Maxim comes back alone — carrying a huge cotton candy on a stick. It's the biggest I've ever seen. The white-and-pink cloud trembles in the light breeze, like a magical wonder, and his eyes shine — just like the day he first said he loves me.
"Where did Mary get lost?" I ask jokingly, smiling sincerely and looking into his eyes. There's a lightness in my voice, a barely noticeable playfulness. Inside, a warm, cozy feeling spreads, like a sunbeam has penetrated straight into my chest. I like this — catching his reactions, reading the reflection of my words on his face. In these moments, I feel a special connection between us, almost invisible, but very real.
"She's on the trampoline. Look over there," he points slightly to the side of me, and when I turn my head that way, I immediately notice a few trampolines not far from us, with children bouncing up and down energetically. On one of them, our daughter jumps joyfully, laughing so clearly and sincerely that her happiness passes through the air to me, like a vibration of joy that reaches straight to the heart. I smile wider, involuntarily catching her excitement, and feel something inside me stir — a mix of love, pride, and simple, true happiness.
"I paid for twenty minutes. I think that will be enough for her and for us," he says, as if he knows something important is happening right now.
I look at him with slight confusion, as if I don't immediately understand what he means. Inside, everything stirs: light bewilderment, a thin thread of anticipation, and a drop of curiosity swirl into a strange, thrilling cocktail. His plans remain a mystery, but that only makes them more attractive.
Rebel Boy sits down next to me, and his presence immediately feels tangible — like invisible warmth wrapping around me from the side. Then he pats his knees, as if inviting me there, where his love for me lives.
"Sit here?" he asks, smiling with that look I know all too well. It has everything: tenderness, mischief, and a trembling attachment that makes something inside me tighten and bloom at the same time.
"Why?" I ask, slightly surprised, but at the same time obediently do what he wants. Not out of submission, no — just because being near him always makes me want to be closer, to be part of every movement he makes. I feel his desire to merge, to connect with this moment, filling the air between us — thick like honey, viscous and sweet. And I like it — completely, without questions.
"We'll eat cotton candy," he replies, winking with that slight teasing I adore.
I fully sit on his lap and immediately feel it — this feeling of safety and closeness. His body is warm, reliable, strong. He hugs my waist tightly but gently, like holding something fragile, priceless. I want to stay in this embrace forever, to dissolve into it. I place my hand on his shoulder, then wrap my arms around his neck, feeling his breath on my skin, and with every inhale, a soft, warm current runs down my spine.
He completely envelops us in cotton candy, like covering us with a transparent, sweet blanket — a small, secluded world just for the two of us. A world without hurry, problems, or noise — just us, our breath, our laughter, and this moment.
Max takes a piece of the cotton candy, holding it in his mouth, and offers it to me. I lick my lips, deliberately prolonging the anticipation, and, without breaking eye contact, slowly take the treat. Our lips are so close, almost touching, and in this closeness is the essence of our love — tenderness, passion, playfulness, and trust. It feels unexpectedly intimate, but so natural — as if our souls are touching again after a long separation.
When the cotton candy runs out, I can't stop. I continue licking his sweet, slightly sticky lips, absorbing the taste — passion, warmth, desire. A taste that reminds me of us, everything we've been through together, and how much we still want each other. Despite the years, the routine, and habits — everything between us only grows stronger. Our bodies seem to rediscover each other each time, even after a short separation.
Our kiss deepens, slowly, but with increasing intensity. It feels like it pulls in the whole world, and we, forgetting everything, merge in this feeling. His inhale becomes mine, our breathing mixes, turning into a single rhythm. Maxim pulls me closer, and I feel his desire responding in me — intensely, greedily, completely. I hug his head, my fingers gently sliding through his hair, as if caressing his thoughts. My other hand rests on his chest — warm, alive, and I feel the pulse under my palm — a fast, steady beat, in sync with mine.
We both sigh quietly, pulling away only for a moment, then returning to the kiss with a new wave of desire. As if afraid to lose this sense of closeness, to dissolve it in time. In these moments, nothing exists. No noise, no passersby, no fuss. Just us. Just love. Just this silent, hot breath between us, reflecting the depth of our connection. We have created our world — sweet, quiet, endless. A world where words aren't needed. This moment is so tender, filled with warmth, almost forgetting itself — as if the whole world around us disappears, dissolving into silence and a single touch. Just us, just our breath merging into one rhythm, as if our souls are dancing in an invisible waltz, where time has stopped.
We would continue kissing each other if our daughter hadn't returned. But her voice, bright and lively, pierces this fragile bubble, bringing us back to reality, like a sunbeam breaking through thick curtains and lighting everything with unexpected warmth.
"Mom, did you see me jump?" Mary asks with laughter, her voice ringing with joy like a silver bell filled with childlike delight, sincere and bright. Her words carry lightness and carefreeness, awakening in us that parental happiness that never sleeps, even in the most difficult moments.
We quickly pull away from each other, a little confused, but not without a smile — the kind that arises in the soul from tenderness and slight awkwardness when someone catches you at your most intimate. Maxim, slightly blushing, finally removes the cotton candy from our faces, as if quietly confessing to the world that something more than just a kiss has happened between us.
"Yes, darling," I confirm, trying to speak evenly, though my heart thunders in my chest like a clap of thunder on a clear day.
It beats so strongly, as if I just jumped on the trampoline with her — so wild, so free. But in a way, it's true — because I really am flying, not through the air, but on the wings of happiness and a storm of emotions that sweep me completely, lifting me to seventh heaven, making me forget everything in the world.
"Katrin…" my beloved whispers into my ear, and in his voice, I hear not only passion but also that tenderness stored deep inside, almost hidden from prying eyes. In this moment, the world shrinks to the size of our bodies, filled with quiet love and desire.
I turn to face him, catching his gaze, in which a spark of desire burns, barely restrained. There is something touching and at the same time strong in it — as if his whole soul reaches for me, yet respects the moment and circumstances.
"Take the little one and go for a walk. Come back in ten or fifteen minutes," he asks almost pleadingly, with a slight awkwardness in his voice, as if he feels both amused and a little embarrassed by the whole situation.
"And you?" I ask, confused, and inside me a slight worry stirs, as if I'm leaving something important behind, something that should remain here with him.
"Darling, I'm… ready, if you haven't noticed. I need to sit and calm down," he says calmly, but I notice how he looks away, trying to hold back a smile and desire at the same time — it's endearing.
Finally, I come out of the fog of emotions that enveloped me during our kisses, and it suddenly hits me what I'm sitting on. Until this moment, I didn't pay attention — all my focus was on him, on his lips, hands, the closeness that made me forget everything else.
"All right," I reply, not resisting, feeling a slight warmth run through my body — from embarrassment, but also from the sweet secret that remains between us. "Look, Mary, is that an airplane?" I ask our daughter, trying to shift her attention, to turn her gaze away from the bench, under which a truth far too adult hides.
I slowly stand, trying to shield him with my body, like a protective barrier, so that, if anything, Mary doesn't see. Fortunately, the little girl is busy looking for a tiny plane in the sky, her face glowing with curiosity and expectation, and for a moment, she seems to forget everything happening around her.
"There's none, Mom," she says, running to me, her tiny hands clutching mine as if it's the most reliable little island in this big world.
"Maybe it was a bird," I say with a shrug and a slight smile, trying to hide the inner flutter that still beats quietly in my chest.
"Come on, little one, let's go for a walk," I say gently, taking her hand and leading her away from the bench, as if shielding her from the adult world she's not yet ready to peek into.
"And Dad?" my curious daughter asks, her eyes wide, as if she senses that we're hiding something, something important that she's not ready to understand yet.
I glance at the man — my man, so familiar and at the same time a little mysterious, sitting on the bench with a slight smile, legs crossed, watching us with warmth and a hint of relief in his eyes.
"He'll sit for now, watch the birds," I lie lightly, with a touch of irony in my voice but love in my heart, and lead our daughter further away from this awkward, yet so alive and real scene, which will remain in our memory as a little secret hidden from the world.