I shouldn’t have come back.
But of course, I did.
Same time, same day. Mr. Harris hadn’t replied to my text, hadn’t even acknowledged me when I walked through his door.
But I knew he saw me.
He always did.
Tonight, I dressed differently. Not even pretending to be innocent anymore. A thin sweater that dipped low across my chest and a skirt so short, one wrong step would reveal everything.
Because that’s what I wanted.
For him to see.
For him to snap again.
⸻
The kids were easy again. Fed, bathed, tucked in. I kissed them goodnight and then… I waited.
Not on the couch this time.
Not in the kitchen.
This time, I climbed the stairs to his room, crept inside, and sat on the edge of his bed. I took my time undressing—sweater first, then the skirt, letting it slide down my thighs.
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