Where Vows Go Quiet

Daisy and I were in Mom’s old attic, sorting through her belongings and deciding what could be thrown away and what deserved to be kept as a cherished memory. It had been five days since Mom passed away, and the reality of it still felt impossible to grasp. Our father had died years ago, and now our mother was gone too. Losing both parents felt unbearably heavy, far too quiet, far too final.

I pulled a box from the top corner shelf. Written across it in thick marker was the word Personal. I set it on the floor, sat down, and made myself comfortable before opening it.

“What’ve you got there?” Daisy asked.

“It’s a box I found marked personal,” I replied.

She grinned mischievously. “Interesting. Maybe you’ll find Mom’s old dirty tricks, spice things up with your husband!”

I grabbed a book from the floor and threw it at her.

“What the fuck, Samsara!”

“We don’t need dirty tricks,” I shot back. “We do just fine on our own, thank you.”

“New tricks wouldn’t hurt,” she muttered, and we returned to cleaning.

I opened the box and was surprised by how much was inside: photographs, books, envelopes, and more items buried beneath. I wondered what my mother had been hiding, tucked away in the corner like a secret, but I didn’t dwell on it. It could have meant nothing at all.

I picked up a handful of photographs and slowly flipped through them. They were pictures of Mom and her friends. She looked so beautiful, radiant, vibrant, clearly the life of the party. I wished I had known her in those days. I wished I could have been one of those friends who got to experience her infectious energy firsthand.

A tear slipped down my cheek, and I wiped it away quickly.

I missed her. God, I missed her so much.

Later that day, Daisy and I sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee and talking about everything and nothing.

“So,” I said casually, “Jason’s brother is coming to town.”

“Jason’s brother?” she raised an eyebrow. “The one no one knows shit about?”

“Yes. That one,” I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. “Why?”

“Apparently he’s done touring the world, finding himself, and now it’s time for family.”

“The last time we saw him, he was so young and fragile looking,” she said, and I laughed.

She wasn’t wrong. The last time I’d seen him, he really had been young. There was a significant age gap between us, more than five years, I thought.

“I wonder what he looks like now,” Daisy continued. “Still scrawny, or maybe hunky like your husband?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” I said. “Maybe you’ll marry him.”

She scoffed. “I don’t think so, Samsara. I’m not into interracial relationships, and I have a boyfriend.”

“When will you learn that race isn’t real?” I asked.

“It is.”

“I’m not getting into this with you,” she said, and the conversation died there.

I loved my sister, but we were so different that sometimes it felt like we weren’t even related. Our views on life clashed constantly.

“Shouldn’t you be heading home?” she asked. “Your husband’s probably expecting you.”

“You’re right,” I said, standing up. “I’ll see you around, Daisy baby.”

I kissed her cheek and headed out.

When I got home, I went straight to the kitchen, already thinking about dinner. I wondered what Jason might want, then realized he had beaten me to it.

“Hey, baby,” I said, smiling brightly.

He turned toward me and smiled back. “Hello, my angel. I figured I’d make dinner tonight.”

“I was actually planning to cook,” I said playfully. “But it’s fine.”

I walked over and kissed him, one of those kisses that felt familiar and new at the same time. Then I pulled back and took a seat at the counter.

The kitchen smelled incredible.

“So,” Jason asked, “how was the cleanup?”

“Emotional,” I admitted. “But we found some beautiful things to keep.”

“Where are they?”

“In the car. I’ll bring them in later.”

He placed a glass of wine and a bowl of nuts in front of me. “Leonardo will be here this afternoon.”

“Oh? You talked today?”

“I just wanted to confirm things.”

“That makes sense. Are you excited to see your brother after seven years?”

“Yes, and nervous,” he admitted. “I don’t know what to expect. Drug dealer, addict, assassin, terrorist—”

“Or just Leonardo,” I interrupted. “Jason, you’re freaking out for no reason.”

“I’ll relax once he’s here.”

“You stubborn ass. You’re picking Nina up too.”

“Why? It’s early.”

“She misses home. She’s five, baby.”

“You baby her.”

“No, I love my little munchkin,” I said, taking a sip of wine.

He shook his head, smiling. “God, I love you, Samsara.”

“God, I hate you,” I teased, tossing peanuts at him.

He laughed and blew me a kiss before returning to the stove.

After dinner, with the dishes cleaned and put away, Jason and I lay cuddled together on the floor in front of the fireplace. Soft, sultry music played in the background, setting the mood perfectly. I wanted him, and he wanted me—I could feel it in every lingering touch, every kiss, every brush of his body against mine.

I crashed my lips onto his, and we kissed hungrily. He pushed me gently back onto the floor, hovering over me. His lips left mine and moved to my neck, finding that perfect spot that always made me shiver.

As he kissed my neck, I worked on unbuckling his pants. He stopped to pull my top over my head, letting it fall somewhere forgotten. The rest of our clothes followed quickly.

His lips returned to mine, urgent and consuming. Then his fingers found my clit, rubbing at a steady pace. I moaned into his mouth, my body already aching for him.

When he slid inside me, I cried out softly, my nails digging into his back. This—this—was what I needed.

I wrapped my legs around his waist and pulled him closer, deeper.

“Yes, Jason,” I gasped.

He moved faster, harder, and my body responded instantly. Pleasure surged through me, overwhelming and intense. I gripped the carpet beneath me, crying out as the sensation overtook me completely.

I came hard, and he followed soon after. It was powerful—perfect.

Jason rested his forehead against mine, breathless. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He settled against my chest, and we lay there together, lost in the music, the warmth, and the quiet beauty of the moment.