"I… I can't do this," Mrs. Lawrence panted, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath.
Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen from their kiss, and her heart was pounding as if it might burst.
She glanced away, unable to meet his intense gaze. She knew how close she had come to losing control entirely. If she hadn't stopped him now, she would have crossed a line she couldn't return from.
"I'm sorry, Ross," she said softly, her voice tinged with regret.
"This… this isn't right. I'm your neighbor. I'm even older than your mother. I can't let this happen."
Mrs. Lawrence sighed deeply, her emotions in turmoil.
She was 46 years old, six years older than Ross's mother, and the thought of what was unfolding filled her with unease.
She couldn't let this happen—not just for her own dignity, but because she couldn't imagine facing Ross's parents afterward. The shame and awkwardness would be unbearable.
