Jack swallowed the last mouthful of his meal, the weight of his thoughts sitting heavy in his stomach. He took another sip of water, the coolness doing little to ease the heat that had settled there. He glanced at Edith, who met his gaze with a knowing smile. Her eyes, a piercing blue, held a world of secrets and understanding. He couldn't help but let his gaze drift down to the neckline of her dress, the soft swell of her breasts that had once nurtured his father, and now, in his imagination, offered him a glimpse of a love that was forbidden.
Her skin, as pale and fragile , was a contrast to the robust health that seemed to radiate from his mother and sister. Yet, there was a strength to her, a resilience that spoke of a love that had seen wars and heartaches, of a passion that had been tempered by time and experience. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his glass, his eyes lingering on the plumpness of her lips, stained a dark shade of berry from the wine she sipped.
As he took a sip of water, Jack felt the tension in the room dissipate slightly. The candles continued to flicker, casting a warm glow across the table as the family shared stories of their day. Yet, his thoughts remained tethered to the woman who had borne his father into the world, the woman who had seen the darkest of days yet still managed to find joy in the simple act of living. Edith's laughter was like the peal of a distant bell, a sound that was both haunting and beautiful, echoing through the corridors of his mind.
Her breasts, once a symbol of life, now seemed to Jack like two fading moons, hanging low and full, a proof to the love she had shared with his grandfather, now long gone. He couldn't help but wonder if she missed the touch of a man, the fiery embrace that had no doubt been her solace in the cold embrace of night. His hand tightened around the glass, the condensation slick against his palm, a reminder of the sweat that had coated his body cause of his earlier passion.
Edith's eyes never left him, as if she could see through the facade of his innocence to the tempest of desires that burned beneath the surface. Her lips, stained with the dark berry wine, curled into a knowing smile that made him squirm in his seat. The candlelight played over her features, casting deep shadows that danced like ghosts from the past, whispering of the secrets she held close to her heart.
Jack tore his gaze away, focusing instead on Lily, whose eyes remained downcast, her cheeks a gentle pink that seemed to deepen with every second that passed. Her lips, so much like Elena's in their softness, were pursed slightly as she listened to their mother's light-hearted banter. The curve of her cheek, the delicate line of her jaw, the way her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders—all of it a silent confession of the love he wanted them to share, a bond that was both sacred and forbidden.