Mom, it seems she isn't wearing a bra? To make sure I wasn't seeing things, I glanced again at her chest.
On the cotton white T-shirt, there were indeed two faintly noticeable protrusions.
I was a bit surprised because Mom almost always wore a bra at home. Of course, it was possible that sometimes she didn't, and I simply hadn't paid attention to such subtle changes.
I remember back in middle school, when I had just started learning about the female body, like breasts.
During the hot summer, there were a few times I saw Mom walking around the house without a bra. Her breasts were already quite full, and without the support of a bra, they swayed in front of my eyes. That was when I noticed those two perky points on the soft, pale mounds. Back then, I was still young, so even seeing Mom's breasts didn't strike me as odd.
Later, as I grew older, I never saw Mom "exposing herself" like that again.
"Your dad reeks of alcohol, it's awful. I'll sleep on the couch tonight," Mom said helplessly, glancing at me. That's when I remembered—every time Dad got drunk, Mom would go downstairs to sleep on the sofa.
"Why did Dad drink so much… Is he okay? I helped him up, and even my clothes smell like alcohol," I said.
"He's fine. He threw up a little earlier, drank some water, and passed out," Mom replied.
"Oh, that's good. Mom, why don't you sleep in my room? Sam and I can take the couch," I suggested.
"No need, you go rest. I'll manage for one night. Go on," Mom said, lying down on the sofa. Her fair arm covered the two protruding points as she picked up her phone and placed it on her chest to scroll through.
I glanced at Mom. Could she really not realize she was exposed?
But if she didn't seem to care, why should I overthink it? I went back to bed to rest. Soon after, Sam returned to the bedroom in his shorts.
"Zihan, Mom said she's sleeping on the couch tonight," Sam said as he lay down on his bed.
"Yeah, she told me," I replied.
"Alright, I'm going to sleep, Zihan. I'm exhausted today," Sam said.
"Okay," I nodded. Not long after, Sam started snoring loudly. Thankfully, I was already used to it.
I half-sat against the headboard. Just earlier, I had updated the final chapter of "My Her" on "ccnncc.com." In the end, the female protagonist ended up with the third party, and the male lead was successfully "stolen" away. After finishing it, even I felt it was unbelievable.
Looking at the comments, many fans were cheering with delight. I didn't know whether to feel happy or sad because, deep down, I had hoped the male and female leads would end up together happily.
But then again, how many perfect endings are there in this world? More often than not, what starts as a comedy ends up turning into a tragedy.
What surprised me was that every time I updated, Frank would always message me privately to share his thoughts. Tonight, with the finale, Frank hadn't sent me a private message, which made me feel like something was missing.
But Frank must be busy with his pursuit of romance. I wonder if he succeeded in wooing that French girl. And that female teacher he mentioned—I'm really worried for him. He actually has thoughts of sleeping with her.
As I thought about this, a heavy drowsiness washed over me. I could no longer keep my eyes open and, accompanied by Sam's snoring, I drifted off to sleep.
The next day, I woke up naturally.
"Sam," I called out to Sam under the bed, but there was no response. I got up and took a look—Sam was actually gone. He must have woken up early.
I got out of bed and walked out of the room. "Zihan, time to get up," Sam was sitting on the sofa, playing on his phone. I noticed that Sam really never let go of his phone. Wasn't he afraid of ruining those big, bright eyes of his?
"Hmm, where's Mom?" I didn't see Mom around. "Mom went upstairs," Sam replied. "Oh," I nodded and headed to the bathroom. After washing up, I made plans with Li Xiaojun to hang out today. Of course, this time I didn't bring Sam along. He had the self-awareness to stay home and chat with Mom and Dad.
In the south, February was cold. Linhai was a major coastal city, and even though today was the last day of the Spring Festival holiday, many businesses in the city were already opening their doors one after another to welcome customers.
Today, Li Xiaojun and I had agreed to watch a movie at Wanda Plaza. The Spring Festival lineup had many great New Year films. After picking a romance movie, we entered the theater.
I had deliberately booked seats in the very back row, closest to the wall, thinking I might be able to do something later. I was a little excited.
I thought girls were generally easy to move emotionally. I imagined using the climax of the romance film, fantasizing about the male lead's heartfelt confession to the female lead in the movie, and then maybe something would happen between Li Xiaojun and me.
It had been a while since we last met, and I felt Li Xiaojun was getting prettier and prettier. Especially in her little trench coat, paired with a tight-fitting sweater underneath, it accentuated her newly developed chest...
Wait, it had been almost a month since we last saw each other, and her chest seemed noticeably larger. I remembered at the beginning of the semester, her chest wasn't as full as it was now.
She wore black leggings and a pair of black flat leather shoes on her feet. Her feet were just the right size—not too big, not too small—and they probably smelled nice.
Damn, what was I thinking...
When the kissing scene in the movie came on, I turned to look at Li Xiaojun. She was actually shyly sneaking glances at me too. I couldn't contain my excitement any longer. Following the movie's lead, I slowly leaned closer to Li Xiaojun's face. She didn't pull away; instead, she closed her eyes. "Ahem..." Suddenly, a young man sitting a few seats away from me coughed a few times, making both Li Xiaojun and me tense up and immediately sit upright. I glanced back at the man, and he was actually smiling at me with a sleazy look on his face.
I rolled my eyes at him. Until the movie ended, I never got the chance to kiss Li Xiaojun. After the movie, things felt awkward, so I invited her to have milk tea. Of course, during that time, I accidentally brushed against her warm, soft hand again, but I didn't dare—nor did I have the courage—to hold it.
As for confessing my feelings to her, perhaps not confessing was the best way to preserve the somewhat ambiguous relationship we had.
"Zihan, are you coming back for lunch at noon?"
Around noon, Sam sent me a WeChat message, "Not coming back, eating out, will go play a bit more in the afternoon." I replied, then sent him a picture of me and Li Xiaojun together. "Wow, I'm jealous, Zihan. Have fun," Sam texted back. After replying to Sam, Li Xiaojun and I went for lunch. After eating, we originally planned to wander around a bit more, but Li Xiaojun's mom called saying there was something at home, so we had to head back separately. I had been thinking about where to go next, hoping something more might happen, but now that she was gone, I had no choice but to walk home.
As I reached the front door, a funny idea suddenly popped into my head—I wanted to see what Sam was up to. "What's Sam doing right now? Is he in my room?"
I decided to sneak up and scare him from outside the bedroom window.
Crouching low, I slowly crept along the wall until I reached the outside of my bedroom window. However, the curtains inside were drawn, so I couldn't see whether Sam was in there or not. "Ah..." Just as I was about to give up on scaring Sam, I heard a faint sound—it was so soft that if I hadn't been nervously trying to scare him, I might not have noticed it at all. It seemed to come from either my bedroom or the living room.
Probably Sam teaching Mom yoga again, or giving Dad a massage.
The windowsill of my bedroom was about half a meter high, and from my crouching position, I couldn't see what was happening inside. Curiosity got the better of me, and I slowly stood up. Finally, through a gap in the curtains at the edge of the window, I caught a glimpse of my bedroom.
The room was empty—no sign of Sam. So, that sound must have come from the living room?
Intense curiosity made me crouch back down and crawl like a thief toward the living room. Luckily, there was another wall outside our house, with a row of lush flowers and small trees planted between the two walls.
I reached the outer wall near the living room. The large windows were tightly shut, and the dark blue curtains in the living room were only half-drawn. The sound of the TV playing kept coming from inside—it seemed Mom, Dad, and Sam were in the living room.
I wondered whether I should sneak a peek, but if my parents caught me acting strangely, I'd be in trouble. "Ah... mm... Sam... it hurts..." A woman's pained voice came from the living room, much clearer than the sound I'd heard outside my bedroom. It was definitely Mom's voice.
"Mom, press your waist down. It'll stop hurting if you hold it for a bit," came Sam's rough voice. Press her waist down? Was Sam teaching Mom yoga again?
I slowly rose bit by bit, moving closer to the windowsill. I had to be very careful approaching the window because from inside the house, anyone could easily spot any movement outside if they happened to look.
Gradually, I straightened up, and the scene in the living room slowly came into view. The sofa was clean, and a fruit tray was neatly arranged on the coffee table.
"That's it, Mom, hold it a little longer," Sam said. Following the sound, I saw Mom and Sam in the living room. But from the window, their behavior seemed oddly strange in a way I couldn't quite put into words.
Sam and Mom were both lying on the carpet—no, to be more precise, Mom was lying on the floor, and Sam seemed to be lying on top of her?
Mom was wearing gray-blue yoga pants, kneeling on the carpet with her legs. Her upper body, clad in a white short-sleeved shirt, leaned forward. Mom's hips were already quite full, and whether intentionally or not, she was arching her buttocks high in the air. Her head was buried between her two pale arms stretched forward, and her body faced the window, so I couldn't see her face. The back of her shirt had naturally ridden up to the middle of her waist, revealing a stretch of fair skin.
Sam was kneeling behind Mom, leaning slightly forward, his two dark hands clenched into fists pressed against the tender white skin of her waist. His fists were pressing down on her lower back—no wonder Mom had cried out earlier. The pose didn't look easy at all.
But in this yoga position, Sam's abdomen must have been pressed against Mom's buttocks, right? And he was leaning forward even more. Didn't he think this pose was a bit inappropriate?
"Mom, you're doing great. Almost there—just hold on for one more minute," Sam said, leaning forward even more than before. His hands, which had been pressing on her waist, now gripped the exposed fair flesh of her waist as she leaned forward on the carpet. His thumbs slid upward from just above her buttocks, tracing along her tender white back all the way to her shoulders. With this movement, Sam's abdomen pressed directly against her arched buttocks.
Mom didn't say anything, seemingly struggling to hold the pose.
I was used to seeing Sam lead us in yoga, but from outside, this particular session felt somewhat ambiguous. Was this really okay?
Of course, Mom's pained cries proved that Sam was indeed guiding her through yoga. I glanced around the living room but didn't see Dad anywhere.
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This story has 40 chapters in my patreon. From now on i'll upload 3 chapters per week.