Selene had a way of looking at people that made them feel like children. It wasn’t cruel, but it was knowing—like she had already seen every mistake they would make, every feeling they thought was special.

You've been in love with older women before. But Selene was different. She was ageless. Yes, she was fifty-one, but she carried herself with a kind of vitality that didn’t make sense. Her skin was smooth, her energy effortless, her body still as gorgeous as someone in their thirties.

No Botox. No surgery. No telltale signs...

Selene never rushed, never stressed. She ate well, drank wine like it was water, laughed softly at everything. And when she did grow serious, it was like the air changed. Like something underneath all that elegance stirred.

Something too enchanted to fear.

Until the night you found the freezer.

It was past midnight, and you found yourself restless.

Selene had spent the evening teasing you as always, brushing fingers against your arm, laughing at your attempts to flirt. She never took you seriously. Never gave in, never let the tension break. It was a game you were growing tired of losing.

You wandered down to the kitchen, seeking some form of comfort when you noticed. It wasn’t like the others—industrial, stainless steel, humming faintly. A freezer.

You shouldn’t have opened it.

The cold hit you first. Then the smell—something clean, metallic. Too fresh.

And then, the packages.

Vacuum-sealed. Labeled. Names.

Not meat types. Not beef, not pork. Names.

"Maria, Jason, Angelica"... what the hell?

Your stomach twisted. The air in your lungs turned solid.

Then, a voice. Low, calm, amused.

"You weren’t supposed to see that, darling."

You turned, your body moving slower than your mind.

Selene stood in the doorway, wrapped in her silk robe, her hair loose, cascading like ink over her shoulders. She didn’t look surprised. She didn’t look guilty.

If anything, she looked amused.