The End Of a Marriage
Chapter 226
When Isla was sixteen, she had a friend named Maria who lived in one
of the cottages on their property. Maria’s family rented the space
from Isla’s stepfather, who managed the estate with a practical eye
for business. Maria’s father was an architect at a prominent firm in
the city, but her mother, with her love for open fields and quiet
mornings, had insisted they live in the countryside. Every day,
Maria’s parents made the long commute to the city for work, leaving
Maria with hours to explore and entertain herself.
Maria was a whirlwind–a bold, outspoken, and fiercely independent
girl who seemed to know things Isla couldn’t even begin to imagine. Maggie, the older woman who’d taken care of Isla since her mother had passed, was wary of Maria from the start. “That girl is trouble,” Maggie had said, her disapproval evident in the tight press of her lips.
To Maggie, Maria was wild and unruly, a storm in the guise of a
teenage girl.
But to Isla, Maria was fascinating. There was something magnetic
about her confidence, the way she seemed to move through life
without fear or hesitation. Isla had always felt like a quiet shadow
compared to Maria’s vivid energy.
One warm summer afternoon, as the two of them lounged on the soft
grass behind the cottage, Maria brought up a topic that made Isla’s
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cheeks burn. The conversation had been casual at first–school
gossip, boys from the village, dreams of leaving the countryside
behind. But then Maria had turned to Isla, her dark eyes glinting with
curiosity and something else Isla couldn’t quite name.
“Do you ever touch yourself?” Maria asked, the question as casual as
if she’d inquired about the weather.
“Touch myself?” Isla echoed, her voice barely above a whisper. Her
face flushed red, and she sat up slightly, unsure if she’d misheard.
Maria smirked, propping herself up on one elbow. “You know… down there.” She gestured vaguely, her tone light but teasing. “It’s natural,
Isla. Everyone does it.”
Isla stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. She shook her head slowly,
the heat in her cheeks spreading to her neck and ears. “No… I’ve
never…
Maria’s expression shifted to one of genuine surprise. “Seriously?
Isla understood what sex was–she wasn’t naive about the mechanics
or the reasons people did it. After all, they were living in the digital
age, where knowledge was only a click away. But despite knowing the
how and the why, Isla had never felt the fiery passion or irresistible
pull that Maria described so effortlessly.
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Maria’s vivid descriptions of desire and longing left Isla feeling
awkward, as though she were missing some vital part of herself. And
in those moments, as Maria spoke with confidence and ease, Isla
couldn’t help but feel like a fool–unsure, inexperienced, and out of
place in a world that everyone else seemed to navigate so naturally.
Isla worried that something might actually be very wrong with herself
for not having any physical urges had decided to experiment that
night. She had searched on google about everything she needed to
know. She had quietly pulled her nighty over her stomach that night,
when she had been sure everyone had gone to sleep before she had experimented by touching herself down there between the juncture of
her limbs, rubbing herself at the nubbin as some articles on the
internet had told her to do. But nothing had worked. Worried even
more, she had rubbed her fingers even harder on the outside of the
lips but still she had felt nothing.
That had scared her more than anything else. What if Maria’s analysis
had been correct? That something was really wrong with her. She had
searched the internet again, scouring for information and came up
with nothing that she might have some kind of neuronal damage
down there?
Isla lay in bed, her mind racing, unable to shake the anxiety that had
gripped her. There was no one she could talk to about what she was
feeling. Her mother had passed away years ago, leaving a silence in
her life that was impossible to fill. Maggie, their long–time
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housekeeper, had taught her the basics about growing up–periods,
hygiene, all the practical things–but they had never been close
enough for Isla to open up about anything more personal. Talking to her about something as intimate as what she had just experienced
felt impossible.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
