Home time

The rest of the workday passes in a blur of forced concentration. You leave at the usual time, avoid any lingering conversations, and walk straight to the car. The drive home feels longer than it did this morning. Every red light gives the morning’s revelations more room to settle. Natasha’s calm voice. The photos. The videos. The handjob. The quiet promise that Ruby would be there this evening.

You turn onto your street as the light begins to fade. The house looks ordinary from the outside. No unfamiliar car in the driveway this time. You park, kill the engine, and sit for a moment with both hands on the wheel. The lesson Natasha organised is waiting on the other side of the front door. Whatever shape it takes, it starts now.

You step out, lock the car, and walk up the path.