Letting My Brother's Best Friend Take My V-Card (Jessie and Luke) novel Chapter 240

Marcello.

I hesitated before opening the message.

Ma chère Jess, it began. Le ciel parisien semble un peu moins lumineux en ton absence.

I frowned, translating the French automatically. The Parisian sky feels a little less bright while you are away.

The message was beautiful, poetic, and… hollow. It felt wrong to read it, like I was betraying Luke by even acknowledging it. I wasn’t close to even being remotely ready just to acknowledge that Luke is dead. I was even less ready for whatever Marcello was.

I locked the phone without replying and tossed it back onto the bed.

Laura noticed but didn’t comment. She simply gave me a knowing look, as if she could read my thoughts and had decided to let it slide–for now.

“Come on,” she said, tossing me a loose sweater. “Let’s get this over with.”

The waiting room was sterile and quiet, the low hum of the air conditioning the only sound as Laura sat beside me, flipping through a magazine she wasn’t really reading. I couldn’t focus on anything–the words in the magazine, the ticking of the clock. on the wall, nothing.

My mind was a whirlpool of questions and fears I wasn’t ready to face.

Finally, the nurse came to get us. I stood up quickly, my legs unsteady, but Laura was there to steady me, her hand resting lightly on my arm.

I took a deep breath as we followed her down the corridor, each step feeling like it led me further into a nightmare I couldn’t

escape.

The doctor’s office was small, with walls painted a calming shade of pale green. The OB–GYN, a man in his mid–forties, stood by the counter as we entered. His smile was kind, but there was something in his eyes–something that made the air between us thick with unspoken words.

I sat down on the exam table, trying to steady my breathing. Laura stood at my side, her arm lightly draped over my shoulder. Her presence was the only thing keeping me anchored.

The doctor turned toward me, his eyes softening, but there was a hesitation in his movements, as if he didn’t quite know how to approach me. I could see it–the pity in his gaze, the unspoken