Chapter 5

The morning sun streamed gently through the curtains, casting golden lines across the dining room floor. The air was still, but inside me, a storm raged. I took a deep breath as I walked in and slid into my usual seat. The clinking of cutlery and the faint scent of toast and eggs should’ve felt normal, comforting even—but nothing about this morning was normal.

Jackson was already there.

He didn’t speak. His eyes met mine the second I sat down, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. His gaze wasn’t casual—it was direct, intense, and bold, like he was seeing every secret I tried to hide. My heart skipped a beat, heat blooming in my chest as his stare lingered. I quickly looked away, pretending to focus on my coffee, but my hands were trembling.

I lifted the cup to my lips, and nearly choked on the hot liquid. Jackson didn’t look away. He watched me, quietly, calmly, like he was daring me to remember what we’d done. What we shouldn’t have done. The kiss. That kiss.

The dining room suddenly felt too small. I placed the cup down with shaking fingers and mumbled something about needing fresh air. Without waiting for anyone to respond, I stood up and hurried away, heart thudding against my ribs like a drum.

Back in my room, I slammed the door shut and pressed my back against it. My breath came in shallow gasps. I couldn’t stop the images rushing through my head. His lips on mine, the way his hands had held my waist, the heat that had exploded between us.

I had kissed my stepson.

It was unthinkable. It was wrong. Yet… it felt more real than anything I’d experienced in a long time.

I paced the room, holding my head in my hands. What was I doing? How did I let it go this far? I was Derrick’s wife, for heaven’s sake. This house… this marriage… none of it was supposed to include Jackson in this way.

A knock broke through the silence. I froze.

“Celine?” It was his voice. Low, soft, hesitant.

I didn’t answer.

The door creaked open anyway, and Jackson stepped inside. He moved slowly, like he didn’t want to scare me. His eyes held the same intensity, but there was something new in them now. Something gentle.

“Can we talk?” he asked quietly.

I hesitated, then nodded, still standing. My arms folded across my chest as if they could hold me together.

Jackson closed the door behind him and stepped forward. His presence filled the room, and I hated how my body reacted—my skin tingled just from being near him.

He sat on the edge of the bed, leaving space between us, his hands clasped tightly. “About last night…”

I stiffened.

He looked up, locking eyes with me. “It wasn’t a mistake, Celine.”

My breath caught.

“I meant every second of it. My heart aches for you,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I know how wrong it is. You’re married to my father. But I can’t lie anymore. I love you.”

I blinked, heart pounding, brain spinning. “Jackson… don’t.”

He stood now, moving closer. “I’ve never felt this way before. You make me feel alive, like I finally matter to someone.”

“Stop,” I said again, my voice barely a whisper. “Please. We can’t do this.”

“You feel it too. I see it in your eyes.” He reached out, taking my hand. “You’re just scared.”

My voice trembled. “Of course I’m scared. We kissed, Jackson. Do you know what that means?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “It means I’ve crossed a line. But I’d cross it again if it means being close to you.”

Tears stung my eyes. I looked away. “We can’t keep doing this. You know that.”

He let go of my hand and turned, walking to the door like he was about to leave. But halfway there, he stopped and spun around. Before I could react, he was back in front of me, pulling me into his arms. His lips found mine again—firm, urgent, full of the same fire as last night.

And I didn’t push him away.

I kissed him back, like I’d been starving for it. My hands gripped his shirt, and my heart screamed with confusion and longing. When he finally pulled away, both of us were breathless.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But I can’t pretend anymore.”

Then he left.

And I was alone again—with guilt, with desire, with a storm inside me that wouldn’t settle.

The next few days passed in a haze. I moved through the house like a ghost, trying to keep my distance from Jackson. But he was everywhere—at the table, in the hallway, in the garden. Each glance, each brush of the hand, made the tension worse.

One evening, I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around my body. My hair was still damp when I heard a soft knock. Before I could answer, the door opened.

It was Jackson.

“Wait—Jackson, you can’t be here,” I said, holding the towel tighter.

“I won’t stay long,” he said, stepping inside anyway. “Let me help you.”

He took the lotion from my hand without waiting for permission and gently guided me to sit on the edge of the bed. His hands moved slowly, spreading the lotion across my back. His touch was light, respectful, but it still lit a fire under my skin.

“Jackson,” I whispered.

He leaned in, his breath warming the side of my face. “I’ll stop if you want me to.”

I didn’t answer.

He kissed me again.

And I let him.

That night, we crossed every line. There was no turning back. He didn’t leave my room until dawn.

For weeks, we lived like that—moments stolen in silence, hearts tangled in lies. Derrick had gone on a business trip, and the house became our secret world. I didn’t care about the consequences anymore. I just wanted to feel alive. And Jackson… he gave me that.

But paradise never lasts.

Derrick returned earlier than expected. His presence cast a shadow over everything. One night, as I sat in the living room pretending to read, he walked in and stood behind me.

“You’ve settled in nicely,” he said with a cold smile. “Even found time to bond with my son.”

I didn’t look up. “I’m just trying to adapt to this life.”

He snorted. “You’ll forget that pathetic ex-boyfriend of yours soon enough.”

I turned then, eyes narrowed. “Don’t talk about him. You don’t even know him.”

Derrick's jaw tightened. “Doesn’t matter. He’s out of your life now. You’re mine.”

He walked away, and I felt my stomach twist.

Minutes later, there was a soft knock. Jackson entered, closing the door behind him.

“We need to be careful,” he said, voice low.

I nodded. “I know. I’ll miss you.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “We don’t have to stop. We just need to be smarter.”

He leaned in and kissed me again—soft, gentle, like a promise.

But then it happened.

A loud car horn blared from outside, startling us both. We jumped apart. I rushed to the window.

Derrick's car was back. He had forgotten something and returned.

Panic spread through my chest.

Jackson kissed my forehead. “I’ll sneak out now.”

He left quietly, disappearing into the hallway like a shadow. I tried to calm myself, but every breath felt like glass in my lungs.

Then, he came back.

“Jackson?” I whispered.

He walked in slowly, holding something behind his back. His face was pale, eyes wide.

“There’s something you need to see,” he said quietly.

My heart dropped. “What is it?”

“Come with me.”

I followed him outside. The cold

air hit my skin, and the world seemed to slow.

And then I saw it.

My hands flew to my mouth. My knees buckled.

“Jackson… what have you done?”