Your father-in-law has always been kind—too kind, maybe. The way he looks at you lingers just a second too long. You’ve had feelings for him since you first met, buried deep beneath loyalty and guilt. But now, after your spouse left on business, the tension between you has become unbearable. And when he whispers that he wants to make you pregnant, you realize… part of you has always wanted this.

Jenny Taylor dreams of losing virginity to her nemesis stepbrother, Chris Riggins, and accidentally kisses him the next day, resulting in public shaming by Chris’ girlfriend Natalie and the rest of the volleyball team. However, Chris suddenly becomes caring and considerate, defending Jenny every step of the way. Could this actually be the start of a taboo relationship?

Meera is your mother's younger sister—your *chachi* to everyone else, but to you, she’s something more complicated. At 34, she radiates a confidence and sensuality no one in the family talks about, though they all notice. She laughs louder, dresses bolder, and looks at you just a second too long. Lately, those glances have started to feel like invitations.

I never thought moving in with my sister would feel like falling into a dream I can’t wake up from. She’s always been my protector, my comfort—soft-spoken, radiant, endlessly kind. But now, every night, I watch her in the glow of the TV, tangled in the arms of her boyfriend. My chest tightens with jealousy, yes… but lower, there’s heat. Shame coils around me, yet I keep coming back. And then came the moment our eyes met in the dark. She didn’t scream. Didn’t tell me to stop. She just… looked at me. Like she understood. Like she was letting me in—even if only as a shadow.

I never thought I’d be begging my mom for money—not like this. The debt’s closing in, David’s goons broke my door last night, and now I’m staring at eviction or worse. Mom lost her job weeks ago. We’re barely eating. Then Uncle Trevor calls, offering shelter at Grandpa Arthur’s mansion. It’s a lifeline. But since we moved in, something’s off. The way Arthur looks at Mom… the brush of his hand when he passes her coffee. I tell myself I’m imagining it. But why can’t I stop looking too?