LOGINThen the vacation came, finally, a break from all the academic stress we’d been drowning in. We planned to spend it at our family’s rest house up in the province; a quiet place surrounded by tall trees and green fields, far from the noise and prying eyes in the city. Originally, our parents were supposed to come with us. But just a few days before the trip, Vance’s dad got called away for an unexpected business trip, and he decided to bring my mom along with him for a little getaway too. That left just the two of us alone. Step-siblings by law, but everything else, completely ours. The drive up was long but so peaceful. The roads slowly turned narrower, lined with endless rows of coconut trees and rice fields that swayed gently in the wind. Vance was driving, one hand relaxed on the steering wheel while the other never left my thigh, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles against my skin over my shorts. “You look really excited, don’t you?” he teased, glancing at me with that lop
Days moved in a slow, suffocating rhythm at home, every step watched, every interaction measured, every moment carefully performed to make us look like nothing more than proper, distant step-siblings. But beneath this flawless act, my body told a different story; one I tried desperately to ignore, yet felt burning under my skin, deep in my bones, in every single breath I took. Mom hovered over me with relentless care, convinced I was just weak and run down from the trip. She cooked every meal exactly how she thought I liked it, checked my temperature constantly, fussed over my blankets, treating me like fragile glass that might break at any moment. Her love was gentle, but her constant attention only added to the heavy, suffocating weight I carried inside. Meanwhile, Vance and I played our dangerous, breathless game: distant and polite by day, speaking only when necessary, keeping a safe gap between us in hallways and at the dining table. But when the house fell into
The house was quiet, but not the kind of silence that meant peace. It was the watchful, waiting kind, every floorboard, every corner, every open space felt like it had eyes. Ever since we got back to the city, our parents had been stricter than ever. They moved around the house like guards, checking where we were, who we were with, always making sure there was distance between us. During the day, we played our parts perfectly that polite, distant siblings, speaking only when necessary, keeping our heads down. But beneath that act, the hunger between us only grew sharper, heavier, impossible to ignore. Every stolen glance across the dining table, every accidental brush of hands when passing things, every time he looked at me like I was the only thing he wanted in this world, it all built up, burning beneath our skin, waiting for the moment we could finally be alone. Night was the only time we truly breathed. Once the lights went out and the house settled into deep sleep, th
The drive back to the city felt longer than ever. I sat pressed against the car window, eyes fixed on the passing buildings, while Vance sat in the front seat, close enough to see, but too far to reach. The silence inside the car was heavy, filled with the strict rules laid down the night before: distance, proper behavior, no touching. Every once in a while, I’d catch his reflection in the rearview mirror, his gaze soft and steady, silently telling me I’m right here. It was enough to keep me calm, but the nervous knot in my stomach never loosened, not just from the way I’d been feeling lately, but from the dread of what waited once we arrived. Mom had said it clearly: doctor first thing tomorrow. When we finally pulled into our driveway and stepped inside our house, the familiar surroundings didn’t bring the comfort I expected. My body felt heavy, my head light, and the smell of food from the kitchen made my stomach turn instantly. I sank onto the sofa, exhausted, while ou
The air in the living room felt thick and heavy, like a storm about to break. The sun was setting, casting long, cold shadows across the wooden floor. Vance and I sat close on the old sofa but didn’t dare touch, four pairs of eyes were fixed sharply on us. Across the room, our parents sat stiff and straight, their faces tight with anger and disappointment. The silence was so loud I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. Vance’s dad spoke first, leaning forward with sharp, cold eyes locked on his son. “I gave you clear warnings,” he said, voice low and rough, holding back rage. “I told you exactly where the line is and what is at stake for this family, our name, our business. Yet I walk in to find you two tangled together like you belong to each other. Do you have any idea how that looks? What would happen if anyone else saw this?” “Dad, it’s not what you think,” Vance answered immediately, his tone calm and steady, perfectly controlled. He sat
Days drifted by slow and soft, wrapped in nothing but peace, fresh air, and complete privacy. Almost two weeks had passed since we arrived at the rest house, and honestly, I’d completely forgotten what life was like outside these tall trees and green fields. We had fallen into a rhythm so intimate, so perfectly ours, that I never wanted it to end. Every morning started with us tangled together under the sheets, sunlight filtering gently through the wooden slats. Vance always woke up first, his heavy arm draped securely over my waist, his face buried in the crook of my neck where he loved to breathe me in. Even before I opened my eyes, I’d feel his lips brushing against my skin, soft, lingering kisses that started at my shoulder, trailed slowly up my jaw, and finally settled on my mouth, deep and sweet. “Morning, my favorite view,” he’d murmur against my lips, his voice rough and deep with sleep, pulling me flush against him until there wasn’t a single inch of space left be
Days blended into one another, slow and sun-drenched, falling into a soft rhythm that felt like a dream. Waking up wrapped around Vance, eating simple but delicious meals, walking by the river, or just lying on the hammock strung between two mango trees, listening to the wind rustle through the l
The house was dead silent, every light extinguished, every person fast asleep down the hall and far away from our room. The heavy weight of all the warnings and fear we had heard earlier still hung thick in the air, sharp, heavy, burning like live wires under our skin, but the second Vance steppe
The morning went by slow and heavy, like the air around me was thick and hard to breathe. I got up and got ready just like I always did, but my head felt light and spinning, and every little thing I did felt like it was moving in slow motion. I kept thinking about everything I had heard early tha
The house was still quiet, and the sky outside was just starting to get a little light, like the sun was slowly waking up too. I opened my eyes slowly, still feeling heavy with sleep, but I wasn’t fully asleep anymore. I could feel Vance right next to me, his arm wrapped tight around my waist, hi







