The Seventh Night

Jolly felt him lose the slow rhythm all at once, the careful patience gone out of his hips, replaced by something hungrier that drove the breath out of her in small punched sounds. The headboard tapped the wall. The candle on the shelf shivered in its own light.

“I’m gonna come,” she said again, and this time there was no please in it, no stop. Her hand found his forearm where it pressed across her chest and dug her nails in, and Jade took that as permission instead of protest, because he leaned down until his mouth was against her ear. His cock filled her so deep on the next stroke that her spine lifted off the mattress, the pillow sliding loose beneath her waist.

“Come for me, then,” he said. “I want to feel it while I’m inside you.”

Her leg slipped off his shoulder and hooked behind his neck, pulling him closer, and the other tightened around his waist, heels pressing into the small of his back like she could drive him deeper that way.

Six Days Ago

The shrill sound of an alarm broke the silence of the early morning.

Jolly groaned beneath her blanket and blindly reached for her phone, knocking it against the bedside table before finally managing to turn off the alarm.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow.

Five seconds later, she opened one eye and glanced at the time.

“Oh, no. No, no, no!”

She shot out of bed.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Jolly tied her hair into a messy ponytail and walked toward the window. She pushed it open, allowing the cool morning breeze to enter her room. The curtains fluttered gently as sunlight spilled across the floor.

For a moment, she stood there, enjoying the peaceful morning.

Then her stomach growled.

“Right. Breakfast first. Peaceful life later.”

Jolly hurried out of her bedroom.

Their house wasn’t particularly large, but it was comfortable enough for the two sisters. At the entrance, there was a small guest room. Beyond it lay the TV lounge, where an old sofa faced the television. The kitchen sat in the middle of the house, with a bedroom on either side. Jolly’s room was on the right, while another room occupied the left side.

And, as usual, Jolly was the first one awake.

Which meant she was also responsible for breakfast.

She entered the kitchen, tied an apron around her waist, and opened the refrigerator.

Eggs. Milk. A little butter. Half a loaf of bread.

She stared at the contents for several seconds.

“Wonderful. A five-star breakfast for a five-star chef.”

She took out the eggs and bread and began preparing breakfast. While the eggs sizzled in the frying pan, she placed two slices of bread in the toaster and poured milk into a glass.

Then she remembered something important.

Groceries.

She glanced at the nearly empty refrigerator again.

“Milk, eggs, bread, vegetables…” She counted on her fingers. “And chocolate.”

She paused.

“Chocolate is a necessity.”

Just as she was putting the plates on a tray, a sleepy voice came from behind her.

“Jolly?”

Jolly turned.

Her little sister stood at the kitchen entrance, her hair sticking out in every possible direction. Eight years younger than Jolly, she was still at the age when waking up early felt like a personal attack.

“What?” Jolly asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m hungry.”

Jolly stared at her.

“Really? I thought you came here to discuss international politics.”

Her little sister ignored the sarcasm and climbed onto a chair at the kitchen counter.

“What’s for breakfast?”

“Poison.”

Her sister’s eyes widened.

Jolly placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of her.

“Eat before I change my mind.”

Her sister immediately picked up her fork.

“Can I have chocolate milk?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because you haven’t even finished your breakfast.”

“But—”

“No buts.”

Her little sister folded her arms, looking deeply offended.

Jolly shook her head and sat down opposite her with her own plate.

Honestly, raising a child was exhausting.

Especially when that child belonged to your own family and believed you existed solely to fulfil her daily demands.

As they ate, Jolly’s sister suddenly announced, “My high school starts in a few days.”

Jolly looked up.

“Yes, I know.”

“I’m nervous.”

That softened Jolly’s expression.

Her little sister had been talking about high school for weeks. She was excited about making new friends, buying school supplies, and choosing her school bag. But beneath all that excitement, Jolly knew there was a little fear.

It was a new place, new teachers, and new people.

“Hey.” Jolly reached across the table and gently tapped her sister’s hand. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself, make good friends, and don’t get into trouble.”

Her sister tilted her head.

“What if nobody likes me?”

“Then they’re idiots.”

“Jolly!”

“What? I’m being supportive.”

Her sister giggled.

Jolly smiled and continued, “Listen, you don’t need everyone to like you. Just find people who make you feel comfortable being yourself. And if anyone gives you trouble, tell a teacher.”

“What if a teacher gives me trouble?”

“Then tell me.”

“What if you can’t do anything?”

Jolly narrowed her eyes.

“Excuse me? Do you know who you’re talking to?”

Her sister burst out laughing.

“Yes! My unemployed bodyguard!”

Jolly’s mouth fell open.

“Unemployed bodyguard? I cook for you, clean up after you, buy your groceries, and tolerate your nonsense every single day!”

“And you love me.”

Jolly stared at her little sister.

Unfortunately, the girl was right.

“Eat your breakfast,” Jolly muttered, hiding her smile behind her glass.

After breakfast, Jolly collected the dishes and washed them. Her sister disappeared into the TV lounge, where she switched on the television and settled comfortably onto the sofa.

A few minutes later, Jolly emerged from the kitchen with her handbag over her shoulder and a shopping list in her hand.

She stopped at the entrance to the lounge.

“I’m going grocery shopping. Don’t open the door for strangers, don’t touch the stove, and don’t burn the house down.”

Her sister didn’t even look away from the television.

“Okay.”

“And if the phone rings, answer it.”

“Okay.”

“And don’t eat all the snacks in the cupboard.”

Silence.

Jolly slowly turned her head.

“Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, Mom!”

Jolly gasped.

“Mom? I’m your sister!”

“Then stop acting like my mother!”

Jolly pointed at her threateningly.

“Just wait until I come back.”

Her sister grinned and waved.

“Bring chocolate!”

Jolly opened the front door.

“No chocolate!”

“JOLLY!”

The door closed before her sister could launch another complaint.

Standing outside, Jolly shook her head, a reluctant smile spreading across her face.

Her life wasn’t particularly glamorous. She had responsibilities, endless errands, and a little sister who could test the patience of a saint.

But it was her life.

And for now, she was perfectly content with it.

She adjusted her handbag, checked her grocery list, and headed down the street, completely unaware that the ordinary morning ahead of her would soon become a memory she would look back on very differently.

Jolly rode her scooter down the familiar street, the morning breeze brushing against her face. After a few minutes, she slowed down near the grocery shop at the corner and parked her scooter beside the entrance.

She removed her helmet, shook her hair loose, and glanced at the shopping list in her hand.

“Alright, Jolly. Monthly grocery. In and out. No unnecessary spending.”

She nodded to herself as if she had just made a very serious business decision.

Then she walked inside.

A small bell jingled above the door, announcing her arrival. The shop was filled with neatly arranged shelves, stacked cartons, jars of biscuits, and rows of household essentials. The familiar smell of spices and freshly baked bread lingered in the air.

Behind the counter sat an elderly man with reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. He was checking something in his register when he heard the bell.

He looked up.

“Well, well! Look who’s finally here.”

Jolly’s face brightened.

“Good morning, Uncle!”

“Good morning, little girl.” He smiled warmly. “Where have you been? Haven’t seen you for several days.”

Jolly placed a hand on her chest dramatically.

“Uncle, I was busy surviving.”

“Surviving what?”

“My life.”

The old man chuckled.

“Still talking nonsense, I see.”

“And you still haven’t learned to appreciate my sense of humour.”

“Go and do your shopping before I throw you out.”

Jolly laughed.

She had known the old man for decades—or, more accurately, for as long as she could remember. He had watched her grow from a little girl who used to run into the shop asking for sweets into a young woman who now came in every month to buy groceries for her household.

Back then, she could barely reach the counter without standing on her toes.

Now, she was the one responsible for filling the kitchen cupboards.

Life was strange that way.

“Alright, Uncle. I’ll get everything before you change your mind about letting me in.”

She grabbed a shopping bucket and started down the aisles.

Rice, flour, cooking oil, sugar, tea, salt, spices, lentils, eggs, milk, bread, vegetables, cleaning supplies, and several other necessities found their way into her bucket.

Every few minutes, she checked her list, crossed something off, and moved to the next shelf.

At one point, she stopped in front of a display of biscuits.

She picked up a packet, examined it, and put it back.

Then she picked up another.

Then another.

Finally, she sighed.

“Why is grocery shopping harder than making life decisions?”

From behind the counter, the old man called out, “Jolly! Are you shopping or opening your own supermarket?”

“Uncle, please! I’m doing important research!”

“Research on biscuits?”

“Exactly!”

He laughed so loudly that a customer near the refrigerator turned around to see what was happening.

Jolly eventually finished collecting everything on her list. She carried the bucket to the counter and began unloading the items one by one.

The old man adjusted his glasses and watched her with an amused smile.

“So,” he said, scanning the groceries, “done with the monthly grocery shopping?”

“Of course, Uncle,” Jolly replied confidently. “As you can see, I’m a very responsible person.”

“Responsible?” He glanced at the collection of snacks tucked between the household essentials. “Is all this part of your responsibility, too?”

Jolly followed his gaze.

“Those are necessities.”

“Biscuits, chips, cookies…”

“And?”

He shook his head, smiling.

“Nothing, nothing. Who am I to question a responsible young lady?”

“Exactly.”

He continued scanning the items, then suddenly paused.

“And chocolates?” he asked, looking at her over his glasses. “For the little princess at home?”

Jolly rolled her eyes so dramatically that he burst into laughter.

“Of course! As if you would pack them without my knowing.”

“Ah, so you admit it!”

“Admit what?”

“That your little sister has you wrapped around her little finger.”

Jolly opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again.

Because, unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

“She is eight years younger than me, Uncle. She’s still a child.”

“And you’re still the same girl who used to cry whenever her father refused to buy her chocolate.”

Jolly’s eyes widened.

“UNCLE!”

He laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something untrue?”

“You’re supposed to protect my dignity!”

“Your dignity disappeared years ago, little girl.”

Jolly shook her head, trying to maintain an offended expression. But within seconds, she couldn’t help smiling.

“Fine. Pack the chocolates, please. And don’t tell her I bought extra.”

The old man raised an eyebrow.

“Extra?”

Jolly leaned forward and lowered her voice conspiratorially.

“She’s starting high school soon. Consider them a farewell gift to her childhood.”

For a moment, the old man’s teasing expression softened.

“She’s growing up quickly, isn’t she?”

Jolly glanced down at the chocolates being placed into a separate bag.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “A little too quickly.”

Then, as if she had said something far too sentimental for her own liking, she straightened and clapped her hands once.

“Anyway! How much do I owe you, Uncle?”

He told her the amount, and she paid him before helping pack the groceries into her shopping bags.

As she picked up the last bag, the old man called after her.

“Jolly!”

She turned toward him.

“Hmm?”

“Take care of yourself, too. You’re always worrying about that little girl.”

Jolly smiled, adjusting the bags in her hands.

“Who else will take care of her if I don’t?”

The old man watched her quietly for a moment before returning her smile.

“That’s what I thought.”

Jolly waved goodbye and stepped out of the shop, the little bell jingling above her head once more.

She placed the groceries securely in her scooter’s storage compartment, slipped the chocolate bag into her handbag, and put on her helmet.

“Alright,” she murmured, starting the engine. “Time to go home before Her Majesty files a missing-person report.”

And with that, Jolly rode away, humming softly to herself as the familiar streets passed by.

For her, it was just another ordinary morning.

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