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Velvet Sin

Chapter 2 The New Husband

Word Count: 702 | Released on: 19/06/2025

wo – The

e 17, two

mall. Rushed. My

ented for the weekend, her smile stretched too wide. There's champagne in her step, mascara smudged just

the kind of man who doesn't belong in re

ssed, eyes locked on him. He

f high, drunk laugh that always makes me feel like a child again. The walls are th

my ears and close my ey

ugh the cracks in the walls

His hands

sheets, eyes cl

ant to name. I move slowly, blindly-chasing the echo of

e, aching in all

traint. The way he looked a

ts louder. Her

dark, I pre

er, I walk t

to the

ub myse

asses. T

ouse

books with precision on the living room shelves. His coffee cups appear bes

es not to

he d

t, towel-wrapped from a shower. When I lean over the kitchen counter, licking

not

r in his eyes. The p

feel dange

lk in wearing my mother's silk robe. It clings to

I'm not aw

ask, heading to

ice is calm, almost clipped. He

and pour it slowly into a

ay, stepping closer. "Are

lly loo

ong. His gaze drops to the edg

ck to m

ike a seventeen-y

ighteen in

ses hi

kno

etween us

his mug as if nothing is wrong-nothin

ht," he says, still not

u c

than y

h. "No

nally

is eyes are darker now. My lips p

ne rings-sha

it up. "H

mot

out of

glass of orange juice, h

n through the wall. Her moans

over my face an

Chapter End

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Velvet Sin

olivia Makata Romance

“He walked into my mother's life like he belonged there. A tall man with a calm voice and unreadable eyes. He smelled like clean soap and sin, like whiskey sipped under expensive chandeliers. When he smiled at my mother, I noticed how his dimple only dipped on one side. When he looked at me, he hesitated-just a second too long for it to be innocent. That was when I knew I was in trouble. I was seventeen, old enough to know better, but young enough to feel everything all at once. He was thirty-eight, a respected architect who spoke in quiet words and made grown men listen. My mother called him her fresh start. But I couldn't stop staring. At dinner, I watched the veins in his hand as he held his wine glass. I memorized the way his lips curved around words like darling and sweetheart. My mother thought he was saying it to her. I let her believe that. But I knew. That first night, when he helped me carry the dishes, our hands brushed. He didn't pull away. And I didn't breathe. That was the night I fell in love with my stepfather.”