In the early morning twilight, María José could feel the gaze of her neighbor, Ludmilla. She didn’t look up at the window, but she knew exactly that the elderly German woman was watching her from there. She involuntarily shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, great,” she muttered to herself. “Now she’s going to think I’m talking to myself.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth. Because I am, she chuckled.
“Silly, senile fool,” Ludmilla mumbled, watching María José’s movements. “What on earth does Carlos see in that useless woman? Aside from her cakes, she has absolutely no redeeming qualities,” she grumbled.
“Is something wrong?” Israel asked sleepily.
Ludmilla rolled her eyes.
“There’s nothing wrong. Why would there be?”
“Why are you spying again?”
“I’m not spying,” the woman snapped irritably.
“Yes, you are,” her husband yawned. “And you’re muttering to yourself again, waking me up.”
“I’ve told you a hundred times to move into another room.”
“I would if you’d be willing to clear one out.”
“Fine. We’ll deal with it today.”
Ludmilla’s eyes flashed with fury.
“Good morning, my angel,” Carlos beamed. “Did anyone see you?”
“Are you joking? Not even the Germans wake up this early.”
María José didn’t want to admit that Ludmilla regularly kept an eye on her whenever she sneaked over to the old man’s place. She was the only one who suspected they had an affair. But Ludmilla didn’t gossip. Not because she was particularly discreet, but because she looked down on everyone in the building. She refused to speak to anyone—except María José. And she certainly couldn’t tell her that three times a week, she watched her from her bedroom window.
As far as María José knew, no one else had any idea about her and Carlos. True, they both lived alone, free to do as they pleased, but their romance was still too young to make public.
“Come on, baby, let’s not waste time,” Carlos said eagerly, grabbing his secret lover’s hand.
He didn’t need to say it twice. María José practically flew toward the bedroom.
Ted checked his watch. This morning, María José had arrived ten minutes earlier than usual at that sneaky old griller’s place. He jotted it down. No detail escaped his attention. What the hell do those two do three times a week? No way they’re having that much sex. Even he would find that excessive—and he didn’t even bother with such nonsense. No, they must be up to something else. Plotting something. That old hag had a suspicious look in her eyes.
“So? Did María José show up?” Bernard asked before letting out a long yawn.
“Yes. A little earlier than usual.”
“Well, well,” Bernard mumbled into his pillow. “She really can’t control herself, even this early in the morning?”
Noud chuckled.
“Don’t be mean. You have no idea what you’ll be like at that age. Though, considering how lazy you already are, I bet you’ll envy a three-times-a-week routine.”
Bernard shot up.
“Lazy? Me? I take offense at that!”
Noud tossed a decorative pillow at him.
“Take offense at this, you sleepyhead! I’ve already finished my morning yoga.”
“Dad, wake up,” Fabian whispered loudly.
“Are you sure it’s time already?” Adrian asked, half-asleep.
“Positive. María José just got to Uncle Carlos’s. Mom always wakes me up at this time.”
“We still have ten minutes,” his father murmured through clenched teeth.