I heard the click of heels on the floor, followed by a breezy, apologetic voice calling out from the hallway. The sound hit me like a jolt—familiar in a way it absolutely shouldn’t have been. A second later, she stepped into the room.
And I froze.
Standing there, folders tucked under her arm and slightly out of breath, was my future mother-in-law—the same woman I’d had a fling with about seven years earlier. Long before I ever met my wife. Back when we were both young and living very different lives. It hadn’t been serious, just a brief, impulsive connection that fizzled out naturally. I never expected to see her again.
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