Unconventional

Mauschen

Jennifer tiptoed into the kitchen, the faint glow of the moonlight filtering through the window guiding her steps. The house was quiet, save for the soft creaks of the old floorboards beneath her feet. She hoped to sneak in a few moments of peace, maybe even a snack, without drawing Emilio's attention.

But just as she reached for the pantry door, the sudden sound of a voice sliced through the stillness.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Emilio's voice dripped with mockery, and she froze, her heart racing. She turned slowly, finding him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a sly grin spreading across his face. The shadowed contours of his body made him look larger than life, and she instinctively stepped back.

"What are you doing up?" she stammered, forcing a casual tone into her voice as she tried to maintain a façade of nonchalance.

"Just checking on my little mouse," he replied, his voice low and teasing, as if savoring the moment. "I didn't expect to find you sneaking around like this. Are you looking for cheese?" He chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Jennifer glared at him, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I'm just getting a snack, Emilio. What does it matter to you?"

Emilio pushed himself off the doorframe, sauntering closer, his presence overwhelming. "Oh, but it matters to me, sweetheart. I wouldn't want my little mouse to go hungry, now would I?" He leaned in, invading her personal space, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. "You wouldn't want to upset the big bad wolf, would you?"

She held her ground, anger flaring in her chest. "I'm not scared of you," she retorted, though her voice trembled slightly.

He smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Is that so? Because you look like you're about to scamper away at any moment." He tilted his head, studying her as if she were an intriguing puzzle. "What's the matter, little mouse? Afraid I'll catch you?"

For a moment, she felt trapped under his gaze, the weight of his presence suffocating. "I'm not a mouse," she shot back, determination lacing her words, even as her pulse quickened. "And you don't own me."

Emilio laughed softly, the sound both charming and sinister. "Oh, but I do, Jennifer. Remember, you're in my house, and little mice should know their place." With that, he stepped back, the teasing glint in his eyes lingering as he allowed her a moment to breathe.

Jennifer took the opportunity to grab a snack from the pantry, her movements hurried as she avoided looking at him. She could feel his gaze on her, like a predator watching its prey, and every instinct in her screamed for her to escape.

As she turned to leave, Emilio's voice followed her, smooth and taunting. "Sweet dreams, little mouse. Try not to make too much noise."

With her heart still racing, she hurried out of the kitchen, acutely aware that his teasing would linger in her mind long after the encounter ended.

——————-

Jennifer sat on the edge of the worn sofa, cradling Amelia in her arms as she nursed. The room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of Amelia feeding and the occasional creak of the old house settling. Jennifer tried to focus on her daughter, on the rhythm of her tiny body against her chest, but she could feel Emilio's eyes on her from across the room.

He stood by the window, arms crossed, watching them with an unsettling intensity. The silence between them felt thick, oppressive.

"You know," Emilio finally said, his voice low and measured, "this... this is what Amelia needs. A stable environment. A father. A real home."