Eun Ha's POV:
"I'm heading out."
Her husband announced, balancing on one foot as he worked his heel into his shoe.
Eun Ha pressed her lips together, giving a silent nod while he struggled briefly.
After adjusting his tie, he opened the door and stepped out, only for the wind to catch his umbrella, flipping it inside out with a sudden gust. He wrenched the control back from the elements and adjusted the canopy into something somewhat resembling orderliness again.
He slowly made his way to the car, and within a minute, was pulling away from the estate and onto the main street.
No more had been exchanged between the married couple.
At least for today, their communication had reached its limit.
This wasn't unusual, either.
Yeong Gu had tried. Eun Ha had seen the attempts, half-hearted as they were.
But she could only see his betrayal each time. No fancy dinner, gift, or carefully chosen words could wash away the stain of what he'd done. The disappointment had calcified into something hard and unyielding within her. He must've been confused, too. Eun Ha had never told him she knew. But he probably sensed it.
Eun Ha had to play this part for so long now she wasn't even sure where the mask began or ended. Her mother once explained that men grow weary of routine and hunger for newness. They tire of the same familiar comfort and begin looking elsewhere for excitement. Eun Ha tried to rationalize it all, and honestly couldn't.
Her mother had once put it rather bluntly—men rarely commit to just one woman.
They were all like dogs. Uncouth, immature, selfish creatures, slaves to their dick. Her words.
Honestly, if Yeong Gu couldn't stay committed to a wife and family that was barely giving him an eyelid worth of trouble, how did that affect his character in other areas of his life?
Outside, the rain picked up, slapping the windows in a quick rhythm. So much so it created a dull, steady roar throughout the room.
"Mom!" Mia's whiny voice rang from the living room, followed by footsteps down the hall. "The match has been canceled, damn it! Boooo! I wanted to see Jae-il kick ass!"
Eun Ha blinked, trying to mentally shift her thoughts away from her husband. She made her way to the living room, only to see that lazy potato of her oldest daughter slouched on the couch, wearing nothing but an oversized FC Seoul jersey with her legs open like a male dog, shameless. Her face was buried on her phone.
She tsked. "The match has been postponed due to bad weather."
Eun Ha eyed her sprawled-out legs and sighed.
"How many times do I have to tell you not to sit like that? Keep your knees together, Mia."
Mia looked up with her eyes, dead and bored. "Right now? In my home?"
"In anyone's home."
Mia grunted loudly and slowly closed her legs. "Oof."
Eun Ha pursed her lips to keep the sigh contained and strode further into the room, picking up the wrappers and empty cups scattered on the coffee table, most likely from Mia. No doubt from her. "So, Jae-il won't play? What a pity." It'd have been the highlight of her day. There wasn't much of her to do around the house, at the moment. And watching her precious son play football was an escape from it. She would've adored the opportunity to see him again.
"Damn this stupid weather." Mia snarled as she gripped the couch pillow beside her and shook it like a petulant child. "I've been waiting for this game all day."
"I know, sweetie."
Mia plopped her face down into a pillow, then peeked out of the side, her one visible eye filled with frustration. "He's playing against Yemen next. Now, I'll have to wait two whole more days just to see him play." Mia's groan was muffled by the pillow, then resurfaced as a pout. "It feels like ages."
"Well, you'll just have to be patient, then." Eun Ha suggested, turning to carry the trash to the kitchen bin. She heard Mia shifting on the couch behind her.
"Being patient sucks." Came her muffled voice, then in a much quieter voice... "I've been patient for way too long."
A weak chuckle escaped Eun Ha's lips. "Patience is a virtue, my dear."
"That's something Jae-il would've said." Mia wrinkled her nose. "He sounds like a fortune cookie when he's being all profound."
Eun Ha smiled. "He does, doesn't he?" More so when he was little. When he still spoke like a child and didn't have all the gravity of an adult. It was so amusing and endearing to see him mature far faster than all his peers. "You know, sometimes I worry about him."
"Worry about him?" Mia's head popped up from the pillow, her blonde hair in disarray. "Why? He's doing amazing! He's the captain of the national team, for Christ's sake! And he's only fifteen! I don't think we could be more proud of him."
"Oh, I know. I am proud. So very proud." Eun Ha leaned against the armchair, her hands resting on the fabric. "But I worry about the pressure. He carries it all so silently. I never see him get truly flustered or complain. He just... shoulders it."
Mia's playful expression softened, her eyes losing some of their usual haughtiness. "Yeah... that's Jae-il. He doesn't like to show weakness."
Eun Ha gaze drifted to the window where the raindrops were streaming down the glass. "It's just... I'm his mother. I can't help but worry. He seems to handle it all so well, but at what cost?"
Her daughter shuffled and stood up from the sofa. The oversized jersey hung loosely on her frame. "He's tough, mom. He'll be fine." Mia then added, softly. "...He also has us."
Right.
Eun Ha's eyes softened.
...
As the hours crawled by, each one punctuated by the constant pitter-patter of the rain, the house fell into a profound silence. A stillness that was rarely present. Mia had eventually retreated to her room, and Su Ah... Eun Ha hadn't even heard her come downstairs. Probably typing away on her computer, lost in her own world of words and ideas.
She had cleaned the house. Done the laundry. Made herself a cup of tea. She'd sat by the window, watching the storm. And finally, she returned to her bedroom. "I'm not even sleepy..." Eun Ha muttered to herself. The other side of the bed was painfully empty, and it was better this way.
Still, she was... lonely.
Her daughters were grown up, each leading their own lives. And her son, her youngest, was off chasing a dream that was moving faster than anyone could anticipate.
It all felt like a vacuum.
A part of her, a huge one, missed the time when her children were little. When they needed her. When the simple act of bandaging a scraped knee could make all their problems go away.
Eun Ha sighed and flopped back against her pillows. She closed her eyes, attempting to focus on the sound of the rain, to empty her head.
She shifted, bothered by the silence, the emptiness. The monotony of her own thoughts was a prison she was very tired of. She was a woman who needed something to focus on, something to nurture.
As the minutes passed and turned into half an hour, Eun Ha was still there, still very much awake, and still very much bored out of her mind.
She shuffled, lying sideways.
In the process of moving, her thighs rubbed against each other. Her eyelashes fluttered. She bit her bottom lip. A familiar tingle began to blossom deep within her belly. It was faint, more like an idea, at first.
Still, she clung onto that. She shifted again, thighs rubbing as she curled herself up.
And the heat grew.
An itch she didn't know she still had after such tortorous years of a stranded marriage.
"Oh..."
The sudden sensation livened up her mind a little, making her limbs feel less heavy, more restless.
Eun Ha hesitated, almost as the very thought itself was shameful enough.
But it had been a long time. A very, very long time. Her nails bit into her own flesh as she resisted the urge, initially. Going against the flow. Nature. She was still young. Mature. A mother, for sure, but still young.
Eun Ha wasn't blind to the looks leveled at her when she went grocery shopping.
She brought a hand to her stomach, trailing her fingers over the soft fabric of her nightgown. The hesitation that plagued her hand slowly died out as warmth spread from her touch, pleasant and comforting. She just let her hand rest there, for a moment, briefly wondering if she should proceed or just be content with the light teasing.
Her own husband's face flickered in her mind's eye, and a bitter taste rose in her throat. No. That door was closed, bolted, and barred. She had no desire to relive that cold, mechanical intimacy that had become their routine, if one could even call it that anymore. That was a chore. This was for her.
Eun Ha slid her hand lower, over the curve of her hip, to the soft space between her thighs. She pressed her palm against her mound, feeling the heat radiating through the thin cotton of her panties.
The pressure sent another jolt of warmth through her. "......!"
She gulped, the pads of her fingertips moving with practiced skill of someone who had done the job before.
Her breath hitched.
Her mind, now presented with a pathway to distraction, eagerly latched onto it. Her fingers slipped past the elastic band of her panties, and the first brush against her own folds sent a shiver up her spine. Her folds were damp with more than just the humidity in the air.
She was getting wet.
So, so wet.
She traced the slick seam, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she found the sensitive nub nestled at the apex. Her body reacted instantly, her hips rolling forward, seeking more. She began to stroke it gently, experimentally, mimicking long-forgotten motions. "Haah..." Her head lolled back against the pillow, her lips parted as she focused solely on the building sensation.
The rain outside seemed to fade, replaced by the soft, slick sounds her own fingers were making. Her other hand came up to cup her breast, kneading the soft flesh through her nightgown. She could feel her nipple pebble against her palm. It had been so long since she'd taken time for herself, to listen to her own body's needs. So long since she'd felt this spark of life, this surge of pure, unadulterated pleasure.
Her movements became more confident, more purposeful.
She knew what she liked. She knew the exact pressure, the perfect speed. Her fingers dipped lower, collecting her arousal and spreading it upwards, coating her clit in her own slickness. The friction was exquisite, a wet heat that made her toes curl.
Her mind, unbidden, tried to conjure an image. A catalyst. But the familiar face of her husband brought with it a wave of revulsion, dousing the flame like a bucket of cold water.
She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head as if to physically banish him from her thoughts. No. Not him. Never again.
Instead, her thoughts drifted, seeking a new anchor. Yet, in the tumultuous sea of her mind, the faces were scarce. It had been so long. She thought of a handsome actor from a drama she'd watched, but the image felt hollow, artificial. She thought of a stranger she'd seen on the street, but the memory was too vague, too fleeting. Maybe an old crush back in high school? Nothing resurfaced. Just fragmented memories that drifted far away with each passing moment.
The pressure was building, a slow, delicious coil tightening in her core, but it never quite tipped over the edge. She was close, so close, but she was holding herself back, pinned down by her own mind's inability to find a focus.
Frustration began to bubble, mingling with the pleasure. By then, her fingers were completely soaked, making shameful sounds with each curl and swirl.
Her fingers stilled for a moment.
Then, a face bloomed in her mind's eye, clear as day.
Purple eyes.
She gasped in surprise, arching her back, feeling herself about to tip over that strained peak—
Knock. Knock.
Eun Ha's eyes shot open, her body freezing. Her hand was still between her legs, fingers glistening, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. She held her breath, listening.
The knocking came again, a little louder this time. "Mom? Are you awake? It's me."
Ah, it was him.
She yanked her hand from between her thighs and scrambled to sit up, her nightgown twisted around her waist. She felt the slickness on her fingers and her face flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with arousal. "J-Jae-il? I... I'm awake. Just resting."
"Can I come in for a moment?"
"No!" The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, sharp and panicked. She cringed, taking a deep breath to calm herself. "I mean... it's late. And it's raining. What are you doing here, honey? Is the training camp over?"
There was a pause on the other side of the door. "No, the match was cancelled because of the storm. They gave us a day off. Well, to be completely honest, I kind of sneaked out. I just wanted to check on you, and I wanted to give you something as well."
Oh, you dear, sweet boy.
Eun Ha's heart ached with a sudden surge of affection that warred with her mortification. She quickly pulled the covers up to her chin, as if they could shield her from her son's perceptive gaze. "That's... that's very thoughtful of you, Jae-il. You can come in, just for a minute. I'm... I'm just feeling a bit under the weather."
She didn't get to see much of him these past few months, would she really pass up on the opportunity because she was too busy rediscovering the satisfaction of self-pleasure?
No way.
The door creaked open, and Jae-il stepped inside, smiling, his frame filling the doorway.
He was wearing casual clothes. A simple black shirt topped by a double-breasted coat, and jeans. The rain had dampened his dark hair, and a few stray curls fell over his eyes. He looked so much older than fifteen, so much more mature, and for a fleeting, terrifying moment, the image in her mind—the one with the purple eyes—sharpened into an uncanny resemblance to the boy standing in her room.
Eun Ha's breath hitched.