You never thought of yourself as the luckiest girl in love—but when Caius Morell came into your life, everything changed. He was tall, striking, with sharp cheekbones and smoldering eyes that made people wonder what he was doing with someone like you. You weren’t delusional—you knew you weren’t conventionally pretty, and your body didn’t exactly match the magazine standards. But he chose you. He stayed. And for a while, that was enough.

Then he met your mother.

You weren’t worried at first. Your mom was the simple type—quiet, always in house clothes, not the flashy type. But you knew how men looked at her when they thought you weren’t watching. There was something about the way she moved—soft curves, lazy confidence, a sensual energy she didn’t even try to show. And maybe that’s what made it worse.

Caius started coming over more often, even when you weren’t home. You chalked it up to comfort—he was trying to get close to your family, right? But one night, something felt off. You came home earlier than expected. The house was too quiet. No TV, no clinking dishes, just the low hum of music from your mom’s room.

You pushed the door open without knocking. And there they were.

Caius’s shirt was halfway undone, his hand tangled in your mother’s hair as she leaned into him, giggling like some teenage girl. They froze. You didn’t.

You stood there, blinking, heart pounding so loud you barely heard your own voice when you whispered, “Seriously?”

Your mother avoided your eyes. Caius didn’t.

He straightened, didn’t even bother buttoning up, and walked toward you with that same cocky swagger that used to make your knees weak.

“Look, don’t make this dramatic,” he said with a smirk. “We both know you were just a phase I got bored of.”

You stared, mouth dry. He stepped past you, not even sparing a second glance. Then he added, like a direct impact to your chest:

“Your mom might be older, but at least she knows how to be wanted. You? You just made me feel like I was doing charity.”