The absurd night passed in the blink of an eye.
The next morning, sunlight spilled onto the windows of the 13th floor in Shangrilla. The thick curtains blocked out most of the light, leaving only a faint sliver of brightness seeping through a barely noticeable gap.
Taylor opened her slightly heavy eyelids. The dim bedroom was silent except for the hum of the air conditioner. Her almond-shaped eyes blinked slowly as the absurdly wild sex from last night played in her mind like a movie.
Since divorcing Linker, getting drunk and losing her virginity, to silently accepting the advances of Mia's boyfriend—though only a little over a month had passed, everything that happened felt surreal.
First, the end of a marriage that had lasted over a decade, then willingly sleeping with another man. Taylor even began questioning her own feelings.
A woman who had been neglected, condemned, and betrayed—did she still harbor any love for her ex-husband?
The answer was obvious.
For someone as traditional as Taylor, clinging to that last shred of emotion might have seemed like hope and persistence in love, but in reality, it was nothing more than self-deception.
And Jake, this man who had appeared so suddenly yet felt so familiar, had completely torn away Taylor's last fig leaf.
The comfortable bed still carried a faint trace of that indecent scent. Too ashamed to lie there any longer, Taylor turned her head and looked around, only to find that Jake had already left.
She let out a quiet sigh of relief. This was for the best. His absence would spare them both the awkwardness of waking up together.
She quickly got up and pulled open the curtains. The blinding sunlight flooded in, illuminating the entire bedroom. The mess from last night's passionate entanglement had been cleaned up neatly by Jake.
The thought of last night—after her shower, unable to resist Jake's persistent coaxing, she had agreed to share the bed with him—made her cheeks burn faintly, like a shy young girl after her first time.
With a soft sigh, Taylor changed into loungewear and stepped out of the bedroom.
From the kitchen came the sizzling sound of oil in a pan. Realizing something, Taylor's heart raced nervously. She quickened her pace and headed toward the kitchen to investigate.
When she reached the dining table, she saw Jake with his back to her, intently frying eggs. His right hand deftly cracked the shells while his left held the pan. Soon, two perfectly fried eggs slid onto a plate. Then he turned around, and their eyes met through the transparent plastic door.
After a brief moment, Taylor, like a little girl caught doing something wrong, hurriedly fled back to the bedroom.
Jake hadn't even had the chance to greet her before his aunt vanished without a trace. He shook his head helplessly and continued preparing breakfast.
In the bathroom, Taylor stood in front of the mirror, studying herself. Her petite face was slightly puffy but still charming. Without makeup, she had a natural allure. Her hair was disheveled, cascading over her shoulders, and her eyes carried a hint of exhaustion—likely from a restless night.
Her full breasts, encased in a black camisole, looked heavy yet perky without any sagging. A faint unfamiliar sensation lingered on her left wrist, where an emerald agate bracelet now rested.
The smooth texture against her skin stirred something in her. As if making a decision, she began washing up meticulously.
By the time Jake had laid out all the breakfast dishes on the table, Taylor finally made her appearance.
Gone were the black camisole and shorts from earlier, replaced by a white round-neck shirt and a pair of figure-hugging blue flared jeans.
Compared to before, Jake found the latter even more visually striking. His aunt was the kind of woman with a slender yet proportionate figure—her narrow waist, ample breasts, and shapely hips were perfectly balanced. Her long, enviable legs weren't overly plump despite her tall stature, instead maintaining a slender roundness.
Paired with the mature charm of a woman in her prime, she was like a ripe peach, exuding a juicy sensuality that never grew old.
Just recalling how he had tangled with such an exquisite beauty last night, even taking her from behind in a teasing manner, sent a surge of desire burning in Jake's lower abdomen. The elegant, demure teacher-aunt, the alluring mature woman—the taste of her was beyond words.
Even though his aunt was now divorced, the aura of a married woman still clung to her.
"Morning, Auntie—no, Teacher," Jake said, noticing that she had dressed up deliberately. Aside from the change of clothes, her delicate face was lightly made up, and her lips were a deeper shade of red than before.
"Morning," Taylor replied softly, her red lips parting slightly. "No need to call me Teacher. We're no longer in a student-teacher relationship. Just stick with Auntie."
"You little rascal, last night when you were fucking me, I told you not to call me Auntie, but you went and called me Teacher instead. Hmph."
Listening to his aunt's inner scolding, Jake felt sweeter than if he'd eaten honey. His movements became even more eager.
"Hungry, Auntie? Breakfast is ready. I didn't want to wake you earlier."
Taylor glanced at the assortment of food on the table and couldn't help but laugh. "Dumplings, fried dough sticks, soy milk—you made these? Looks more like you bought them."
Jake scratched his head awkwardly, then shamelessly pointed at two plates, explaining, "Not at all! I toasted the bread, fried the eggs, and cooked the porridge. Doesn't that count?"
With just these few exchanges, the awkwardness between them seemed to fade.
But unspoken didn't mean it hadn't happened.
Taylor silently sipped her soy milk, her fair hands picking up a fried dough stick as she chewed slowly and methodically.
Jake watched the beautiful woman eat while asking with concern, "Did you sleep well last night?"
The deliberately oblivious question made Taylor's cheeks warm again. She forced herself to stay composed as she took another sip of soy milk. "Mhm."
Jake caught her response and naturally slid the plates of fried eggs and toast toward her. His deep voice carried genuine emotion. "I've been so worried about you this whole time."
Taylor visibly paused, her eating slowing.
"Worried you were hurt, worried you'd do something reckless, worried you weren't eating or sleeping properly…" Jake rambled on incessantly.
It sounded like he was recounting events, yet also like clumsy words of concern.
Though embarrassed to admit it, Taylor, nearing forty, found herself enjoying this atmosphere. It felt like returning to the past—as if they were a newlywed couple, the wife listening with a smile as her husband recounted the mundane details of his day. Not a single word of love was spoken, yet every sentence was filled with affection.
"Jake, thank you," Taylor interrupted softly. At this point, she had finally come to terms with her own emotional struggles.
Only in the face of death do humans crave life more intensely.
Having survived the turmoil of suicide, everything else seemed insignificant in comparison.
"You know, I've spent this whole time reflecting on myself—wondering what I did wrong, where I failed others. Then I realized the root of it all was the lack of love. No, more accurately, it was love that wasn't deep enough. Whether it was Linker or me."
"Neither of us was wrong. It's just that starting off wrong doomed our marriage to failure." Taylor's beautiful eyes were calm, her expression solemn.
Jake also set aside his usual playful demeanor, his gaze shifting away as he pondered his aunt's words.
"You've heard from Mia that I divorced your uncle, but you don't know the reason, do you?"
Jake couldn't very well say he already knew, so he nodded. "Mhm."
Not being able to conceive had been Taylor's greatest sorrow since marriage. Only after the divorce did she begin to let go slightly.
For others, even if her sister didn't ask, she wouldn't bring it up voluntarily. Jake was the only exception. "I'm infertile. This is the main reason for the conflicts between us. But thinking about it now, maybe the cracks in our relationship had already started showing. It's just that I, being willfully blind, refused to believe it."
As emotions surged, the usually calm Taylor finally furrowed her brows, as if recalling some unbearable memories.
Her husband's neglect and indifference, along with her in-laws' accusations and verbal abuse, had subjected Taylor, a traditionally minded and gentle woman, to endless pain and pressure over the years.
Her parents' teachings would always resurface in her mind during these moments. Cutting ties with her family for a worthless man like Linker had been such a grave mistake.