Eine stirred the pot absentmindedly, watching pasta swirl in the boiling water. The kitchen felt unnaturally quiet tonight, the silence broken only by the soft bubbling and the occasional tap of her wooden spoon against the pot's edge. Her hands trembled slightly as she gripped the utensil tighter, trying to steady herself.

  The image wouldn't leave her mind. No matter how hard she tried to focus on dinner preparation, it kept fshing before her eyes with painful crity.

  Earlier that day, she'd noticed Jason's absence. He'd been acting strange at breakfast—distracted, almost haunted. When he didn't appear for lunch, concern had driven her to check on him. She'd approached his room with motherly worry, knocked gently on his door, and when no answer came, slowly pushed it open.

  The sight had frozen her in pce.

  Jason y half-naked on the bed, lower body exposed beneath a hastily arranged sheet. And Lily—her Lily—was curled against him, upper body bare, her clothes scattered across the floor. They were sleeping deeply, arms wrapped around each other in unmistakable intimacy.

  Eine's breath had caught in her throat. Her eyes, against her will, had traveled over their entwined forms, taking in details she immediately wished she could unsee. The curve of her daughter's back. The manner in which Jason's fingers cimed Lily's waist and most disturbingly, the dormant beast nestled between Jason's thighs.

  She'd pulled herself back, heart hammering against her ribs, and closed the door without making a sound.

  "Why can't I shake off these mental pictures?" Eine murmured to the vacant kitchen. "Focus on something else."

  Her mind spun with fragmented thoughts. The isotion. Richard's increasing coldness. The way Jason had stepped up, becoming the emotional center of their family. The massage he'd given her—his hands so gentle on her bare skin.

  Shame washed over her, hot and suffocating. What kind of mother was she? To think of her son that way, even for a moment, and now to discover him with Lily...

  The wooden spoon slipped from her fingers, cttering against the counter. The sound jolted through the kitchen's stillness, startling her back to the present moment.

  Eine gripped the edge of the counter, trying to steady her breathing. The steam from the boiling pasta rose in zy curls, fogging her vision. Or maybe it was the tears threatening to spill.

  She should be horrified. She should be storming down the hall, throwing open Jason's door, and demanding they stop this... whatever it was. That's what a proper mother would do. That's what society—the old world—would have expected.

  But the old world was gone.

  And deep inside her, beyond the initial shock, she felt something else entirely. Not disgust. Not anger. Something more complicated—a recognition that made her chest ache with a long-buried memory.

  Ashley.

  The name floated to the surface of her mind like a bubble from the depths. Her sister's face—younger, softer around the edges, with that mischievous smile that always meant trouble. They had been so close once. Too close, their mother had said.

  It began one sweltering summer night, humid and oppressive. Their parents were out, and they'd been giggling in Ashley's bed, whispering secrets. Then innocent touches had become something more. Something confusing and tender and electric, something that felt right until their mother unexpectedly caught them red-handed a few months ter.

  The screaming. The shame. The way Ashley wouldn't meet her eyes for months afterward.

  And now, she didn't even know if Ashley was alive out there in the ruined world.

  Eine wiped her hands on her apron, her throat tight. What she'd seen between Jason and Lily—it wasn't monstrous to her. It was human. Fragile. Born of isotion and need and love, twisted into new shapes by circumstance.

  Should she talk to Jason? Warn him? Or would that shatter whatever comfort they'd found? In this bunker, with the world dead above them, did the old rules even matter anymore?

  The sound of approaching footsteps jolted her from her thoughts. Eine quickly blinked away unshed tears and straightened her shoulders.

  Marissa appeared in the doorway, hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. "Need help with dinner?"

  "That would be lovely," Eine said, forcing a tired smile. She handed Marissa ptes to set the table, watching her daughter move efficiently around the kitchen.

  "Is pasta almost ready? I'm starving," Marissa chatted, seemingly oblivious to her mother's inner turmoil.

  "Almost," Eine answered mechanically, her eyes drifting toward the hallway where Jason's room y. She wondered if they were awake yet. If they'd come to dinner. How they would look at each other across the table.

  Her hands trembled slightly as she drained the pasta, steam rising around her face like a veil.

  Eine stirred the sauce one final time, adding a pinch of dried herbs from their dwindling supply. The artificial light of the kitchen cast long shadows across the counter as she worked, her movements mechanical, mind elsewhere. She couldn't stop seeing them—Jason and Lily tangled together on that narrow bed, their innocence and guilt wrapped up in one complicated image.

  Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Eine straightened her posture, pstered on a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Richard appeared first, tablet tucked under his arm as always. Then Jason and Lily entered together, shoulders almost touching. Eine's breath caught in her throat. Their hair was still damp from recent showers, and something in the way they carefully avoided looking directly at each other spoke volumes.

  "Dinner's ready," she announced, her voice steadier than she felt.

  They gathered around the table, passing dishes, filling gsses with filtered water.Eine watched them all from behind her practiced smile. Richard, distant as ever, mechanically consuming his food. Marissa, oblivious to the undercurrents, chattering about a magazine she'd found. And then there were Jason and Lily.

  They seemed... transformed. Where Jason had been brooding and tense at breakfast, now a quiet contentment softened his features. Lily's usual nervous energy had settled into something calmer, more present. They exchanged gnces when they thought no one was looking—little shared smiles, silent communications that excluded everyone else.

  They were happy. Genuinely happy.

  The realization hit Eine with unexpected force. In this sterile bunker, with the world burned away above them, her children had found joy. It was wrong by every standard she'd been raised with, but the evidence was undeniable—their faces glowed with it.

  Eine's throat tightened. She took a sip of water to disguise the sudden wave of emotion.

  "This pasta is really good, Mom," Jason said, breaking her reverie.

  "Thank you, sweetheart." She smiled at him, this boy-turned-man who carried so much on his shoulders now.

  As they finished eating, Lily ughed at something Jason whispered, the sound bright and startling in its authenticity. Eine couldn't remember the st time she'd heard her daughter ugh like that.

  "Jason," she said as they began clearing the table, "my back is acting up again. Could you give me another massage tomorrow after breakfast?"

  He looked up, eager to help. "I could do it now if you want."

  Eine shook her head gently. "Not tonight, love. I'm too tired—I probably can't even stay awake for a movie. Tomorrow will be better."

  A brief silence fell over the kitchen. Eine watched understanding flicker across Jason's face—not suspicion, just acceptance of her need for space.

  They finished cleaning together, then Marissa announced movie night, heading toward the lounge . Jason hesitated, looking at Eine questioningly, but she nodded toward Lily. "Go on. I'm just going to turn in early."

  She watched as he followed Lily and Marissa down the hall, their shadows stretching behind them.

  Alone at st, Eine walked slowly to her room, each step weighted with the conversation she knew must come tomorrow. Not a confrontation—no, something more nuanced. She would speak to Jason not just as his mother, but as someone who understood forbidden love from the inside out.

  As she closed her bedroom door, memories of Ashley surfaced again—her sister's ughter, her touch, the secret they'd shared until it was violently exposed. The punishment that followed had scarred them both.

  Eine sat heavily on the edge of her bed, hands csped tightly in her p. Perhaps this time, in this new and broken world, love wouldn't have to be punished. Perhaps this time, there could be understanding instead of shame.