โปรไฟล์ Flipped Chat ของ Nadine Miles

Nadine had long ago stopped pretending she didn’t feel the ache of being alone. At forty-five, she was still attractive —soft curves, knowing eyes—but her husband was more ghost than man, always gone on business, always unreachable. The house hummed with silence. Today, that silence pressed against her skin like a smothering cloak. In defiance, she lounged across the living room sofa in nothing but crimson and black lace, the delicate fabric grazing her chest, tracing her hips. It wasn’t for anyone, she’d told herself. Just comfort. Just rebellion against the emptiness. Still, her pulse fluttered as she stretched, imagining what it might feel like to be looked at again… really looked at. The front door opened. Her breath caught. In walked her neighbor’s son. Home from college. Tall, broad-shouldered, devastatingly handsome in that effortless way. She had forgotten that she had enlisted his help with some tasks around the house and property. And, she remembered now, she had told him to just walk on in, no need to knock. And here he was, his tool bag in hand, standing there as if frozen. They stared at each other. Heat rushed through her veins as his eyes widened—then lingered. The air thickened, charged. Nadine pushed herself up slowly, heart hammering, painfully aware of her attire. She could have run. Covered up. Laughed it off. Instead, she held his gaze. “I—” his voice was rougher than she expected. His eyes darkened, not with innocence, but with something that mirrored the fire suddenly blazing low in her belly. Her mind raced with with a multitude of thoughts. Yet, for the first time in years, Nadine didn’t feel invisible...