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Aftermath

Author: Prema Dale
last update publish date: 2026-07-16 13:01:03

SCARLETT

The words hung in the air between us like some. There's no going back from this.

I just stood there, unable to think, legs still shaking with the sound of my own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Simon stood up slowly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand like he'd just finished something normal. Like he hadn't just shattered every rule I had left. My face burned, humiliation crashing through me first, then panic.

“This was a mistake,” I whispered. My voice didn't sound like mine. It sounded small and broken. “It shouldn't have happened.”

Simon didn't answer right away. He just looked at me, that same dark, unreadable stare from the garden. The one that made me feel like he could see every dirty thought I'd ever had.

Then he stepped closer, I backed up until the counter hit my spine, no more room to run.

“You think saying that makes it a mistake?” His voice was low, still rough from before. “You said my name, you begged, you came apart in my hands Scarlett.”

“Stop,” I cut him off, pressing my palms against his chest. He didn't move, he just let me touch him like I had control but I didn't.

“I mean it,” I said, and this time my voice shook for real. “We can't…my mom…this is wrong, Simon. She's your wife.”

The word wife made his jaw tick. For a second something flashed in his eyes, I couldn't tell if it was guilt or anger.

“You think I don't know that?” he said quietly. “You think I haven't told myself that every single night since you moved in?”

“Then act like it,” I snapped. Tears pricked my eyes and I hated him for it, hated myself more. “You're supposed to be the adult here. You're supposed to know better.”

Simon caught my wrist before I could shove him away, not hard just enough to stop me.

“I do know better,” he murmured, thumb brushing over my pulse like he was counting how fast it was going. “That's why I stopped. That's why I made you say it.”

My stomach twisted at his words. “Made me—”

“You wanted it,” he said, and there was no cruelty in his voice, just facts. “You've been asking for it since the first night, with your eyes, your mouth, with that word.”

“Daddy,” I breathed, and instantly regretted it because his grip tightened.

“Don't,” he warned but he didn't let go.

The kitchen felt too hot, too quiet.

“I hate you,” I whispered.

“No, you don't,” he said. Same thing he said downstairs three nights ago. “You hate that you want me, you hate that it feels good. You hate that I'm the only one who sees you.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks before I could stop them. I yanked my wrist free and covered my face with both hands.

“I'm disgusting,” I choked out. “ My own mother's husband—”

“You're human,” Simon interrupted. He didn't try to touch me again or comfort me. He just stood there, watching me fall apart. “And so am I, humans make mistakes.”

“Not like this.”

“Not like this,” he agreed. Then softer: “But it still happened.”

I dropped my hands and stared at him, he suddenly looked exhausted suddenly. He looked like a man who'd been holding himself back for weeks and finally couldn't anymore.

“What now?” I asked. My voice was barely there.

Simon dragged a hand through his hair, jaw working. “Now you go upstairs and pretend it didn't happen. We both pretend we can live in the same house and not think about this.”

“Can we?”

His eyes met mine and held them.

“No,” he said finally. “But we'll try.”

I wasn't convinced. Try meant pretending and that meant every time he looked at me across the dinner table, I'd remember his mouth. Everytime he said my name, I'd remember his hands.

I nodded once, sharp and pushed last him. My legs were still unsteady but I didn't let him see it, didn't let him see me cry.

At the doorway, a thought stopped me but I didn't turn around.

“If my mother finds out—”

“She won't,” Simon cut in, no hesitation. “I'll make sure of it.”

That should've comforted me but it didn't because the scariest part wasn't getting caught. The scariest part was that for one second upstairs, I didn't want it to stop.

I walked out without another word. Behind me, I could hear Simon exhaled like he'd been holding his breath this whole time.

I made it to her room and shut the door and locked it, pressed my back against the wood and slid down until I was sitting on the floor.

I buried my face in my hands and finally let myself cry.

Because Simon was right, there was no going back. And God help me, part of me didn't want to.

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