Chapter 2: Morning

The morning after dawned slowly, the first hints of light slipping through the curtains in pale, golden ribbons that danced across the tangled sheets. The room still carried the heavy, humid scent of the night—sweat-soaked linens, the faint musk of their bodies, the lingering vanilla of lotion now faded into skin. The power outage had ended sometime before dawn, the ceiling fan humming back to life, stirring the air just enough to cool the dampness on their naked skin.

Linda woke first, her body nestled between Liana and Adam—Liana’s head on her chest, arm draped across her belly, fingers resting lightly in the dip of her navel; Adam’s face pressed to her neck, one leg thrown over hers, his breath warm and steady against her collarbone. The contact was intimate, comforting—Liana’s cheek soft against the swell of her breast, Adam’s stubble grazing her skin with every subtle shift. Sweat had dried in salty crusts along their bodies, but the closeness felt right, like a missing piece finally slotted into place.

She lay there a moment, listening to their breathing—Liana’s soft and even, Adam’s deeper, with the occasional hitch of a dream. Tears pricked her eyes again—not from sadness, but from the overwhelming rush of love that flooded her chest. After so many years of distance, of longing for this exact warmth, they were here. Her family. Together.

Liana stirred first—eyelids fluttering open, her gold navel ring catching the morning light as she lifted her head. “Morning, Mom,” she whispered, voice husky from sleep, lips brushing Linda’s skin.

Adam woke seconds later—his arm tightening around Linda’s waist, face nuzzling deeper into her neck. “Morning,” he murmured, voice rough and full of emotion.

They didn’t move right away—just lay tangled, naked bodies pressed close, sweat-damp skin sliding against skin with every small adjustment. Linda’s hand stroked Liana’s hair, fingers tangling in the damp strands; her other hand rubbed slow circles on Adam’s back, feeling the warmth of his muscles under her palm.

“I can’t believe you’re both here,” Linda whispered, voice cracking slightly. “After all those years ... the empty house, the short calls, the holidays that ended too soon. I used to lie awake at night, touching the sheets where you should have been, imagining this exact moment. Feeling your warmth. Your breaths. Your love. I missed you so much it physically hurt—like a piece of my heart was walking around out there, away from me.”

Liana’s eyes filled, her hand sliding up to cup Linda’s cheek, thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. “We missed you too, Mom. Every single day. Boarding school felt like a prison sometimes—the cold dorms, the strict rules. I’d curl up under my blanket and remember how you’d tuck us in, your saree slipping low, belly warm against my cheek when you leaned down to kiss me goodnight. I’d cry thinking, ‘Why can’t I be home with Mom? Why can’t I feel her like that again?’ You were our safe place. Our love. And being away ... it broke something in me. But now? We’re fixing it. Together.”

Adam’s voice came muffled against Linda’s neck, his breath hot and shaky. “I used to stare at photos of us on my phone—those old ones from Durga Puja, you in that red saree, belly out, smiling like the sun. I’d touch the screen and wish I could feel your skin, your hugs. The distance killed me, Mom. Every time a holiday ended and I had to leave, I’d cry in the car, hiding it so you wouldn’t see. I regretted not staying, not fighting to be here. But now ... I’m home. I’m never leaving. I love you too much. You’re my everything.”

Tears spilled freely now—Linda’s, Liana’s, Adam’s—mixing on their skin, salty trails blending with the dried sweat. Linda pulled them closer—arms around both, bodies pressing tight, naked skin on naked skin, hearts pounding in sync.

“Do you remember ... the monsoon evenings? When the power would go out—always during the worst storms—and we’d light those little oil lamps? The house would smell like kerosene and wet earth. You two would drag the mattress to the living room floor because it was cooler there. I’d lie in the middle, in whatever thin saree or maxi I was wearing—pallu slipping, belly bare—and you’d both crawl in beside me. Adam on one side, Liana on the other. We’d listen to the rain hammering the roof, thunder rolling like drums. You’d press your faces to my skin—Adam against my belly, Liana against my chest—and just ... breathe. Like I was your anchor in the storm.”

Liana’s fingers paused on Linda’s belly, tracing the gold piercing there. Her voice came out small, trembling.

“I remember. Your skin was always warm, even when the rain made everything feel cold. I’d press my cheek right here—” she touched the soft roll above Linda’s navel “—and listen to your heartbeat. It was the only thing that made the thunder stop scaring me. I used to think... ‘As long as Mom’s here, nothing can hurt us.’ Even when the lights went out, you were still glowing. Still Mom.”

Adam’s arm tightened around Linda’s waist, his face still buried in her neck. His voice was muffled, raw.

“I’d fall asleep with my nose against your belly. The way it rose and fell ... it was like the whole world breathing with you. I’d sneak my hand under your saree sometimes—just to feel your skin, the warmth. I never told you. I was scared you’d think it was wrong. But it wasn’t. It was safe. It was home. I missed that feeling so much when I was away. Every storm at school, I’d lie in my bunk and remember how your heartbeat sounded against my ear. It was the only thing that ever calmed me.”

Linda’s tears slipped free again—quiet, steady, falling into Liana’s hair. She kissed the top of her daughter’s head, then turned to press her lips to Adam’s temple.

“I never thought it was wrong,” she whispered. “I loved it. Loved feeling your small hands on my skin, your faces pressed to me like I was your whole world. I used to lie awake after you fell asleep, just watching you both—your little chests rising and falling, your fingers still curled around my saree or my maxi strap. I’d think, ‘These are my babies. My heart outside my body.’ And every time you left for school, I’d keep that same saree or maxi unwashed for days—just so I could still smell you on it. I missed you so much it felt like a hole in my chest.”

Liana lifted her head, eyes shining with tears, and kissed Linda’s collarbone—soft, lingering.

“We missed you too, Mom. Every single day. The dorms were cold. The rules were strict. But the worst part was not having you to come home to. Not having your warmth, your smell, your heartbeat. We used to talk about it at night—Adam and I—whispering across the hallway when no one could hear. ‘When we’re back with Mom, we’ll never leave again.’ ‘We’ll cuddle her every night.’ ‘We’ll tell her how much we love her skin, her softness, her everything.’ We were just kids. But we meant it. We still mean it.”

Adam’s voice cracked again, his hand sliding up to cup Linda’s cheek, thumb brushing away her tears.

“I used to dream about this, Mom. Coming home. Lying with you like this—naked, close, no more distance. Feeling your heartbeat against my ear again. Hearing Liana’s soft breaths on your other side. Knowing we were finally together. I regretted every day I spent away. Every time I didn’t fight to stay. But now ... now I’m here. And I’m never leaving. I love you. I love you both so much.”

Linda pulled them closer—arms wrapping around both, bodies pressing tight, skin on skin, hearts beating in sync. Tears fell freely now—hers, Liana’s, Adam’s—mixing on their cheeks, dripping onto shoulders, chests, bellies.

“My babies,” she whispered, voice trembling with love. “My heart. My everything. I waited years for this. For you to be home. For us to be whole. No more missing. No more lonely nights. Just us. Always.”

“My sweet girl ... my sweet boy,” she whispered, voice breaking. “I love you both so much. So much it aches. You’re my heart. My world. We’ll make up for every missed day, every lonely night. No more distance. Just us. Always.”

They held each other—tears drying on cheeks, breaths steadying—until the morning light turned

The power never returned that morning.

The house stayed wrapped in the same humid darkness—only faint daylight leaking through the curtains in thin, gray ribbons, barely enough to outline their bodies on the rumpled bed. The ceiling fan had gone still again, the air thick and unmoving, heavy with the scent of dried sweat, lingering arousal, and the intimate musk of three naked bodies that had spent the night pressed skin-to-skin.

Linda lay in the center—legs loosely parted, breasts rising and falling slowly, nipples soft now in the morning calm but still dark and prominent against her flushed skin. Sweat had dried in salty crusts along her collarbone, between her breasts, in the dip of her navel, and along the crease of her thighs. Her pussy lips remained slightly swollen from the night, the faint sheen of arousal and sweat still visible in the low light.

Liana curled against her left side—head resting on Linda’s shoulder, one arm draped across her mother’s waist, fingers idly tracing the curve of her belly. Liana’s small breasts pressed softly to Linda’s ribcage, nipples brushing with every shared breath. Her own body glistened with dried sweat—gold navel ring catching stray light, inner thighs still faintly sticky.

Adam pressed to Linda’s right—face tucked into the crook of her neck, one leg thrown over hers, his hand resting lightly on her hip. His cock lay soft against her thigh now, but still warm, the skin of his pelvis and balls slightly tacky from the night’s sweat and pre-cum.

No one had reached for clothes. The heat, the darkness, the raw openness of the night made fabric feel unnecessary—almost intrusive.

They stayed like that—quiet at first, just breathing together—until Liana spoke, voice low and thick with emotion.

“Mom ... we used to talk about you every night at boarding school. After lights out. We’d whisper across the hallway when no one could hear. Remember how we’d say, ‘Mom’s probably in bed right now ... in one of those thin maxis ... nipples poking, belly out... ‘ We’d get so hard. So wet. We’d ... touch ourselves. Together. Not touching each other—just listening to each other’s breathing, knowing we were both thinking about you. About cuddling you naked. About feeling your tits against us, your pussy brushing our skin. We’d cum whispering your name. Every night.”

Adam’s breath hitched against Linda’s neck. His hand tightened on her hip, fingers trembling slightly.

“It’s true, Mom. I’d lie there in the dark, cock hard, thinking about the way your saree used to slip low when you bent over to pick something up—pussy shadow teasing through the silk, ass cheeks peeking. I’d stroke myself imagining my face between your thighs, tasting you. Liana would be on the other side of the wall doing the same—moaning your name so softly I could just hear it. We never touched each other. It wasn’t like that. It was just ... you. Always you. We were so in love with you. So horny for you. And so fucking lonely without you.”

Linda’s chest tightened—tears welling again, hot and sudden. She pulled them both closer—arms wrapping around their shoulders, bodies pressing tight, naked skin on naked skin, hearts pounding against each other.

“My babies...” she whispered, voice cracking. “My sweet, beautiful babies ... I had no idea. I had no idea you carried that. All those nights I lay here alone, touching myself thinking of you both—missing your little arms around me, your faces pressed to my belly—I never knew you were doing the same. I would have come to you. I would have held you. I would have let you feel me. Naked. Close. Loved. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry you had to carry that alone.”

Liana’s tears fell hot against Linda’s shoulder, her voice small and raw.

“We didn’t know how to tell you, Mom. We were scared you’d think we were wrong. But we weren’t. We just loved you. Wanted you. Needed you. And now ... we’re here. And we’re never letting go.”

Adam’s voice was muffled against Linda’s neck, tears soaking her skin.

“I regretted every day I wasn’t with you, Mom. Every single day. But I’m here now. And I’m never leaving. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And I love Liana too. We’re family. We’re home.”

Linda pulled them impossibly closer—arms tight around both, bodies pressed flush, skin on skin, hearts beating in sync.

“My sweet boy ... my sweet girl ... I love you. I love you both so much. No more regrets. No more distance. No more lonely nights. Just us. Naked. Close. Loved. Always.”

They stayed like that—naked, sweaty, tear-streaked—until the morning light turned bright and the house woke fully around them.

2nd Morning

The morning stretched lazily, the power still flickering in and out, keeping the ceiling fan off most of the time. The room stayed warm, humid, the sheets damp and clinging from the night before. None of them had any intention of getting up, or even reaching for clothes. The three of them remained naked, skin still tacky with dried sweat, bodies pressed close in the center of the king bed.

Linda lay on her back in the middle, head propped on a pillow, legs slightly parted, arms open. Liana curled into her left side—cheek resting on Linda’s breast, one arm draped across her mother’s waist, fingers idly tracing the soft curve of her belly, occasionally brushing the gold navel piercing. Adam pressed against Linda’s right side—face tucked into the crook of her neck, one leg thrown over her thigh, his hand resting low on her hip, thumb stroking slow circles over the skin just above her pubic mound.

They didn’t speak right away. Just breathed. Felt. Remembered.

Linda broke the quiet first, voice soft and thick with emotion.

“Do you remember ... those rainy afternoons when the power would go out? We’d drag the mattress to the living room because it was cooler near the windows. I’d lie in the middle in whatever thin maxi or saree I was wearing—pallu always slipping, belly bare—and you two would crawl in beside me. Adam on one side, face pressed right here—” she guided Liana’s hand to the soft roll above her navel “—and Liana on the other, cheek against my chest, listening to my heartbeat. We’d just lie there, listening to the rain, thunder rolling, and you’d both hold on to me like I was the only thing keeping the storm away.”

Liana’s fingers tightened slightly, palm flattening against Linda’s belly, feeling the warmth, the gentle rise and fall.

“I remember,” she whispered. “Your skin was always so warm. I’d press my face right here—” she nuzzled the side of Linda’s breast “—and listen to your heart. It was the safest sound in the world. Even when the thunder was so loud the windows rattled, I wasn’t scared. Because you were there. Your heartbeat, your smell, your warmth ... it made everything okay.”