar was already closed.

I had turned off most of the lamps. Only the warm light of the counter and the dim glow that went up the stairs toward our room remained. The smell of beer and wood still floated in the air. Sara finished cleaning the last table with slow movements, took off her apron and left it on a chair. She walked toward me with tired steps, still wearing the white blouse, the tight black pants and those high stockings with crossed laces that marked her thighs in a way that was hard for me to ignore. The belly was already a little more rounded under the fabric.

She stopped in front of me, sighed deeply and, without saying anything, sat astride my lap. She wrapped her arms around my neck and rested her forehead against mine. Her body was warm and a little heavy.

"My feet are killing me… and the baby doesn’t stop moving when there’s noise. I think he likes the bar more than I do."

I laughed quietly and stroked her back over the blouse, slowly lifting the fabric to touch her bare skin. It was soft and warm.

"Then rest here for a while. There are no customers. Just the two of us."

Sara stayed silent for a few seconds, breathing against my neck. Her fingers played with the edge of my shirt. Suddenly she moved her hips slowly, brushing against me deliberately. I noticed how she tensed slightly when she felt that I was already starting to harden under her.

"Haa… you still react so easily to me. Even now that I’m… like this."

She lifted her head and looked at me. There was a clear hint of insecurity in her light-blue eyes, mixed with something hotter.

"My body is changing, have you noticed? My chest hurts almost all day, my belly is growing, I’m not as thin as when we met. Sometimes I look in the mirror and think… that I’m not the same anymore. Do you really still desire me the same? Or do you just say it so you don’t hurt me?"

Before I could answer, she leaned in and kissed me. It was a slow kiss at first, almost careful, but little by little it became deeper. Her tongue sought mine. Meanwhile, she took one of my hands and guided it under her blouse, placing it over her breast. It was heavier, more sensitive than before. The moment my fingers brushed the nipple over the bra, she let out a trembling gasp against my mouth.

"Nngh… slower… they’re too sensitive lately… haa…"

I kept caressing her carefully, circling the nipple with my thumb. Sara arched her back a little and moved her hips again, this time with more intention, rubbing against my erection. Her breathing became more irregular.

"Idiot… don’t say anything yet. Just… touch me. I want to feel you. I want to remember that you still desire me even though I’m carrying your child inside."

Her other hand went down between us. With slightly clumsy fingers she untied the cord of my pants and slipped her hand inside, wrapping around my already completely hard cock. The direct contact made her let out a small surprised sound, almost of relief.

"Haa… it’s still so hot… just like always. I like it…"

She started moving her hand slowly, up and down, while still sitting astride me. Every now and then she leaned in to kiss me again, or to leave small kisses on my neck and jaw. Every time my hand squeezed her breast a little more, she moaned softly and tightened her legs around me.

After a while she pulled away just a little from the kiss, her lips swollen, her cheeks completely red and her breathing agitated. She looked into my eyes while continuing to stroke me with her hand.

"Tell me… what do you want me to do now?"

She bit her lower lip, clearly nervous and excited at the same time.

"Do you want me to get down from here, kneel and suck you slowly… like that time I told you I had never done it? Or do you prefer I pull down my pants right now, let you in carefully… and remind you that I’m pregnant with you while you take me?"

She stayed waiting, sitting on my lap, her hand still wrapped around my member, her belly brushing me with every breath, and her eyes full of a dangerous mix of shame, affection and real desire.

"Choose… or tell me what you want. I’m too tired to decide alone… but I want you inside me somehow."