The rain lashed against the windows of Elena’s small bookstore, a rhythmic drumming that usually brought her peace. Today, however, it felt like an insistent heartbeat. Across the room, her son, Julian, was meticulously alphabetizing the poetry section.
"And I think I might say no," Elena admitted. "It feels... complicated. Being a widow, running this place, having you here. I don't want things to get messy." mom mature son sex
"You're staring at the ledger again, Mom," Julian said without turning around. "The numbers won't change just because you're frowning at them." The rain lashed against the windows of Elena’s