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Glowing or on Fire?

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On the surface, Michelle glowed. Her platinum hair caught the light like threads of silk, her skin radiant, her eyes impossibly bright. To Tomás, she seemed softer these days, touched by some hidden joy. He even dared to tease her about it, asking if she might be pregnant again. When she smiled faintly and didn’t deny it, his heart swelled. He saw only the woman he adored, luminous, almost ethereal.

But what Tomás saw was only half the truth.

Behind that glow was heat. Not the gentle warmth of love but the searing burn of fury. Michelle had always burned brightly, but betrayal made her incandescent. Once she was certain of Sophie and Tomás’s closeness, she hadn’t wept or begged. She had taken her anger and poured it into nights that scorched.

With Asgar, the encounter was molten. Their chemistry was undeniable, dangerous, the kind of fire that consumed everything in its path. She let herself drown in it, because for once she wanted to be devoured, not deceived.

With Charles, there was nothing tender, nothing lingering. He was never a lover, only a body to match her fury, a reminder of what pure, raw indulgence felt like. It was hot, brutal in its simplicity, a collision that left no space for affection.

Dean was different, casual, but still searing in its own way. He knew how to worship her without words, and in his easy touch she found a heat that stripped her bare of rage, if only for a moment.

Every encounter was fire. Not love. Not even lust in the ordinary sense. They were acts of reclaiming herself, burning through the shadows Sophie and Tomás had cast over her.

Now, as Tomás kissed her passionately and whispered about their future, she held his face in her hands and smiled that enigmatic smile of hers. To him, she was glowing with life.

But only Michelle knew the truth: she was glowing because she had set herself alight.