The Patriarch

The silence in the apartment carried a heavy weight. A suffocating, almost physical pressure that had been crushing my chest for so long I couldn’t even remember when it first started. From the bedroom next door, the steady rhythm of Hugo’s breathing should have soothed me. It was the soundtrack to my life. Smooth, predictable, effortless. Perfect.

So why did I feel like I was choking?

I sat in the dark living room, the pale glare of my laptop washing over my face. My fingers hovered, trembling slightly over the trackpad. On the screen, the dark interface of the adult forum glowed like forbidden fruit—and like my absolute last resort. I shouldn’t have been there, yet I was doing this for us. For him. I was engaged. I loved Hugo. I always had. I owed it to him to find answers to this hollow void carving me out from the inside.

Why else did sleep abandon me every single night, shattering every certainty I had left?

Wide-awake, I scrolled through the threads. I was hunting for answers to questions I didn’t even dare utter out loud. What was missing in me? Why did this intimate numbness make me feel like a prisoner in my own skin? I watched the discussions unfold, discovering a shadow world—hidden, yet pulsing with a raw intensity that felt light-years away from my safe, routine Sunday afternoons.

Then, a tiny icon lit up in the bottom corner of the screen.

A green dot.

Mr. B was online.

My stomach instantly knotted, and a shiver traced its way down my spine.

I suddenly realized I had stopped breathing.

The chat box popped up.

Mr. B: Not in bed, Nymphéa? It’s late.

His words were plain, almost casual, yet they hit with the sharp precision of a double-edged blade. There was an innate authority in the way he wrote, a natural way of seizing control from miles away without ever having laid eyes on me. My fingers hesitated above the keys before I typed back, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Nymphéa: I can’t sleep.

Mr. B: Again? Let me guess. You’re spending too much time in your own head, listening to your thoughts instead of your body.

My throat constricted. It was too accurate. Too direct. My pulse spiked, rattling against my ribcage like a trapped animal. This stranger was stripping me bare through a screen of pixels, reading me like an open book while knowing nothing about who I really was.

My hands grew clammy as I moved to type a reply, completely spellbound by his digital presence—

“Nini? What are you doing up?”

I jumped so hard my knee slammed into the underside of the desk. In a burst of pure panic, I snapped the laptop shut. The plastic cracked against itself, echoing through the dark room like a gunshot.

Spinning around, my blood turned to ice as I fought to steady my runaway pulse.

Hugo stood framed in the hallway doorway, a soft, hazy silhouette with sleep-mussed hair. He rubbed his eyes, a fond, innocent smile touching his lips. The sheer sight of him took the breath right out of me. He was so sweet, so fundamentally good, it almost terrified me. A wave of shame crashed over me. Here he was, worrying about me, while I sat in the shadows trying to spark something forbidden on a decadent site. What an idiot I was.

I forced my muscles to unlock, pulling together a smile I hoped looked genuine.

“Nothing, don’t worry,” I whispered, my voice barely shaking. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

He looked drained. He let out a long yawn and reached for my hand. I took it without hesitation, letting his familiar warmth anchor me.

“The insomnia again?” he asked softly.

“Yeah. Just that.”

“I think I know a cure for that.”

A playful grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. A shiver ran through me. I knew that grin. I knew it by heart. I knew exactly what came next.

He led me into the dim quiet of the bedroom and laid me down gently onto the mattress. I let him, pliable and yielding, as his mouth found mine in a kiss that started sweet before turning hungry.

I kissed him back with everything I had, pouring my whole heart into the embrace. His lips were soft, his arms strong. I was safe here. I was loved. Hugo grew more insistent, bolder. His tongue tangled with mine, a low, guttural groan catching in his throat as he pressed his weight against me. His hands worked beneath my pajamas, stripping away the layers. With every piece of fabric that hit the floor, another defense crumbled, leaving me painfully exposed. I answered his touch, clutching at his shoulders, my chest aching with an overwhelming love for him.

“You’re so beautiful, Nini,” he growled, dipping his mouth to my breast.

I sighed into his touch and arched against him, hyper-aware of his rigid length hardening against my thigh, desperate and ready. Yet deep down, I was already grieving my own emptiness. My soul cried out with tenderness for him, but my body stayed stone-cold, frustratingly unresponsive beneath his fingertips.

He looked straight into my eyes as he slid inside me. I gasped on cue with him, moving my hips, matching his cadence. The rhythm of his breath filled the quiet room, turning the stillness into an ode to his desire. To honor him—to protect this sacred bond between us—I layered my cries over his. And when he groaned, when his climax hit, I faked the tremors of ecstasy, disguising the barren desert of my senses behind the facade of an artificial storm. Finally, he collapsed against me, warm, sated, and content. I held him close, stroking his hair, hopelessly trapped in my own despair.

Once his breathing leveled into deep sleep, I stared wide-eyed into the pitch black. Shame clamped down hard around my throat. My own deception made me sick to my stomach. Staring up at the dark ceiling, panic set in all over again, wondering what on earth was broken inside of me.

I waited until I was certain he wouldn’t stir, then slipped out from under the covers without a sound. Gathering my clothes from the floor, I pulled them back on, wiping away the lingering traces of our lovemaking. Or rather, his.

My bare feet padded across the cold hardwood back to the living room. My chest tightened with strange, nervous anticipation. I eased the laptop open.

The green dot was gone. Mr. B was offline.

A hollow sigh of disappointment slipped through my lips, and I shut the screen for good. The darkness creeping into my happiness, the sole culprit behind this whole trainwreck, was me. I just had to face facts.

I was frigid.

Completely devoid of desire.

While I yearned to feel that same all-consuming fire that drove Hugo, there was only empty space inside me. A total, terrifying void. I didn’t have a choice anymore. For us, to protect our love and the future I had just cheated him out of tonight, I had to fix this. I had to find a cure, no matter what it cost me.

Sleep never came. I curled up on the couch, drifting through the threads of that forum through a haze of exhaustion. I posted a few questions, desperately searching for stories from women dealing with the same numbness, until sleep finally dragged me under at dawn, my cheek pressed against a decorative pillow.

A tender kiss on my forehead pulled me awake. My eyes snapped open, my heart jumping straight into my throat.

“I’m starting to think you don’t want me anymore,” Hugo teased as he straightened up, a warm grin on his face.

My pulse skipped, ice-cold panic flooding my veins.

“What? That’s not true at all!” I protested, my voice pitching a little too high. “It’s just... lately I’ve had—”

“Hey, relax, Nini, I was joking,” he cut in gently, resting his hands on my shoulders.

He studied my face, his gaze dripping with a quiet concern that stung.

“You haven’t slept right since the promotion, you know. The pressure getting to you?”

My mouth snapped shut. No. That wasn’t it at all. Not even close. But I nodded anyway, too cowardly to give him the truth. He sighed, a faint touch of regret in his tone.

“Are you sure you don’t want to see a doctor?”

“No, really. It’ll pass. I’m fine.”

He let it go. He knew how stubborn I could be, and checking his watch, he pivoted easily.

“All right. You want the shower first, or should I go?”

“Get ready for what?” I asked, my head still foggy.

He stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief.

“Lunch...”

Shit.

The family lunch for my brother’s birthday. It had slipped my mind entirely.

“Did you really forget?” he asked, amused.

“Yes!” I blurted out, heat rushing into my cheeks. “My head’s been all over the place... I haven’t even bought him a gift, and—”

“Don’t sweat it. I picked something up on my way home yesterday,” he interrupted with an easy wink.

The relief hit me so hard I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly to hide the guilt eating away at me.

“You’re the absolute best.”

“Yeah, I know,” he chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around my waist.

He leaned back just an inch, his gaze locking onto mine, a darker, sharper heat suddenly flaring in his eyes.

“Now, let’s be serious. Shower together?”

A few hours later, we stepped out of the car. Hugo’s hand settled warmly against the small of my back as we walked up the driveway, and he rapped on the door.

My father answered almost instantly, a beaming smile spreading across his face.

“Ah, my favorite kids!”

He welcomed us with open arms, pulling Hugo in by the shoulder for a big, affectionate hug, playfully ruffling his hair with the easy familiarity they had shared for as long as I could remember. My brother appeared right behind him, beer in hand, and I threw myself into his arms to wish him a happy birthday. As I held him tight, Hugo’s voice drifted down the hall, calling out to my dad:

“Dad’s not coming after all?”

“No,” my father said, shaking his head. “Mathieu had a last-minute emergency at the firm, I think.”

“He always has a last-minute emergency,” Hugo muttered, an immediate pout dragging down his features.

His disappointment was palpable, raw and almost boyish. I stepped closer, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze, intertwining my fingers with his. He looked down and offered me a soft, grateful smile.

“I’ve got huge news, by the way,” Nathan announced, herding us all toward the dining room.

“Ninon does too,” Hugo chimed in, tossing a warm look my way.

“I’m moving to London!” Nathan blurted out, practically vibrating with excitement.

“You’re... what?” I stammered, staring at him in utter shock.