Mom returned home two days later.
She was in a cheerful mood, hugging both of us tightly at the door and talking nonstop about her trip. "The house looks great! You two really kept everything nice while I was gone." She kissed Johan on the cheek and ruffled my hair. "I missed my family so much."
Johan smiled warmly at her, playing the perfect husband, but I caught the subtle glance he gave me — dark, hungry, full of promise. With Mom back, our late-night couch sessions were no longer safe. So we adapted.
Johan's home office became our new secret sanctuary.
It was on the second floor, soundproofed for his commentary work, with a large leather couch, a heavy oak desk, and a lock on the door. During the day, while Mom was busy catching up on work downstairs, I would sneak up to
