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The upper section of the house floats, almost impossibly, like a modern sculpture suspended in air.

Beneath it, vast terraces stretch out under open sky, glowing in warm, golden light. It’s not just luxury—it’s intention. Every angle has purpose, every material was chosen with care.

The pool below is carved into the ground like an obsidian mirror—calm and endless—bordered by soft lighting and desert plants that thrive in the stillness.

A wide staircase snakes up the slope beside the house, like a ribbon of white stone etched into the mountainside, guiding the eye—and the soul—upward.

The landscape surrounds it all with a quiet power. Hills roll off into the distance beneath the soft moonlight, the desert peaceful, timeless.

Nick opens the tall, seamless front door with a light press of his hand, and we step into a space that steals the air from my lungs.

Everything is open, bathed in soft, warm lighting that spills down from hidden strips in the ceiling and walls.

The living area is vast and minimalistic, but rich in feeling—concrete walls balanced by warm marble accents, wide glass panels letting the landscape bleed into the space.

A sunken couch, long and deep, faces a sleek black fireplace, while behind it, the kitchen stretches elegantly with matte surfaces and no visible handles, like it’s been carved rather than built.

He doesn’t say much. Just smiles softly as he watches my eyes travel over every detail. And I can’t speak.

We move slowly from one room to another—a quiet, luxurious study with floor-to-ceiling shelves and a view that silences thought; a gym that looks like it belongs in a private wellness retreat; eight guest bedrooms so serene they seem like five-star spas.

Down one hallway, we pass a large open terrace with a lounge and fire pit, and then a glass door that leads to the back—to the infinity pool, its black surface still under the night sky, framed by native plants and the quiet hum of the desert.

Nick walks just ahead, his fingers brushing mine—lightly, like a promise. Then he pauses in front of a set of double black doors and pushes them open.

“This one’s ours,” he says, voice barely more than a whisper.

Our bedroom.

It’s… breathtaking.

The ceiling is high, the lights low and gold-toned, wrapping the space in warmth.

One entire wall is glass, revealing the sweeping landscape beyond, while the bed—massive, with crisp, earth-toned linens—sits centered on a raised platform, as if it rules the room.

On one side, a modern black fireplace flickers softly. On the other, double doors lead into a private bathroom I can already tell will take my breath away.

But I don’t move.

I just stand in the doorway, overwhelmed, silent, wide-eyed.

And Nick watches me for a second before stepping behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing a kiss to the side of my neck.

“I know it’s a lot,” he murmurs, “but I wanted a place that felt like us. Strong. Quiet. Untouchable. Something that could hold the life we’re building.”

And as I lean back into him, heart pounding, the five tests still heavy in my jacket pocket, I know…

With tears streaming down my cheeks, my breath uneven, I take one slow step forward, turn toward him, and whisper, “I can’t do this anymore.”

Nick’s eyes widen instantly, the relaxed joy in his face dissolving into confusion and concern.

“What do you mean, Ser?” he asks, voice tight, already moving closer.

My hands are trembling so hard I almost drop them as I reach into the deep pocket of my jacket and pull out the folded bundle—the five tests wrapped tightly in toilet paper, like they might burst if I let go.

I press them gently into his hand without a word.

He glances at my face again, something flickering behind his eyes, and then slowly opens his palm.