“Do you still remember the look you gave me the first time we met?
That sly, naughty stare?
And in the kitchen, when you and Ze were playing and fell down in the living room… humph, this is punishment for those little tricks of yours.” Kevin’s face turned crimson.
He hadn’t expected her to bring that up or that she’d noticed back then.
It felt as though he’d been hauled into the blazing sun and stripped bare, every shameful thought exposed.
“I‑I…” He stammered, unable to form an explanation.
Mom watched his embarrassment, then laughed lightly.
“Alright, enough teasing.” Her smile softened, her voice becoming gentle again.
“But remember this: don’t play those little games anymore, alright?” His mind was spinning.
The composed, elegant woman he idolized was completely gone.
Slightly drunk, she seemed transformed into someone else bold, teasing, electric.
He had always seen her as a strict queen when she spoke to me, firm yet graceful.
With my younger brother, she turned tender kneeling to his eye level, listening patiently, buying him candy and toys, kissing his cheek while calling him her baby.
With her husband, she’d always been the picture of calm devotion poised, loving, never complaining, never sharp or proud, eyes full of trust and admiration.
The gentle wife who supported everything behind the scenes.
But now, the woman before him drunk and smiling was none of those things.
Not the queen, not the mother, not the ideal wife.
She was something else entirely: alluring, dangerous, a woman who played with hearts and enjoyed it.
He thought again of her earlier gestures the slow brush of her fingers on his skin, her voice soft and mocking as she called it his “punishment.” It struck him how easily she had reduced him someone who fancied himself charming around girls into confusion and awe with just a few looks and words.
And she had done it all on purpose.
She’d known.
That realization burned through his mind, half humiliation, half fascination.
Drunk, she had laughed while saying she was merely “teaching him a lesson,” but he couldn’t forget the sparkle in her eyes.
He didn’t understand how she could shift so effortlessly from stern and proper to mischievous and wild.
Was it alcohol?
Or had she simply always hidden this side of herself?
Which one was real?
That question gnawed at his heart.
He realized he wanted to know.
Wanted to strip away every layer of disguise, to discover who she actually was.
He promised himself one day, he would find out everything about this woman.
Whatever it took.
… I hadn’t played basketball that hard in ages.
By the time I got home, the whole house felt eerily quiet.
The television was flashing through some random variety show in the empty living room.
No one else was around.
Mom had said she’d gone out with her friends from the dance studio.
But where were Kevin and my brother?
I was reaching for my phone to check the house cameras when the sound of keys turning echoed from the door.
The lock clicked.
Kevin stepped inside, shoulders tense but smiling faintly, his face showing exhaustion mixed with barely contained excitement.
Behind him came Mom.
She clutched my sleeping brother close, swaying a little as she walked clearly still under the lingering haze of alcohol.
The pink silk dress she wore, the faint blush on her cheeks, the shine on her lips she looked breathtaking.
I froze, admiring her for one heartbeat too long.
Then I saw Kevin step forward quickly, as if to steady her, his hand half‑extended before he abruptly drew it back.
“Careful, Auntie,” he said softly, his tone conspicuously careful.
Mom nodded without words and turned her eyes on me.
That look half irritation, half weariness was impossible to ignore.
Her gaze, glistening slightly under the light, was heavy with reproach.
The faint smell of wine hung in the air around her.
There was no question how much she’d drunk.
In her arms, my brother slept peacefully, lips curved in a small dreamer’s smile.
I swallowed, dropping my eyes quickly when I felt her disapproval pierce through me.
She started slowly up the stairs, every step measured, the heels of her shoes knocking rhythmically against the wooden steps.
From where I stood, her silhouette was hypnotic the sway of her skirt, the glint of the black stockings that hugged her legs under the slit of the dress.
The fabric caught the light like liquid silk, shaping every curve of her calves and thighs.
She reached the top, disappeared into her room, and a few minutes later came back down.
She had changed into soft slippers now, her movements quieter, gentler.
“Rui,” she called suddenly, her voice carrying a trace of sharpness that broke the stillness.
“You played too long again, didn’t you?” Guilt crept up at once.
“I… my phone died, Mom.
I didn’t hear you call.” “Died?” Her frown deepened.
“You check the battery every morning.
It just happened to ‘die’ today?
You were too busy playing again, that’s what.
When I call, you don’t answer, you don’t even wonder where I am?” Her tone chilled.
“Look at yourself sweaty, tired, running wild as always.
Did you even worry about me a little?”