Chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ,11, 12, 13 are already on Pa tr eon
If you would like to read the next chapters faster, see exclusive content, or support my work, please visit
Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)
Harry entered his bedroom and paused. The air was heavy with memories. The walls were devoid of the photos that once adorned them, pictures of him and his wife in happier times. The empty closets, which once held her things, now served as a reminder of her absence. His heart tightened as he recalled the intimate moments they shared in the adjacent bathroom, the laughter and moans of pleasure that echoed through these now silent rooms.
He couldn't help but think back to the first time they made love after moving in together. Fleur didn't want to dirty her father's bed, so they fucked like animals on a blanket on the floor. Their fucking was passionate and raw then, not the lifeless chore it had become in the months leading up to their divorce.
Now, Harry imagined Gabrielle in Fleur's place, her voluptuous curves pressed against his chest, her blonde hair splayed out on the carpet. His cock twitched at the thought of Gabrielle's eyes gazing into his, her soft lips parting in ecstasy as he thrust into her tight pussy. Would Gabrielle feel different than Fleur? Would her juices taste different than her older sister's? These thoughts both excited and terrified him.
"Damn it, Harry," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head and smiling at the thought of fucking his ex-wife's younger sister.
Just then, his gaze was drawn to an old wooden cigar box sitting on the dresser, tied with a frayed piece of string. Curious, he approached the box, wondering what it contained.
Money? Stock certificates? Maybe a treasure map?
"There's only one way to find out," he whispered to himself, lifting the box and feeling its weight in his hands.
He set the box back down, deciding to open it after taking a shower and getting dressed. There was probably nothing important inside, but the anticipation of discovering it was a pleasure he wanted to prolong. True mysteries were rare. Real life often disappointed. Like buying a lottery ticket, most of the enjoyment lay in imagining what might be.
Harry stepped into the shower and turned on the water, letting the warm stream cascade over his body. The heat seeped into his muscles, relaxing them and easing the tension in his mind. As the water flowed, his thoughts turned to Gabrielle downstairs—her infectious laugh, radiant smile, and the tempting curves of her now fit body.
He chuckled, remembering how Gabrielle had freely and openly ogled his erect penis, joking about the cum on his stomach. His cock tingled at the memory and what it suggested for the evening. Gabrielle staying at the guesthouse meant they would be spending a lot of time together. She had already made the effort to prepare dinner for him and welcome him back. Was it just sisterly affection, or a promise of something more?
Christ, what am I doing? This is Fleur's younger sister, not some stranger I can just fuck and forget. But Fleur was gone. She had made her choice. Now he had to make his.
Harry finished rinsing off and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. As he dried himself, he glanced at his lean frame in the mirror. The physical changes from his time in Thailand were evident—his once flabby arms were now hard and muscular, his belly flat, and his chest broad. It was still strange to see how much his body had transformed during his time abroad.
Harry's suitcases were still downstairs, so he grabbed a few clothes from the dresser. Linen pants hung loosely on his hips, poorly fitting his newly slim physique from Thailand. The shirt stretched at the collar, a remnant of the flabby man he once was. The familiar scent of cedar and sea salt filled the air as he stood by the dresser, a smell unique to the handcrafted furniture at The Pearl. The old wooden cigar box, tied with a yellowed string, stood before him, patiently waiting to be opened.
He let the curiosity build within him before retrieving a pair of scissors from the drawer. The sense of anticipation made him smile.
"Let's see what secrets you hold," Harry whispered to himself.
Carefully, he cut the string and set it aside. He unclasped the metal latches and lifted the lid, revealing several old letters inside, their envelopes worn and edges softened by time.
He took out the letters, handling them gently. They were addressed in a looping, feminine script. The postmarks were from 1946. Each letter was addressed to his grandfather, Fleamont Potter. The return address was from someone named Elizabeth Longbottom at a house number he didn't recognize. Oddly, the letters were not sent to The Pearl. Instead, they were directed to a post office box in the local town.
"What the hell..." Harry murmured to himself.
"Everything alright up there?" Gabrielle called from downstairs.
"All good. I found something interesting. I'll be down in a minute," Harry replied, knowing Gabrielle was curious about the box and its contents. It would be fun to share the discovery with her.
"Take your time," Gabrielle responded warmly, her tone soothing and encouraging. "Dinner's almost ready. Hope you like salmon."
"You know it's my favorite!"
"Yeah, I figured that!"
Gabrielle's delightful laughter echoed up the stairs as Harry gathered the letters and placed them back into the cigar box. Closing the box, he wondered what stories those letters held. Who was this Elizabeth Longbottom? Why was she writing to his grandfather Fleamont at a post office box? And most importantly, why had Fleamont hidden these letters in the attic?
Harry headed downstairs with the cigar box tucked under his arm. As he reached the patio, he saw Gabrielle by the pool. She looked stunning with a sarong tied again around her waist and a tank top tied below her ample breasts. She hadn't bothered to put her bikini top back on, and her nipples strained against the thin fabric.
The patio table was set with a light meal of bread and salad, and bottles of sparkling water. Gabrielle was busy grilling the salmon.
"What can I do to help?" Harry called out, setting the box of letters on a nearby chair.
"Just relax and enjoy the view," she replied, flashing him a flirtatious smile. "The sunset over this bay is always inspiring."
"I'm definitely enjoying the view."
Gabrielle playfully wiggled her hips, fully aware that he was staring.
"Did you find out what was in the box?" she asked.
"A few old letters. I haven't read them yet. It's strange. They were addressed to my grandfather, but not here at The Pearl. Instead, to a post office box in town."
Gabrielle's eyes widened. "Really? What did people use post office boxes for back then?"
"The same as today," Harry shrugged. "Anything they wanted to keep secret. Letters, financial transactions, dealings they didn't want easily traced."
"Sounds mysterious."
"Seems like it."
"Maybe we could read them together," she suggested, her voice soft and encouraging.
"I'd love that."
Music playing from her Bluetooth speaker set a playful tone, courtesy of the alt-country trio Dirt Road Debutantes, whose bawdy lyrics added to the already charged atmosphere between them.
"Hey, I got your favorite whiskey," Gabrielle said, pointing to the bottle on the table. "Thought you might like a drink tonight."
"That's sweet of you, Gabrielle. But I haven't touched alcohol in months," Harry admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt for rejecting her thoughtful gesture.
"Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "Well, more power to you. I'll save it for a rainy day. For now, let's just enjoy this salmon with sparkling water."
"It smells delicious! This looks like an amazing spread you've prepared."
"Thank you," Gabrielle replied, her cheeks flushing with pride. She carefully picked up a piece of salmon with her fingers and held it out to him. "Here, try it."
Harry eagerly leaned forward, his mouth enveloping the delicate morsel as her fingers brushed against his skin. Unable to resist, he gently licked her fingertips, causing Gabrielle to giggle softly. The salmon was exquisite, and he couldn't help but think about his time in Bangkok.
"God, this reminds me of the seafood in Thailand," Harry said, taking a sip of icy water to cleanse his palate. "Fresh fish and fresh fruit every day. Life there was amazing."
"The restaurants must have really gotten to know you!"
"Hey, I did a lot of cooking myself," he protested. "I'm quite handy with a hot stove. Fleur never learned to cook, so I made all our meals."
"I know. My sister hated cooking," Gabrielle said, twirling a lock of her blonde hair around her finger. "It's nice that you still know how to take care of yourself in the kitchen. It will serve you well in your new life as a bachelor."
"Bachelor life? I should probably stock up on clean towels," Harry joked. "Single guys love dating Rosie Five-Fingers, which you just witnessed."
Gabrielle shrugged. "It's good to find a hard man. You seem to have no problems with that."
"Clean living and exercise," he said, patting his flat stomach.
"And good, healthy food!"
As the sun set over the horizon, casting a warm orange glow on the patio, Gabrielle brought the perfectly grilled salmon to the table. The aroma of the seared fish mingled with the ocean breeze, making Harry's mouth water.
"You've outdone yourself, Gabrielle."
"Dig in, Harry. I made it all for you."
The way she said it and the look in her eyes made him smile with delight. Coming home had proven to be as much of an adventure as his time in Thailand.
But even as they savored the grilled salmon and engaged in playful banter, Harry couldn't stop glancing at the box of letters. Questions about Elizabeth Longbottom and his grandfather's relationship with her swirled in his mind.
"Harry, are you alright?" Gabrielle asked, noticing his distant look. "You seem lost in thought."
"Sorry," Harry replied with a sheepish smile. "Those letters have me intrigued. I can't stop thinking about them."
He reached out and squeezed her hand. His gesture of comfort turned into something more as Gabrielle returned the squeeze, her fingers caressing his wrist. Impulsively, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. The look on Gabrielle's face made his heart race.
Harry and Gabrielle finished their meal in silence, casting furtive glances at each other and smiling. He felt like a kid on a first date with the hottest girl in school. He hadn't felt this excited sharing a meal with a woman in a long time.
"Do you have room for dessert?" Gabrielle asked as Harry finished the last bite of her delicious salmon.
"Absolutely," he replied, curious about what else she had prepared. "What do you have?"
"Watermelon," she said. "I brought it from Japan. The lady at the pier let me taste a piece. Harry, I swear, you've never had anything like this melon. It will blow your mind."
"Damn. Now I'm excited about a piece of watermelon. I can't wait to try it."
"I'll be back in two shakes," Gabrielle said, gathering the plates and disappearing into the kitchen.
While she was gone, Harry turned on the fairy lights strung around the yard. The sun had nearly set, and darkness was creeping over The Pearl. He could hear Gabrielle humming loudly as she sliced the melon. Suddenly, a sense of unease washed over him. What if the letters were about something ugly or mundane? The last thing he wanted was to spoil the mood of this wonderful day with some angry letter complaining about a servitude.
He decided to quickly check what the letters contained. Opening the box, he pulled out the first letter and slid it from its envelope. The page was small and frayed on one edge, as if it had been torn from a notebook or journal. The handwriting was as loopy and feminine as the address.
He scanned the letter under the warm glow of the lights overhead. He winced at what he read, furrowing his brow deeply, then folded the paper and tucked it back into the envelope.
"Time for the melon!" Gabrielle called, emerging from the kitchen with a platter full of watermelon slices.
She set the platter on the table and pulled her chair close to his.
"Here you go," Gabrielle said, offering him a slice of watermelon.
"It looks amazing," he said appreciatively.
The watermelon had a thin, black rind and ruby-red flesh. Its sweet scent was almost like roses and honey. The flood of sweetness that filled his mouth as he took a bite was wonderful. "Wow!"
"See? I told you!" Gabrielle laughed.
"This is too good," Harry said, taking another bite. Gabrielle smiled, nibbling on her slice. She glanced at the letter on the table with undisguised curiosity.
"I saw you looking through that letter," Gabrielle said. "You didn't seem happy with what you read."
"It was... unexpected," Harry admitted. "Do you still want me to read it to you? You don't have to if you don't want to."
"No, I want to hear it. I'd like to know what you think about it."
Harry wiped the sticky juice from his hands and took out the letter. Gabrielle leaned into him, her warm body pressing against his side, her face resting on his shoulder.
He smiled at her, thinking how nice it would be to kiss those soft lips. She must have been thinking the same. Neither of them was quite ready for that step. At least not yet.
He cleared his throat and began to read:
"My dearest Fleamont, I put pen to paper, my heart heavy with both desire and sorrow. The storm last night, so wild and fierce, seemed to embody the turmoil within me, and I can no longer keep these thoughts to myself. What we did was a sin. I do not deny it, but I do not regret it either. Amidst the thunder and rain, we found solace in each other's arms. Your touch, your voice, the way you looked at me in the lamplight. I keep replaying those moments, defying all reason. Reason falters in the face of the depth of my feelings. My heart aches with guilt for betraying William, your best friend, the man to whom I vowed fidelity. I am torn between my love for him and the fire that burns for you. I fear the consequences if our secret were to come out. Scandal, broken hearts, ruined lives. We both know the dangers of what we did, yet I long to do it again. I know you feel the same. Know that your mark on me is indelible. Know that in the quiet moments at night, when I lie next to my devoted husband, I whisper your name, Fleamont. I cannot foresee what the future holds for us, but I pray we find a way to navigate these treacherous waters. I will be with you again, my love. You will fill me once more, flooding me with your desire until we are both spent. Until then, know that you live in my thoughts and dreams. Yours, Elizabeth 11/8/1946"
Harry set the letter aside. Gabrielle squeezed his arm, snuggling closer to him.
"My God," Gabrielle breathed. "So your grandfather slept with his best friend's wife?"
"It looks that way," Harry sighed. "It's like something out of a romance novel. A dark romance."
"I wouldn't know."
Gabrielle looked into his eyes, seeing the pain in them. "Harry, what's wrong?" she asked, concern etched on her face.
"The date it was written," he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "Grandpa Fleamont was married to my grandma Evelyn when this letter was written. Grandma was six months pregnant with my father at that time. My grandfather was fucking another woman while his wife carried his child."
The revelation made Harry feel uneasy, the weight of hidden family history settling uncomfortably on his shoulders.
"I'm sorry, Harry."
"Yeah, me too. I can't believe my grandfather did this. My memories of the old man feel tainted now."
"Let's not dwell on it right now," Gabrielle suggested, sensing his distress. "The evening is too beautiful to mourn the past."
"You're right," Harry said, putting the letter back in the box and closing it. "The rest of the letters can wait for another time."
"Just promise you'll read the rest with me? I'm so curious."
"I'll read the letters only with you, Gabrielle. I promise."
Gabrielle took his hand and pressed it to her lips. He smiled faintly.
"I think I know a way to cheer you up," Gabrielle whispered.
Chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ,11, 12, 13 are already on Pa tr eon
If you would like to read the next chapters faster, see exclusive content, or support my work, please visit
Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)