I should have called ahead.
But I didn’t.
The sun was dipping behind the tall trees lining the estate, casting long golden shadows across the driveway as I rolled my suitcase up to the front door. A soft breeze rustled the hedges, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and blooming jasmine from the garden wall.
The quiet in Runda always felt different ,expensive, settled. Like the kind of silence you don’t question.
My body was stiff from the long trip, and all I could think about was a hot shower, and maybe raiding my own fridge.
I hadn’t been home in a week ,a damn long week ,and I had left Tasha, my longtime friend who had just relocated from South Africa, to house-sit. We’d grown up together. Shared beds, secrets, breakups. It felt natural to offer her the space while she figured things out.
The key clicked softly in the lock.
I pushed the door open. The villa welcomed me with still air and dim evening light filtering through the sheer curtains. My heels clicked against the marble as I wheeled my bag inside, the scent of my own vanilla diffuser still clinging to the air. Familiar. Comforting.
But something felt… off.
Not in a bad way. Just different. Warmer. Like the house had been lived in, breathed in.
I stepped out of my shoes and made my way down the hall, trailing my fingers along the cream walls. The guest bedroom door was shut. Music was playing somewhere ,low, rhythmic, sensual , the kind of music you play when you’re not alone.
And then I heard it.
A moan.
Soft, breathy. Not mine.
I froze.
Another moan, this time lower, guttural, male. Then a distinct slap ,skin on skin ,followed by the unmistakable sound of bedsprings shifting.
I shouldn’t have moved.
I should have backed away.
But I didn’t.
My bare feet padded silently across the hallway, heart thudding in my ears, until I stood just outside the guest bedroom. Tasha’s room.
I didn’t mean to look.
I swear, I didn’t.
But the door was cracked just enough, enough for me to see him.
Alan.
My not-quite-boyfriend. My situationship. My mistake, maybe. And now, apparently, hers too.
He had her bent over the bed. His hand in her hair, his hips moving in slow, deliberate thrusts that sent a shudder through my whole body. His shirt was still on, open, clinging to his back with sweat. Every muscle rippled under his skin as he buried himself deeper into her like he owned her.
My breath caught , and not out of shock. Out of something darker. Something hot and wrong and twisted in the way it felt right.
I should have looked away.
But instead, I stepped closer. Just enough to stay hidden but see everything. My pulse pounded between my legs. I was breathing too fast. My thighs pressed together without thinking.
Tasha's head tipped back, a string of curses tumbling from her lips. He reached down, thumb between her legs, and she shattered around him with a cry that made my spine arch.
Then he looked up.
Right at the door.
Right at me.
And he smirked.
I flinched. Pulled back. Moved quickly , fast and silent , and disappeared up the stairs to my bedroom like I’d just committed a crime.
My cheeks burned. My body buzzed. My hands were shaking, and I didn’t know if it was from humiliation… or arousal.
I didn’t want to think about it.
I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower, steam rising as the water hit my skin. But the image was burned into my brain. Alan. Her. The way he looked at me, like he already knew what I’d do next.
I brought my Rose into the shower. I shouldn’t have. But I did.
And as the water poured over my body, I pressed it against myself, eyes closed, reliving every sound, every thrust, every look. I came too fast. Then again, slower. My back against the tile. My moans drowned by the water. My shame swirling down the drain.
After, I towel-dried my body in silence, pulled on my satin robe, and poured myself a glass of wine. The rosé was cold, crisp, and tasted nothing like clarity.
I stepped out onto the balcony, sank into the hanging swing chair, and stared out into the night.
It was dark now. Still. The moon hung high, bright and voyeuristic. Like it had seen everything, and was now waiting for what came next.
My heart was still beating too fast. My skin still tingled where the water had kissed it.
What the hell did I just do?
Did he really see me?
Did he know?
And what the fuck was Alan ,my Alan, doing with Tasha?
A thousand questions spun in my head like smoke, and none of them landed.
Then my phone buzzed on the side table.
Alan.
Hi darling.
Miss me?