Taboo (Erotica Collection)

Stay with me

I woke up exhausted, my body still heavy from the previous night. For a few seconds, I stayed still, staring at the ceiling and trying to gather my thoughts.

Then I heard raised voices coming from downstairs.

My mother's voice came first, sharp and demanding.

"I want the apartment, Matthew. And I want it purchased in my name. You can afford it, so I don't understand why you're making such a big deal about it."

I slowly sat up, listening.

Matthew's voice followed, much deeper and angrier than usual.

"Because I'm not a f*****g bank for you, Arizona!"

The house fell silent for a moment.

"I'm your husband," he continued. "Not your personal ATM. You need to start respecting me."

My mother scoffed.

"Respect you? After everything I've done for you?"

"Everything you've done?" Matthew repeated bitterly. "I've given you a home, security, and everything you asked for. And now you're demanding that I buy you another apartment?"

"It's not too much to ask."

"Yes, it is."

His voice became firmer.

"And the answer is no. I'm not buying anything for you. Not an apartment, not another car, nothing. If you want something that badly, use your own money."

I could hear my mother pacing across the floor.

"You know I deserve a better lifestyle."

Matthew let out a humorless laugh.

"Apparently, nothing is ever enough for you."

I sat quietly on the edge of the bed, listening as their argument grew louder.

"I married you because I thought we were building a life together," Matthew said. "But lately, it feels like you're only interested in what you can get from me."

My mother's voice dropped, but the anger remained.

"Maybe if you were a better husband, I wouldn't have to ask."

There was a long silence.

Then Matthew replied coldly, "Maybe you should stop treating marriage like a transaction."

I heard footsteps moving toward the hallway.

I quickly lay back down and closed my eyes, pretending I hadn't been listening.

A few seconds later, the footsteps disappeared.

But the argument stayed in my head.

Something about their marriage was clearly falling apart—and I had a feeling this was only the beginning.

Mom left shortly after the argument.

I stayed in my room for a while, then finally got up and headed to the bathroom. After taking a quick shower, I changed into clean clothes and went downstairs.

The house felt strangely quiet.

I walked into the kitchen and started preparing breakfast. I wasn't particularly hungry, but cooking gave me something to focus on besides the argument I'd overheard earlier.

While I was making breakfast, I noticed Matthew sitting in the living room with a drink in his hand. Even from the kitchen, I could tell he was still angry. His jaw was tense, and his expression was distant as he stared at the glass in his hand.

I sighed quietly.

I made breakfast for both of us and placed the food onto two plates. After setting mine aside, I picked up his plate and walked toward him.

He looked up when I approached.

"I made you breakfast," I said quietly, placing the plate on the table in front of him.

His eyes moved from the plate to me.

"You didn't have to," he muttered.

"I know."

For a moment, neither of us said anything.

The tension from the argument still seemed to hang heavily in the room.

"Eat before it gets cold," I said, then turned toward the kitchen.

Behind me, I heard him finally put his glass down.

Before I could leave, Matthew suddenly reached out and caught my hand.

I stopped in surprise.

He pulled me back before I could react, and I stumbled, losing my balance and falling into the edge of his chair.

"Wait," he said firmly.

I looked at him, startled.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. His expression had softened, but the anger from the argument was still visible in his eyes.

"I need to ask you something," he said.

I straightened myself and pulled my hand free.

"What?"

He glanced toward the plate I'd brought him, then back at me.

"Why are you being so kind to me after everything you heard this morning?"

I didn't know how to answer.

Maybe I felt sorry for him.

Maybe I simply didn't like seeing someone hurting.

Or maybe, after living in this house for five months, I had started noticing things about Matthew that I hadn't noticed before.

"I just made breakfast," I finally said.

A faint, tired smile crossed his face.

"Right," he murmured. "Just breakfast."

Before I could leave, he suddenly gripped my hand and pulled me toward him. I lost my balance and fell into his lap. Before I could even react, he kissed me.

The kiss was intense, leaving me completely stunned. When we finally pulled apart, our foreheads remained pressed together, and I could feel how unsteady his breathing had become.

“I've never felt what I feel with you,” he whispered. “Yes, we had meaningless s*x before, but even with Arizona, I don't feel what I feel when I'm with you.”

His voice was filled with emotion now, the certainty he usually carried completely gone.

“I love you, babe. Stay with me. Whatever happens, whoever comes between us, don't ever leave me. I love you.”

I stared at him, trying to understand the weight of what he had just confessed.

Then he looked directly into my eyes.

“And I'm taking a divorce from Arizona. That was the reason for our argument. I was already planning to end our marriage.”

For a moment, I couldn't speak. Everything suddenly felt different. The argument I'd witnessed, his anger, and all the things he had refused to explain now seemed to have a reason behind them.

Epilogue

Three months later...

I stood by the window, watching the rain slide down the glass.

Three months.

It didn't sound like a long time, yet somehow it felt like an entirely different lifetime.

So much had changed between then and now.

My relationship with Mom had never been perfect. Even before everything happened, we had been a complicated mother and daughter. We loved each other, but we fought. We misunderstood each other. Sometimes we could spend an entire day under the same roof without saying more than a few words.

But she was still my mother.

And I loved her.

That was what made everything so much harder.

I had never wanted to hurt her.

I never imagined that my feelings for Matthew would become strong enough to change everything between us.

At first, I had convinced myself that what I felt for him was nothing more than lust.

It had been easier to believe that.

I could blame the attraction on the circumstances, on the forbidden nature of what was happening between us, on the way he looked at me, touched me, and made my heart race.

But somewhere along the way, it had become something else.

Matthew made me feel wanted.

Not simply desired.

Wanted.

There was a difference.

With him, I felt seen. I felt like my feelings mattered. When I was around him, I didn't feel like someone's daughter or someone's responsibility.

I felt like myself.

That realization hadn't made my choices easier.

If anything, it had made them harder.

Mom and I had barely spoken since everything came out. There were things she had done that I couldn't pretend were right, especially the way she had treated her husband and the choices she had made.

But understanding that didn't erase the fact that she was my mother.

Sometimes I still missed her.

Sometimes I wanted to call her just to hear her voice.

And sometimes I wondered if things could ever go back to the way they were.

I knew they couldn't.

Too much had happened.

A pair of arms suddenly wrapped around my waist from behind.

I smiled before I even turned around.

Matthew.

"You disappeared again," he murmured.

"I was thinking."

"About your mother?"

I nodded.

He didn't say anything.

He never tried to tell me what I should feel about her.

That was one of the things I loved about him.

He simply held me.

"I still love her," I whispered.

"I know."

"I don't know if she'll ever forgive me."

Matthew turned me around gently.

"You don't have to stop loving her just because you chose yourself."

My eyes filled with tears.

"I know."

But hearing him say it made something inside me loosen.

For so long, I'd believed choosing happiness meant betraying someone else.

Maybe it didn't.

Maybe sometimes choosing yourself wasn't selfish.

Maybe it was simply necessary.

I looked at Matthew.

"Do you regret it?"

His eyebrows pulled together.

"Regret what?"

"Us. Everything that happened."

He stared at me for a moment before shaking his head.

"Never."

His answer came without hesitation.

I smiled through my tears.

"I thought it was just lust."

He gave me a small smile.

"So did I."

A quiet laugh escaped me.

Then he pulled me closer.

"But somewhere along the way," he whispered, "you became the person I couldn't imagine losing."

I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against his chest.

Our story hadn't begun the right way.

There had been secrets.

Mistakes.

Pain.

And consequences we would probably carry for a long time.

But whatever mistakes had brought us together, the feelings between us were real.

I couldn't change the past.

I couldn't force Mom to forgive me.

I couldn't make everyone understand my choices.

But I could decide what I wanted my future to look like.

And for the first time, I wasn't running from my feelings.

I wasn't calling them lust just because love was frightening.

I loved Matthew.

And even though choosing him had cost me something I never thought I would lose, I finally understood that my life couldn't be built around keeping everyone else happy.

Sometimes, you had to choose yourself.

And sometimes, choosing yourself meant choosing the person who made you feel like you were finally worth choosing.

I looked up at Matthew.

"I love you."

His arms tightened around me.

"I love you too."

Outside, the rain continued to fall.

But for the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid of what came next.

I had lost something.

I had gained something.

And somewhere between the two, I had finally found myself.

The End.