All Chapters of Teach me to desire : Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

The Age Gap talkI was sitting on the rug in front of the coffee table, trying to organize the new admission forms for the schools I was looking at. Igor was on the sofa behind me, reading through a stack of papers. The room was quiet, but it wasn't the comfortable kind of quiet we had been building lately. There was a thought in my head that had been growing for days, and I knew I couldn't keep it tucked away anymore.I dropped my pen and leaned my back against the sofa, right near Igor’s legs. "Igor? Can we talk about something? Something serious?"I felt him shift. He set his papers down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Of course. You sound worried. What’s on your mind?""It’s about us," I said, looking at the city lights through the window. "Not the scandal, but... the reality of us. People keep talking about the age difference. The news, the lawyers, even Marcus in that email. They make it sound like I’m a child and you’re some kind of mastermind who tricked

The First Holiday The penthouse felt different on Christmas morning. There were no caterers rushing through the kitchen, no floral designers pinning garlands to every available surface, and no strict dress code for a three-hour breakfast. It was just quiet. The only sound was the low hum of the heater and the soft crackle of a small fire Igor had started in the grate.I stayed in my pajamas, sitting on the floor by the tree we had decorated ourselves. It wasn't the twenty-foot monster my father usually commissioned. It was small, a bit lopsided, and smelled like real pine."You’re up early," Igor said, walking in with two steaming mugs. He was wearing a thick cable-knit sweater and soft trousers. He looked relaxed, his hair a little messy from sleep."I couldn't help it," I said, taking a mug from him. "I keep waiting for the schedule.""The schedule?""Yeah. Usually, by 8:00 AM, I’d be in a suit. By 9:00, we’d be at the first brunch. Then the charity event, then the dinner at the cl

The House HuntIgor had the tablet open on the breakfast bar, a map of the coastal city marked with little blue pins. For the first time in weeks, we weren't looking at legal documents or news articles. We were looking at floor plans."This one has a garden that leads right to a walking path," Igor said, sliding the device toward me. "It is older than the others, but the structure is sound."I looked at the photos. It was a white house with black shutters and a wide front porch. It looked like the kind of place people lived in for fifty years, not the kind of place people used to host networking events."It looks like a real home," I said, scrolling through the images of the kitchen. "The penthouse is amazing, Igor, but it always feels a bit like a hotel. Everything is so perfect that I’m afraid to leave a glass on the table."Igor laughed, taking a sip of his coffee. "I felt that way too when I first moved in. It was a bachelor's trophy. It wasn't designed for living; it was designed

A quiet anniversary The weather was cooling down, a steady wind blowing off the water as the sun began to set. We were in the new house now, surrounded by boxes that were half-unpacked, but the kitchen was functional. I was standing at the counter, attempting to open a bottle of wine while Igor leaned against the frame of the back door, watching the sky turn a deep, dusty purple."One year," Igor said quietly.I stopped fighting with the cork and looked up. "Is it today? I lost track of the dates with all the move-in chaos.""It’s tonight," he said. He walked over and took the bottle from my hand, opening it with a practiced ease that always made me a little envious. "One year since a very rainy night, a very loud club, and two people making a very impulsive decision.""I was so terrified that night," I admitted, leaning my elbows on the counter. "I remember walking toward your car and thinking my heart was going to burst out of my chest. I felt like I was jumping off a cliff."Igor

Packing and moving penthouse felt different when it was half-empty. The echo was louder, bouncing off the floor-to-ceiling windows that had once felt like the walls of a fortress. There were stacks of brown boxes lined up in the foyer, each one sealed with heavy tape.I was in the kitchen, wrapping the last of the coffee mugs in newspaper. Igor walked in, carrying a small box of desk supplies. He looked around the room, his eyes lingering on the empty counters."It looks a bit hollow, doesn't it?" I asked, tucking a mug into a box."It looks like a transition," Igor said. He set his box down and leaned against the island. "I’ve lived here for five years. I thought I’d stay here until I retired. I never expected to be moving because I wanted more room for a garden and a history library.""Do you regret it? Leaving all this?" I gestured to the view of the city, the lights just starting to flicker on in the skyscrapers across the way."Not for a second," he said. "This place served its