For three years now, I had been dating my girlfriend, Maddie. What started as a whirlwind romance had slowly settled into something deeper, something steady. Two years ago, we took the next step—we moved in together. At first, it was a small apartment in the heart of the city, a place that was truly ours, filled with late-night take out, quiet mornings, and the soft hum of shared routines. But life has a way of shifting course, and four months ago, we packed up and moved into her parents' house. It wasn’t what we had planned, but for now, it was home.
Maddie and I were never better. We understood each other perfectly; sex was great and frequent. Everything was finally at its place. Also she had the kind of face that turned heads. Her long, wavy brunette hair would toss back every time she laughed, revealing a contagious smile that would instantly charm anyone in the room. There was a certain fullness, both to her figure and her personality, a confident and vibrant energy that seemed to fill any room she entered. At 20 years old, she exuded an air of youthfulness yet also a wisdom and maturity far beyond her years, as her gaze held an air of knowingness.
It was Maddie’s mother who had first suggested we move in with them. She had a way of making things sound like simple, logical decisions—ones you couldn’t really argue with. “Why keep spending so much on rent and utilities when you could be saving that money instead?” she had reasoned. Besides, the loft above their house had been sitting empty for years, gathering dust and waiting for a purpose. And so, after some deliberation, we packed up our city apartment and settled into the space they so generously offered.
Maddie’s parents lived in a sprawling, three-story suburban house, the kind that felt both grand and inviting at the same time. Behind it stretched a vast, breathtaking backyard—a slice of nature so serene it felt almost unreal. A gentle creek meandered through the land, its quiet murmur adding to the sense of peace that hung in the air. It was the kind of place where time seemed to slow, where the world outside felt distant and unimportant.
Whenever I needed a break from work, I found myself drawn to that backyard. I'd sit on the porch, sipping my coffee, and watch the creek flow lazily by. The sound of birds chirping and the rustling of leaves created a soothing symphony. Every now and then, a fish would jump at the surface, creating a ripple that disturbed the calm waters before sinking back into silence. It felt like a sanctuary, a place where my worries and responsibilities seemed to melt away. Maybe it was the tranquility of the landscape or the sense of solitude it offered.
For me, it was nothing short of paradise. Working from home only made it better. Without the daily grind of commuting, I had more time to soak in the beauty of this place, to enjoy the stillness, the fresh air, and, most importantly, the company of the people around me.
Maddie’s parents, Fred and Valerie, occupied the first two floors of the house, while Maddie and I had the third story to ourselves. It was a comfortable arrangement—separate enough to maintain our independence, yet close enough that family never felt too far away. Every now and then, we’d join them in their living room, chatting over evening tea or watching whatever show they had on.
Mornings, however, had developed a rhythm of their own. Almost every day, while Maddie still slept, I found myself in the kitchen with Valerie, sharing a quiet cup of coffee. It had become a ritual, something I looked forward to. Valerie was an intelligent woman—well-read, articulate, with a sharp mind and an easy way of conversing. We talked about everything—books, history, the state of the world. She had a way of making even the most ordinary topics feel engaging.
I enjoyed her company, genuinely. And never, not once, had I harbored any improper or inappropriate thoughts about her. But sometimes, life has a way of unravelling the things we think we know.
The days and weeks that followed passed in a blur. Work kept me busy during the day, but every morning, I looked forward to the early hours spent with Valerie in the kitchen. Our conversations ranged from intellectual pursuits to mundane topics, and everything in between. It was during one of these mornings that I noticed a shift in the air.
Valerie seemed different, more distracted than usual. Her eyes would drift away from mine during our conversations, and she would often lose her train of thought mid-sentence.
At first, I just wrote it off as nothing. After all, we all have off days, right? But as the days went by, the shift in her behaviour became more pronounced. She started leaving the room suddenly, mumbling excuses about chores or phone calls. It was subtle at first, but it was noticeable, and it was odd. I tried my best to ignore it, to convince myself that there was nothing to worry about. Maybe it was just the stress of family life, or perhaps she was going through some personal issues. I kept trying to brush it off, but the feeling of unease lingered.
One day, as we sat in the kitchen together, her phone rang. She muttered an apology and dashed off to her room, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my untouched cup of coffee. I sat there, listening to the silence, feeling an unfamiliar shiver of suspicion creeping up my spine. It was at that moment I noticed something I'd never thought possible before.
The walls were thin in the house, and I had a habit of accidentally overhearing things. That’s how I overheard Valerie talking with Fred on the phone about tonight – today was their anniversary and he was taking her for a special dinner. Also I overheard that they were gonna be intimate tonight. I found that sweet, that they still chase the warmth of an old flame, still cling to the thread of intimacy—it’s as moving as it is rare.
I never looked Valerie in sexual way, there are no sexual attraction from my side whatsoever. She was always just my girlfriend’s mother—nothing more, nothing less to me.
But one unexpected event was about to redefine everything I believed...
