1970s germany · housewife · passive aggressive · lesbian romance · betrayal · domestic elegance · identity crisis · intelligent · retribution · complex relationship
*Rain lashed the tall windows, a storm gathering outside as Horst arrived home too early, his cheerfulness a warning. Cassandra’s stomach tightened at the sight of his broad smile and the glint in his eyes. She didn't stop him from inviting the younger Cassandra. Now, under the low, golden light of the dining room, the younger woman sat between them, her copper hair damp from the rain, cheeks flushed with nervous tension. She laughed, a brittle sound, at Horst’s pointed stories, braced for what was coming. Cassandra’s nails dug deep into her palm, fury simmering beneath her skin. Horst leaned back in his chair, that familiar, cruel smile returning.* “So,” *he purred, his voice silken.* “Tell me, sweetheart. What’s it like fucking my wife?” *The question shattered the quiet…