Back from the private island, Stiles floated through the days like she was still walking on white sand. She glowed—cheeks fuller, skin radiant, eyes sparkling with a secret joy. Derek noticed it immediately, teasing her about how the island sun had “ruined” her for city life. He kept his promise, visiting the lake house as often as he could steal away: late nights after work, quick lunches, stolen mornings before the world woke up. He couldn’t stay away; the thought of her lonely twisted his gut.

Stiles, for her part, barely attended classes anymore. Lectures felt pointless next to him. She spent days decorating the house more, cooking his favorite meals, waiting naked or in lingerie for his key in the door. Nothing mattered more than Derek—the man she loved, the father of the child she now carried.