fuck… Victor's cock is buried so deep inside me, I can barely breathe. He slams in again, hard and rough, stretching my tight pussy wide open. I feel every inch of him throbbing, filling me up completely, and I can't hold back the loud moan that rips from my throat.
"Yes… fuck me just like that," I gasp, my voice shaking as my back scrapes against the cold marble wall of this fancy restroom. My legs are wrapped tight around his waist, my heels digging into his ass, pulling him even deeper. "Your cock feels so fucking big… it's stretching my little pussy so good, Victor. Don't stop."
He growls low in his throat, his hands gripping my hips hard enough to leave bruises. He pounds into me harder, the wet slapping sound of his hips against mine echoing loud and dirty in the small space. Out there, everyone's sipping champagne and chatting like nothing's wrong, but here I am, getting railed raw by my sister's husband.
"You like that, don't you?" I whisper right into his ear, biting down on his lobe hard enough to make him grunt and thrust even rougher, his thick shaft grinding against my sensitive walls. "You like sneaking away from Elena to fuck her slutty little sister in secret? Admit it, you love this forbidden shit."
His hand clamps over my mouth suddenly, his eyes dark and dangerous as he stares me down. "Shut up and take it," he snarls, but I feel his cock twitch and swell inside me—he fucking loves it when I talk dirty like that.
I lick his palm slowly, teasing him, then moan right into it as he hits that perfect spot deep inside me over and over, making my whole body shake. "Mmm, you can't get enough of this tight, wet pussy, can you? Elena's never this soaked for you… she never begs like I do. I'm dripping for you, Victor. Feel how wet I am?"
I grind down on him hard, rolling my hips in slow circles so his thick shaft rubs right against my swollen clit with every brutal stroke. My red nails claw at his expensive jacket, scratching through the fabric as I pull him closer. "Come on, Victor… fuck me harder. Use me like your dirty little toy. Pretend I'm your secret fuck you can't resist."
He grabs my throat now, squeezing just right—not too hard, but enough to make my head spin and my pussy clench around him tighter. He starts pounding me like he wants to break me in half, his balls slapping against my ass with every thrust. My tits bounce wildly under my gown, my nipples rock hard and aching from the friction.
"I'm your filthy whore tonight," I pant, my voice breaking with every slam of his hips. "Fill me up… pump all that hot cum deep inside your wife's sister. Make me drip with you while I sit next to her at dinner, feeling it leak out."
That pushes him over the edge. I feel him swell even bigger inside me, stretching me to my limit, and I clench hard around his cock, squeezing him like a vice. "Do it," I beg, staring right into his eyes, my breath hot against his face. "Come in me. Mark me as yours. Flood my pussy with your load."
He groans my name—Alysa—right against my neck, his voice rough and desperate, and slams in one last time, so deep it hurts in the best fucking way. I feel every hot pulse as he explodes, thick ropes of cum shooting deep inside my pulsing pussy, coating my walls and filling me up completely.
I come with him, my orgasm crashing over me like a wave. I bite down on his shoulder to muffle my scream, my whole body shaking and trembling as I milk every last drop from his cock, my juices mixing with his cum.
When he finally pulls out, his cum starts leaking down my thighs right away, warm and sticky under my emerald gown. I smile at him, breathless and satisfied, and whisper, "You're going to watch me walk back out there, knowing I'm full of you… and you'll want more before the night's over. I can see it in your eyes."
He fixes his tie, his eyes still burning with that hunger, but he doesn't say a word. He just nods, like he knows it's true.
I'm still trembling when Victor sets me down on my shaky legs. His cum feels warm and thick inside me, slowly trickling down my inner thigh as I try to stand straight. Every step feels risky—like the whole world will know what we just did if I move wrong.
Victor smooths his tie, checks himself in the mirror, and gives me that dark, satisfied smirk. "You first," he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. "Wait two minutes, then I'll follow."
I nod, biting my swollen lip. My pussy is sore and throbbing from how hard he fucked me, but it's the good kind of sore—the kind that makes me want him again already. I fix my messy hair, wipe the smudged lipstick from under my eyes, and take a deep breath to calm down.
I slip out of the restroom. The hallway is empty, thank God. My heels click softly on the marble floor as I walk back toward the party, trying to look normal. But every laugh and chatter from the ballroom makes my heart race—do they know? Can they smell the sex on me?
I slide back into the crowd. The lights are bright, the music soft and fancy. I grab a fresh glass of champagne from a passing tray and down half of it in one gulp, needing something cold to soothe my raw throat.
Elena spots me almost right away. My sister—beautiful, perfect Elena in her silver dress—waves me over with a warm smile.
"There you are, Alysa," she says as I sit down beside her at our table. "I was starting to wonder if you'd gotten lost."
I force a laugh, crossing my legs tight so nothing leaks out onto the chair. "Just needed a minute. Too much champagne already, you know?"
She squeezes my hand affectionately, her touch so innocent it makes my guilt twist harder. "You look flushed. Are you feeling okay?"
If only she knew her husband's cum was still inside me, warm and claiming me from the inside out.
I smile too brightly, faking it. "Never better."
But inside, the guilt hits me sharp in the chest. Elena is so kind, so trusting. She has no idea Victor just fucked me senseless against a wall, no idea his load is dripping out of me while I sit right here next to her.
She glances around the room again. "Have you seen Victor? He said he had a call, but that was ages ago."
My stomach flips, but I keep my face straight. "No," I lie easily. "Maybe he stepped outside for some air."
Elena frowns a little, looking worried. "He's been distracted lately. I hope everything's alright."
I want to say something to make her feel better, but the words get stuck. Instead, I just squeeze her hand back and take another sip of champagne, trying not to think about how Victor's taste is still on my lips.
Minutes drag on like forever. Elena keeps scanning the crowd for him. I pretend to listen to the boring talk around us, but my eyes keep drifting to the tall glass doors leading to the terrace.
Then I see him.
Victor steps back into the ballroom, calm and put-together like nothing happened. His suit is perfect again, hair neat. He nods politely to a few guests as he walks through the room.
But he doesn't come straight to the table.
Instead, he catches Elena's eye and tilts his head slightly toward the terrace doors—like he's inviting her out there.
Elena's face lights up instantly. "There he is," she says softly, standing up. "I'll go check on him."
I watch her go, her silver dress shimmering under the lights as she crosses the room. Victor meets her halfway, takes her hand gently, and leads her outside onto the moonlit terrace.
I can't stop myself—I follow at a distance, staying near the tall windows that look out over the garden. I hide behind a heavy curtain, peeking out without being seen.
Victor pulls Elena close the second they're alone. He cups her face tenderly and kisses her—slow and deep, like he really means it. His lips move against hers softly, and Elena melts into him, her hands resting on his chest.
"Are you okay?" I hear her ask softly when they pull apart, her voice full of real concern. "You've seemed… distant tonight."
Victor gives her that faint, charming smile—the one that makes women weak in the knees. "I'm fine, darling. Just business on my mind. But I'm here now."
He kisses her again, even softer this time, and she smiles up at him like he's her everything.
My chest tightens hard, like someone's squeezing my heart.
Jealousy hits me like a punch to the gut.
I know I have no right to feel this way. I'm the one who started this mess. I'm the one who moaned his name while he fucked me hard just minutes ago. I'm the one sitting here with his cum still inside me, marking me.
But seeing him kiss her like that—seeing her look at him with pure love—makes something ugly and hot twist inside me.
He's mine tonight, I think bitterly. That cum is mine. That fire in his eyes when he slammed into me—that was for me.
Not her.
I press my thighs together, feeling the sticky warmth between them, and hate how the jealousy turns me on even more. My nipples harden under the gown just from the thought, my body betraying me.
Elena leans her head on his shoulder, and they stand there talking quietly, his arm around her waist like the perfect, loving husband.
I stay hidden behind the curtain, watching them, burning up inside.
I want him again already.
I want him to choose me over her.
I want to march out there, pull him away from her arms, drag him somewhere dark and make him fuck me until I forget she even exists.
But I don't move.
I just stand there in the shadows, my fingers pressed to my lips, still tasting him on my skin.
Feeling guilty.
Feeling jealous.
Feeling filthy.
And wanting more.
The night is far from over, and I know—deep down—he'll find me again before it ends.
He always does.
I stayed behind that damn curtain way too long, just staring like some creep who can't look away from a car crash. The moonlight kept hitting Elena's dress, making it shimmer like it was alive, and she was tucked right up against Victor's chest, one hand flat over his heart, the other looped around his waist. He held her the way you hold someone you're actually scared of losing—gentle but firm, like if he let go she might slip away.
She tilted her head back after a while and looked right up at him.
"You've been quiet all night," she said, voice soft but straight to the point. "Even when you're smiling, you're not really here. What's going on in that head of yours, Victor? Talk to me. For real this time."
He brushed her hair back with his thumb, slowly, like he was buying time. "It's nothing, babe. Just tomorrow already creeping in—meetings, numbers, the usual grind."
Elena didn't let it slide. She never does. She put both hands on his face, made him meet her eyes.
"You always say that. But I know you. That little crease shows up between your brows when something's eating at you, and it's been there for days. Please. Just tell me."
Victor let out a long breath, pulled her in tighter, rested his forehead against hers for a second like he was steadying himself.
"I'm okay," he said quietly. "Really. I'm just… grateful. For you, for Lily, for this whole crazy life we built. Sometimes it hits me how much I've got, and how fast it could all disappear if I screw up."
Elena's whole face softened. She kissed him—slow, real, the kind that makes your stomach flip even when you're watching from the shadows. When she pulled back she whispered, "You're not losing us. Not me, not her, not any of it. We're right here. We're not going anywhere."
He kissed her again, deeper, and she leaned into it, fingers sliding up into his hair. After they broke apart she gave him that small, worried smile she gets when she's trying to fix things.
"Come on," she said, tugging his hand. "Let's get back inside before Lily decides to hunt us down. You know how she gets when we're gone too long—she'll be climbing the walls."
They walked back holding hands. I waited until the doors closed behind them, then slipped out and followed, feeling like shit the whole way.
Back at the table I dropped into my seat, legs still shaky. Grabbed another champagne and downed half of it like it might actually help. It didn't.
Elena saw me first when they got back. She slid in next to me, still flushed from the cool air outside, and touched my arm.
"Hey, you vanished for a bit," she said, voice warm like always. "You good?"
"Yeah," I lied. "I just needed a breather. There are too many voices in here."
She nodded right away. "I get it. These nights can feel like too much sometimes." She leaned in a little, lowered her voice. "By the way—you look incredible tonight. That green dress is killer on you. Makes your eyes stand out like crazy."
"Thanks," I mumbled, staring down at the bubbles in my glass.
She glanced over at Victor—he was already deep in conversation with some guy about projections or whatever—and sighed, but it was a happy sigh.
"He's been running himself ragged," she said quietly, mostly to herself. "I keep telling him to slow down, but you know how he is. Then I catch him looking at Lily or at me like he did out there, and I remember why I'm still stupidly in love with him after all these years." She laughed under her breath. "God, listen to me. I sound like a greeting card."
I swallowed. "It's nice. Really."
She squeezed my hand quickly. "You'll get that too someday, Alysa. Someone who can't stop staring at you like you hung the moon. You deserve someone who shows up for you every single day."
My throat locked up. I couldn't say anything back.
Then Lily came barreling over, juice sloshing in her little glass.
"Mamaaa!"
Elena spun around instantly. "Lily-bug, easy, honey—slow down."
Too late. My foot caught the tablecloth. Juice flew everywhere—splashed Elena's dress, hit Victor's shoes, puddled on the floor.
"Oh nooo," Lily wailed, eyes instantly glassy.
Elena just laughed, light and easy. "Hey, it's fine, baby girl. It's only juice. Look—it's already disappearing on my dress. Silver's magic like that." She pulled Lily onto her lap, kissed the top of her head. "No tears over spilled drinks, okay? We clean it up and move on. That's what we do."
Victor was already up, lifting Lily out of Elena's arms, setting her down gently, then dropping to a crouch to wipe the floor with the towel the waiter handed him.
Elena knelt next to him, still talking to Lily in that calm voice that could probably soothe a hurricane.
"See? Papa's handling it. And Mama's dress is stain-proof tonight. You're not in any trouble, sweetheart. Being excited isn't a crime."
Lily sniffed. "Sorry, Mama."
Elena kissed her cheek again. "I love you bigger than all the juice in the whole world. Don't you ever say sorry for being happy."
People around us were smiling, whispering how cute they were. Victor stood up, ruffled Lily's hair, then helped Elena to her feet and kissed her temple.
"You make this look too easy," he muttered to her.
She grinned. "Years of dealing with you, babe."
The awards came next. When they called Victor's name the room lost its mind. Elena stood up clapping like her life depended on it, grabbed Lily's little hands and made her clap too.
"That's your daddy up there!" she whispered to Lily, eyes shining. "Look how proud we are of him!"
After his speech, when he came back, she leaned right into him.
"I'm so damn proud of you," she said, voice low but fierce. "You fought for every bit of this. You earned it. Don't ever forget that."
Victor kissed her hair. "Wouldn't have happened without you holding everything together."
She laughed. "Bullshit. But I'll take the credit anyway."
Later, when Marcus asked me to dance, Elena nudged me with her elbow.
"Go," she said. "Dance. Let someone make you smile tonight. You've been sitting here looking like the world ended."
I went. Victor didn't even glance over.
When I came back, Elena had Lily half-asleep against her chest.
"She's done for," Elena murmured, rubbing slow circles on Lily's back. "Too much sugar, too much everything. We'll probably head out soon." She looked at me, eyes soft. "Are you sticking around longer?"
"Nah," I said. "I'll bounce soon too."
She reached over, squeezed my hand one more time. "Thanks for coming tonight. Seriously. Having you here means more than you know. Family stuff, you know?"
I nodded, and couldn't speak.
When they finally left—Victor carrying sleeping Lily, Elena's hand tucked in his—she turned back once and gave me a small wave.
"Text me when you get home, okay?" she called quietly. "Love you."
"Love you too," I managed.
They disappeared through the doors.
He never looked at me. Not once.
And Elena's voice—warm, kind, completely in the dark—kept replaying in my head the whole ride home.
She's everything he wants.
I'm just the mess he leaves behind.
Still dripping down my legs in the back of this cab.
Still wanting him anyway.
I still hate myself for it.
I lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling like it had answers. The sheets stick to my skin, still smelling like Victor's cologne mixed with our sweat and the raw stink of sex from the party. My body's sore between my legs, pulsing with the ghost of him pounding me, but my brain won't quit. The jealousy eats at me now, sharper than before, like a blade twisting slowly in my belly. It's not just some kid stuff from growing up in Elena's shadow. Nah, it digs deeper. It all started with Victor. How we really crossed paths. Not through my sister…like the world thinks. Before her. Way before.
I shut my eyes, and it all rushes back, clear as day.
Four years ago. I was 22, pissed off at life, horny as hell. Elena was the star—nailing college, landing some cushy internship, folks bragging she'd snag a rich husband. Me? Bartending at this shitty dive downtown, serving drinks to sad sacks, chasing dreams that never showed up. That night, the place was jammed. Neon signs flickering, bass thumping from the speakers, cigarette smoke choking the air. I had on a tight black tank that pushed my cleavages high and a pair of jeans hugging my curves for extra tips.
He strolled in around midnight.
"Victor"
I didn't know his name yet, just this big guy in a crisp suit, sticking out like a diamond in the dirt. His gorgeous dark hair slick bakwards, His jaw looked like it was carved, his charming eyes sweeping the room like he ran the joint.
He plopped down at the bar, quickly ordered scotch, no grin, no chit-chat. But when our eyes locked, bam!, the heat hit me like a slap.
"What drags a fancy suit into a dump like this?" I asked, leaning over to pour him a drink, letting my top dip low on purpose . I felt his stare drop to my chest and then snap back up as he bit his lips.
"Business," he said, voice low and gravelly. "Rough day, Need to unwind."
I chuckled. "Everybody here's got a rough day. What's eating you up?"
He took a swig, eyes glued to me. "Deal went south. Long story, you?"
"Just pouring drinks to keep the lights on."
I wiped the counter but stuck close. Something about him—cocky, in charge. Not like the slobs who slurred pickup lines all night.
We chatted, flirted, he asked about my tattoo,the tiny rose on my wrist. I spun tales, made 'em sound badass. He laughed, deep and rumbling, sending tingles down my back. His fingers grazed mine when I slid him another drink.
Time flew. The crowd died down.
He settled up but hung around.
"Walk you out?" he asked.
I nodded. My shift was done, we walked outside, and the streetlights were buzzing. We stood by his ride—a shiny black car that screamed cash.
"Need a lift home?" he said.
I knew the score, I was dumb and horny back then. "Yeah."
Obviously, home wasn't the plan.
He drove to this cheap motel, neon "vacancy" sign blinking. My pulse was hammered. I wanted him badly, he yanked me close, kissed me roughly against the car, his lips crushing into mine, tongue shoving in, tasting like booze. His hands clamped on my waist, grinding me against his hard-cock.
"Get inside," he growled, his voice so thick like I liked it.
We stumbled to the room. My hands struggled as I banged the door shut. He shoved me against it, his mouth on my neck, with his teeth sinking in enough to sting. I yanked his tie loose and ripped his shirt—his buttons flying. He didn't give a shit. His hands roamed wild—up my tank, squeezing my tits, his thumbs flicking my nipples till they stood stiff. I groaned, needy as hell.
"Fuck, you're fire," he muttered, hoisting me up. My legs locked around him. He dumped me on the bed, stripped me quickly. My Jean yanked off, his pants dropped. His dick sprang out—huge, thick, veins bulging. I grabbed it, stroked it firmly, he grunted, his eyes burning.
He shoved me flat, pried my thighs apart. I was dripping wet. His fingers plunged in, pumping rough. "Soaked already, huh?" he smirked.
Then he rammed in—one brutal thrust, burying deep inside me.I yelled out, my back arching. He stretched me wide, hurting well. He didn't ease up—slammed hard, his hips crashing into mine. The bed was shaking, I scratched his back with my nails burying into his skin.He snatched my wrists, pinned 'em over my head. "Take every inch," he snarled, pounding faster, angrier, like he was fucking out his bad day.
I bucked up, meeting him. Each slam hit that spot, building fire in my core. His mouth latched on my tit, sucking them roughly with his teeth grazing my wet nipples. I shattered first—my body convulsing, pussy squeezing him tight. He kept going, grunting, sweat dripping. "Gonna fill you," he rasped, thrusts turning wild, slamming deeper like he hated something and was taking it out on me.
He exploded with a roar, his hot spurts flooding me. We crashed down, panting. He pulled me in close after. We talked—dreams, bullshit. He wanted an empire. I wanted out. Felt like more than a fuck. We cracked cheap beers from the fridge, joked around and dozed off .
Morning light snuck in. I woke up, tossed my hand over his side of the bed, he wasn't there.
I sat up, looked around little to see if he was in the toilet but my eyes caught something on the table, "
"It was a note" I opened it quickly.
"Thanks for the night." On that same table were two crisp hundreds neatly kept beside the note.
He thought I was a whore? Some easy lay to buy off? Rage hit me hard. We'd connected—or so I thought. But nah, I was just a body to him. I trashed the note and money, showered aggressively, scrubbing his scent off me. I was so hurt, I never expected to see him again.
Months later, Elena drags him home for dinner. "Meet Victor," she gushes. "We hit it off at a conference."
My heart froze. same guy?. At our table, charming everyone, holding her hand. His eyes hit mine—flash of knowing but he played dumb.
I wanted to blow it up. Spill everything, but I didn't, I faked a smile but inside of me jealousy exploded. Elena snagged the prize again. And me? Left with the memory of being used.
That night kicked off the fire. The pull I couldn't shake. Even now, it eats me up, as I lay in my bed with my fingers under my pants, fingering my clit, all wet, I replay his rough thrusts, the anger in his hips, gasping his name.
"I want more ughh"
The next day, I met up with Elena for lunch, she chatted about his award,her eyes sparkled as she spoke.
"Victor got an award last night," she says, smiling like she's sharing a secret meant just for me. "They called his name and the whole room applauded. I swear, I felt like my chest was going to burst."
I nod, lifting my glass, keeping my face easy. "That's huge. You must be proud."
"I am," she says quickly. "He works so hard, Alyssa. People don't see that side of him. They just see the confidence, the suit, the charm. But he's so disciplined. So focused. He never settles for less than his best."
Every word digs in.
She goes on, warm and glowing. "And he's kind, too. He remembers little things. The way I drink my coffee. The songs I like. He checks on me even when he's drowning in work. I don't know what I did to deserve him."
I smile when I'm supposed to. Inside, something twists.
That's it. That's why I want him more.
Because she sees him as solid. Safe. A prize earned by being good, by doing everything right. She gets the version of him that fits neatly into a future—morning routines, shared plans, a life that makes sense.
And me?
I get the cracks.
I get the tension under his calm voice, the way his jaw tightens when he's frustrated, the hunger he doesn't show her. I get the side of him that's restless and rough and alive, the part that doesn't want to be perfect.
Elena laughs softly. "Sometimes I look at him and think, wow… that's my husband."
My fork pauses midair.
My husband.
I nod again, my smile stretching thin. "You're lucky."
"I really am," she says, reaching across the table to squeeze my hand. "I just want him to be happy. He deserves that."
Her touch burns.
Because I want him to be happy too—and I hate myself for knowing exactly how to do that in ways she never will.
I hate that every compliment she gives him feeds the fire instead of putting it out. Hate that the more she praises him, the more I feel like I know something she doesn't. I hate that I want what she has, even while resenting her for having it.
I finish my drink and set it down carefully.
Runner-up. Again.
And the worst part is this: the more she loves him out loud, the more I convince myself that I need him—not because she has him, but because some broken part of me believes he's only real when he's with me.
And I hate her for never seeing that.
Lunch ends quietly. The plates were cleared and Elena pays the bill even though I reached for my wallet. She always does that small thing, quick and gentle like it is nothing. We walked out together.
The sun shone brightly across the busy roads.
Elena drives. She talks the whole way back to my apartment. About Lily's school. About a woman at work who keeps stealing her ideas. About how tired Victor has been lately. I listen. I nod. I smile when she looks at me.
"You've been quiet," she says, glancing over. "Are you okay."
"I'm fine," I say. "Just tired."
"You should rest today," she says. "You work too hard."
I look out the window. I think about Victor. I think about the way his eyes always find me first. I think about how careful he is with his words around Elena. How he relaxes when she leaves the room.
It is my day off. I called in earlier and said I had bad cramps. It was a lie. No one questioned it. I Needed the day. I needed space in my head.
I have been applying to Victor's company for months. I fixed my resume three times. I sent follow up emails. I tried to sound calm and professional. Still nothing. No reply. No interview. Not yet.
We pull up to my building. It looks perfect from the outside. Tall. Modern. Glass and steel. The kind of place people point at and say you made it.
Elena parks and turns to me. "You really should eat better," she says. "You look pale."
"I will," I said.
She hugs me before I get out. "Call me if you need anything."
"I will."
I watch her drive away. Then I turn and walk inside.
The lobby smells clean. The doorman nods. "Good afternoon, miss."
"Good afternoon."
I step into the elevator and ride up alone. When I unlock my door, the apartment is quiet. Too quiet. I drop my bag and go straight to the bathroom.
I turn on the shower.
Nothing.
I waited a little. Still nothing. I turn on the sink. It was dry. I tried flushing the toilet. It barely works.
My chest tightens. This is the fifth time in two months. Always water problems. Always pipes. Always sorry.
I called the building office.
"Hello, this is Alysa in 12B. There is no water again."
The woman sighs. "Yes, miss. We are aware. Big pipe problem."
"When will it be fixed?"
"Our workers will come tomorrow. It may be fixed in three days."
"Three days," I repeat.
"Yes, miss. Sorry for the inconvenience."
I hung up. My hands shake. I pay too much money for this place. Good money. Every month. I want what I pay for.
My phone rings. It was mom.
"Elena told me you looked tired," she says. "Are you okay?"
I told her about the water. About how it keeps stopping. About how tired I am of it.
Mom sighs softly. "Oh, baby. But Elena says your apartment is so nice. Big rooms. Good location. Close to work."
"I know," I say.
"Big buildings have problems sometimes," she continues. "Elena understands. She had issues like this when she was younger."
Elena understands. Again.
"I'll be fine," I say as I end the call.
Later I meet Sara for coffee near my office. I tell her everything. No water. Brown water sometimes. She nods.
"But your building is one of the best," she says. "Gym, View, Safe area. Elena always talks about how lucky you are."
I stare into my cup. "Lucky."
"She helps you sometimes," Sara adds. "With rent. Bills. That's love."
"I know," I whisper
I feel small saying it out loud. I feel like a child.
That evening Elena called.
"Mom told me about the water," she says. "Oh no. That's awful. Come over for dinner. Bring clothes if you want to shower."
I hesitated for a second. Then I said yes.
Their house is perfect. Big gates. Clean walls. Warm lights. Everything always works. Hot water. Soft towels. Quiet rooms.
Lily runs to me when I walk in. "Aunt Alysa."
Elena hugs me tight. "You poor thing. No water again."
"None," I say.
Victor sits in the living room with his papers spread across the table. He looks up. He nods. "Hi, Alysa."
"Hi," I say.
His eyes stay on me a second longer than they should. Then he looks back down.
Dinner is calm. Steak. Salad. Wine. Elena talks about Lily's school play. Victor listens. He asks questions. He smiles at the right moments.
I start talking about the water again. About how angry I am. About how I want to move.
Elena puts her fork down. "But your apartment is so comfortable," she says. "The balcony. The gym. And it's so close to your work. Where will you find better."
"I don't care," I say. "I can't live without water."
Victor takes a slow sip of wine. "It's frustrating," he says carefully. "But moving is expensive."
"I know," I say. "But this keeps happening."
Elena reaches for my hand. "I pay extra sometimes to help you stay there," she says gently. "Because I want you to be comfortable."
I look at her. "I know. And I'm grateful."
She hesitates. Then she says it. "Why don't you stay with us for a little while."
The room goes quiet.
Victor looks up fast. "Elena."
She turns to him. "Just until the water is fixed."
He exhales slowly. "Work is busy. The house is already full. Lily has school."
"She's my sister," Elena says calmly. "Family helps family."
Victor looks at me. Just for a moment. His face was tight.
"I don't want to be a problem," I say.
"You wouldn't be," Elena says quickly. "We have space. And you won't be alone."
Victor stood up. "We could pay for a hotel," he says. "That might be easier."
Elena shakes her head. "Hotels are cold. This is home."
Silence stretches.
Finally Victor says, "If it's short term."
"Of course," Elena says. She smiles at me. "Just until it's fixed."
"Okay," I say.
Lily claps her hands. "Aunt Alysa stays."
Victor forces a smile. "I have an early meeting," he says. He gathers his papers. "I'll be upstairs."
He leaves quickly.
Elena laughs softly. "He worries too much."
Later that night I went back to my apartment. Still no water. The place feels cold as I pack my bags, clothes, makeup and Laptop.
When I stop at their gate again, the house glows warm in the dark. I sit in the car for a moment. I look at myself in the mirror.
I smiled slowly
Inside the house, Elena meets me at the door. "We'll get you settled tomorrow," she says. "You can take the guest room."
Victor stands at the top of the stairs watching Silently
"Good night," Elena says to him.
"Good night," he replies.
His eyes meet mine again. Longer this time. There is something there. Worry. Warning. Hunger. All mixed together.
I turn away first.
In the guest room, the bed is soft. The room smells clean. I lie awake listening to the house breathe. Doors closing. Lights turning off. Silence settling.
I know the layout now. I know where his office is. Where the kitchen light switch clicks at night. I know how late he stays up when work is heavy.
This water problem opened a door.
Once I stepped inside, nothing stayed the same.
Tomorrow he will see me in the kitchen. In the hallway. In the quiet spaces Elena never notices.
He thinks this is temporary.
I know better.
The house settles around me. The night deepens. And somewhere down the hall, a door opens softly. Then closes again.
Very close.
Too close.
And this time, I am not leaving.