Falling Into Routine
Copyright© 2025 by ChillWriter338
Chapter 25: Eli’s Collapse
Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 25: Eli’s Collapse - Childhood friends looking for true love and ready to start a family deny how perfect a couple they would make together by getting as close as possible. The secret plan to keep from falling into each other's arms - follow the same routine. Re-write so read from the beginning.
Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Consensual Romantic Heterosexual Fiction FemaleDom Light Bond Polygamy/Polyamory Black Male Hispanic Female Masturbation Oral Sex Voyeurism Big Breasts Size 2nd POV Slow
The door slammed, the sharp crack of it still reverberating through the house like a cannon blast. Then — silence.
Eli sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clenched so tightly they shook. His head hung low, breath shallow, eyes staring unblinking at the hardwood floor. The weight pressing on his chest grew heavier with each passing second.
Carla sat beside him, hugging her knees to her chest. She rubbed her hands over her face, as if trying to wipe away the image of Yenni’s horrified expression burned into her mind. Her breath came in uneven hiccups, barely controlled sobs caught in her throat.
Mama perched on the far corner of the bed. She opened her mouth twice as though she would speak, but no sound emerged. Her hand hovered over her lips, fingers trembling.
The room still smelled faintly of sweat, body heat, and the soft perfume that clung to their skin from just moments ago. But now the warmth of the room felt suffocating. The air pressed down, heavy with guilt and shame.
Mama’s eyes darted nervously between them. Finally, Carla found enough strength to lift her gaze toward her mother.
“Mama ... can you give us a minute?” she whispered, her voice shaking but gentle.
Mama hesitated, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to protest. She glanced toward Eli, who remained unmoving, lost in his own spiral.
Without a word, Mama nodded. She rose slowly and left the room, pulling the door closed behind her with a soft click that still sounded far too loud.
The silence stretched again.
Carla reached for Eli’s hand, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm. His muscles tensed. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled away from her touch, wrapping his arms across his chest instead.
“Eli...” Carla whispered. “Please. Talk to me.”
He exhaled heavily through his nose, but said nothing.
Carla swallowed, her voice thick with emotion. “You have to talk to me. Please don’t shut me out.”
His jaw clenched. His eyes remained fixed on the floor.
“This isn’t your fault,” she continued softly. “We chose this. All of us.”
“No.” The word slipped out like a breath. Harsh. Final.
Carla stiffened. “Yes. We did, Eli. You didn’t force us—”
“I should have stopped it.” His voice cracked as his shoulders tightened. “I should have ... protected you. Protected Mama.”
Carla blinked hard, feeling fresh tears sting her eyes. “Eli ... don’t say that.”
He shook his head, his voice barely audible. “You deserve better.”
“I don’t want better,” Carla whispered fiercely, sliding closer to him. “I want you.”
Eli’s hands gripped his own forearms tighter, as though trying to hold himself together by sheer force of will. “You don’t understand.”
“Then help me understand,” she pleaded, voice breaking. “Don’t push me away.”
Finally, Eli turned his head slightly toward her. His eyes were red, glassy, and hollow.
“I’m no good for you, Carla,” he rasped. “I never was.”
Carla’s heart broke at the words. She shook her head slowly. “That’s not true.”
“I let this happen,” he whispered. “I let it all happen.”
Carla reached for him again, but he leaned away, retreating into himself even as she tried to close the distance.
Her breath trembled. She closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself.
“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice soft but firm. “If you need space, I’ll give it to you.”
She stood slowly, brushing her hands over her face once more. She looked back at him one last time.
“I love you, Eli. That hasn’t changed. It won’t change.”
Without waiting for a response, she stepped quietly from the room, leaving him alone in the suffocating silence.
The next morning came far too quickly. Eli barely noticed the sun rising through the blinds. The hours had passed without sleep, his mind never once releasing its grip on the guilt that crushed him.
By mid-morning, he drifted into the garage like a sleepwalker, his eyes hollow, his body tight with nervous energy. The usual calm routine of his workouts had always helped him clear his head. Today, it was different. Today, it was punishment.
He loaded the barbell heavier than usual. Too heavy.
The metal plates clanged sharply as he set them in place, the sound bouncing off the garage walls. Sweat poured from his brow after only the first set, but he barely noticed. He moved through each repetition mechanically, breathing harder, pushing himself beyond safety. His muscles screamed for him to stop, but he refused.
Harder. More.
You deserve the pain.
You should have known better.
When his arms finally buckled under the weight, he collapsed to his knees, gasping, sweat pouring off him in waves.
For a long moment, he simply knelt there, chest heaving, eyes staring at nothing.
He finally staggered to his feet and stumbled inside.
The hot water from the shower scalded his skin, but he didn’t adjust the temperature. He let it burn, standing under the stream for far too long, hoping it would wash something away that couldn’t be touched by water.
Steam filled the bathroom like a dense fog. His skin flushed pink from the heat, but still, he stood motionless, eyes closed, lips tight, hands pressed flat against the tile wall.
I should’ve stopped it.
She was right. Yenni was right.
I took advantage of them both.
When he finally emerged from the shower, his body sagged with exhaustion. He threw on clean clothes without thinking and made his way to the kitchen.
He pulled leftovers from the fridge, plating the meal Carla had made the night before. The sight of the food twisted his stomach instantly.
He poked at the plate with his fork, but after a few bites, his appetite vanished completely.
Pushing the plate aside, he grabbed the remote and sank into the couch.
The television lit up with a bright, cheerful interface, offering dozens of streaming choices.
He scrolled aimlessly, unable to settle.
His thumb hovered over his usual selections — action movies, sci-fi series — but he couldn’t bring himself to watch any of them.
Instead, he opened Carla’s favorite legal drama. The one she always picked on Sundays. He stared blankly as the familiar opening credits played, the theme song filling the living room with a hollow cheerfulness that only deepened his emptiness.
After two episodes, he switched to one of Mama’s favorites — a musical romantic comedy she’d insisted on adding to their rotation. He watched, expressionless, as colorful dance numbers played across the screen.
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