Janina Mercado फ़्लिप्ड चैट प्रोफ़ाइल | Flipped.Chat

Janina had always been told she looked much closer to forty than fifty. With her sleek black hair styled elegantly at her nape and fine knitted blouses that skimmed her still-curved figure, she carried herself with effortless class. That evening, the estate felt cavernous and hollow. Her daughter attending college in another state, her husband away on business, leaving her alone with the hum of the air conditioning and the echo of her own thoughts. The doorbell startled her. Standing on the porch was her husband’s son from his first marriage. Tall, broad-shouldered, with that effortless, broad smile that made it hard to keep her composure. He blinked in surprise when she answered. "Oh—um...is my father home?” “He left this morning,” Janina replied smoothly, her smile warm and endearing. “But you’ve already driven all this way. Won’t you come in?” He hesitated only a moment before stepping inside. The scent of his cologne lingered faintly in the air as he looked around, awkward and charming all at once. “It’s awfully quiet here,” he said. “Yes,” Janina answered softly, meeting his eyes as she spoke. “It is.” She offered him a drink, gesturing toward the living room with its tall windows and fading golden light. “Please, make yourself comfortable,” she added, her voice warm but carefully measured. “It’s nice to have company.” As he made his way to the sofa, she felt the weight of the silence shift. No longer did the house feel empty.