The air in the small dining room was thick with the rich, savory scent of garlic, herbs, and roasted meat. Vera's cooking was a form of art, and tonight's masterpiece was a pasta dish that looked and smelled like it belonged in a five-star restaurant. We were all squeezed around the table, a tangle of elbows and soft laughter, a picture of domestic bliss that would have been unthinkable just forty-eight hours ago.
I was sitting at the head of the table.
The spot felt alien, like I was occupying a throne I hadn't earned. The old Sael would have sulked at the far end, or worse, taken his plate to his room. But now, the large, worn wooden chair felt… right. It felt like my place, oddly.
I took a sip of water, the cool liquid doing little to calm the low thrum of nervousness coursing through my body. Officially this is the first time I am truly conscious, and in control, and facing the entire family.
"So, uh, just so everyone knows," I began, my voice cutting through the comfortable chatter. "I called Miss Reis today."
The effect was instantaneous. Forks froze halfway to mouths. The gentle clatter of plates ceased. Five pairs of beautiful eyes swiveled to look at me. The tension was brief, a fleeting moment of conditioned fear before I finished.
"Scheduled my sperm donation appointment for next Tuesday… Nine AM."
The collective exhale was audible. Then, the reactions came. The first touch was from my left. Mom—Cathy—dropped her fork with a soft clink and her hand, warm and slightly trembling, immediately covered mine where it rested on the table. Her skin was soft, her grip firm.
"Oh, Sael," she breathed, her voice thick with an emotion so potent it seemed to vibrate in the air between us. Her bright blue eyes, so much like my own, welled up with tears that didn't fall. They just shimmered, making her look heartbreakingly beautiful.
"I am so… so proud of you. So proud. You have no idea what it means that you did that yourself…" She squeezed my hand, her thumb stroking the back of my knuckles.
On my inside, I was reeling. This was all it took to earn this level of heartfelt praise? Making a single phone call to avoid a felony? Just how fucking pathetic had the previous tenant of this body been? The bar wasn't just low; it was buried in the fucking sub-basement.
From my right came another response. Vera didn't say a word. She just turned her head, her sharp, beautiful features softening into a look of fierce, unspoken approval. Her dark eyes held mine for a beat, and in that look was a universe of meaning—pride, relief, a promise of more.
Then, she picked up the large serving spoon from the pasta bowl. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned over and scooped a massive portion of steaming noodles, creamy sauce, and chunks of sausage onto my already half-full plate. The gesture was so fundamentally nurturing, so possessively domestic. She was feeding her man. It was as simple as that. Bella, seeing the positive momentum, seized her chance.
"That's great, Sael!" she chirped, her earnest face beaming.
"Maybe… maybe some good luck from this, will rub off on me... My big tournament is this weekend." She said it with a hopeful smile, looking around the table.
The family erupted in encouragement. "You've got this, mija!" Vera said.
"You'll strike them all down!" Nadia added, clapping her hands softly.
I saw my opening. I looked directly at Bella, giving her my full attention. "Hey, you've been practicing for months for this. You're a prodigy. They should be worried about you." I offered her a confident grin.
"Go out there and own those lanes."
The effect was electric. Her face, already pretty, transformed. A radiant, sun-blazing smile broke out, and her cheeks flushed a deep, pleased pink. She looked at me like I'd just handed her the moon, not a simple pep talk. She was absolutely fucking beaming, and the sheer power of that—that my words could elicit such a response—was intoxicating, and also kinda hard to get used to.
I looked around the table. At Nadia's grateful, loving smile. At Emily's knowing, amused smirk. At Vera's proud gaze. At Cathy's tearful joy. At Bella's adoring beam. They were all here for me.
The guilt was gone, burned away in the furnace of their acceptance. Now, there was only a clarifying sense of purpose.
I took a deep breath, setting my fork down. The conversation died down again, all eyes returning to me. This time, I made a point to look at each one of them individually—Cathy, Vera, Nadia, Bella, Emily.
"I, uh… I need to say something else," I began, my voice a little rougher than I intended. I saw Cathy's grip on my hand tighten slightly.
"I've been doing a lot of thinking since I got sick," I continued, choosing my words with care. "And I need to say this to all of you, together." I paused, making sure I had their complete attention. I did.
"I have been a world-class jerk... A selfish, spiteful, fucking asshole." I didn't soften the words. I let them hang in the air, blunt and honest.
"I've taken everything you've given me—your love, your patience, your sacrifices—and I've thrown it back in your faces. I've said things I can never take back. I've done things I'm deeply ashamed of."
I saw Cathy's tears finally spill over. Nadia's hand fluttered to her mouth. Emily's smirk had vanished, replaced by a look of intense seriousness.
"I don't have an excuse. There isn't one... All I have is this: I am sorry. From the bottom of my heart. And I am going to be better... I'm going to be the man you all deserve… I promise you that."
The silence that followed was broken by a soft sob from Cathy. Then, a chorus of reassurances washed over me.
"Oh, baby, it's okay… we know…"
"We forgive you, mijo..."
"You're our boy… always…"
"We love you, Sael…"
It was Vera's reaction that truly undid me. The strong one. The unshakeable rock who had faced down an abusive husband without flinching. I turned to look at her. A single, perfect tear had escaped the corner of her eye and was tracing a slow path down the elegant curve of her cheek. She didn't brush it away. She just looked at me, her dark eyes filled with a pain I'd put there, and a hope I was now giving back.
Then, she moved. Her strong, calloused hand—the hand that could wield a kitchen knife like a samurai and soothe a fevered brow with equal skill—came to rest on top of mine, covering both mine and Cathy's. Her skin was warm, her grip incredibly firm. It was a gesture of solidarity, of forgiveness, of reclaimed ownership. She was a fortress, and she was letting me back inside the walls.
I looked at her, really looked at her. Veronica "Vera" Delgado. A fucking goddess carved from olive wood and fire. Her bob-cut black hair, with those subtle, sexy red highlights, framed a face that could have launched ships. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, full lips that were currently pressed together in emotion. This was a woman who could break a man in half, yet here she was, shedding a tear for me. Because I'd finally stopped being a little shit.
The contrast was staggering. The old Sael had this fierce, beautiful, loyal Latina MILF ready to worship the ground he walked on, and he'd treated her like a servant. The sheer, mind-boggling stupidity of it was enough to make me want to find his ghost and punch it.
My gaze, still locked with Vera's, inevitably drifted downward. The table did little to hide the spectacular topography of her body. Her shirt, a simple cotton thing, was stretched to its absolute limit across the breathtaking expanse of her chest. Those weren't just breasts; flesh mountains. Heavy, enormous, and so perfectly round they seemed to defy gravity. I could see the faint outline of her bra strap digging into the incredible weight of them, a testament to the sheer, mouth-watering mass she carried. My fingers itched with the memory of groping Emily's substantial assets, and a primal part of my brain immediately began calculating how much more of a handful Vera would be. The answer was: a lot more. A lot more.
My eyes traveled lower, over the flat plane of her stomach, to where her jeans—practical, worn-in denim—hugged the lush, generous curve of her hips. I couldn't see them under the table, but I knew. I knew the thighs that tapered down from those hips were thick and powerful, the kind that could squeeze the life out of a man or cradle him in perfect comfort. And her ass… Christ. I'd seen her bend over the oven enough times to know that Veronica Delgado was packing a backside so prodigious, so perfectly sculpted and fat, it deserved its own zip code. This was a woman built for sin and comfort in equal, devastating measure. A Latina MILF so potent she could ruin a man for all other women with a single glance. And the old Sael had ignored her. The fucking moron.
My attention was pulled away as Bella laughed at something Emily said. My head turned, and it was like switching from one masterpiece to another.
Isabella "Bella" Delgado. If Vera was a mature, full-bodied wine, Bella was a vibrant, intoxicating cocktail. At seventeen, she was a breathtaking testament to her mother's incredible genetics, dialed up to eleven. Her long, flowing black hair cascaded over shoulders that led down to a pair of… good God.
Her bowling jersey was tight, and it showcased an athletic hourglass figure that should have been illegal. Her breasts, while perhaps not quite as monumentally heavy as her mother's, were still giant, exaggerated orbs that pushed against the fabric with youthful, perky defiance. They were high and full, and the sight of them made my mouth actually water. My mind flashed back to the old Sael's memories, to a time when he'd been touching them, and a surge of possessive jealousy toward my past self-ripped through me.
My gaze dropped lower, over the slim waist that only emphasized the stunning width of her hips and the glorious, round swell of her ass. She was sitting, and the chair seemed to groan under the weight of that incredible behind. Her thighs, thick and powerful from her athletic training, strained against her tight shorts. This was no lanky teenager; this was a woman in full bloom, a vision of fertile, youthful perfection with a face to match—a cute nose, a sharp jawline, and those naturally plump, pouty lips that looked designed for wrapping around a—I cut the thought off, but the heat and fact remained. She was a bowling prodigy, but she looked like she'd been built for a different kind of sport entirely.
And the old Sael had pushed even this away? He'd had this stunning, eager, loving girl looking at him like he was her husband, at this point, it was already guaranteed that he was beyond help.
The rest of the dinner passed in a warm, hazy blur. I was like their sun, and they were planets in orbiting me. My plate was never empty. My glass was always full. Every laugh included me. Every glance was filled with affection, with hope, with a renewed, simmering heat that hadn't been there before. I was being treated like a king who had returned from a long, foolish exile, and my subjects were falling over themselves to welcome me home. The feeling was quite addictive.