Sally's Growth - (New 13 March: Chapter 87)

[FlyingFox]

Outline – Chapters 1 – 76

This is the outline, providing important information as it appears in the story. If you are too lazy to read and suffer through my first attempts at writing, feel free to skip to the later chapters. I will be posting the full story in the following posts, and continuing.

Some characters have short appearances, as they don’t seem to really fit into the narrative. I have tried not to rely on them. As the story has matured, so have the characters, I hope. And the story line. You will see I focus a lot on conversations, I confess I am influenced by "Gilmore Girls" and other movies where conversational dialogue is emphasized. 

If you have read the complete story, let me know if I missed something crucial in Sally’s story.

 

Sally’s Growth

The story begins on a freezing day when Sally and her mother, Bridget, are involved in a car crash. As they change lanes on the freeway, they unknowingly merge into the same lane as an 18-wheeler, both caught in each other’s blind spots. A light impact causes Bridget to swerve, but she overcompensates, sending them crashing into a barrier. Although the car is totaled, neither sustains serious injuries beyond some seatbelt bruising. However, Bridget is overwhelmed with worry for Sally, who, despite being fine, is strapped onto a body board, secured with a neck collar, placed on an ambulance gurney, and rushed to the hospital.

Sally, however, has a different concern. She urgently needs to use the bathroom and dreads the idea of being offered a bedpan, fearing a humiliating situation in the hospital. After an evaluation, she is given a clean bill of health and sent home with her mother. Bridget, still anxious, watches her closely for signs of trauma or PTSD, but Sally appears unaffected.

She does, however, begin to act more clingy than usual, becoming more affectionate and dependent on her mother. Though she doesn’t fully recognize it yet, something inside her shifts. She finds herself feeling a newfound joy for life, but also an increased desire for comfort and security. Bridget, happy to provide this for her daughter, welcomes the closeness.

Sally goes through a phase of slight regression, showing a preference for footed pajamas. Bridget, enjoying the return of the bond she had started to lose with her growing daughter, encourages this phase and gently nudges Sally toward things that bring her comfort. Sally soon discovers a drawback—footed pajamas make going to the bathroom an ordeal, as they must be completely removed, exposing her to the cold. Bridget jokingly suggests that pull-ups would be a practical solution, not only for their convenience but because they would match her pajamas. And she would look cute.

Initially dismissing the idea as ridiculous, Sally finds herself strangely intrigued by it. Through her mother’s perspective, she begins to consider the idea more seriously. Bridget, sensing her daughter’s curiosity, buys her a package of Goodnites so she can try them if she wants to. Sally, though hesitant at first, is secretly drawn to the thought. She has fond memories of wearing pull-ups and footed pajamas as a child.

Eventually, she gives in to curiosity, tries them on, and to her surprise, she likes them. She even tests them by wetting one, enjoying the sense of warmth, security, and comfort they provide. They soon become a nightly routine, allowing her to sleep undisturbed without the discomfort of waking up in the cold for a bathroom trip.

Following a visit to a therapist, Sally realizes that while she does not have a physical need for them, she may have an emotional one. She follows the therapist’s recommendation to wear actual diapers to bed as a way to fully experience the comfort and security they provide. Beyond this, she also flourishes in her passion for art. Bridget supports her by setting up an art studio at home where Sally can experiment with painting. She finds peace in creating art while wearing her diapers, embracing the complete sense of comfort and security they bring.

Sally lives in Hartford, Connecticut, and attends a private school similar to the one portrayed in Gilmore Girls. Though she comes from an affluent background, she modestly refers to her classmates as the “rich girls,” unaware that she herself is among them. Her best friends, Katrina and Clara, have been by her side since kindergarten. Katrina, an extroverted and lively Colombian girl with wild dark curls, contrasts with Clara, who is quiet, introverted, intelligent, and a bit of a geek. Over time, Katrina and Clara develop a romantic relationship.

As Sally processes her therapy and her feelings toward diapers, she begins to withdraw from her friends. This creates tension between them, leading to an emotional confrontation. When she finally opens up to them about her therapy, her art, and her choice to wear diapers, they embrace her without judgment. Katrina, with her extroverted personality, teases Sally in a playful, affectionate way, while Clara is more nurturing and understanding. Their unconditional support reassures Sally, and she becomes so comfortable around them that she has no problem wearing diapers in their presence.

Meanwhile, Bridget navigates life as a single mother while supporting Sally through her journey. Sally’s father, Adrian Weiss, has always been a distant figure in her life. Living in Switzerland, he visits only a few times a year. After an intense economics lesson at school, where salaries and income are discussed, Sally comes home with questions about her own family’s financial situation. During the conversation, she casually mentions her father and wonders why he doesn’t visit more often. This prompts Bridget to reveal a startling truth—Adrian is the one financing their entire lifestyle, covering everything from their home to Sally’s school tuition. Bridget herself works as a charity manager, a job she is passionate about but that does not provide a salary. Sally is surprised to learn that she comes from significant wealth. Wanting her daughter to have a better understanding of her father, Bridget reaches out to Adrian and arranges a meeting.

When Sally meets Adrian again, she sees him in a different light. Now almost fifteen, she is mature enough to get to know him on a deeper level. Adrian explains his recent absence, revealing that his father has passed away and that he had been managing estate matters. The most shocking revelation comes when Adrian tells Sally that his late father, who had previously shown no interest in his “illegitimate granddaughter,” surprisingly left her a massive trust fund. Overnight, Sally goes from seeing herself as a normal girl to realizing she is one of the wealthiest teenagers in America.

With this newfound status, Sally’s life changes in profound ways. Adrian, a billionaire who travels in his private Gulfstream G700 jet, takes her under his wing, guiding her into the world of wealth, privilege, and responsibility. He introduces her to the family’s finance empire and begins mentoring her on how to manage her new role as an heiress.

Throughout this, Bridget and Adrian maintain a warm and friendly relationship. Sally’s existence was the result of a romantic holiday in Switzerland years ago. Though Adrian always supported Bridget and their daughter, marriage was never an option due to his father’s disapproval. With the patriarch gone, their relationship now has the opportunity to evolve in ways they never expected.

Despite her changing circumstances, Sally remains emotionally grounded. Her mother, her close friends, her volleyball team, and her nightly therapy rituals all keep her anchored. To the outside world, she explains her diaper use as nocturnal enuresis, an easy explanation for those who might question it.

Unaware of Sally’s therapy, Adrian appoints Theresa as the family assistant. While officially taking on the roles of chauffeur and personal aide, Theresa also serves as a discreet bodyguard. Additionally, Olivia, Sally’s trust fund manager, becomes a trusted friend and advisor.

Sally’s introduction to the extravagant side of her new life begins when she takes her first trip to Zurich aboard her father’s jet. Adrian dedicates an entire penthouse apartment in his home for her use. During the trip, one of Sally’s friends’ brothers, Charlie, takes a picture of her boarding the private jet and shares it on social media. The photo goes viral within their social circles, earning Sally the nickname “Gulfstream Sally.” She must now adjust to a new level of visibility and the attention that comes with it.

Before returning to Zurich for a second visit, Sally is introduced to one of her trust fund’s many assets—an apartment in Soho, New York City. In reality, the trust owns the entire building, but the penthouse floor, complete with a rooftop terrace, is reserved for her whenever she visits the city.

On her second trip to Zurich, her father receives an invitation to join friends on a luxury yacht cruise. The group has rented a mega yacht for a few days, offering Sally another glimpse into the lifestyle that now awaits her. The story continues as she navigates her transformation from an ordinary private schoolgirl to a wealthy heiress, finding a balance between privilege, responsibility, and the things that truly bring her happiness.

[Dirty Boy]

I created Sally and Erika with AI. I don't remember the physical descriptions of Katrina and Clara

[FlyingFox]

4 minutes ago, Dirty Boy said:

I created Sally and Erika with AI. I don't remember the physical descriptions of Katrina and Clara

Lovely 💝

[FlyingFox]

Trying to divide it in equal chunks... I'll be posting them until what was published. Then, the story continues.

 

Chapters 1-14

 

Chapter 1

(The opposite of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) could be described as Post-Traumatic Growth (PTG). While PTSD involves the negative effects of trauma, such as flashbacks, nightmares, and severe anxiety, PTG refers to the positive psychological change that can occur as a result of struggling with adversity. PTG may involve a greater appreciation for life, increased personal strength, improved relationships, and a deeper sense of spirituality or meaning in life.)

The impact felt like a slap in the face, although her whole body shook. Far from the darkness, or the proverbial light, Sally only saw… opaque, a sort of grey. And a powerful smell. It stung her nostrils. After that, it was mostly confusion.

She vaguely remembered her mother in panic, trying to open her own door, trying in vain to pull on the deployed airbags covering the SUV’s windows, in a futile attempt to get her bearings, and asking if she was alright.

Sally felt alright. As right as one can feel after a head-on collision with a concrete barrier, that is. She felt herself for wounds, but the most evident effect of this crash was a painful shoulder, evidently due to the seat belt. She was mostly stunned, shocked, disoriented. But she couldn’t see any blood or bones poking out.

“I’m fine, mom”, she stuttered, as she double-checked herself, confirming she had broken nothing. Except for maybe that shoulder. That stung.

The following moments were a daze for Sally, as helpful drivers made their way to the wrecked vehicle, and called out if they were all right.

Her mom was still desperately trying to open her door, but it wouldn’t open.

A concerned face suddenly appeared inches away from Sally’s face, behind the loose window airbag which had been lifted out of the way.

“You alright?”, the gruff voice sounded.

“Get us out of here”, her mother almost shrieked. “I can’t open my door”.

“Uhm, ma’am, you’ve got a concrete barrier on that side. You’d better come out this side. “You OK, miss?”, he asked, looking at Sally, who nodded.

Sirens were approaching, louder by the second. It annoyed Sally that somehow somebody decided to forget their siren on, and that seemed to be her only focus now. The siren. Eventually somebody decided it would be better to turn it off, so the emergency responders could communicate with the victims.

Amidst Sally’s protestations that she was alright, she was strapped onto a scoop stretcher, with an elaborate cervical collar, and after a while in which they took some vitals and made sure she wasn’t actually dying, they slid her into the back of an ambulance, her concerned mom got in a jump seat, and then the siren started again. And this time they didn’t turn it off.

Chapter 2

Sally insisted she was fine. Despite the initial shock of the crash, she had mostly returned to normal, but it was difficult to tell exactly how she was, strapped in that stretcher and with a collar tightly braced and immobilizing her totally.

After a while of doctors examining her, poking, prodding, and reciting lists of tests they wanted to run, Sally felt mostly ignored as her mother did all the frantic talking and let the doctor answer once in a while with short calm sentences.

Besides her seat belt bruises and a sore shoulder, Sally was given a clean bill of health. The doctor had wanted her to stay overnight, “just in case”, but Sally would have none of that, and her mother relented, worried that a hospital stay would have caused way too much drama for her family and friends.

The doctor gave her mother some last instructions, some pills in case they were needed for the soreness – her mother also had the same bruising – and said she needed to monitor Sally for any evidence of undiagnosed trauma during the night. Waking her up a couple times in the night would do just fine.

Once her mother signed Sally’s release, she was put on a wheelchair, much to Sally’s chagrin, and wheeled out to the taxi stand.

Sally’s biggest worry, all the time in the hospital, had been her bladder. Mostly made to lie down and be still, she had been horrified at saying she needed to use the bathroom and given a bedpan, or being subject to some gross form of humiliating hospital way of using the bathroom that invalids were subject to. So, she remained silent and held her pee. But as she got closer to home, her only thought was the toilet she needed so desperately.

The traffic lights seemed to be clocked against her bladder. Sally fidgeted in her seat, and her mother glanced at her, concerned. Her mother wouldn’t be too vocal about her worries, not yet. Not in front of the taxi driver. But she was really more worried about Sally’s mental state. How would she deal with the traumatic experience of the car crash? She herself had been horrified, but she felt she could deal with it, but she was concerned about Sally. She had remained very silent, sort of introverted on the whole issue. The doctor said there might be something about that, although he was too hesitant to even mention the possibility of PTSD. But She had her concerned.

Sally extricated herself from the taxi, trying to manage the shoulder pain and general stiffness, added to the near-bursting bladder. It was starting to hurt now, but still she remained silent.

Her mother stepped aside alarmed at Sally, as she pushed through the barely open front door, thinking she wasn’t feeling well. She thought maybe she was rushing to vomit, so she followed her all the way to the bathroom.

Sally, in her urgency to use the toilet didn’t notice her mother following, and didn’t even close the door, so she quickly slid her clothes down to her ankles and let go as she sat on the toilet.

Her mother stopped at the open door, in surprise. “Oh”, she said.

Sally finally looked up, still relieving herself. “Mom! Do you mind?”, she said, holding her shirt down and trying to conserve some semblance of dignity.

“Sorry! I didn’t realize! I thought you weren’t feeling well”. With that, she closed the door and walked to the living room.

When Sally finished, she found her mother sitting on the sofa, and walked up to her. “You OK, mom?”, she asked, noticing her mother’s worried expression.

Her mother stood up and hugged Sally. Sally hugged her back, both now coming to terms as to what had occurred.

Chapter 3 - Worrying

Sally was sleeping snugly against her mother when the alarm rang. She had it on low, so not to frighten Sally. The doctor had suggested she wake up Sally a few times during the night just to make sure she hadn’t suffered any minor concussion.

She labored to get a commonsense answer from her teenage daughter even when awake, let alone in the middle of the night, yet she succeeded, and Sally rolled back to sleep.

It was nice to have Sally sleeping on her bed, as it reminded her of Sally’s pre-teen years when she would sneak in the middle of the night and slip into bed with her. Since she had wanted to keep an eye on Sally during the night, she concocted the excuse of not wanting to be alone that night. Sally readily complied, secretly happy that she would not sleep alone. The shock of the crash had not really worn off, and she needed to feel close.

Bridget, Sally’s mother, lay there sleepless going over the previous day’s events. She had been quite panicked herself, but she had managed to gear down her display of emotions in an effort not to get Sally all worked up. But Sally had seemed more… stunned, than panicked. That had made Sally docile when she insisted she be taken to the hospital to get checked out, but now she was thankful she had.

Bridget turned over unable to sleep, trying to work herself into a doze, at least.

The doctor had declared them both fine, but whispered she keep an eye on Sally for the next twenty-four hours. She should report any sudden changes, as loss of memory or dizziness at once. Bridget had even googled for information while waiting for results and asked the doctor about PTSD. The doctor wasn’t impressed at her research efforts, but only said to keep an eye on her and not to worry.

So, Bridget would keep an eye on her. Monitor her moods, food intake… She worried that Sally, being the self-sufficient teen, would feel she was being overbearing and intrusive. Even though Sally was a teenager, she did need care and attention, and she had to do this herself, no thanks to her father who had left, thankfully before Sally could even remember.

Bridget woke from dozing prompted by her alarm, and shook Sally awake, got an “I’m fine mom” groan, and figured that was good enough. This time she managed to fall asleep.

Sally laid there, not quite managing to fall asleep. The strangeness of being in her mother’s bed came back, and she lay there thinking. Grateful to hear her mother asleep – she had been worried about her mother – she relived the scenes from the accident. The eighteen-wheeler closing in, her mother’s gasp… and her hitting the breaks.

Skidding, barrier, crash.

Barrier, crash.

Crash.

She rubbed her chest. That seatbelt burn had even left a mark. Thankfully it wasn’t summer yet, she reasoned. She would have looked weird in a bikini with the bruising on her chest.

Thoughts of injury filtered in her sleepy, unguarded mind. Probably what had caused her more shock was the way the emergency workers treated her, strapping her into that contraption, immobilizing her.

The ambulance ride.

The siren. It just wouldn’t stop.

In the hospital, they poked her. And she needed to pee. Really bad. It was probably worse because she had been strapped on a board. She feared that there would be no way for her to pee. What would they have done if she had asked to pee? Make her pee right there like an invalid? Pull her jeans down and make her pee into a pot?

But they did take her clothes off, after all. But they were very professional and efficient about it. They tied a hospital gown around her neck and proceeded with the examination, poking, asking if she felt this of that, wheeling her into a room, where they slid her into a tunnel, where she was told to be still…

She had wondered what would happen if she peed on the machine. Would she break it?

That was the only funny thought she had had.

But when the doctor said something about being fine, and wanting her to stay overnight, she determinately and eloquently stated that she was better being “fine” at home than at some hospital.

The doctor had shrugged his shoulders, but still made her sit on the wheelchair to get to the taxi line.

Sally’s last thought before she fell asleep, was that she had succeeded in holding her pee until she was home, despite her mother barging in on her with her pants down.

What would tomorrow bring?

Chapter 4 – Ooo-ber

Sally was a restless sleeper. She often woke up with her bed covers rolled off and her pajamas askew, causing her to wake up in a chill. Today was no different, and as soon as situational awareness set in, she identified her mother’s bedroom, and her uncovered mother curled beside her, asleep. Sally guiltily heaved the bed covers and tucked her mother in and slid off the bed.

…

It was something o’clock, Bridget figured. Light was streaming in the windows, through the curtains. She realized she had slept in, and Sally was nowhere to be seen. Dread set in, as she imagined Sally suffering somewhere unseen as she lay there oblivious in her bed. Bridget jolted out of bed, and she almost crashed into Sally, who had just entered her room, holding a mug of coffee.

“Morning mom”, said Sally brightly, holding out the mug for her.

“Oh, thank you, honey”, said Bridget, in surprise. Sally had never made coffee for her, much less brought it to her in bed. “How are you feeling?”.

“Mom, I’m not an invalid, OK? I’m fine”, she stated. You could almost visualize the roll of her eyes, her mother noted. “Just a little sore, nothing bad”, she said, wincing slightly as she sat next to her mother on the bed.

Bridget reached over and pulled Sally’s pajama top down. It had a habit of rising up and exposing her back. “I should get you new pajamas, these are getting a bit tight”, she mused, sipping her coffee.

Sally shrugged. She wouldn’t mind some new ones. “So, how are you, mom?”, she asked. “You pretend you are fine and all, but you were there too”, she stated.

Bridget was taken aback, not used to being the focus of concern by her teenage daughter.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m made of stone”, she answered, ruefully.

“No, you’re not. I saw you yesterday”, she said, referring to her panic episode in the car. “And you look all worried and I feel like I am under a microscope”, Sally stated, frowning.

“Well,” said Bridget, meditatively, “it has been a bit of a dramatic episode, hasn’t it? As a mother, it is only fair that I should look out for you”.

Sally smiled. “Thanks for worrying”. She leaned over and gave her mother a cautious half-hug, careful not to spill her mother’s coffee. “You do a great job at mothering”.

It was all Bridget could do not to cry on the spot. She returned Sally’s half-hug and shrugged, “You make it easy, girl”.

…

Trying to find a crashed car in a big city proved easier than she expected. Just a quick search on Google got her a phone number and an address, and after fiddling with her phone she summoned an Uber which would take her to her wrecked SUV, in hopes that her personal items would still be in the vehicle.

The ride across town was silent and tense. She had carefully considered whether to take Sally with her or not, but uneasy at leaving Sally home alone after the ordeal, she concluded it would be better for them to stay together.

Bridget was horrified at the state of the car. Sally, as of lately unperturbed at the whole ordeal, managed to cover her mouth in an effort to mute her gasp.

“Looks bad, doesn’t it?” remarked the tow-truck enterprise manager. “Although, believe it or not, we’re all comforted to know you made it out in one piece”, ranted on the man, oblivious of the women’s distress. “Sorry if I stick around, safety and security, you know”, he said, as he went on to describe several other similar incidents which ended up in several forms of tragedy.

He helped them get the truck open and get access to the glove compartment and get some other items from the car. Sally’s gym bag and cell phone where thankfully retrieved, amongst other things, and they were escorted back to the office as Bridget needed to observe some minor formalities. Most other paperwork would be handled by the insurance company.

…

The image of the crumpled SUV permeated their minds as both mother and daughter took the silent Uber ride home. They held their clammy hands tightly onto each other, and both were relieved to be back home in their comfortable living room, searching for words that described their mental storm.

“That was, wow! Ugly”, breathed Sally, recovering from the moment.

“I’m sorry, honey. I didn’t remember it being so… crashed, I guess”.

“Don’t be sorry”, replied Sally, self-assured. “It is what it is”.

“I still can’t my get mind around what happened. One moment, changing lanes, another, just… wham! I just lost control”, almost whispered Bridget.

“It was an accident, mom. And you don’t know whose fault it was. And I don’t blame you!”, Sally said, reaching out to hug her mother.

“Thank you, sweety”, she said, hugging her daughter in turn.

“You said you’d get me new pajamas”, Sally observed, trying to change the conversation.

“We don’t have a car anymore”, said Bridget. She was not used to having to rely on Uber.

“Ooo-ber”, giggled Sally, mimicking Kirk from the Gilmore Girls.

“Ooo-ber it will have to be”, said Bridget, sighing.

Chapter 5 - Too shy to tell.

Sally and Bridget browsed the girl’s pajama selection at the mall. They were at another retail store, and Bridget had pointed out a few sensible items to Sally, but Sally seemed unconvinced. She hadn’t even tried one yet.

“Well?”, enquired Sally’s mother. “You do need pajamas”, she declared. “And I find nothing wrong with these. They would look good on you, too”, she stated, figuring Sally was concerned about looks.

But Sally’s mind was elsewhere. From the corner of her eyes, she could see some other pajamas. Pajamas for younger kids. They looked so much cuddlier. Footed pajamas. Thicker material. She would never risk waking up in a chill, in those. Pity they were too small, she mused.

Bridget carried on oblivious to Sally’s lack of interest, pointing out other options, designs, and combinations. Sally trailed back, not wanting to lose sight of the children’s section. Something about those pajamas had woken a yearning in her, she didn’t know why. Could she imagine wearing footed pajamas, like the ones made for children? Well, she figured she couldn’t decide if she would look funny or cute – or both, but she could imagine feeling comfortable, for sure.

She could understand now why all the teen pajamas looked so unappealing. They were supposed to make her look like a small adult. An adult slept peacefully, not making a mess of her bed coverings, thus not awaking uncovered and chilled to the bone.

Something since the accident had changed in Sally. Things she did and wanted to do had, until then, fueled her vision to show how grown up she was. Sweet fourteen but going on to 21. Young, but sensible. Petite, but stylish. Suddenly, she cherished her youngness. Sharing her mother’s bed had made her feel small, cuddly, cared for, loved.

As for Bridget, she could tell by now something was different with Sally. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but sensing Sally’s apathy to shopping for pajama’s, she realized Sally had been quite clingy since the accident, very introverted and quiet. Even now, as she bombarded Sally with suggestions – she even offered the most expensive pajamas to her, Sally seemed distant and unsatisfied with the choices offered. She had that look on her like when she wouldn’t tell her she had won the top student award: Too shy to tell, but eager to communicate. “Hm, I wonder what’s going on”, Bridget asked herself. Maybe it was time for a shopping break and get some comfort food into her. That should make her talk.

Chapter 6: Sleep Heaven

“Now tell me what’s going on”, coaxed Bridget, gently. Sally had just finished the last of her hamburger. Her fries had been the first to go, as Sally liked them piping hot. So, with just a bit of her root beer left, Bridget thought now would be a good time to chat. And then, some dessert.

“Huh?”, asked Sally, lifting her eyebrows.

“Tell me what’s going with you. You seem to be wrestling with something deep in your mind, honey. I know your look. We were looking at clothes for you, of all things, and I know a mind in turmoil, at least I know yours, when I see it”.

Bridget was silently reminding her daughter that it was OK to talk, as they had sometimes talked. Her first period, the birds and the bees, heck, even the first time she accidentally discovered masturbation, for goodness sakes. They had had great non-judgmental constructive and bond-strengthening talks. Probably this was going to be another one.

Sally blushed slightly, probably remembering such talks as well. She was a bit older now, and what was going on her mind was something she herself didn’t even understand.

“You’ll think I’ve gone crazy”, Sally said smiling ruefully, despite herself. “It’s a bit difficult to explain”, she began, trying to organize her thoughts as she talked.

Her mother waited patiently.

“Do you remember that one piece pajama I had when I was little?”, Sally piped.

Bridget was taken aback. She nodded. “Uhm, let’s see, the purple one you outgrew?”, she asked, tentatively. That fleece footed one piece pajama had been a source of contention when Sally outgrew it. “The one you didn’t want to let go”. Sally had outgrown that pajama when she was five, so she had upgraded her into a two-piece pajama.

“Yeah, I remember I never had anything as cozy as that one”, she remembered, wistfully.

“Well, that one is long gone, honey”, said Bridget, not quite understanding what her daughter meant by it.

“Yeah, I know. But I kept seeing the kid’s pajamas in the kid’s section, and suddenly all the pajamas we were looking at seemed cold and uncomfortable”. She made a face. “You must think I’m silly”, Sally concluded.

“That’s not silly. I guess we remember stuff we enjoyed as kids”, trailed Bridget, trying to find something to tell her daughter it was OK to like different things.

“But I’m not a kid anymore”, answered Sally resolutely. She shook her head. “Let’s go buy some real pajamas”. She pressed her lips and organized her tray to take it to the tray shelf.

Bridget followed; relieved Sally had apparently resolved her own insecurities without further help from her.

They returned to the previous store they had been in, and Sally was quick to choose and try out two stylish teen pajamas.

All through the process, Sally’s mother felt uneasy. Sally was always very picky and enjoyed lengthening the process of purchasing clothes. It was normal. It was ingrained in her DNA as much as it was in her own. The patterns, the colors, the materials… But this time she had mechanically chosen the pajamas, tried them on and declared she liked them, and led her mother to the cash line.

Bridget had a sudden inspiration. She fished out her cell phone and did some quick research. After a short while she put her phone back into her bag, and held both hands on Sally’s shoulder to turn her around. Sally winced at the lingering pain from the accident. “Oops, sorry, I forgot honey”, she said, and Sally turned around. “Let’s leave these pajamas where they were, I have a proposition for you”.

Sally frowned. “Like, an offer I can’t refuse?”, she asked.

Bridget led Sally out of the store, out of the shopping mall and into a taxi. “Mom, what’s going on?”, asked Sally, shocked at her mother’s behavior.

Bridget gave the taxi driver an address Sally wasn’t familiar with. As the checkered minivan pulled out of the shopping mall and into traffic, Bridget winked at her daughter. “Just wait and see”.

The address was an old strip mall in the center of town that had been reconverted into modern shops. There was an art gallery, a manga and anime figure collector’s store, and a used book store, and the one Bridget pointed out: “The Pajama Factory”, Your Sleep Heaven.

“Wow”, said Sally, peering into the shop window, as Bridget reached the card over to pay. “How did you find this?”, she asked, as they stepped out onto the chilly sidewalk.

“Google”, stated Bridget, proudly. Sally had been teaching her how she could find anything on “Google”.

They opened the door and walked in. It almost looked like a children’s clothes shop… but yet, it wasn’t. Rows of different kind of pajamas and lounge wear, some colorful, some normal. But what called Sally’s attention were the pictures of young adults or teens wearing… one piece footed pajamas. Some were even fleece, and colorful, like the ones she used to have as a kid. She was almost in shock.

“Wow, they make them for grown-ups?”, she almost whispered.

“Looks like they do”, Bridget said, taken aback herself.

“How may I help you, ladies”, said a soft male voice. “My name is Ryan”. They turned around.

The man was in his mid-thirties, keen and helpful, and he looked a bit nerdish in his steel-rimmed glasses and trimmed beard.

“Well, we don’t know yet”, answered Bridget, uneasy. “But we’re mostly curious about the kinds of pajamas you have here. Are they they real, or mostly for fun, like Halloween?”.

The man was taken aback. “Come see for yourself”, he stated, in a quick recovery.

“Let me see, we can begin with you”, he said, looking at Sally. “May I ask your name?”.

“Sally”, she said.

“Very well, Sally, which kind of pajamas are you most curious about?”, he asked, interestedly.

Sally made a face. “Well, I don’t know…”, she hesitated.

“First of all”, said Ryan, “the reason these pajamas are made is people buy them, and there is a whole industry behind this. So don’t be shy. See? These are super popular”, he said, emphasizing the last two words. He pointed to a tall rack of fleece footed pajamas, took a calculating look at Sally and fished through the rack. “How about…”, he paused as he took one of the rack. “This one. This should be your size”.

Ryan held up a bright blue footed pajama. It was patterned with yellow stars, and a half-moon shone brightly on the side of the chest. She took it, and it felt soft and comfortable. She was impressed at the quality, it definitely didn’t feel like a halloween costume.

Bridget reached out to touch it, and was satisfied it was a real pajama, but she was still taken aback at the nature of this business. “I never imagined there would be a demand for something like this”, she mused, mostly to herself.

Ryan piped in. “It’s not like everybody sees us in our pajamas, right? So if we’re going to sleep, or just relax and lounge, like reading a book or watching a movie, we might as well wear what is most comfortable, don’t you agree?”, he asked, expecting an answer.

Sally assented. Bridget though about it. “Yes, I guess it makes sense. We do that, you know, like wear our pajamas and lounge about, just us two, mind you”, she chuckled.

“True. We all do that. There is clothing that is made for comfort, and not just physical comfort. We need to deal with heart comfort, feel safe, cuddle, feel taken care of”, Ryan expanded.

Bridget was taken aback. “Man, you know how to sell pajamas”, she said, in admiration.

“Please don’t think I’m manipulating you to…”

Bridget cut him off. “No, I mean, what you said is right. You came to the heart of the matter, it makes perfect sense”.

Sally was assenting. It made perfect sense to her. She took that as a cue and asked: “So, where are the fitting rooms?”, she asked, holding her two favorite footed pajamas.

Chapter 7: Fuzzy

Fuzzy. That’s how she felt. Sally had been relieved to find a secure and comfortable fitting room, with a real full-size door, a proper lock, hooks, a bench, and large mirrors. Pastel colors competed the ambience, and it was the kind of place one felt at ease getting… well, naked, actually. She hesitated at first, but the pajamas looked so inviting she wanted to full experience, as she never slept with underwear on. She had already decided to buy them, with her own money if necessary. She caressed the material in her hand and slipped her feet into the pajama legs.

--

Meanwhile, Bridget was taking a tour of the shop by Ryan, their salesman, who was pointing out different pajama styles and sizes. When a shop assistant came requesting Ryan’s help for something, he left her on her own with an “I’ll be right back, feel free to roam”, and Bridget continued exploring on her own.

She continued until she spotted a corner with a sign “Sleep accessories” and turned into the isle. She did a double take, because as much as she had grown accustomed now to grown-ups wanting to wear kids’ pajamas, what she saw left her flabbergasted.

Rows of pacifiers, sippy cups… a size way too large for small children. As she went further into the isle, the structure changed, and now large plastic packages were lining the shelves. White plastic, some pastel colors, some decorated. Wait. Were they… diapers? She stood there, in shock.

Bridget turned around, and spotted Ryan walking towards her.

“Now I'm really curious about this”, she said, frowning. “Why would adults want to wear diapers?”, Bridget asked, waving her hand at the row of diapers.

Ryan smiled, knowingly. “That's a great question, Bridget. There are actually a variety of reasons why grown-ups might wear diapers, and it's more common than you might think. It ranges from medical needs to personal preferences and lifestyle choices”.

Bridget was surprised. “Medical needs? Like what?”.

Ryan spoke up, in a serious tone. “One of the main medical reasons grown-ups wear diapers is due to incontinence. This can happen because of conditions like overactive bladder, urinary incontinence, trauma or after surgeries. These conditions can make it hard to control bladder or bowel movements, so adult diapers provide necessary protection and peace of mind”.

“That makes sense”, Bridget reasoned. “I can see how that would be really helpful. But what about the “personal preferences and lifestyle choices”?, she inquired.

Ryan smiled. “Well, there's a community known as ABDL, which stands for Adult Baby Diaper Lovers. For some people in this community, wearing diapers is a way to feel comforted and secure, kind of like revisiting a simpler time in their lives. For others, it's more about personal expression or even just the physical comfort of wearing a diaper”.

Bridget gasped. “That's interesting”, she said in awe. “I didn't realize it was such a broad spectrum. But what about, like, well, I don’t want so sound judgmental. It has nothing to do with…”, she paused, trying not to say it. Ryan seemed do exude trustworthiness.

Ryan helped her. “Pedophilia? No, nothing to do with that. There's a lot of stigma around the topic. Many people rush to judgment without understanding the full context. It's important to approach this with empathy and openness. Wearing diapers isn't indicative of perversion or a mental health issue; it's a personal choice for comfort, security, or necessity”.

“I see. So, are there benefits beyond just managing, uhm… incontinence or personal comfort?”, she smiled now, more relaxed.

“Definitely”, Ryan assented. “For people with medical conditions, it can significantly reduce stress and anxiety, allowing them to lead a more active and worry-free life. For others, it can be a form of self-care or a way to cope with stress. Adult diapers today are also designed to be discreet and comfortable, which helps a lot”, he said, pointing out to the more discreet white and light green and blue diapers.

“Wow, so you’ve got footed pajamas, sippy cups, pacifiers… and diapers”, concluded Bridget.

“Yep”, quipped Ryan. “The whole deal”, he said, waving his arm around the store.

They eventually ended at the fitting room section of the store, and Ryan told her he’d be at the check-out if she needed anything. “Bridget, it's all about embracing different perspectives and supporting people, despite their different needs. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask!”

--

Sally didn’t recognize the girl in the mirror. She felt as though she was walking on air. She was trying on her second pajama, and the sensation was very satisfying. The inner material seemed to be as fuzzy and warm as the outer material, and it seemed to give her body a buzz, as much as a hug. She tried several positions, turning, twisting, bending over… She feeling the one piece pajama gave her, plus the footed ends, gave her a thrill her teenage body could barely describe.

Knock-knock!

Sally almost jumped in fright but quickly collected herself. She stood in a dignified position. “Who’s there?”, she asked, uneasily.

“Me. Mom”, she heard her mother’s voice say from the other end of the door.

Sally shook the lock on the door and finally managed to get it unlocked, and she stood behind the door as she let her mother in.

Her mother drank the sight of her daughter in a footed one-piece pajama. She smiled. “You look cute”, she sentenced.

Sally smiled shyly at her mother and twirled around for her. She almost blushed at the feeling of the warm pajamas caressing her naked skin.

“Wow, Ryan wasn’t joking when he said it was for real”, Bridget said, in wonder. She spotted Sally's underwear lying on top of her folded clothes, and smirked inwardly.

“Ryan?”, asked Sally, absentminded.

“The salesman. They sure have a lot of, um, different stuff in this store”, Bridget mumbled.

“Yeah, isn’t that cool?”, said Sally, still moving around in front of the mirror.

“So, I take it you like the pajamas?”, Bridget asked Sally.

“Yes, I like both”, Sally assented.

“It looks good enough on you. I take it you tried the other one?”, asked Bridget. Sally nodded.

Bridget thought about the other items in the store, the ones Sally hadn’t seen. She wondered what Sally would think about them.

Sally’s mother left her daughter so she could get dressed again and waited outside. A plan was forming in her head.

Chapter 8: Dangerous sport

Sally couldn’t wait to get up to her room and find a privileged spot for her new pajamas in her expansive walk-in closet.

As the afternoon turned into evening, Sally got more and more restless, and she wondered how early would be late enough for her to justify her getting her pajamas on, and lounging on the sofa with her mom later on as they watched something on Netflix, probably a Gilmore Girls episode.

Bridget watched Sally as she browsed for a new car. Her lease agent had sent her a link with the vehicles they had on stock, but she was bored looking at cars. She forced herself to browse, as she did miss having her own car. She had just grown used to their sliver SUV, and suddenly she had to choose another one.

Sally seemed restless. She kept checking her watch. Since the new Apple Watches required movement to light up the screen, it was easy to spot Sally checking the time, so she could tell there was something on Sally’s mind. She was pensive, stealing glances at the curved staircase leading upstairs.

Bridget wondered how soon Sally would change into her pajamas, as she was curious to see how she behaved in them. Suddenly, Bridget realized Sally must be wanting to change into them, hence her restlessness.

“Sally, honey, why don’t you change into your new pajamas, and come help me choose a new car?”, Bridget called out to Sally, who was absentmindedly flipping through some teenage magazine.

Sally brightened up. “Already? Oh, OK, I guess”, she said, and happily skipped out of the room and up the stairs.

Bridget followed her with her gaze and wondered at Sally’s change into being now such an easy-going youthful girl. Was that the pajamas, or was it the whole car crash aftermath?

Sally came quickly down, feet padding on the marble staircase. She rushed into the living room, sliding the last feet on the polished hardwood floor next to her mother, letting herself fall onto the plush sofa. She was wearing the blue pajamas with the bright stars, and looked as cute as she did when she had been five. Sally sat next to her mother and cuddled next to her and looked into the laptop screen.

They chatted of this and that, and nothing at all, as they browsed through a selection of vehicles.

“They look all the same”, whined Sally, with her head on her mom’s shoulder.

Bridget enjoyed that. Sally never cuddled next to her like that, and her head on her shoulder felt wonderful.

“They look just like ours”, commented Bridget, in common sense. “Any car picks your fancy?”, asked her mother as they tried to choose one. Most were silver, grey or black, but a few were blue or green.

“I want “wed” one”, said Sally suddenly, in a fake childish voice.

Her mother chuckled. When Sally had been learning to speak, it was the first color she had named, and it had turned into a favorite: “Wed”.

“Sorry, kiddo. No red ones”, stated Bridget, playing along.

Sally felt an unexplainable thrill at her mother’s childish language.

Then Sally had an idea. “Wait, let me see if we can filter this search”. She took her mom’s laptop and slid it onto her lap.

She slid the cursor down past a series of numbers and options she didn’t really pay attention to and spotted the color section. She quickly clicked on the red dot and turned to her mom.

“ “Wed” car!”, she exclaimed, gleefully.

Her mother was taken aback. She had never imagined wanting a red SUV. She hadn’t known they even existed. And they were right here in the local dealer too.

After a while, Sally had had enough car searching, at least till she was getting her own in a couple years. But then it wouldn’t be a boring SUV. For now, she needed to pee, and she needed it bad.

As she pattered to the bathroom, a sense of uneasiness fell on her. She couldn’t explain why, it just didn’t feel right.

As she reached the toilet, she realized she had never thought about using the bathroom in these pajamas. Was she, like, supposed to take them off all the way? She pinched the tip of the zipper and visualized it going all the way down, and then, she would have to… pull off the sleeves, and then, it would all have to go down… at least down to her knees. Even in the warm floor-heating bathroom such as this one, it wouldn’t be a problem, she reasoned to herself. But the indignity of it robbed the coziness the footed pajamas had offered until then.

Sally would have debated over what to do, but the urgency for relief made her give into the awkward undressing and sitting naked on the toiled, as the footed pajamas pooled around her feet. She frowned as her bladder hissed into the toilet. She had never counted on this drawback.

==

Bridget could notice the change. They were watching Gilmore Girls on the sofa, but Sally had resorted to sitting stiffly by herself. As Bridget stole glances at Sally, she could see Sally was moody about something. “It couldn’t be her period”, she thought to herself, ruling that out. Somehow, she couldn’t bare Sally being like this. She hit the pause button.

“You OK, sweety?”, asked Bridget gently.

Her daughter turned; eyebrows raised. “What makes you think I’m not?”, she asked, slightly annoyed.

“You were sitting stiffer than a board in a carpenter's shop”, she responded with witty warmth.

That elicited a reluctant smile from Sally. She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, just thinking, I guess”.

“Dangerous sport”, answered Bridget.

“Especially when it involves pajamas,” Sally added, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.

Bridget tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Pajamas? What happened? Did they suddenly become the enemy?”

Sally sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I guess you could say that. I bought these new pajamas, and they looked so cute, and felt great too. But then I realized you need to strip off completely to use the bathroom, and well, that put me off. Like very off”.

Bridget nodded sympathetically. “Ah, the perils of experimenting. You expect a cozy night in your dream pajamas, and instead, you get a chill when you need it less.”

Sally couldn’t help but chuckle. “Exactly! And now I’m stuck with these pajamas that I don’t even want to wear. They’re comfy, but make going to the bathroom so… uninviting.”

Bridget put a comforting arm around her daughter’s shoulders. “Well, we could always have a pajama destruction party. Or, you know, just return them.”

Sally looked up, her eyes brightening. “A pajama destruction party sounds oddly satisfying. But maybe I’ll just return them. Thanks, Mom.”

Bridget smiled warmly. “Anytime, sweetheart. Just remember, even the worst pajamas can’t keep you down for long.”

“They’re not the worst. They are the best, but… they let me down, I guess.”, she said, sighing.

Bridget's eyes twinkled with understanding. “So, it’s more of a pajama betrayal than a pajama disaster?”

“Exactly!” Sally laughed. “I can’t imagine not wearing them. I love them as much as I did when I was five. It’s just… the bathroom issue.”

Bridget leaned back, her face lighting up with a mischievous grin. “Well, you know, there’s a practical solution to this problem.”

Sally looked at her with a mix of hope and skepticism. “Really? What is it?”

Bridget's grin widened. “You could always wear pull-ups underneath. No need to wrestle with zippers in the middle of the night. Problem solved!”

Sally burst out laughing. “Mom! That’s so ridiculous! Can you imagine?”

Bridget joined in the laughter. “Hey, I’m just trying to be practical here! Think about it—ultimate coziness with no bathroom drama.”

Sally wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “You’re hilarious. But I think I’ll pass on the pull-ups. Maybe I just need to find a new pair that’s equally cozy but more bathroom-friendly.”

Bridget nodded, a smile playing on her lips. “Good plan. And who knows, maybe you’ll start a revolutionary trend wearing pull-ups under your pajamas.”

Sally shook her head, grinning. “I’ll leave that innovation to someone else. Thanks for the laugh, Mom.”, she said, almost blushing.

“Anytime, sweetheart. Remember, life’s too short to let pajamas get you down. Especially when there’s always a funny solution waiting in the wings.”

Sally hugged her mom tightly. “You always know how to make me feel better. Thanks, Mom.”

As she pushed play and relaxed, Sally couldn’t help but feel grateful for her mom’s ability to turn a frustrating situation into a moment of laughter and love. But her mom’s suggestion, albeit comical, intrigued Sally.

Chapter 9: Mac and Cheese.

Sally tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The pajamas were absolutely comfortable and cozy, yet, for some stupid reason, she couldn’t get into the sleep zone. She lay on her back, slightly frustrated. “Pull-ups”, she whispered to herself.

For some reason, that thought lingered in her mind. She recalled her mother’s mild frustration during her potty-training days. She eventually got the hang of it but was a bit lazy at night. Now, she remembered how her mother cleverly incentivized her: at five, she was upgraded to 'big girl' pajamas, trading the footed ones for regular tops and bottoms. This way, she could quickly pull them down and use the toilet, just like a big girl.

So there, Sally thought. That’s why there was “something” missing. She associated her footed pajama memories with those cute Disney pull-ups. Sally frowned. “Cute?”, she thought. “Did she really think them as cute?”. She admitted they were, so she had the comfort factor plus the cuteness. She tried to imagine herself wearing one. She really couldn’t, she realized. They would be too small to fit her. They were made for children, and she was, well, a teenager.

“But”, she reasoned, “I didn’t think they made footed pajamas for grown-ups either”. She tried to picture a large pull-up. But it was all a fantasy.

She tossed and turned a bit more, and tried to figure out why she was obsessing herself over a silly joke her mother had made.

Or was it?

The mere possibility shocked her, and the adrenaline jolted her awake.

Maybe, as a mother she felt it was her duty to satisfy Sally’s insecurities after the car crash. Sally realized her mother had gone overboard finding that shop where they sold footed pajamas for grown-ups. Maybe she wanted to go all the way and make sure Sally was well taken care in that aspect. Had she been testing her? What was she supposed to think?

Sally drifted in and out of sleep, and woke up in a daze, clearly not having slept enough.

The pajamas were definitely not the problem, Sally reasoned, as she felt as physically comfortable as she had ever been. But she was feeling the need to use the toilet and was procrastinating because she knew she would have to strip her pajamas almost all the way off. After a while dozing she got out of bed and shuffled into her ensuite bathroom so she could relieve herself.

Once she was done, she figured she might as well get some breakfast. Sleep wouldn’t be coming at any rate, and it was already morning. She wiggled out of her footed pajamas, and once again, she felt her naked skin exposed to the elements. There were no elements, she told herself, and gingerly pulled on some panties, comfortable lounge pants and a thin sweater. She slipped on a rubber band tying her hair into a ponytail and walked out of her bedroom.

Sunday mornings were quiet and lazy affairs. Her mother would surely sleep till past ten, and that guaranteed Sally most of the house to herself for a little over two hours. She got some granola and yogurt, and a glass of orange juice, and took that to the TV corner in the living room, where she switched on the TV and searched Netflix for a while, till she selected a travel documentary series. She ate her breakfast in silence, feeling herself relax on the leather sofa as she glanced at the chilly December flurries floating in the air. She curled herself on the sofa, carefully setting her empty bowl and glass by the side table. She laid her head on the thickly padded sofa arm and relaxed, finally drifting into a deep sleep.

--

“When the toast has burned
And all the milk has turned
And Captain Crunch is waving farewell
When the Big One finds you
May this song remind you
That they don't serve breakfast in hell”

Sally was slow to react. The background music was familiar, but the context wasn’t. She vaguely remembered her mother using that song to wake her up in the morning a long time ago, but she wasn’t… in bed. Where was she? The sofa… she must have fallen asleep. A blanket? Her mother must have covered her. What time was it?

Her sleepy attempts to make sense of what was going on were interrupted by her mother. “Morning sweetheart”, she exclaimed, sitting on the sofa by Sally’s feet. “I thought I’d get you up while it’s still morning, it’s almost midday”, she clarified.

“Morning. I guess I fell asleep”, she murmured. “I didn’t sleep well last night”.

“Why is that? Weren’t you feeling well?”, she asked, concerned at the teenager not sleeping well. She tried not to show too much overt concern for her daughter, but she was still looking for signs of PTSD in her.

“I dunno”, Sally shrugged. “I was sleepy and all, I just couldn’t fall asleep. A lot of stuff in my mind, maybe”, she said, as last night’s meditations flared up once more.

“What kind of stuff?”, inquired her mother.

Sally clearly avoided the subject. “Nothing. What’s for lunch?”, she asked, suddenly hungry.

“Mac and cheese”.

Sally’s eyes went wide with excitement. “Really?” She absolutely loved mac and cheese, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had any.

Bridget was stunned. It had been more of a joke. She hadn’t planned on lunch yet, but memories of Sally’s childhood obsession inspired her to evoke the fact out loud. “Mac and cheese it is, then”, she smiled, patting Sally’s covered feet. She had a couple boxes of kraft in the pantry.

--

Sunday was a slow day, and this one was particularly slow, as the bitter winter weather was finally making itself known. Bridget and Sally couldn’t complain, since snow didn’t come that often, so when it did they wrapped themselves in blankets and drank hot chocolate, despite the generous climate control system their sprawling house.

As Sally lay curled on the sofa reading, Bridget was browsing a magazine on her iPad, but her mind was drifting towards Sally. Once again, she had encouraged Sally to slip into her footed pajamas early, to which she readily complied. The mac and cheese moment also relied on her mind, connecting instances of an infantile Sally, and she realized Sally had become a whole lot more confident and carefree since the accident. She relished cuddling and evoking childlike behavior, yet she was… grown-up about it.

A couple more things came to mind. Sally hadn’t seemed the least bit offended or put-off at her mention of pull-ups. Any teenager would have been indignant and disgusted. But she had “passed” on the offer with a laugh. Like an embarrassed laugh, she mused.

Also, there was the “wed” car. Sally seemed not to care what car they were going to get, as long as it was “wed”. Bridget smiled. That would be an easy one, she thought. “Now, let me see about those pull-ups”, she thought, smiling ruefully. She slid her finger up the screen and selected the Amazon app.

Chapter 10: Package

School day was always school day. Even a couple days after the accident, Sally was grateful for returning to a semblance of normality. Even with the leftover pain on her shoulder, she felt ready to take on the world.

She crawled out from bed. She had kicked her covers off during her sleep – as usual, but this time the incredible coziness of her footed pajamas had kept her warm and secure… just as they had when she was small. She glanced at herself in the mirror as she walked past on her way to the ensuite bathroom. She liked the way she looked.

In the bathroom she frowned, as once again she zipped her footed pajamas all the way down to her crotch, pushed them down from around her shoulders and slid her arms off the sleeves, rolling down the pajamas to her knees as she sat on the toilet. She was rewarded by a strong hissing, and she tried to relax on the toilet as she let business take its course. Toilet time had always been like a therapy time for her to think the day ahead, read a magazine – she mostly read magazines in the toilet – and relax her bowels and bladder. Howbeit she felt a bit cheated that the cozy pajamas didn’t offer any level of protection and comfort when she needed to be… comfortable. Once again the image of pull-ups came to mind, and she wondered why she couldn’t remember the feeling of the padding between her legs. Had it been so long ago? What would they feel like now?

She pushed such feelings away from her mind and finished her business quicker than usual. She zipped herself up and washed her hands and face in the sink. As she fished in her closet for her school uniform she heard her mom’s customary knock – “I’m up, mom” – and she laid out her panties, bra, white blouse, navy-blue V-neck sweater and navy-blue knee-length conservative school skirt. She scanned the weather report and looked out the window at the gray sky. She opted for her black tights and comfortable black shoes.

Breakfast was a quick affair, and since Sally’s mother needed to run some errands downtown, they shared an Uber and Sally got dropped off at school.

--

“Amiga!”, yelled out Katrina, Sally’s eccentric Colombian friend. Naturally tanned skinned and long dark curls glowing with happiness. “You are alive”, she exclaimed, forcing Sally into a tight embrace.

Sally, still tender from the seat belt sore winced, causing Katrina to apologize profusely. “Sorry, I didn’t remember you were hurt!”. Katrina’s attentions on Sally were creating a situation Sally had been hoping to avoid. Boys and girls started staring and asking questions, and Sally had the impression they were around her deathbed or something like that.

“I’m fine, OK?, she stated. “Just a sore shoulder due to the seat belt, nothing more”, she continued. She slid away from Katrina and sat next to her desk, as she responded classmates’ rumors: “No, she hadn’t lost consciousness; No, she hadn’t broken her collar bone; No, she hadn’t spent all weekend in the hospital”. It was bad enough when people believed rumors in general, but it was unacceptable when they were building up rumors on oneself!

Thankfully the teacher took matters into account, and called for order so the class could begin, but not before - much to Sally’s chagrin – wishing her a quick recovery from her “terrible experience”.

--

The day went on as most school days went. At lunch Sally sat with Katrina and Clara. Being more of an introvert, Clara seemed to calm Katrina down, and the two of them enjoyed grilling Sally as to the car accident, and eventually got to talking of the aftermath. Sally did her best to deviate the topic more into her mother getting a new car, than on hypothetical phycological disturbances that stem out of traumatic experiences.

Easygoing and level-headed, Sally was sort of in-between both girls. She would encourage Clara to speak out for herself and would challenge Katrina’s volatile opinions.

“So, what did you do this weekend”, asked Clara quietly, curious to know, since Sally seemed quite unfazed by the accident.

“Hm, mostly nothing, just relax and prove to my mom I didn’t have a brain hemorrhage or something of the sort”, she huffed, giggling. “She kept looking at me like I was going to faint at any moment”, she explained to the amused girls. “Oh, we did go shopping, so I did get out and stuff”.

It was Katrina’s turn to be curious. “Shopping? Where, what, anything nice?”, she asked, in her expressive manner.

Sally was suddenly hesitant. Pajamas weren’t the coolest things to talk about, least of all the ones she had bought. “Nothing, just stuff I needed, pajamas, nothing spectacular”, she said in dismissal.

“I love pajamas!”, exclaimed Katrina. “Where’d you get them? Victoria Secret?”, she asked, boastful as she was of everything worldly.

Sally grimaced. “Just warm pajamas, mostly. A place called “Pajama Factory”, or something like that”, she mumbled, unable to invent a lie, hoping to satisfy Katrina and hoping neither girl had heard about the place.

“Warm pajamas are boring”, said Katrina, dismissively.

“But they are comfortable”, stated Clara, wisely.

“Thanks, Clara”, said Sally, thankful Katrina didn’t seem interested in her pajamas, but happy to be able to defend her choice. “Comfortable and warm. No temperature control can beat comfy PJ’s when it’s freezing outside”, she assented and glanced towards the flurries visible from the large windows in the school dining room.

--

Clara caught up to Sally as she was walking out of school. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I love the Pajama Factory too”, she confided. “Katrina thinks she’s so cool talking about Victoria Secret, but I agree with you in that comfy pj’s are the best. Especially the footed ones”, she remarked, holding on to Sally’s arm as they walked.

Sally was pleasantly surprised. “Wow, I wouldn’t have thought you were the kind of person who liked them”, she stated. “I don’t think Katrina would think it’s cool”, she giggled.

“Katrina sleeps in panties and t-shirt”, huffed Clara. “At least that was the extent of her imagination at that sleepover you didn’t come to”, she said, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation.

“Yep, that’s her”, stated Sally. “But I am guessing you didn’t wear your footed pajamas in front of her”, said Sally, ruefully.

“No, but she thought my Stich pajamas were “dreadfully cute”, as she put it”, Clara said, smiling.

“Oh, they probably were. I love pajamas”, said Sally.

“Well, don’t miss our next sleepover”, she answered. “Maybe if we wear our footed pajamas together she won’t laugh at us as much”, said Clara, laughing. “But maybe not”, she said, hesitantly. “She’d think we’re babies”.

The girls made their way to the exit, talking about footed pajamas and other lounge wear, until Clara got into her bus and Sally made her way into hers.

No matter how private and expensive the school was, they didn’t seem to get any better busses, Sally thought to herself as she sat onto the cheap seating material. Prison busses, that’s what she called them, much to her mother’s amusement.

Soon Sally was dropped off in front of her house, and she approached the house from the walkway she saw a car she didn’t recognize parked on the driveway. “Wed car”, she said to herself, smiling. A gleaming red brand-new SUV was parked next to the garage, with no license plates, just a temporary paper registration attached to the window.

“Hey mom, I’m home!”, said Sally, pulling off her jacket and hanging it in the closet. “I saw the “wed car”!”, she yelled.

“Surprise”, Bridget said, smiling and hugging her daughter. “I went to pick it up today, come see it!”.

Both mother and daughter spent some time admiring the red SUV, but soon the cold weather drove them inside.

Sally walked into the kitchen and immediately saw the Amazon package on the table. She picked it up thinking, since it was unopened, it must be hers, even though she didn’t remember having ordered anything recently. She saw the name on it.

“Oh, it’s yours, mom”, she called out.

Her mother was right behind her. “No, it’s actually yours”.

Sally was taken aback. “What is it?”.

“Open it”, instructed Bridget. “Something you might want to give a try”.

Sally went into the stress of finding scissors or something safe to open the package. Why didn’t they have something easily at hand for Amazon packages? Finally, she found the kitchen scissors and slit the tape.

Sally was perplexed at first. Two purple packages were tucked inside the box. “Sanitary pads? But she bought her own”, she thought to herself. She frowned. She could only see the top of the packages and thought they looked like her mother’s thicker pads.

She looked up. “Are you sure this is mine”, she questioned her mother, who was looking expectantly.

“Absolutely. Take a package out”, she coaxed.

Sally shrugged. She pulled a package out. She was speechless.

“I thought you might want to try these with your new pajamas, see how they work”, her mother said, winking at Sally when she looked up frowning.

Sally’s jaw dropped slightly. “Pull-ups? Isn’t this kind of… crazy?”, she hesitated, trying to think how she was supposed to react. “Will they even fit me?”, she challenged, trying to make sense of this.

Yet, deep inside she could feel warmth, comfort, security. The “Goodnites” package felt tight in her hands, like begging to be opened. She looked at her mother, who was intently studying Sally’s reaction.

“Mom, what’s this about?”. She giggled. “Some kind of joke?”, she asked, frowning slightly.

Bridget smiled. “It can be”, she stated, in a conciliatory way. “But you can also try them out and see how they feel with your pajamas, sort of get the full experience. Comfort and security.”.

Sally made a face. “Wow, you went through all the hassle of actually buying these…”, she paused. “And, they… wow, these should fit me really well”, she concluded, pointing out at the “95-140 lbs.” XL sizing. She stared at the sleeping teenage girl on the package. “Nighttime underwear”, she read out loud. “So, I am supposed to just, like wear them, or…”, she opened her eyes wide realizing the implications. “Like, use them?”.

“Honey, it’s totally up to you. I felt torn when you were disappointed with your pajamas, so I thought I’d give you one more chance to feel great in them. Now, if you don’t like the idea, we can trash these – well, I mean, I’ll give them to charity – and forget about this, OK? I’m sorry if I overstepped, I just wanted to see you happy, that’s all”.

“I am happy”, replied Sally. “What makes you think I wasn’t”, she asked, pained.

“Nothing. You were disappointed about the pajamas, but other than that I guess I am being overly protective, especially after the accident and all…”, Bridget faltered.

Sally set the Goodnites package on the kitchen counter and stepped over to her mother, throwing her arms around her. “I love you, mom. I’m alright, really”.

Mother and daughter separated. “So, what is it going to be?”, asked Bridget, glancing at the Goodnites package.

“I’ll think about it”, said Sally, grabbing the packages and taking them up to her bedroom.

Chapter 11 - Empowered

Sally sat on her bed, her mind whirling with thoughts about her Goodnites. It seemed like such a strange concept for someone her age, but as she thought more about it, the idea started to make more sense.

She opened the package of Goodnites and held on to it, unsure of what to do. She had been thinking.

She imagined scenarios in her head, scenarios where wearing a Goodnite could actually be practical, besides using under her footed pajamas. Like during a long road trip with her mother when stopping for bathroom breaks wasn't always convenient. The movies were another obvious choice. Or during exams at school when she often felt so nervous she could barely concentrate.

"For students, for athletes - she thought of anxious moments at the volleyball court -, for anyone feeling overwhelmed," she mused aloud, considering the broad range of teens who could potentially benefit from Goodnites.

"But would it really work for me?" she wondered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she contemplated. The thought of wearing something so different from what she was used to felt odd, yet the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like it could actually help.

"Comfort and security," she whispered, repeating the words from her mother. The idea of having that sense of security, of knowing that she had everything under control even in stressful situations, was appealing. With her new pajamas. That would make everything all right. A playful and grown-up strategy to take things easy.

Sally shifted on her bed, her thoughts moving to the practical aspects. "Routine and structure," she murmured, considering how having a set routine could help ease her anxiety. The idea of breaking down the process into smaller, manageable steps sounded comforting. Her mom knew a lot about psychology, and although far from being anxious – so she thought, Sally appreciated her mom’s counsel on everything.

"And the act of changing them..." she trailed off, thinking about how the repetitive motion could be calming. It had calmed her as a child. From soaked pull-ups to a dry one, in seconds. The idea of finding solace in something as simple as changing a pull-up felt strange yet oddly comforting.

“But I have to pee in them before I change them”, she murmured to herself. She was amazed it didn’t disgust her. She took a Goodnite out of the package and opened it up. It looked absorbent. More so than the pull-ups she remembered wearing when she was little. She assumed they would be absorbent, since they were made for teens. “That’s what they are made for”, she concluded. She imagined a big factory churning out thousands of Goodnites just for teens like her. There had to be a bunch of teens wearing Goodnites out there. She wondered who they were.

Finally, she thought about the sense of control that wearing Goodnites could provide. In a world where everything often felt chaotic and overwhelming, the idea of having control over something, even if it was as mundane as when to change a pull-up, sounded incredibly empowering.

With a determined nod, Sally made up her mind. "Maybe it's worth a try," she said to herself, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. "I might be surprised at how much it can help. Heck, why not? Why the heck not? She smiled at her own determination and threw caution to the wind. She was going explore her ‘little side” and put one on.

--

Bridget sat on the sofa, with Sally cuddled next to her. As they watched another episode of Gilmore Girls, she mulled over the decision she made to buy Sally the Goodnites. It was an unconventional choice, she admitted to herself, but as she pondered Sally's perspective, she began to see the logic in it.

She imagined the scenarios Sally had mentioned - the long road trips, the movie outings, the stressful exam days. As a mother, she understood the need for practical solutions to everyday challenges. And if Goodnites could offer Sally comfort and security during those moments, then perhaps it was indeed the right decision.

Bridget also considered Sally's need of routine and structure. She knew that Sally often struggled with anxiety, despite her outward confidence. If incorporating Goodnites into her routine could provide even a small sense of control and calmness, then it was a strategy worth exploring.

It had all started with the footed pajamas. She wondered where that would take Sally. Would it be a long rabbit hole?

But what struck Bridget the most was Sally's mention of embracing her "little side." It wasn't a concept she was entirely familiar with, but she trusted Sally's judgment. If wearing Goodnites allowed Sally to feel more at ease with herself, to find solace in something as simple as changing a pull-up, then who was she to stand in the way of that?

With a soft smile, Bridget affirmed her decision. She wanted Sally to feel empowered, to navigate adolescence with confidence and self-assurance. And if that meant embracing unconventional solutions like Goodnites, then so be it. After all, parenting was about supporting your child in whatever ways they needed, even if it meant stepping into uncharted territory.

Feeling a sense of reassurance wash over her, Bridget whispered to herself, "Yes, I do imagine Sally wearing Pull-ups, and I believe it's the right decision. She deserves to feel comfortable and secure, no matter what."

--

Sally relaxed next to her mother. She had been very nonchalant at Sally’s statement that she was wearing the Goodnites under her footed pajamas, and that she wanted to try out her “little side”, she had said, with a shy laugh. When her mother had been surprised, even slightly dubious at Sally’s decision, Sally had enumerated additional perks at wearing the disposable undergarments, including wearing them in normal settings.

Sally wiggled as she got used to the new underwear under her pajamas. She had loved the sensation of getting naked and stepping into the Goodnite, sliding it up her legs and feeling it enclose her crotch. It brought a very strong déjà vu sensation, clearly from her childhood time. Slightly bulky, though not uncomfortably so. She even looked adorable, she mused. Then, she tried her pajamas over the Goodnite. As she zipped herself up, the Goodnite disappeared, and Sally gave the first tentative steps. They didn't really make noise and they were pretty discrete. When she had finally walked down to the living room, her mother hadn’t even realized she had them on, and she even remarked them to be invisible.

But there was one thing on her mind, and it was on the purpose the Goodnites were made for. She was supposed to wet her Goodnites. There was no point in wearing her pretty Goodnites and… well, not wetting them at some point. Obviously she was fully potty trained, so she had to think how she was going to do that. She was not going to lie here with her head resting on her mother’s lap and just let go. She couldn’t imagine even being able to.

Chapter 12 – Triggers

Sally wasn’t the least bit sleepy when they called it a night, each going to their respective bedrooms. Her heart was in a flutter, but she was determined. Her nightly bladder was going to be emptied into her pull-up.

Sally realized that being fully dressed – albeit in her footed pajamas – wasn’t the best idea to try Goodnite for the first time. She planned to help herself as much as she could to wet herself voluntarily. Besides, what if it leaked?

She felt goosebumps as she stripped off her pajamas, and not because the bathroom was cold. The heating system kept it wonderfully cozy. Standing there in only her pink and purple Goodnite she looked at herself in the large mirror and smiled at the infantile attire. Thankfully nobody could see her, she was safe from prying eyes, enclosed in the privacy of her ensuite bathroom.

Sally wondered at other teenage girls, just like her, a turmoil of emotions, making sense of their teenage life in their secret inner sanctum, embarking in a journey of self-discovery. Like writing a mystery novel where the main character is oneself, balancing decisions and discovery, seeking to tap the expansive potential trapped within.

And yet, here she was, trying to pee in a pull-up.

She stood with her legs apart and tried to let go. When nothing happened, she bent her knees slightly, trying to relax her bladder till she finally felt a timid release spilling out into her Goodnite. Elated, she tried to relax even more, and soon a steady stream was hissing into her pull-up. Transfixed, she watched the Goodnite swell as it filled up, feeling it sag slightly.

She stood up straighter as she felt the pressure subside and stood still as she released the last trickles into the pull-up. Her heart was beating like a jackhammer, and it took her a while to regain her senses. She looked at herself in the mirror. A blushing teenager wearing nothing but a soaked Goodnite. She touched her crotch, tentatively. It felt warm, spongey. She pressed a bit harder, felling the now damp material press into her skin. She bit her lip as unknown sensations coursed through her body.

She felt around the edges looking for leaks. There were none. She took a step, and then another, slowly walking around her large bathroom. The Goodnite felt dry yet warm, bulky yet not intrusive. She stood in front of the sink and figured she might as well get ready for bed. She brushed her teeth, while she considered her image on the mirror. She looked cute, funny, yet oddly alluring. She took her time flossing and then used her mint mouthwash. All the time she felt the Goodnites secure on her waist, holding the padding between her legs. She let a leftover trickle of pee into her Goodnite, renewing the warmth between her legs, and she marveled at how easy it had suddenly become.

She realized the wet Goodnite would have to come off. She definitely wasn’t going to sleep in it. Besides, she had to take a shower. As she reached the sides of her Goodnites to pull them down like normal panties, she remembered the pull-ups she used when she was little were made to rip on the sides. She held on to the side of her Goodnite and pulled on it with her fingers. It ripped a little bit, so she pulled on it harder, and saw the Goodnite coming off in her hands. Satisfied, but pressing her legs on the Goodnite to hold it in its precarious position, she ripped the other side with more confidence, and let the soaked Goodnites fall onto the bathroom tiles. What was she supposed to do with that now?

The first option was to just throw it in the garbage bin right here in her bathroom, but that was here mostly for sanitary pads, and little bits like her dental floss. The swollen Goodnite would take most of the space and would end up stinking the place. Not to mention Dolores’ shock – the cleaning lady - when she came to clean the bathroom. No, she needed something else. She fished in her bathroom closet and retrieved a roll of plastic garbage bags, the ones that lined the bathroom garbage bin. She stuffed the Goodnite in and tied a knot on the bag. She left it by the door and stepped into the shower.

The shower was a time of relaxation and let the warm water calm her, as she lazily soaped her body and thought of what she had just experienced. “Infantile” was the first word that came to mind. “Daring”, “fun”, “exhilarating” … she was at loss for words to describe it. The physical sensations coursing through her body while using, even feeling her Goodnite were hard to describe. Even as she soaped carefully between her legs, she couldn’t help but remember warm bulk pressing her nether region.

She forced herself to stop, as the accumulated steam informed her she had been too long in the shower. She dried up, wrapped herself in a towel and went into her bedroom. She almost automatically walked to her bed, took out another Goodnite, and slid it on. It felt great to have a dry pull-up, after the one she had soaked. Now that she had experienced one, she felt a lot safer in one. She slid up her pajamas and zipped up, remembering suddenly about the discarded Goodnite in the garbage bag. She figured the garbage disposal in the garage would be best, as that would be taken out the driveway in the morning and taken away by the truck.

Walking across the large dark house was a strange experience, as she rarely ventured out of her bedroom at night. She never had to, as her bedroom had everything she needed, including ensuite bathroom, walk-in closet, a large desk with her laptop and her own TV. So, pattering in her footed pajamas across the house, down the stairs, and across the foyer, she reached the garage door. The garage was mostly dark, but the reflection of the “wed” SUV made her smile. She lingered a while taking in the form of the brand-new car. Beside it, next to the garage door was the disposal bin on wheels. She opened the cover and dropped the garbage bag into it.

“Sally? Is it you?”, asked her mother’s voice from the door, frightening her slightly.

Sally flushed red, embarrassed. “Uhm, yeah mom, I’ll be right out”, she squeaked.

“Everything all right?”, asked Bridget, turning the garage light on. “I happened to hear you coming down and wondered if you were all right”, she said, frowning.

“Everything all right, I was just throwing out some garbage”, she said, hoping a simple answer would satisfy her inquisitive mother.

“In the middle of the night?”, her mother inquired, eyebrows arched.

Sally made a face. She stepped out of the garage and her mother closed the garage door. “It was a wet pull-up, I didn’t want to stink my bathroom”, she confessed, turning redder.

Her mother paused. “Oh”, she said, surprised. “Was that… on purpose, then?”, she asked.

Sally nodded. “I wanted to try them”, she whispered.

“Oh”, her mother said again, startled at first, but composing herself. “I see, well, of course, and I take it they work?”, she asked.

Sally nodded.

“So, what do you think?”, Bridget asked, coaxing an answer from her reluctant daughter. “Do they solve the pajama problem?”

Sally nodded again. “I guess so”, she finally said. “It’s sort of strange, but it feels OK”, she conceded.

“Good girl!”, Bridget exclaimed. She patted her daughter’s bottom. “Now, get your diapered butt up to bed”, she said.

Sally flushed with pleasure at her mother’s “good girl” exclamation. She couldn’t explain why. The “diapered” reference didn’t escape her notice either. As she climbed the stairs with her mother and got into bed, she reflected on those words, as she felt herself falling asleep with a smile on her lips.

Chapter 13 – “Good girl”

Sally groggily slid out of bed as her bladder signaled the need for release. She had trained herself to do that as a growing child, overcoming laziness in exchange for a dry bed. The clock read four a.m., and the instant Sally stood up, she felt the Goodnites, snug under her footed pajamas. She stopped. Unsure of what to do, she pondered the sequence of events that brought her to this moment where she was wearing Goodnites under her pajamas. The point had been to not have to suffer through the inconvenience of using the bathroom in her footed pajamas.

Now that she knew the Goodnites were fine to use – the proof thereof neatly stashed in the garage garbage – she was woken up by the sudden rush of adrenaline at what she was about to do. Could she really? Sally was momentarily gripped by a feeling of indecision. But it went away. Empowered by her resolve, she sat back down onto her bed. She wanted the full experience this time. She laid down on her back and pulled the bed covers over her chest. She lay there still.

This was very different to her peeing in the Goodnite the previous evening. She had been standing up – well, mostly – and naked except for her Goodnite. Now, she was fully dressed and in bed. But she forced herself to relax, closing her eyes and imagining the sound of her bladder trickling into the toilet, continuously, until… there, as soon as the first timid burst of pee escaped into her Goodnite, the rest flowed out. Just like the previous evening.

With her heart thumping, Sally felt herself flood the Goodnite. Her pee started flooding her bottom area, and she felt it pool as it saturated for a while as she lay still and felt it being absorbed by the padding. As her bladder finished emptying she was struck by the wet bulk under her bottom, which was expanding between her legs.

It was a while until she dared to move, only to slide her hands over her pajama looking for wetness. She opened her legs and searched her crotch area, lifting her bottom and sliding her hands under there. Although her Goodnite felt precariously soaked, she couldn’t find any wetness, so she gradually relaxed and felt her heartbeat gradually recede. She felt her body relax, as she basked in the aftermath of a wonderful sensation. Pure bliss relaxed and comfortable. Ah, the convenience of not having to get up in the middle of the night!

--

Sally woke up minutes before her alarm rang. She never remembered waking up so relaxed. She soon realized why: she didn’t need to use the toilet!

She frowned, feeling an unfamiliar sensation. She incorporated herself in bed and suddenly remembered. She had wet her Goodnite. A thrill of excitement coursed through her, and she pawed her crotch, feeling the moist bulk between her legs. It was squishy, but firm. She pressed a little harder. “Hmm”, she thought. “It does feel good”, she concluded.

She got out of bed and went to wash her face in the bathroom. She gave a sleepy smile at the girl in the mirror, and washed her face with cold water, dried herself with the towel and shook some hair strands loose. The wet Goodnite hung well from her hips and wasn’t even visible due to her footed pajamas. Except for the back, she noticed. The footed pajamas sported an elastic band helping to hold the one-piece snugger to the body. The wet pull-up bulk was visible, at least for anyone who knew her butt.

--

Sally padded into the kitchen; her new pajamas adorned with the Goodnite her mom had bought her. Bridget was already bustling about, preparing breakfast with a smile that matched Sally's groggy morning expression.

"Morning, sweetie," Bridget greeted, glancing up from the frying pan. "Sleep well?"

Sally nodded, rubbing her eyes. "Yeah, surprisingly well. These pajamas are so comfy."

Bridget chuckled softly. "I'm glad you like them. And what about... you know?"

Sally blushed faintly, but there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "The pull-up? It's actually not bad. Kinda convenient."

Bridget grinned knowingly. "Told you it might be worth a try. Scrambled eggs for breakfast?"

Sally nodded, pulling out a chair at the kitchen table. "I've got that history class today, so I need something to wake me up."

Bridget nodded as she poured milk into Sally's bowl. "You'll do great. Oh, by the way, I have meetings downtown later. Want a lift to school in the new car?"

Sally's eyes lit up. “Wed” car! "Definitely! Riding in style! A lot better than the prison bus".

Bridget chuckled. "You bet. And after school, we can grab dinner together."

"Sounds like a plan," Sally replied, taking a spoonful of scrambled eggs. Then, after a moment's hesitation, she added, "Mom, thanks for suggesting the pull-ups. They're actually... kinda nice."

Bridget turned to face Sally fully, a warm smile on her face. "You're welcome, honey. I'm just glad they're working out for you."

"Yeah," Sally said thoughtfully. "It's like... I feel more relaxed, you know?"

Bridget nodded, understanding in her eyes. "I get it. Sometimes it's the little things that make a difference."

Sally nodded in agreement, appreciating her mom's support. As they continued their breakfast together, Sally couldn't help but feel grateful for her mom's thoughtful suggestions and their easy conversations, even about the most unexpected topics.

Later, as they were finishing up breakfast, Sally hesitated for a moment before speaking softly. "Mom, there's something else I should tell you."

Bridget paused, turning her attention fully to Sally. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Sally took a deep breath, feeling a touch of embarrassment. "Well, um... last night, I... I actually wet the pull-up."

Bridget's expression softened immediately; her eyes full of reassurance. "Hey, it's okay, Sally. No need to feel bad about it. That's what they're there for."

Sally nodded, animated by her mom's understanding. "I know, but I just didn't expect it. It was weird. I did it on purpose, in bed, when I woke up needing to pee. I just… went”, she said, in a daze.

Bridget reached out, squeezing Sally's hand gently. "I understand, sweetie. Don't worry about it. You're handling everything really well."

Sally managed a small smile, grateful for her mom's comforting words. "Thanks, Mom. I appreciate you always being so understanding."

Bridget smiled warmly. "That's what moms are for, right? To be here for you, no matter what."

After a moment of silence, Sally hesitated before asking tentatively, "Mom, does it... bother you that I wet the pull-up?"

Bridget shook her head gently. "Not at all, honey. You're a good girl, and that's what diapers are for—to make things easier and more comfortable for you."

Sally felt a rush of excitement at her mom's words. She was also relieved. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure."

Bridget leaned in, brushing a stray hair from Sally's face. "You don't ever have to worry about that with me, sweetheart. I'm here to support you, no matter what."

Sally nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. "Thanks, Mom. I love you."

Bridget smiled, pulling Sally into a hug. "I love you too, sweetheart”, she said, swatting Sally’s padded bottom. “Now, let's finish up here so I can get you to school on time. And don’t forget to change that wet pull-up!"

As they cleared the breakfast dishes together, Sally couldn't help but feel grateful for her mom's unwavering support and understanding, especially in moments that felt a bit awkward or challenging. Feeling reassured, Sally let go one more stream of pee into her already wet pull-up, for good measure.

--

Sally stood in front of her closet, her fingers tracing the familiar texture of her school uniform. The morning sunlight filtered through her window, casting a warm glow on the neatly hung clothes. As she began to dress, her mind wandered back to the conversation with her mom earlier.

"Good girl." The words lingered in Sally's thoughts. It wasn't the first time her mom had used that phrase, accompanied by a gentle smile or a pat on the shoulder. Sally liked it; it made her feel affirmed and cared for in a way that transcended their daily interactions.

But today, there was something else that struck her—her mom's mention of "diapers" in reference to the pull-ups. She had used the same words last night. And she said to “change” that pull-up. Like she was going to wear another one, like to school? She giggled at the thought, and dismissed it.

Sally furrowed her brow, though, puzzling over the choice of words. Pull-ups were different from diapers, weren't they? Diapers were for babies, or for people who couldn't control their bladder. Pull-ups were more discreet, designed for older kids and teens who might need a bit of extra help at night. Yet, her mom's casual use of the term "diapers" had stirred a new thought in Sally's mind. They certainly didn’t make full-on diapers her size, now?

Was her mom hinting at something deeper? Was she suggesting that using the pull-ups meant more than just convenience—that it was a way of being taken care of, of being seen as a "good girl" who could rely on her mom for comfort and support?

As Sally buttoned up her uniform shirt, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was a subtle message in her mom's words. Maybe it wasn't just about the practicality of the pull-ups but about the emotional reassurance they provided. It was a thought that both comforted and intrigued her.

Finished dressing, Sally smoothed down her skirt and took a deep breath. She glanced at herself in the mirror, thinking about the day ahead. History class, riding to school in the new SUV, and perhaps a deeper understanding of what her mom meant by being a "good girl" in unexpected ways.

With a newfound curiosity, Sally headed downstairs, eager to start her day yet also mulling over the philosophical implications of her mom's loving words.

Chapter 14 – Pajamas and Politics

Sally, Katrina, and Clara dragged themselves into history class, each girl mentally preparing for the seemingly endless lecture ahead. Mr. Briggs, their super serious and patient teacher, was already at the front of the room, meticulously setting up his notes.

"Today, we’ll be discussing the formation of political parties in early America," Mr. Briggs began in his usual monotone voice.

Katrina slumped in her chair and whispered to Sally, "Why does he make everything sound like a bedtime story?"

Sally stifled a giggle. "Because he thinks we need help falling asleep."

Clara, always the diligent student, tried to focus but couldn’t help smiling at her friends' comments. "Shh, we have to pay attention," she whispered, though her tone lacked conviction.

Mr. Briggs turned to the class. "Who can tell me about the Federalists?"

Katrina raised her hand half-heartedly. "Um, they liked banks and stuff, right?"

Mr. Briggs sighed but nodded. "Yes, Katrina, the Federalists, led by Alexander Hamilton, believed in a strong central government and supported the creation of a national bank."

Katrina leaned over to Sally. "Hamilton would’ve been all about online banking," she whispered, causing Sally to snort.

"Okay, who can explain the beliefs of the Democratic-Republicans?" Mr. Briggs asked, his gaze sweeping the room.

Clara raised her hand, trying to muster some enthusiasm. "They wanted more power for the states and were against a strong central government... right?"

"Correct," Mr. Briggs said. "The Democratic-Republicans, led by Thomas Jefferson, believed in agrarianism and were wary of centralized power."

Sally leaned in to Clara. "Jefferson would’ve been a fan of local farmers' markets."

Clara chuckled quietly. "Totally. And probably anti-big grocery stores."

Mr. Briggs droned on about the conflicts between Hamilton and Jefferson, the girls’ attention drifting in and out. Despite their lack of interest, they dutifully answered his questions, albeit hesitantly and sometimes incorrectly. Sally’s mind drifted. She almost wished she was wearing her pull-ups. She missed having the padding between her legs. She could do with a pee, she thought, wistfully.

"Can anyone tell me a specific conflict that arose between these two parties?" Mr. Briggs asked.

Sally raised her hand slowly. "Um, didn’t they argue about... trade with France?"

Mr. Briggs frowned slightly. "Not exactly. They argued more about trade policies and foreign relations in general. The Federalists favored closer ties with Britain, while the Democratic-Republicans leaned towards France."

"Oops," Sally whispered to Katrina. "Wrong country."

"At least you tried," Katrina whispered back with a grin.

As the lecture continued, the girls whispered teasing jokes to each other to pass the time.

"Did you hear Hamilton's favorite music?" Katrina whispered. "Federalist Rock."

Clara couldn’t help but giggle at that. "And Jefferson would totally be into indie folk music."

Their quiet jokes and whispers made the dull class a bit more bearable, and Mr. Briggs, while aware of their waning interest, appreciated their efforts to stay engaged. He was patient with their mistakes and gentle in his corrections, knowing that history might not be their favorite subject but hoping to instill at least a basic understanding.

Finally, Mr. Briggs wrapped up the lecture. "For homework, please read the next chapter on the early challenges of the new government. And remember, understanding our history helps us understand our present."

As they packed up their things, Katrina sighed dramatically. "I can’t believe we survived another history class."

Clara adjusted her glasses, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "We should get a medal."

Sally laughed. "At least we have each other to get through it."

--

Walking out of the classroom, the three friends felt a renewed sense of camaraderie. They might not love history, but together, they could make even the most boring subjects bearable. And in their whispers and jokes, they found the strength to face another day of school.

Clara left for her chess practice. Sally and Katrina, on the other hand, were off to volleyball practice.

Sally and Katrina walked together, their laughter echoing through the hallway. Sally, with her quiet demeanor, found a burst of energy in Katrina’s vibrant personality. Katrina, originally from Colombia, had a way of turning every moment into an adventure, and today was no different.

"Vamos, Sally! We need to get to practice," Katrina exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Sally smiled, adjusting her backpack. "You’re always so eager, Katrina. What's your secret?"

"It’s the love for the game! And maybe a bit of Colombian coffee," Katrina winked. “And I get to see you naked”, she teased.

Sally groaned. She was never going to outlive her initial shock at being forced to take a shower… in front of all the team. Team rules stated showers were mandatory, and she hadn’t been aware when signing on the volleyball team. Katrina hadn’t told her either.

They made their way to the locker room, where they changed out of their school uniforms and into their team uniform, joining the rest of the team for warm-up. As they jogged around the gym, Katrina kept the mood light with jokes and stories. Sally, usually reserved, found herself laughing and sharing more than she normally would, avoiding, of course, any car crash related topics.

“Hey, guess what? My mom bought a new car!”, Sally exclaimed.

“Ooh, what did she get?”, asked Katrina.

“It's a really cool "wed"... uh, I mean, red SUV”, Sally said, in a fluster over her gaffe.

“A "wed" SUV? Is that like a wedding car?”, asked Katrina, in mock innocence.

“No, no, I meant red. It's a red SUV, okay? Stop laughing!”, Sally said, mortified.

“Alright, alright. So, when are you giving us all a ride in this fancy "wed" SUV?”

The other girls in the team giggled, at Katrina’s famous teasing.

“Ugh, you're impossible, Katrina”, Sally said, rolling her eyes.

The girls spread out as they finished jogging.

Dynamic stretches were next, and Katrina led the group with exaggerated arm circles and leg swings. “Let’s go, chicas! Feel the burn!” she cheered, earning a mix of groans and giggles from the team.

Coach Hanna called out: “Katrina, enough comedy, this is serious stuff!”

After warm-up, they split into pairs for skill development. Sally and Katrina paired up, starting with passing drills. Katrina’s powerful passes kept Sally on her toes, and Sally’s precise returns pushed Katrina to stay sharp.

"Good one, Sally!" Katrina praised after a particularly challenging pass.

"Thanks! You’re making me work for it," Sally panted, but she was smiling. She was sorry, though, not to have used the bathroom earlier. She needed a break.

Next was serving practice. Katrina demonstrated her serve with a flourish, hitting the target almost effortlessly. Sally, inspired, took her turn. Her first serve went wide, but Katrina was quick to encourage her.

"Don’t worry, amiga. Focus on your form. You’ve got this," she said, giving Sally a reassuring pat on the back.

Sally’s next serve was on point, and they high-fived. “See? Perfecto!” Katrina exclaimed.

During the 6-on-6 scrimmage, Katrina’s voice was a constant presence, calling out plays, encouraging her teammates, and making everyone feel included.

Sally, feeding off Katrina’s energy, played one of her best games, diving for digs and setting up perfect assists. She only wished she had Goodnite under her shorts, as she was bursting to pee.

After the scrimmage, they moved to defensive drills. Katrina, always fearless, threw herself into every block and dig with gusto, while Sally found her rhythm, matching Katrina’s intensity. But her bladder pressure gave her an edge of anxiety.

As practice wound down, they finished with a serve-receive drill, rotating positions and working on their communication. By the end, everyone was exhausted but satisfied with their hard work.

Sally rushed into the locker room, and shut herself in the toilet, sweet relief coursing through her body. She frowned at having waited for so long to use the bathroom.

In the locker room, the girls were still buzzing with post-practice energy. Sally and Katrina, side by side, chatted about the day as they grabbed their towels and joined the other naked girls in the showers.

“You were amazing out there, Sally,” Katrina said sincerely.

“Thanks to you, Katrina. You really know how to bring out the best in people,” Sally replied, her gratitude genuine.

They shared a shower, the hot water soothing their tired muscles. Steam filled the air, and their voices echoed softly against the tiles. Katrina hummed a tune, a popular Colombian song, and Sally listened, feeling a sense of calm and camaraderie.

“Katrina, can you teach me that song?” Sally asked, rinsing the shampoo from her hair.

“Of course! It’s a top hit in Colombia,” Katrina said, her voice proud. She began to sing louder, and Sally joined in, their voices blending in some sort of harmony. The rest of the team cheered and clapped, as the girls continued their impromptu karaoke.

In that moment, surrounded by the steam and the echoes of their song, Sally realized that volleyball practice was more than just drills and games. It was about friendship, support, and the joy of sharing experiences with someone who made everything brighter.

--

Bridget sat in her car, the soft hum of the engine the only sound breaking the silence. She looked over at the screen photo on her iPhone—a picture of her and Sally at the beach last summer, both of them smiling wide, arms wrapped around each other. It was hard to believe how much had changed since the car accident.

She glanced at her phone, seeing no messages from Sally. That was good, as she was supposed to be in class, she remembered. Sally had been so resilient after the crash. Bridget had been terrified that the experience would leave lasting scars, that Sally would struggle with fear and anxiety. But instead, Sally seemed happier, more communicative, and closer to her than ever before. It was as if the crash had awakened something positive in her.

Yet, Bridget couldn't shake her conflicting feelings. Sally had started expressing what she called her "little" side, finding comfort in things that reminded her of childhood—especially wearing footed pajamas and, most surprisingly, pull-ups. What seemed to have been more of a joke, had turned into the real deal. Bridget had found her daughter not just wearing them, but using them too. At first, it had been shocking, but then she noticed how at ease and content Sally seemed.

Bridget found herself in a constant tug-of-war between concern and acceptance. She had to admit, Sally did look adorably cute in those infantile pajamas. More importantly, Sally was happier than she'd seen her in a long time. She was more open, bold in expressing herself, and their bond had deepened in ways Bridget had never expected.

But was it okay to let this continue? Should she be encouraging Sally to explore her "little" side, or was she leading her down a path that might not be healthy in the long run? Bridget's mind buzzed with questions and worries. She wanted to support Sally in whatever made her feel safe and happy, but she also wanted to ensure she was doing the right thing as a mother.

Bridget sighed and picked up her phone, scrolling to Pamela's contact. Her psychologist friend had always been a source of wisdom and comfort, especially when it came to matters of mental health and well-being. Maybe Pamela would have the answers she was looking for.

With a determined nod, Bridget decided to text Pamela and ask if they could meet up. She needed to talk this through with someone who could provide clarity and guidance. She typed out a quick message:

"Hey Pam, can we meet for coffee? I need to talk to you about something important. It's about Sally. Thanks!"

As she hit send, Bridget felt a small wave of relief wash over her. Talking to Pamela would help her sort through her thoughts and find the best way to support Sally. She only wanted what was best for her daughter, and with a little help from her friend, she was confident she could figure out the right path forward.

--

Bridget and Pamela met at their favorite coffee shop, a cozy little place with comfy chairs and a relaxing atmosphere. Bridget was visibly anxious, and Pamela could see the worry etched on her friend's face. After ordering their drinks and settling in, Bridget took a deep breath and began to speak.

"Pam, you already know about the car accident Sally and I had. It was terrifying, and I was so worried she'd be traumatized by it. But instead, she seems... different. In a good way, I think? She's been happier, more communicative, and she's even gotten really close to me. It's like she's a new person."

Pamela's eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and relief. "That's wonderful, Bridget! I’m so glad you only told me after it was over… I would have been worried sick. And Sally being so calm and strong. I mean, it's great that she's not showing signs of PTSD. But you seem a bit hesitant. Is there something else on your mind?"

Bridget nodded, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her cup. "Well, yes. It's a bit unusual. Sally's been expressing what she calls her 'little' side. She suddenly loves wearing infantile pajamas, like footed ones, and she's even taken to wearing pull-ups. And, um, using them too. I didn't know what to think at first. Is this normal?"

Pamela paused for a moment, then leaned back in her chair with a thoughtful look on her face. "Bridget, this might actually be a sign of something called Post Traumatic Growth, or PTG. It's when someone experiences positive psychological changes after dealing with a really stressful situation. It's like Sally's found a way to cope and come out stronger on the other side."

"PTG, huh? That's interesting. But the pull-ups and footed pajamas?" Bridget asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Pamela nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, PTG can manifest in many ways. It's a process where individuals develop new strengths, perspectives, and coping mechanisms after a traumatic event. Sally's behavior might be her way of reconnecting with a sense of safety and simplicity. Have you noticed any other changes in her behavior, like new interests or shifts in her social interactions?"

Bridget took a moment to think. "Well, she's been more open about her feelings, which is new. She's also taken up drawing and painting a lot more. Her art has a kind of childlike whimsy to it. And she seems to enjoy spending more time with me, like she's seeking more comfort and closeness."

Pamela smiled. "Those are good signs, Bridget. They suggest that Sally is finding creative and emotional outlets to process her experience. It might be helpful to consider how her new behaviors make her feel. Have you talked to her about why she likes the footed pajamas and pull-ups?"

Bridget shook her head. "Not in depth. I was worried it might embarrass her or make her feel judged. I have asked her, and she said it makes her feel safe and happy, but we didn't go much deeper than that. It’s mostly what she has volunteered"

Pamela leaned in slightly. "It might be worth exploring those feelings with her, in a gentle and non-judgmental way. Understanding her perspective can help you support her better. Sometimes, these behaviors are about regaining a sense of control and comfort. Also, have you noticed any signs of distress or anxiety in her, or is she generally more relaxed now?"

Bridget considered this. "She does seem more relaxed overall. There haven't been any nightmares or panic attacks, which I was really worried about. But sometimes, she'll get really quiet and thoughtful, like she's processing something deep inside."

Pamela nodded and reached across the table to squeeze Bridget's hand. "That introspection is part of the healing process. You're doing great, Bridget. Just keep being there for Sally, and don't hesitate to seek support for yourself too. You're both on this journey together, and it's okay to take it one step at a time."

Bridget smiled, feeling more at ease with the path ahead. "Thanks, Pam. I really needed to hear that. We'll take it one step at a time, together. Pull-ups! Who would have thought. And I sort of suggested that myself as a joke, to match her footed pajamas", she shook her head in amazement.

Pamela chuckled softly. "Everyone copes differently. Some people take up yoga, others start painting, and some find comfort in things that remind them of a simpler, safer time. If wearing footed pajamas and pull-ups makes Sally feel secure and happy, then it sounds like she's found a way to deal with her stress that's harmless and even kind of adorable."

Bridget laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Adorable? Well, she does look very cute in those pajamas. Even more when she’s got a Pull-up underneath. It's just so unexpected. I mean, she’s 14!"

"True, but think about it. She's gone through a really scary experience, and she's found a way to feel safe and close to you. It's a bit unconventional, sure, but it's also a sign that she's healing and growing. Maybe she’s found a quirky way to express her feelings and feel in control again," Pamela suggested.

"I guess when you put it that way, it does sound like she's handling things pretty well. And honestly, I do enjoy the extra closeness we've developed. It's like we're connecting on a whole new level," Bridget admitted, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Pamela smiled warmly. "There you go! Embrace the new normal, Bridget. Maybe you can even join her in the pajama fun. Who knows, you might find it comforting too. Just don’t expect me to join the pajama party!", she laughed.

"Oh, I don't know if I'm ready for footed pajamas just yet, but I'll keep an open mind. Thanks, Pam. You always know how to put things in perspective," Bridget said, feeling a surge of gratitude for her friend.

"Anytime, Bridget. Remember, growth can come in the most unexpected forms. If Sally’s happy and healthy, then you’re both doing something right. And hey, at least you don't have to worry about her running out of clean pajamas!" Pamela joked, eliciting a genuine laugh from Bridget.

The weight seemed to lift from Bridget's shoulders as they continued to chat. She felt more at ease with the changes in Sally, ready to support her daughter in her unique journey of healing and growth.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Bridget sipped her coffee and contemplated Pamela's words. "Pam, how much should I let Sally wander into this rabbit hole? Should I be encouraging her, or is there a point where I need to step in and set some boundaries?"

Pamela set down her cup, her expression thoughtful yet reassuring. "Bridget, I think it's important to let Sally explore this side of herself. Encourage her to find what makes her feel safe and happy. It's much better for her to feel comfortable sharing these things with you than for her to hide them out of fear or shame. Your support can make all the difference in how she navigates this experience."

"So, you think I should just let her go with it? Even if it means wearing pull-ups and footed pajamas… maybe other stuff?" Bridget asked, her concern still evident but mingled with hope. She was thinking about the Pajama Factory, with all the “accessories” sized up for grown-ups.

"Within reason, yes. You know Sally best, and you can help guide her. If she's using these things as a way to cope and it's not harming her or anyone else, then it's a healthy form of self-expression. She'll feel more secure knowing she has your support. Just keep an open dialogue with her. Ask her how she feels and what she needs," Pamela advised gently.

Bridget nodded, feeling a bit more reassured. "I suppose you're right. I just want to make sure I'm doing the best thing for her. She's been through so much, and I don't want to make any mistakes."

"You're already doing great, Bridget. The fact that you're concerned and thinking about what's best for Sally shows how much you care. Just continue to be there for her. If her interest in these things starts to interfere with her daily life or social interactions, you can gently steer her back. But for now, let her explore in a safe and supportive environment," Pamela encouraged.

"It makes sense. I want her to feel comfortable and accepted for who she is, especially after what we've been through. I'll talk to her and make sure she knows she can come to me with anything," Bridget resolved, feeling more confident in her approach.

"Exactly. Parental nurture is so much better than leaving her to her own devices. Imagine how much harder it would be for her if she felt she had to hide her needs and preferences from you. By being open and supportive, you're giving her the best chance to grow positively from this experience," Pamela affirmed.

"Thanks, Pam. I really needed to hear that. I'll do my best to support Sally and help her navigate this. And maybe I'll even think about getting myself a pair of footed pajamas for those cold nights," Bridget said with a laugh.

Pamela laughed too, her eyes twinkling. "Now that's the spirit! You might start a new family tradition. And remember, I'm always here if you need to talk or if you have any more questions. We're all figuring this out as we go."

Feeling much lighter, Bridget smiled and reached across the table to squeeze Pamela's hand. The two friends continued their conversation, chatting and laughing, knowing that no matter what challenges came their way, they had each other's support. Bridget felt ready to embrace Sally's unique journey, confident that with love and understanding, they could navigate anything together.

--

Sally, Katrina, and Clara reunited at their favorite spot in the schoolyard after their respective activities. Sally and Katrina had just finished a grueling volleyball practice, while Clara had been immersed in a challenging chess match. The trio quickly fell into their usual rhythm of witty banter and playful teasing.

Katrina tossed her volleyball bag to the ground and stretched dramatically. "¡Ay, Dios mío! That practice was killer. I swear Coach Hanna is trying to turn us into volleyball robots."

Sally laughed; her face still flushed from the hot shower. "Tell me about it. My arms feel like jelly. But at least we survived."

Clara, ever the calm and collected one, adjusted her glasses and smiled. "I think you two did great. I could almost hear Coach Hanna yelling grom the gym."

Sally beamed. "Thanks, Clara. How was the chess match?"

Clara shrugged modestly. "Oh, you know, just another victory. I managed to corner Kyle in 20 moves."

Katrina let out a low whistle. "You're a chess wizard, Clara. Kyle's no pushover."

Clara grinned. "It's all about strategy and patience. Speaking of which, Sally, how are you feeling about the upcoming history test?"

Sally's smile faded slightly. "Honestly, I'm a bit nervous. History's never been my strong suit, and Mr. Briggs' monotone lectures don't help."

Katrina snickered. "Yeah, Mr. Briggs could make a rollercoaster ride sound boring. 'And then the rollercoaster ascended the hill at a 45-degree angle...'"

Clara chuckled. "True, but the material is interesting if you give it a chance. How about I come over and help you review?"

Sally's eyes lit up with relief. "Really? That would be amazing, Clara. I could definitely use the help."

"Of course," Clara replied warmly. "You're a great student, Sally. You're very intelligent, and you're a very good girl", she said, holding on Sally’s arm.

Sally blushed at the compliment, her cheeks turning a shade darker than her flushed post-practice face. "Thanks, Clara. That means a lot coming from you."

Katrina nodded in agreement. "Sally's the best. A good girl and a great friend."

Sally's blush deepened, and she waved her hands dismissively. "Alright, alright, enough with the flattery. Let's talk about something less embarrassing."

Katrina grinned mischievously. "Like how you tripped over your own feet during the warm-up? Or maybe the “wed” car?

Sally groaned. "Oh, come on, Katrina! I thought we agreed never to speak of that again."

Clara laughed, the sound clear and bright. "Don't worry, Sally. Everyone has their clumsy moments. Besides, it's what makes you endearing. What’s this about a “wed” car?”.

Sally grimaced. “Nothing”.

Katrina slung an arm around Sally's shoulders. "Yeah, you're our favorite klutz."

Sally rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "You two are impossible."

As the laughter died down, Clara turned to Sally with a serious expression. "So, when should I come over? We can go over the key points from the last few chapters and maybe make some flashcards."

Sally thought for a moment. "How about tomorrow right after dinner? My mom won't mind, and we can have some snacks while we study."

"Sounds perfect," Clara agreed. "I'll bring my notes and some highlighters."

Katrina clapped her hands together. "Great! While you two brainiacs hit the books, I'll be at home, with a hot bath and a movie."

Sally laughed. "Lucky you. Only Katrina to have a big-ass TV in her bathroom. But seriously, thanks, Clara. I really appreciate the help."

Clara smiled. "Anytime, Sally. We're in this together."

With plans set and spirits high, the three friends headed home, ready to tackle whatever challenges came their way, whether it was a history test or the next volleyball match. And as Sally walked beside her friends, she felt a renewed sense of confidence, knowing she had their unwavering support.

She was looking forward to going out to dinner with her mother. She was glad she had bought the red SUV, as it was easily identifiable in the middle of all the other parent’s cars.

As the three girls chatted animatedly, a shiny new red SUV pulled up to the curb. Bridget rolled down the window, smiling warmly at the trio.

"Hey girls! How was practice?" Bridget called out.

Sally's face lit up as she waved. "Hi, Mom! Practice was tough, but fun. And guess what? Clara won her chess match in twenty moves!"

Bridget's eyes widened in admiration. "Wow, Clara! That's impressive. Congratulations!"

Clara blushed slightly, adjusting her glasses. "Thank you, Mrs. B."

Katrina pointed at the SUV, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "So this is the famous “wed” SUV, huh? It looks amazing!"

Bridget beamed with pride. "Yep, this is it! I'm glad you like it. Do you girls need a ride home?"

Sally immediately looked at her friends, hopeful. "Do you guys want a lift?"

Clara shook her head politely. "Thanks, Mrs. Bridget, but my mom's picking me up today."

Katrina grinned and waved her hand. "Mine too. But thanks!"

Bridget nodded understandingly. "Alright then. The offer's always open. Sally, hop in. We've got some plans tonight, remember?"

Sally rolled her eyes playfully. "Yes, Mom. Clara's coming over to help me study tomorrow after dinner."

Clara nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I'll be there. See you, Sally!"

"Bye, Sally! Bye, Mrs. Bridget!" Katrina added with a cheerful wave.

"Bye, girls!" Bridget replied, waving back as Sally climbed into the SUV.

As Bridget drove off, Sally looked out the window, smiling at her friends. "They're the best, Mom."

Bridget glanced at her daughter and smiled warmly. "They really are, Sally. You're lucky to have such great friends."

Sally nodded in agreement as they headed home, feeling grateful for her supportive friends and family.

 

[FlyingFox]

Chapters 15 to 19

 

Chapter 15 - Secret

After the exhausting day, Bridget and Sally headed home, excited for a relaxing evening at "Il Duomo," their favorite trattoria. As they pulled into the driveway, Bridget turned to Sally with a smile. "Why don't you change into something more comfortable and a bit social, Sally? We're going to Il Duomo, after all."

As Sally skipped up to her bedroom, glad to get out of her school uniform. Her mind buzzed with conflicting thoughts. The idea of wearing her Goodnites during her day to day activities had dragged on all day on her mind. Now, the thought struck her: Should she wear her Goodnites to the restaurant? After all, a 14-year-old shouldn't be wearing pull-ups. It was one thing to wear them to bed, mostly due to the footed pajamas, but wasn’t wearing pull-ups under her normal clothes a bit unusual?

She paused at her bedroom door, her hand resting on the doorknob. Maybe it was unusual. Most girls her age definitely didn’t wear pull-ups, especially not out in public. What if someone found out? She felt a pang of embarrassment at the thought. Yet, there was a thrill to the idea too, a secret excitement that made her heart race.

As she entered her room, she was momentarily surprised to find it spotless, a reminder that today was Dolores' cleaning day.

Frowning, she scanned her room, worried and embarrassed at the thought that Dolores might have seen her Goodnites packages, one of them already opened. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized the package wasn't where she'd left it, right by her bed on the floor. Panicked, she searched around until she found the Goodnites packages neatly tucked away in her walk-in closet, right beside her pajamas and sanitary pads supply. She sighed with relief and a bit of embarrassment, but decided to go ahead with her plan.

She bit her lip, standing in the closet. Wearing pull-ups to bed felt safe and comforting, almost like a part of her bedtime routine, even now. But wearing them under her regular clothes? That was a whole different story. It felt a bit naughty, daring even. And there was that curiosity she couldn’t shake. What would it feel like to wear them out, to have that secret just for herself while she was out in the world?

Sally’s thoughts raced. On one hand, it seemed silly and childish. What if someone noticed? But on the other hand, it was a secret experiment, something that made her feel unique and brave in a strange way. She was curious, and that curiosity was hard to ignore.

She took a deep breath and made up her mind. Why not? It wasn’t like anyone would see them. And it would be her little secret, something just for her to know. Plus, it added a bit of fun to the evening, a bit of mischievousness that made her smile.

With a determined nod, she kicked off her shoes and pulled off her tights and underwear, grabbing a pull-up from the package. She slipped it on, feeling the soft padding and a strange sense of comfort. Then she carefully pulled her tights back on over the pull-up. It was a bit tricky, but she managed. Finally, she found a short black dress that would cover her pull-up perfectly.

Sally looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing down her dress. It looked good, stylish even. She kept her blouse on but swapped her school crest sweater for a more fashionable one. She felt a sense of accomplishment, a secret pride in her little adventure.

As she skipped back downstairs to her mother, she felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. But mostly, she felt daring and a bit naughty, thrilled by the secret she carried with her. Ready for the evening, she smiled at Bridget. "Let's go, Mom!" she said, feeling a newfound confidence.

Bridget smiled back, not noticing anything out of place. "You look lovely, Sally. Ready for some supper?"

"Definitely!" Sally replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She felt a rush of excitement as they headed out, ready to enjoy the evening with her little secret safely hidden away.

As they drove off, the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of orange and pink. Sally felt a sense of anticipation and joy bubbling up inside her. She loved these moments with her mother, and tonight felt like it would be extra special.

They arrived at Il Duomo, the familiar scent of garlic and fresh bread wafting through the air as they stepped inside. The cozy atmosphere and friendly staff made them feel right at home. Bridget and Sally were quickly seated at their favorite corner table, where they could watch the bustling kitchen and enjoy the warmth of the wood-fired oven.

Sally felt a mix of excitement and contentment. The evening promised good food, great company, and the comforting knowledge that she could be herself around her mother, even with her little secrets. She glanced at Bridget, who was looking over the menu with a smile.

"What do you feel like having tonight, Sally?" Bridget asked, glancing up.

"Maybe the “Risotto ai funghi porcini”," Sally replied, her stomach growling at the thought.

"Excellent choice," Bridget said with a grin, fondly remembering when Sally’s version of Italian cousine was Mac and Cheese. "And perhaps we can share a tiramisu for dessert?"

Sally nodded enthusiastically, feeling a wave of happiness wash over her. As they chatted and laughed, the worries of the day melted away, replaced by the joy of being together and the anticipation of the delicious meal to come.

For Sally, the evening was perfect. She felt safe and loved, surrounded by the familiar comforts of her favorite restaurant and the unwavering support of her mother. And as they enjoyed their meal, she couldn't help but feel grateful for the special bond they shared, one that made even the most ordinary days feel extraordinary.

"So, how was school today?" Bridget asked as she took a sip of her San Pellegrino.

Sally smiled, playing with the edge of her napkin. "It was good. We had a pretty intense volleyball practice, and Clara won her chess match in twenty moves. And, of course, Mr. Briggs droned on about the formation of political parties again."

Bridget chuckled. "Mr. Briggs and his monotone lectures. Well, at least you have Clara and Katrina to keep things interesting."

Sally nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely. They make even the most boring classes bearable."

After placing their orders, the conversation drifted to Bridget's work. "The fundraising event for the charity is coming along nicely," Bridget said. "As a project manager, I have to make sure everything runs smoothly. Lots of planning and organizing."

"That sounds like a lot of work," Sally replied, genuinely impressed. "But I know you're great at it, Mom."

Bridget smiled warmly. "Thanks, sweetheart. Speaking of planning, we need to talk about our home plans for the week. What do you think we should have for dinner tomorrow?"

Sally thought for a moment, tapping her chin playfully. "How about tacos? We haven't had those in a while. And I love it when we make them together."

Bridget's eyes twinkled. "Tacos it is! I love our taco nights too. I'll make sure to get all the ingredients. Maybe we can try making a new salsa recipe?"

Sally's face lit up with excitement. "That sounds awesome! Maybe we could add some pineapple to the salsa? I read about it online, and it seems like a fun twist."

"Great idea! Pineapple it is," Bridget agreed, making a mental note. "We also need to pick up some groceries. Do you need anything specific?"

"Maybe some more of that yogurt I like," Sally suggested. "The one with the fruit on the bottom. And we're almost out of cereal. Oh, and can we get those mini muffins for breakfast? They're so good."

Bridget nodded, pulling out her phone to jot down the items. "Got it. Yogurt, cereal, and mini muffins. Anything else you can think of?"

Sally paused, thinking. "Hmm, maybe some more fruit? I've been loving those mandarin oranges you got last time."

"Sure thing," Bridget said, adding mandarin oranges to the list. "And speaking of tasks, don't forget to do your laundry this weekend. You know how important it is to stay on top of it, especially with your pull-ups."

Sally nodded, seeming comfortable with the topic. "I know, Mom. I'll make sure to wash everything properly. But it’s not like they cause extra laundry. But I actually don't mind doing laundry. It's kind of relaxing."

Bridget raised an eyebrow playfully. "Relaxing, huh? Maybe you can take over all the laundry duties then."

Sally laughed, shaking her head. "Nice try, Mom. I said it's kind of relaxing, not that I want to do it all the time."

Bridget chuckled. "Fair enough. But seriously, it's important to stay on top of it. You know how quickly things can pile up."

"Yeah, I do," Sally agreed. "Especially with my volleyball practice clothes. They get pretty sweaty."

Bridget nodded; her expression thoughtful. "You work so hard at practice. I'm really proud of you, Sally. Balancing school, sports, and everything else isn't easy."

Sally smiled, feeling a warm glow of pride. "Thanks, Mom. It helps to have your support. And, well, the pull-ups make things a bit easier too", Slly said, looking down.

Bridget took a deep breath, looking at her daughter with a mix of pride and curiosity. "Sally, are you comfortable with the pull-ups arrangement? I want to make sure you're okay with everything."

Sally hesitated for a moment, her heart racing as she contemplated whether to share her secret. Finally, she leaned in, lowering her voice slightly. "Actually, Mom, I'm wearing a Goodnite right now."

Bridget's eyes widened slightly in surprise, her mind processing this unexpected revelation. She quickly composed herself, her expression softening with understanding. "Really? How do you feel about that?"

Sally shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. "Honestly, it's practical. It makes me feel secure. I find I get so anxious about needing to use the toilet, but this might help."

Bridget nodded thoughtfully, her mind racing with reflections. She remembered all the times Sally had rushed home from school, her face flushed with embarrassment, frantically searching for the bathroom. The times when Sally had been too afraid to ask for a bathroom pass during class, leading to anxious moments and close calls. Seeing her daughter now, more confident and open, Bridget felt a wave of relief.

"I can see how that would make a big difference," Bridget said, her voice gentle. "I'm glad it helps you feel more comfortable. Do you think you would find it practical for other situations, like school?"

Sally looked down at her hands, fiddling with the edge of her napkin. "Yeah, I think so," she said slowly, as if measuring each word. "It might make things easier, and I won’t have to worry as much. Plus, it's kind of nice having that little secret, something that helps me feel more in control”, she said, giving a timid smile.

Bridget watched her daughter closely, noticing the mix of emotions playing across her face. She could see the flicker of vulnerability in Sally's eyes, mingled with a newfound curiosity. Bridget felt a deep sense of pride, recognizing the courage it took for Sally to share something so personal.

"I realize now how stressed you must be about needing the bathroom at school," Bridget said softly. "It must be such a relief not to have that constant worry hanging over you."

Sally nodded, her eyes meeting her mother's. "I guess so, Mom. I dread it, sometimes. I'll be sitting in class, trying to concentrate, but all I can think about sometimes is whether I'll make it to the bathroom in time. The Goodnites just... take that fear away, I think."

Bridget reached across the table, gently squeezing Sally's hand. "I'm so glad to hear that, honey. You deserve to feel safe and secure. So you don’t think you’ll feel uncomfortable or embarrassed about wearing them?"

Sally thought for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly. "Not really," she admitted. "At first, I worry about what people would think if they found out. But then I realize that no one can tell. It's just my little secret. And it makes me feel better, so why should I be ashamed?"

Bridget's heart swelled with admiration. "That's a wonderful perspective, Sally. It's so important to do what makes you feel comfortable and confident, regardless of what others might think. I'm really proud of you for finding a way to cope with your anxiety."

Sally smiled, her eyes shining with gratitude. "Thanks, Mom. It means a lot to hear you say that."

 

Chissà se tu mi penserai

Se con gli amici parlerai

Per non soffrire più per me

Ma non è facile lo sai

A scuola non ne posso più

E i pomeriggi senza te

Studiare è inutile, tutte le idee si affollano su te

Non è possibile dividere la vita di noi due

Ti prego aspettami amore mio

Ma illuderti non so!

 

Mother and daughter enjoyed the Italian music on the background for a while they waited for their food. But inevitably conversation ensued about mundane subjects.

They paused as their waiter arrived with their food, the delicious aroma filling the air. As they began to eat, the conversation continued, weaving through various topics. They talked about school projects, upcoming volleyball matches, and plans for the weekend. The easy flow of their discussion made the trattoria feel even more like a safe haven, a place where they could share anything and everything.

Bridget took a moment to reflect on how far Sally had come. The pull-ups, initially a source of concern and confusion, had become a symbol of Sally's resilience and ability to adapt. Bridget realized that her daughter was navigating her journey in her own unique way, and it was her role to support and encourage that growth.

As they enjoyed their meal, Bridget decided to address one last question that was nagging her. She wanted to ensure Sally knew there were no topics too sensitive or embarrassing to discuss.

"Sally, can I ask you something a bit more personal?" Bridget said gently, setting down her fork.

Sally looked up, curiosity and a hint of nervousness in her eyes. "Sure, Mom. What is it?"

"Have you, um, used your Goodnite tonight? Are you wet?" Bridget asked, her tone careful and kind, but to the point.

Sally's cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and she hesitated before answering. "No, I haven't. Not yet, anyways", she said, giving a sly smile.

Bridget nodded, relief and understanding washing over her. "That's perfectly okay, Sally. I'm just glad you're feeling more comfortable and secure."

Sally looked down at her plate, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thanks for being so cool about it, Mom. It really helps."

Bridget reached over and squeezed Sally's hand again. "Of course, sweetheart. We're a team, and we can talk about anything. I'm here for you, no matter what."

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, delicious food, and the comforting knowledge that no matter what challenges came their way, they could always face them together. For Bridget, the night reaffirmed the deep bond she shared with her daughter. For Sally, it was a reminder that she was loved and accepted just as she was, Goodnites and all.

Sally couldn’t help but wet her Goodnite as they waited for the valet to drive their car up to the door. She was becoming more at ease with the process. As they left Il Duomo, the stars twinkling above, both felt a renewed sense of connection and gratitude, ready to face whatever the future held. Sally basked in the pleasure of a wet Goodnite while seated in the comfortable leather seat in her mother’s “wed” SUV.

--

When Bridget and Sally arrived home, the garage door closed behind them with a quiet hum. They stepped out of the car, and Bridget suggested, "How about we spend the rest of the evening watching TV in my room? We can catch up on that series we've been meaning to watch."

Sally's face lit up. "I'd love that, Mom! But you know, I might end up falling asleep on your bed."

Bridget chuckled, wrapping an arm around Sally's shoulders as they walked inside. "I don't mind if we share a bed. It's been a while since we had a mother-daughter sleepover."

Sally smiled, feeling a warm sense of comfort wash over her. However, her smile quickly faded as Bridget continued, "But before we settle in, you should change out of your wet pull-up."

Sally stopped in her tracks; her eyes wide with shock. "How did you know I was wet?"

Bridget gave her a knowing look, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "Sally, I'm your mother. I noticed while we were waiting for the car outside the restaurant. It was pretty obvious, especially with the way you walked. You were waddling a bit."

Sally's cheeks flushed a deep red, embarrassment flooding her. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to wet myself. Well, I did, but I thought you wouldn’t notice"

Bridget's smile remained warm and reassuring. "Honey, it's okay. That's what 'diapers' are for, remember? There's no need to be embarrassed."

Sally looked down at her feet, feeling a mix of emotions. "I'm going to go put a new one on."

Bridget nodded, "Good girl."

As Sally headed to her room, she felt another rush of excitement at her mother's compliment. There was something oddly comforting and thrilling about the whole situation. Plus, the “diaper” word again.

She quickly undressed, found a fresh pull-up and changed out of the wet one, feeling much better once she was clean and dry. She opted for pulling on just a t-shirt on, since she new her mom was so accepting about her attire of choice. Besides, she liked to keep the thermostat up in her room.

Returning to her mother's room, she found Bridget already in bed, the TV remote in hand and a cozy blanket spread out. "All set?" Bridget asked, patting the space beside her. “I see you’re in extra-comfortable mode tonight”, she said, winking.

Sally nodded, climbing into bed next to her mother. "All set. It’s always warm in your room", explaining her attire.

“You look adorable”, her mother said reassuringly.

They snuggled up under the blanket, the soft glow of the TV filling the room as they started their show. Sally felt a deep sense of contentment and security. The embarrassment from earlier had faded, replaced by the warmth of her mother's understanding and support. It felt wonderfully strange to be sitting on her mother’s bed in a t-shirt and Goodnite.

As the evening wore on, they laughed and chatted, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other's company. Sally felt grateful for the close bond she shared with her mother, knowing that no matter what, Bridget would always be there for her.

Eventually, as the show continued to play, Sally's eyelids grew heavy. She yawned and snuggled closer to her mother, feeling safe and loved. Bridget wrapped an arm around her, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"Goodnight, Sally," Bridget whispered.

"Goodnight, Mom," Sally murmured back, her voice drowsy.

With that, she drifted off to sleep, the comforting sounds of the TV and the warmth of their shared bed enveloping them. It was a perfect end to a wonderful evening, and Sally knew that with her mother's love and support, she could face anything the future held.

Sally’s last conscious act was to release her bladder once again, letting the Goodnite expand between her legs, inducing her into a sweet heavy sleep.

Chapter 16 - Acceptance

Mustang Sally, uh, uh
Guess you better slow your Mustang down
Oh, Lord, what I say now
Mustang Sally, now baby, oh Lord
Guess you better slow your Mustang down, huh, oh yeah

You've been running all over the town now
Oh, I guess I'll have to put your flat feet on the ground, huh
What I said now

Listen, all you wanna do is ride around Sally (ride, Sally, ride) uh
All you wanna do is ride around Sally (ride, Sally, ride) uh
All you wanna do is ride around Sally (ride, Sally, ride) uh
All you wanna do is ride around Sally (ride, Sally, ride)
One of these early mornings (whoo!), you gonna be wiping your weeping eyes, huh
What I said now

The music lingered in the background. “Bare legs”, was Sally’s first thought, realizing she had slept with only her Goodnites on, besides a t-shirt. “Mom’s bed”. She turned over, surveying the empty bed. The smell. “Fried eggs”, she mused. That, and her mom’s music, were enough to get her out of bed in a good mood.

The moment her feet hit the floor another thought hit her. “Wet Goodnite”. She froze. Wet? A shot of adrenaline went through her like a bolt of lightning. She suddenly calmed down, as she vaguely remembered voluntarily wetting herself voluntarily before falling asleep.

Sally hesitated. “Maybe I should clean up and change into something before going downstairs”, she thought. But with her mom calling out “Sally, breakfast’s ready!” loud and clear over the music and across the expansive house, made her decide she’d better tell her mom she was up, and she was going to change. Instead of shouting back, just as her mom had done, she resolved to go herself and let her know.

By the time Sally reached the kitchen, another song was blaring from the Bluetooth speaker. Her mom was fond of her “Sally Playlist”.

 

“Oh well, Sally's folks were poor but she helped all she could
Sally was a good ole girl
Hardest working girl in the neighborhood
Sally was a good ole girl”.

 

“Hey mom”, said Sally timidly, clad in her wet Goodnite and t-shirt. “I need to change, first…”. Her mom didn’t let her finish.

“Morning, sunshine”, she said, pausing the music. “Right on time, eggs are just out”. She blew her daughter a kiss as she balanced the laden plates and set them on the kitchen table, then she kissed her daughter on the forehead. “Sit”, she said.

“Uhm, can I go change, first?, Sally asked.

“No, not if you want cold eggs”, Bridget said, dismissively. “Don’t worry about your attire, honey”.

“But… I’m wet”, Sally tried to explain.

“I know, I checked your diaper while you were sleeping”, Bridget said, nonchalantly. “Sweety, it’s up to you”, Bridget said, holding her daughter on the arm. “But I have a feeling you need to get used to wearing a wet diaper”, she sentenced, looking her in the eye and winking. “So, get comfortable”.

Sally sat meekly on the chair. Her mother checked her diaper while she was sleeping? She couldn’t explain why, but it made her feel all warm and fuzzy. The Goodnite was OK, it didn’t feel wet or anything, just… bloated, slightly sagging. But she had to admit, she was hungry, and the eggs smelled wonderful.

--

For school, Sally decided to forego her pull-ups and opted for her bikini-style panties instead. She still had reservations of wearing her pull-ups to school. She felt a rush of grown-up confidence as she put her panties on, enjoying the sleekness and the feeling of being more like the other girls her age. With a renewed sense of determination, she headed to school.

--

In the School hallway, she met up with Katrina and Clara. Clara beamed at her. "Remember, I'm coming over after dinner for study session."

Katrina couldn't resist a tease. "You two and your study sessions. Nerds unite!"

Sally laughed, feeling light and carefree. "Hey, it's not my fault we have a history test coming up. Besides, you could join us, you know."

Katrina feigned horror. "And miss my precious TV time? No, thanks!", she said, boasting of her natural learning ability.

The girls made her way to Sally’s favorite class—math. Today, they were focusing on numbers and equations with their teacher, Ms. Allison. Sally was excited; math was her strong suit, and she loved the challenge. Katrina moaned, just because she liked to moan.

Ms. Allison started the lesson with a lively explanation of algebraic expressions. "All right, class. Today, we're going to dive into solving quadratic equations. Can anyone tell me what the quadratic formula is?"

Sally's hand shot up, and she recited confidently, "The quadratic formula is x equals negative b plus or minus the square root of b squared minus 4ac, all over 2a."

Ms. Allison smiled. "Exactly, Sally. Now, let's apply that formula to solve this equation: x squared plus 6x minus 7 equals zero."

Sally eagerly worked through the problem, her pencil flying across the paper. She enjoyed the process of isolating the variables and simplifying the expressions. Math was like a puzzle to her, each equation a piece that needed to be placed correctly.

Halfway through the class, Sally felt a familiar pressure in her bladder. She ignored it at first, focusing on the equations and enjoying the sense of accomplishment as she solved each one. But as time went on, the pressure grew more intense, making it harder to concentrate. She crossed her legs and squirmed in her seat, glancing at the clock, willing the class to end.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She raised her hand, her voice betraying her urgency. "Ms. Allison, may I please go to the bathroom?"

Ms. Allison nodded, giving her a sympathetic look. "Of course, Sally. Hurry back."

Sally practically bolted out of the classroom, her heart pounding. She made a beeline for the nearest bathroom, her desperation growing with every step. She reached the door, almost bursting with relief, and quickly dashed into a stall. Just in time, she managed to lift her skirt, pull down her tights and panties and sit, feeling an immense wave of relief wash over her.

As she sat there, catching her breath, she couldn't help but think about her Goodnites. Despite the comfort and confidence her panties gave her, she missed the security of the Goodnites. They would have prevented this mad dash and the near accident. She sighed, realizing the trade-off she had made.

After finishing up, she washed her hands and returned to class, her cheeks still flushed with the excitement and embarrassment of the experience. Back in her seat, she rejoined the lesson, but her mind kept wandering back to the incident.

At the end of the day, as she rode the school bus home, she reflected on the day's events. She enjoyed the grown-up feeling her panties gave her, but she also missed the practicality and security of her Goodnites. And the padding too, she reflected, as she felt the hard school bus seats. “Prison bus”, she mumbled to herself.

--

Sally arrived home from school, the front door closing with a soft thud behind her. She dropped her backpack by the entrance and sighed, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on her. She made her way to the den next to the living room, where her mom was working on her laptop.

"Hey, Mom," Sally greeted, her voice strained.

Bridget looked up from her screen, concern immediately flashing in her eyes. "Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?"

Sally shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Normal," she replied, though her tone lacked any real conviction. "Remember, Clara's coming over later to help me study."

Bridget's eyebrows knitted together as she studied her daughter's tense posture. "Are you okay, Sally? You seem a bit stressed."

Sally waved her hand dismissively. "I'm fine. Just tired, I guess."

Bridget wasn't convinced. She knew her daughter well enough to sense when something was bothering her. "Is there anything specific that’s making you upset?” She raised her an eyebrow. “A wet pull-up, maybe?".

Sally shook her head quickly. "No, Mom. I'm not wearing one. I decided not to wear one to school today."

Bridget's concern deepened. "Why not, honey?"

"Just because," Sally said, shaking her shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. "I have homework to do," she added, turning to leave the room.

As she walked away, Bridget's mind raced. Was Sally just acting like a normal, snappy teenager experiencing PMS, or was there something more to her stress? She shook her head. Her period wasn’t due, yet. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't worn a pull-up under her school uniform, and now she wished she had, but wouldn't admit it.

Bridget sighed, watching her daughter retreat upstairs to her room. She knew better than to press the issue right now. Instead, she resolved to give Sally some space and revisit the conversation later, when her daughter might be more open to talking.

--

Sally closed the door to her room and threw herself onto her bed, feeling the familiar tension in her shoulders. She hated feeling this way, but she couldn't help it. The anxiety of nearly wetting herself during math class had stuck with her all day, and she regretted not wearing a Goodnite to school.

But admitting that to her mom? That was a different story. She didn't want to seem like she couldn't handle herself, like she was too dependent on the security of the pull-ups. Why didn’t she trust her mom? Her mom had showed nothing but understanding and acceptance, even last night, when she had wet herself on the way home from the restaurant. She sighed deeply, staring up at the ceiling, frowning.

She wished she could talk to her mom about it, but something held her back. Maybe it was pride, or fear of seeming childish. She was a teenager, after all! Whatever it was, it kept her from opening up completely. For now, she would focus on her homework and wait till after dinner for Clara to arrive. Maybe a distraction would help ease her mind.

Back in the den, Bridget returned to her work, but her thoughts remained on Sally. She couldn't shake the feeling that her daughter was struggling with more than just school stress. Bridget made a mental note to check in with her later.

--

Sally toyed with the package of Goodnites on her bed, tempted to put one on, but decided not to, since it might distract her from her homework. She pulled off her school uniform and slid on some comfortable lounge pants and her favorite hoodie. She made a mental note to give the bedroom a once-over before Clara came, as she figured she had plenty of time.

But unbeknownst to Sally, Clara was already on her way to her house.

It was still early when the doorbell rang. Bridget, surprised but happy to see Clara, let her in.

"Clara! You’re early," Bridget exclaimed, opening the door wider. "Come in."

Clara smiled, stepping inside. "Hi, Mrs. Johnson. I got home and realized nobody was there. My mom must have thought I was coming straight here, so she went out to run some errands. Dad’s away on a business trip"

"Well, you’re always welcome here. You can have dinner with us. Sally’s upstairs in her room. You can go right up," Bridget said warmly.

"Thanks!" Clara replied, heading up the stairs.

Meanwhile, Sally was in her ensuite bathroom, completely unaware of Clara’s early arrival. She had expected Clara to come after dinner, so she hadn’t tidied her room. The open package of pull-ups was still visibly on her bed, a sight that would definitely require an explanation.

Sally froze when she heard Clara's cheerful voice from her bedroom. "Sally, it’s me! I came early. Hope you don’t mind!"

Panic surged through Sally. Sitting on the toilet with her pants around her ankles, she was totally unable to do anything about it. Clara was here, right now, and she could definitely see the Goodnites package on the bed. She hoped – she knew -  Clara would eventually understand, but the situation was mortifying. How was she going to explain this? She trusted Clara fully, yet the embarrassment of the situation was overwhelming.

"Sally?" Clara called again, a hint of curiosity in her voice. "Are you in the bathroom? I can wait."

"Uh, yeah!" Sally called back, her voice shaking slightly. "Just a minute!"

Her mind raced. She couldn’t just leave Clara waiting out there, but she wasn’t ready to face her either. She desperately needed an angle, some way to make this less awkward. She thought about how Clara had been open about her love for footed pajamas, just as Sally had been. Maybe there was a way to use that to ease into the topic.

But no matter how she spun it, footed pajamas seemed quirky and cute, while Goodnites felt embarrassing and childish. She groaned inwardly, wishing she had a better plan.

In the bedroom, Clara noticed the Goodnites on the bed. Her curiosity piqued, but she didn’t feel judgmental, just puzzled. She wondered why Sally had them out like this. She realized, suddenly, that her coming early wasn’t to her friend’s advantage.

Finally, Sally gathered her courage and got up from the toilet, flushed it and pulled her pants up. She opened the bathroom door, stepping out with a forced smile. "Hey, Clara. Didn’t expect you so early."

Clara smiled back and gave her friend a quick hug. Her eyes flicking to the bed and then back to Sally, apologetically. "Yeah, my mom wasn’t home, so I came here. Hope that’s okay. Your mom said I could stay for dinner".

"Of course, does she know how much you eat?" Sally chuckled, trying to sound casual. She saw Clara glance at the pull-ups again, and she felt her cheeks burning. "Uh, about those…"

Clara raised an eyebrow but kept her expression kind. "Are you a bedwetter? Nocturnal enuresis, I’ve heard about it. It’s really not a big deal, you know. Lots of teenagers deal with nocturnal enuresis. I read that about 1 in 50 teenagers still wet the bed occasionally. There’s a whole industry making diapers for teens, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of."

Sally's face turned a deeper shade of red. "They’re not for bedwetting. I mean, not exactly. And they’re pull-ups, not diapers."

Clara gave her a knowing, condescending but friendly smile. "Sally, they really are the same thing. Pull-ups, diapers, they serve the same purpose. And honestly, if they help you stay dry, who cares?"

Sally sighed, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment. "I guess you’re right. It’s just… sometimes they make me feel more secure, especially after the car accident and all. It’s hard to explain."

Clara’s face softened with understanding. "Hey, I get it. Everyone has their own way of coping. Remember when I told you I like wearing footed pajamas? It’s kind of the same thing, right? We all need our comforts."

Sally felt a wave of relief. "Thanks, Clara. I was worried you’d think it was weird."

Clara laughed gently. "Sally, we’re friends. We all have our quirks. Yours just happens to be more practical than mine. Plus, those footed pajamas I wear are pretty childish too, if you think about it. At least you found a way not to chill your tits off when you’re using the toilet.

Sally giggled at Clara’s forwardness, feeling the tension melt away. "Yeah, I guess you’re right. I have to admit, that’s what got me into wearing pull-ups. I didn’t feel I was enjoying my new pajamas. Thanks for understanding."

"Anytime," Clara said, plopping down on the bed beside the Goodnites’ package. "Now, let’s get started on that history before I get distracted by your amazing taste in underwear."

Sally laughed, joining her friend on the bed. The situation had turned out better than she’d feared, and she felt grateful for Clara’s unwavering support. As they delved into their studies, Sally knew she had a friend she could truly count on, quirks and all.

Sally sat on her bed, her mind racing even as she tried to focus on the history notes spread out before her. Clara's reaction to the pull-ups had been unexpectedly positive, not awkward at all, a weight lifted off her shoulders. But now that the initial relief had faded, new worries began to creep in.

Clara knowing about the pull-ups was a significant step, but where would that lead? Would it be the start of a slippery slope, going further down the rabbit hole? Sally wondered what would happen if someone else found out. She trusted Clara, and she was almost certain Katrina would be supportive as well. Katrina was wild and free-spirited, always embracing the unconventional. But how would this new development affect their friendships?

As Sally pondered these questions, her thoughts drifted back to the accident. The trauma had left a deep mark on her psyche, and the pull-ups had become a coping mechanism, a way to regain a sense of control and security. She had learned about Posttraumatic Growth (PTG), a phenomenon where individuals experience positive psychological changes following a traumatic event. Was this her way of experiencing PTG? Or was it just PTSD and she just didn’t like the sound of it?

The pull-ups, while initially embarrassing, had provided her with a sense of comfort and safety that she desperately needed. They had helped her manage the lingering fears and anxieties that the accident had instilled in her. She had been so worried about developing PTSD, but perhaps this was her unique way of coping, of growing stronger and more resilient.

Sally glanced at Clara, who was engrossed in reading the history paper. She admired her friend's ability to accept her quirks without judgment. Clara had assured her that it was okay to have unique coping mechanisms, and that everyone dealt with their issues in different ways. Clara's mention of the statistics about bedwetting had also been surprisingly comforting. It reminded her that she wasn't alone, that there were others like her who needed similar comforts.

She thought about the practicality of the Goodnites. They had saved her from some moments of anxiety and near-accidents already. They provided a safety net that allowed her to navigate her day with more confidence. The security they offered was undeniable, and she found herself enjoying that sense of assurance, even if it came with a bit of embarrassment.

Sally sighed, a small smile playing on her lips. She didn't know where this journey would take her, but she was ready to embrace it. She had learned that coping mechanisms, no matter how unconventional, were valid and necessary for healing. She was determined to find a balance between her need for security and her desire for independence.

As she continued to check her history notes, Sally felt a newfound sense of acceptance and understanding. She was grateful for Clara's support and looked forward to seeing how Katrina would react. She knew that no matter what, she had people who cared about her and would stand by her side.

She took a deep breath, feeling the familiar crinkle of the Goodnites package on the bed, as Clara brushed it with her arm. It was a reminder of her journey; of the progress she had made since the accident. She wasn't sure what the future held, but she was confident that she could face it with courage and resilience.

For now, she would focus on her studies, on her friendships, and on her own growth. She was determined to navigate this new chapter of her life with an open mind and a hopeful heart. And with friends like Clara by her side, she knew she could handle whatever came her way.

--

As the evening wore on, Sally and Clara continued their study session, their conversation occasionally drifting back to lighter topics and shared jokes. Despite the earlier tension, the atmosphere in the room was now one of warmth and camaraderie. Dinner had been a pleasant affair and the three had had an easy conversation, enjoying Bridget’s culinary talents.

"Remember Mr. Briggs' lecture on the formation of political parties?" Clara asked, a playful glint in her eye. "I swear, he could make a rollercoaster sound boring”. They both chuckled at the old joke.

Sally was grateful for the focus in subject. "Oh, absolutely. How about the fact that Hamilton would be all about online banking today."

Clara giggled. "And Jefferson would totally be a farmers' market enthusiast." That isn’t here in your notes.

Sally nodded, feeling in sync with Clara. "It's amazing how different their visions were, yet both had such a lasting impact on our government."

Clara smiled, impressed. "You always find a way to make history interesting, Sally. Maybe you should be the one giving the lectures."

Sally blushed slightly. "Thanks, Clara. I guess I just like connecting the dots between the past and the present and apply what we can learn. My forte is math".

The conversation flowed easily, and Sally felt herself relaxing more with each passing moment. Clara's acceptance and understanding had lifted a significant burden from her shoulders. She realized that she didn't have to navigate her journey alone. She had friends who supported her, quirks and all.

As the clock ticked closer to bedtime, Sally felt a sense of peace she hadn't experienced in a while. She knew there would be challenges ahead, but she also knew she had the strength to face them. The Goodnites were a part of her coping strategy, but they didn't define her. They were just one of many tools she had to navigate her path toward healing and growth. She hadn’t even put the Goodnites away, leaving them on the bed as a testimonial to their mutual trust.

"Thanks for coming over early, Clara," Sally said softly as they began to pack up their books. "It means a lot to me."

Clara smiled warmly. "Anytime, Sally. We're in this together."

Bridget knocked gently on the door and peeked in. "How's it going in here, girls?"

Sally smiled up at her mom. "We're just finishing up, Mom. Clara's been a huge help."

Bridget stepped into the room, startled at seeing the Goodnites package visible on the bed. She displayed a playful glint in her eye. "Well, since you two are having such a good time, how about Clara stays for a sleepover?"

Clara's eyes lit up. "I'd love that!" She turned to Sally with a mischievous grin. "But I'll stay only if Sally wears her Goodnites."

Sally's cheeks flushed a bit. "Deal. But only if you wear a footed pajama with me."

Clara chuckled and held up her hands. "Fair enough! But just to be clear, though, I'm not wearing Goodnites under it", she stated, defensively.

Bridget watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and relief. She was glad Clara knew about the pull-ups and even more pleased to see how supportive she was. "Sounds like a plan then. I'll drive you both to school in the morning. Clara, give me your clothes so I can put them in the washer. They’ll be clean in the morning”.

"Thanks, Mrs. B," Clara said, grinning. "This is going to be fun."

Sally felt a warm sense of gratitude as she looked at her mom and her friend. "Yeah, thanks, Mom. And thanks, Clara."

"Anytime," Clara replied, giving Sally a friendly nudge. "Now let's get ready for our sleepover."

The girls quickly transformed Sally's room into a cozy sleepover haven. Sally pulled out her favorite pair of footed pajamas and handed them to Clara.

Sally, accustomed to being naked around other girls, didn’t realize at first Clara’s reluctance to undress in front of her. But she realized Clara made an effort to be nonchalant about it, in acceptance to sharing Sally’s secret, and watched as Clara discreetly turned around to strip off her school uniform.

Clara slipped into the soft fabric, laughing as she admired the whimsical design.

"These are so comfy, even with no panties on" Clara giggled, twirling around. "I might just have to think about wearing them like this at home", she stated, since she needed to wash her underwear as well.

Sally grinned as she shyly put on her Goodnites in front of Clara - who pretended not to be really looking - and her own footed pajamas. "I told you they're great. Now we match!"

Bridget popped her head back in, smiling at the sight of the girls in their matching pajamas. "You two look adorable. Do you need anything before I head to bed?", she asked, taking Clara’s bundle of clothes.

"We're good, thanks," Sally replied, feeling a deep sense of contentment.

"Goodnight then. Sleep tight, and don't stay up too late," Bridget said, giving them a wink before leaving the room.

Clara yawned and snuggled on one side of Sally’s Queen-size bed. "This has been a great day, Sally. Thanks for having me over."

"Thanks for being here," Sally replied, her voice soft with emotion. "I'm really glad you're my friend."

"Me too," Clara said, smiling. "Now, let's get some sleep. We've got school tomorrow."

Chapter 17 – War and Peace

"Thanks for the ride, Mrs. B!" Clara called out as she closed the car door.

"Have a great day, girls!" Bridget replied, smiling warmly as she drove off.

Sally and Clara walked side by side, their backpacks slung over their shoulders. They were chatting casually as they made their way to class.

"Do you think Katrina’s already in the classroom?" Sally asked, glancing at the time on her phone.

"Probably," Clara replied. "She’s always early. But you know, it’s a good thing it wasn’t Katrina who found your Goodnites. She would’ve teased you mercilessly."

Sally’s eyes widened in horror. "That’s not true! Katrina is a loyal friend. She might tease about silly things, but she never judges, and she definitely wouldn’t share my secrets."

Clara shrugged, a skeptical look on her face. "I don’t know, Sally. Katrina can be pretty ruthless with her jokes."

Sally shook her head, feeling a surge of protectiveness towards Katrina. "Katrina can be a bit much with her teasing, but she’s never done anything to make me feel bad about myself. She’s always been there for me when it counts."

Clara sighed, looking a bit distant. "I get that you two are close, especially with volleyball and all, but I’ve seen her be pretty harsh with others. I just don’t think she’d handle this the right way."

Sally felt a pang of frustration. "Clara, you don’t understand. Katrina isn’t really like that. Besides, Katrina and I have a different kind of friendship. We spend so much time together; she knows me better than most people. Yes, she jokes around, but she wouldn’t betray me."

Clara raised an eyebrow. "So, you’re saying you trust her more than me?"

Sally was taken aback. "No, that’s not what I’m saying. I trust both of you. It’s just… different. You and I have a more serious, thoughtful friendship, and with Katrina, it’s more playful. But both are important to me. I didn’t even know how you would react. Although I knew you wouldn’t tease me, I sort of expected you to… pity me, think less of me. But you didn’t, you were super cool about it."

Clara almost hugged Sally. She looked thoughtful for a moment, with a tear in her eye. "Maybe I’m just being overprotective. I don’t want anyone to hurt you, Sally. I guess I worry that Katrina might not take this seriously."

Sally sighed, feeling torn. "I appreciate that you care, Clara. Really, I do. But I need to believe that Katrina would be supportive. I don’t want to think that my friend would let me down when it matters."

Just then, they heard a voice behind them. "Hey, did I just hear my name?", said a voice, jovially.

Both girls turned to see Katrina, who had apparently been following them. Her expression was curious and expectant. She hadn’t heard about the pull-ups, but she had caught the tail end of their conversation mentioning her.

Sally and Clara exchanged a quick, worried glance, but neither of them spoke.

Katrina stepped closer, her eyes narrowing slightly. "What’s going on? Why are you talking about me behind my back?"

Sally bit her lip, trying to find the right words. "Katrina, nothing, just...". Sally was too sincere to tell a lie, but she didn’t want to say what they had been talking about.

Katrina crossed her arms, clearly not satisfied with the vague response. "Then what is it? Why won’t you tell me?"

Clara looked away, her face tense. "It’s just... something private. It’s not about you, really."

Katrina’s expression hardened. "It sure sounds like it is. It’s clearly about me, so why are you whispering and acting all secretive?"

Sally felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She hated seeing Katrina upset, but she couldn’t bring herself to explain. "Katrina, please believe me. It’s not something we can talk about right now”, she said, on a pained expression.

Katrina looked from Sally to Clara, then back again. "Fine. Keep your secrets. But it feels pretty crappy to be left out, “amigas”". She made a point to emphasize the last word.

The three girls walked in silence to their classroom, the tension between them palpable. Sally’s mind raced, trying to think of a way to mend the rift that had suddenly formed between them. She knew Katrina was hurt and felt excluded, but the thought of revealing her embarrassing secret was too much to bear.

As they entered the classroom, they found their seats without a word. Katrina sat down; her face set in a stony expression. Clara glanced at Sally and saw the mixture of guilt and frustration in her eyes.

The bell rang, and their teacher began the lesson, but the usual camaraderie between the three friends was missing. They spent the day in silence, each girl lost in her own thoughts. Clara questioned Katrina’s trustworthiness, Sally defended her friend’s loyalty but was too scared to divulge her secret, and Katrina felt the sting of exclusion and suspicion.

The tension lingered throughout the day, casting a shadow over their usual lighthearted interactions. As the school day drew to a close, the silence between them remained, a stark contrast to their usual chatter and laughter.

Sally knew that something had to be done to resolve the situation, but she wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap that had formed. She hoped that with time, they could find a way to restore their friendship and trust, but for now, the path ahead seemed uncertain and fraught with challenges.

All because of her Goodnites.

--

Sally pushed open the front door, her backpack slung over one shoulder. The familiar scent of home filled her nostrils—cooking spices, fresh laundry, and the faint floral notes of her mother’s favorite air freshener. The house was quiet except for the gentle hum of appliances and her mother working in the kitchen. She closed the door softly, trying not to disturb the peace.

“Sally, how was school today?” Bridget asked, glancing up from chopping vegetables.

Sally shrugged, dropping her backpack by the door and slipping off her shoes. “It was fine, Mom. Just a normal day.”

Bridget wiped her hands on a dish towel and walked over to Sally, giving her a one arm hug. “That’s good to hear. How did the sleepover with Clara go? You two seemed to get along better than I would have imagined.”

Sally forced a smile. “Yeah, it was great. We basically talked, but we were tired, I guess. School nights don’t make the best sleepovers.”

Bridget nodded, studying her daughter’s face carefully. “Clara’s a good friend. She’s always been there for you.”

Sally nodded, her smile wavering. “Yeah, she is.”

Bridget took a deep breath, deciding to broach the subject gently. “Sally, can we talk for a minute about something important?”

Sally stiffened, her heart rate quickening. “Sure, Mom. What’s up?”

Bridget guided her to the living room, where they both sat down on the couch. “I wanted to talk about your pull-ups. I noticed that Clara knows about them, and I’m curious how she found out”, Bridget stated, in her direct fashion.

Sally’s face turned red, and she looked away, avoiding her mother’s gaze. “I don’t really want to talk about it, Mom.”

Bridget reached out and gently touched Sally’s arm. “I understand it’s a sensitive topic, but it’s important that we discuss it. Clara seems very supportive, and that’s a good thing. But I need to know how she found out. It’s just to help you, sweetheart.”

Sally’s eyes filled with tears, but she shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it…”, her voice broke.

Bridget sighed softly. “I know this is hard for you, but we need to talk about it. Clara’s friendship is commendable, and I think it’s great that she supports you. But I also want to know how you’re feeling about wearing the pull-ups. Did you wear one to school today?”

Sally’s shoulders slumped, and she started to tremble. “Mom, please…”

Bridget continued gently, “How are you finding the experience of wearing them, Sally? Are they helping you feel more secure?”

That was when Sally broke down. The dam of emotions she had been holding back burst, and she began to cry. “No, Mom, it’s not helping! It’s making everything worse!”, she cried.

Bridget was taken aback, her heart aching for her daughter. “Sally, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

Through her tears, Sally began to pour out her feelings. “Of course it’s not going well! You found out I was peeing myself at the restaurant and waddling afterwards. Just by looking! Clara found out by accident when she came over early. And even Dolores knows because she saw them in my room while cleaning. I know Katrina will have to know sooner or later! Everyone is finding out, Mom, and I feel so humiliated!”.

Sally cried, unable to speak any more.

Bridget’s eyes filled with tears as she listened to her daughter’s pain. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.”

Sally continued, her voice trembling with frustration and desperation. “I thought the pull-ups would help me feel better, but now I feel even more insecure. I’m so scared that more people will find out. I feel like an inadequate teenager, like I’m failing at everything. I thought I could find solace in my pull-ups, but now I don’t know what to do. I’m desperate, Mom. I feel like curling up in my bed and never coming out. I just want to fall asleep and forget everything.”

Bridget pulled Sally into a tight embrace, letting her cry, rocking her gently. “Sally, it’s okay. You’re not inadequate. You’re a wonderful, strong, and brave girl. We’ll figure this out together. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Sally sobbed into her mother’s shoulder, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. Her hiccups prevented her from talking correctly. “I don’t know…  what to do, Mom. I don’t know… how to make this better.”

Bridget stroked Sally’s hair, her own tears falling freely. “We’ll find a way, Sally. We’ll get through this. We’ll talk and come up with a plan that works for you. You’re not alone in this, I promise.”

“Talk? How?”, said Sally, not understanding.

“Let’s talk to somebody who knows about things like this. I think I can find a counselor who can give us some insight into this”, her mother said, measuring her words.

“Counselor? Like, a therapist?”, she asked curiously, behind her tears.

Bridged chuckled softly. “A psychologist. A shrink. Call it what you want. But we need to get some proper answers form somebody who knows.”

Sally clung to her mother, her sobs gradually subsiding. “I just want to feel normal, Mom. I don’t want to be scared all the time.”

Bridget kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll find a way to help you feel safe and secure. We’ll talk to a therapist and see what she suggests. You’re not alone in this, Sally. I’m here for you, every step of the way.”

As they sat together on the couch, Bridget felt a renewed sense of determination. She would do whatever it took to help Sally navigate this difficult time. She would talk to Pamela and find someone who could help them and find a solution that would give Sally the security and confidence she needed.

Sally felt a glimmer of hope. Now she only wished she could restore the tensions between her, Katrina and Clara.

--

In the school driveway, Katrina sat in the back seat of the black Suburban waiting for Sally and Clara to arrive. Katrina’s thoughts were focused solely on her friends. She didn’t like the tension and the distance that had grown between them, and it was time to resolve it. If they had something against her, she wanted them to say it in her face.

As Sally and Clara approached, Katrina waved them over with a diplomatic attitude. "Hey, you two. Thanks for coming."

Sally smiled back, feeling a mix of nerves and relief. She was grateful for the chance to make things right. "Thanks for inviting us, Katrina."

Clara nodded, still wary but willing to give the meeting a chance. "Yeah, thanks."

“Vamos a casa, Maja”, said Katrina. “Oh, this is Maja, she’s my bodyguard, so don’t try anything funny”, she boasted.

That seemed to break the tension. The girls laughed at Katrina’s characterization of her dad’s driver as a bodyguard.

“En serio, Katrina?”, called out Maja. “I didn’t know I was your bodyguard. I didn’t get a raise, you know. So be careful, somebody bad can get you”, she said in her heavily accented English, winking at the rearview mirror, while chewing gum

At the mansion, Katrina led them through the grand foyer and up the sweeping staircase to her room. Her room was spacious and elegantly decorated, but she had made sure it was comfortable and welcoming. She gestured for them to sit on the plush rug in the center of the room.

"Alright, amigas, let’s get straight to it," Katrina said, sitting down with them. "We need to talk about what’s been going on. I hate feeling this distance between us."

Sally took a deep breath, her confidence bolstered by her recent conversation with her mother. "You’re right, Katrina. We do need to talk. There’s something I need to tell you, and it’s really important. Well maybe not, but you’ll be the judge"

Katrina nodded; her expression serious but open. "Go ahead, Sally. I’m listening."

Sally glanced at Clara, who gave her a reassuring nod. "Okay. The reason Clara and I have been so secretive is because… well, I’ve been wearing pull-ups. It started after the car accident. They help me feel secure, but it’s been really hard to talk about."

Katrina’s eyes widened slightly, but she quickly composed herself. "Pull-ups? Like, diapers?"

Sally nodded, her cheeks flushing. "Yeah. And Clara found out by accident. She was worried you’d tease me, but I know you wouldn’t. I just didn’t know how to bring it up."

Katrina’s expression softened, and she started to laugh, not out of mockery but out of sheer relief and amusement. "Oh my gosh, Sally! You were worried about that? You know I would never judge you for something like that. I love you even more for being brave enough to share this with me. Besides, I bet you look cute in diapers!"

Sally blushed, but smiled, glad to see Katrina being herself.

Clara, watching Katrina’s reaction carefully, felt a wave of relief. "You’re not upset or anything?"

Katrina shook her head, still smiling. "Not at all. Sally, if pull-ups make you feel better, then who cares? We all have our things. And Clara, I get why you were worried, but you should’ve trusted me like Sally did."

Sally felt tears of relief welling up in her eyes. "Thank you, Katrina. I’m so glad you understand."

Katrina pulled both girls into a hug. "Of course I understand. We’re friends, right? And friends support each other, no matter what."

Clara joined the hug, her skepticism melting away. "I’m sorry I didn’t trust you, Katrina. I just wanted to protect Sally."

Katrina squeezed them tighter. "I know, Clara. And I love you for that. But next time, let’s talk things out, okay? We’re stronger together. Besides, if I wanted to make fun of Sally I could do it any day, you should see the way she plays volleyball!”.

The three girls sat back, the tension that had lingered for so long finally dissolving. Katrina’s room, with its elegant furnishings and cozy atmosphere, felt like a safe haven for their friendship to heal and grow.

Katrina grinned at them, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Now that we’ve got that out of the way, how about we celebrate our renewed friendship with some snacks? I have a stash of goodies in the kitchen."

Sally and Clara laughed, the weight of the past few weeks lifting off their shoulders. "That sounds perfect," Sally said, feeling a newfound sense of optimism.

Katrina turned to Sally and whispered: “Are you wearing them now?”

“What?”, asked Sally, perplexed. “Oh, the pull-ups! No”, she rolled her eyes. I don’t wear them all the time.

“When do you wear them?”, demanded Katrina, a bit louder this time.

“Like, with my pajamas and stuff”, Sally said, vaguely.

Clara interrupted from the doorway. “Hey, are you coming or what?”, she demanded, frowning.

“Claro”, responded Katrina, promptly.

As they headed to the kitchen, arm in arm, Sally couldn’t help but feel grateful for the support of her friends, even counting in Katrina’s forwardness, which was inoffensive. The darkness that had clouded her mind was lifting.

In the grand kitchen of the mansion, the girls raided the pantry, giggling and joking as they filled their arms with snacks. They returned to Katrina’s room, where they spent the afternoon talking, laughing, and rebuilding the trust that had been momentarily lost.

Chapter 18 – Proof of Friendship

Mrs. Hargrove's philosophy class was the most talked-about elective at school. Known for her liberal teaching methods and open-minded discussions, she had a knack for making complex philosophical concepts accessible and engaging. Today, the class was buzzing with excitement as they prepared for another thought-provoking session, “Introduction to Philosophy”.

Clara, Katrina, and Sally, three friends with a penchant for deep conversations, sat together as usual.

Mrs. Hargrove entered the room, her warm smile and vibrant presence instantly capturing everyone's attention. "Good morning, everyone! Today, we're going to dive into some fascinating themes in philosophy: Existentialism, Phenomenology, and Ethics and Morality. But first, let's start with a quick question: What do you think philosophy is about?"

Hands shot up around the room. "It's about thinking deeply," said one student. "It's about questioning everything," added another. Mrs. Hargrove nodded appreciatively. "Exactly. Philosophy is about exploring the big questions in life, understanding different perspectives, and seeking wisdom."

She wrote three words on the board: Existentialism, Phenomenology, and Ethics. “They may sound complicated and dull, but they have profound implications for our understanding of life”.

"Let's start with Existentialism," she said, turning to face the class. "Existentialism is a philosophical movement that emphasizes individual freedom, choice, and responsibility. It's about the idea that we create our own meaning in life. Jean-Paul Sartre, one of the key existentialist thinkers, believed that 'existence precedes essence'—meaning we exist first and then define ourselves through our actions."

Clara raised her hand. "So, it's like saying we have the freedom to be whoever we want to be?"

"Exactly," Mrs. Hargrove replied. "We are not born with a pre-defined purpose. We have the freedom and the responsibility to create our own identity and meaning."

She moved on to Phenomenology. "Phenomenology, on the other hand, is about the study of experiences. Maurice Merleau-Ponty, a key figure in phenomenology, focused on how we experience the world through our bodies. It's about being aware of our sensations, perceptions, and how we interact with our environment."

Katrina was intrigued. "So, it's about being present and aware of what we're experiencing right now?"

"Precisely," Mrs. Hargrove said. "It's about understanding the world from a first-person perspective, emphasizing our embodied experience."

Lastly, she turned to Ethics and Morality. "Ethics and morality deal with questions of right and wrong, good and bad. They explore how we should live and what kind of actions are morally acceptable. Different cultures and societies have different moral codes, which brings us to the concept of ethical relativism—the idea that moral norms are not absolute but vary across cultures."

She paused, letting the information sink in, then asked, "Now, let's analyze a real-life example. Can anyone think of a modern-day topic that is controversial and ties into these philosophical themes?"

The students exchanged glances, whispering among themselves. Clara, Katrina, and Sally exchanged knowing looks and then Clara raised her hand. "What about nudism?" she suggested. Some local gyms had made the news proposing nudist friendly timeslots for their pools.

There were gasps and muffled cheers in the classroom.

Mrs. Hargrove smiled, clearly pleased with the suggestion. "Excellent choice, Clara. Nudism is indeed a controversial topic that we can analyze through the lenses of existentialism, phenomenology, and ethics."

She turned back to the class. "Let's break it down. From an existentialist perspective, how might nudism be seen?"

Katrina, always eager to participate on any polemic subjects, spoke up "Nudism is like a way to show off your freedom and be real. By going nude, people are saying 'no' to society's rules and just being their true selves."

"Exactly," Mrs. Hargrove nodded. "Nudism allows individuals to define themselves on their own terms, free from societal expectations."

"Now, how about phenomenology?" she asked. "What does nudism offer in terms of embodied experience?"

Sally, thoughtful as always, chimed in. "Being naked helps you really feel and be aware of your body. It lets you experience the world more directly, without clothes getting in the way. It's all about embracing your natural self and being fully present."

"Precisely," Mrs. Hargrove agreed. "Phenomenologically, nudism promotes a deeper connection with our own bodies and the environment."

"And finally, let's discuss ethics," she continued. "How does nudism challenge societal norms and moral judgments?"

Clara raised her hand again. " Nudism goes against society's rules and makes us rethink what we think is right or wrong. What's acceptable changes depending on the culture. Some places think being naked is normal, while others find it wrong. Questioning these rules can help us be more open-minded and inclusive."

"Well said, Clara," Mrs. Hargrove praised. "Nudism prompts us to reconsider our ethical standards and the cultural context in which they arise."

The class buzzed with interest; students clearly engaged by the lively discussion. Mrs. Hargrove beamed at the engaged faces before her. "Philosophy encourages us to question, explore, and understand. Whether it's through existential freedom, phenomenological experience, or ethical inquiry, we learn to see the world in new and profound ways."

--

After Mrs. Hargrove's thought-provoking philosophy class, Clara, Katrina, and Sally couldn't stop thinking about their discussion on nudism. The topic intrigued them, and they found themselves revisiting it later that afternoon in Katrina's spacious bedroom at her family's mansion.

Katrina's room was a haven of comfort and style, with plush carpeting, oversized bean bags, and a large TV mounted on the wall. The walls were adorned with posters of bands, travel destinations, and inspirational quotes. As the three friends settled in, the conversation naturally drifted back to the day's lesson.

"So, what did you guys think about our nudism discussion in class?" Clara asked, lounging on a bean bag and tossing a stress ball in the air.

"I thought it was fascinating," Katrina said, her eyes lighting up. "I mean, going against society's rules and just being our true selves... it's pretty freeing, right?"

Sally, sitting cross-legged on the floor, nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, it's definitely an interesting concept. But, I don't know, it's one thing to talk about it and another to actually do it."

Katrina leaned forward, her mischievous smile indicating she had an idea. "Why don't we try it? Just us, right here. We can spend the afternoon like we usually do—talking, watching videos, singing karaoke—but, you know, without our clothes on."

Clara's eyes widened. "You mean... really try nudism? Here, in your room?"

"Why not?" Katrina said, her excitement growing. "It’s a safe space, and it could be a fun way to see if what we talked about in class really holds true. Plus, it’s a great way to prove our friendship and trust in each other."

Sally looked hesitant but intrigued. She was thankful she had refrained from wearing her Goodnites. "I guess it could help us get closer. We'd definitely have to be super comfortable with each other."

Clara took a deep breath and raised her hand. "Okay, not so quick”, she said, reasonably. “Since when do we need to get naked to get closer, comfortable with each other, to prove our friendship?"

She paused, letting the question hang in the air, her eyes scanning the faces of her friends. Sally looked thoughtful, while Katrina's expression was a mix of surprise and curiosity.

"I mean, I get that we're all trying to understand ourselves better and be more open with each other," Clara continued, her tone measured. "But does that really mean we have to strip down and expose ourselves physically to do that? Friendship is about trust, honesty, and supporting each other through thick and thin, right?"

Clara shifted slightly, leaning forward as she gathered her thoughts. "Look, I know we've been through a lot together. We've shared secrets, fears, and dreams. We've seen each other at our best and our worst. But why does being naked have to be part of that equation?"

She glanced at Katrina, her gaze steady. "Katrina, you're one of the bravest, most confident people I know. You have this amazing ability to make everyone feel included and accepted. But sometimes, I think you push boundaries just to see what happens, without considering how it might make others feel."

Clara turned to Sally, her voice softening. "Sally, you're one of the kindest and most understanding friends I've ever had. You always put others first, and you're incredibly brave for facing everything you've gone through. But I worry that you're agreeing to things just to keep the peace, without thinking about what you really want."

She sighed, feeling the weight of her words. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that we don't need to prove our friendship by getting naked. We prove it by being there for each other, by listening and supporting each other, and by respecting each other's boundaries."

Clara's gaze shifted between her friends; her eyes filled with sincerity. "If being naked is something you both truly want to explore, then fine. But let's make sure it's because we all genuinely want it and not because we feel pressured or think it's the only way to show our closeness."

She took another deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. "Friendship is about more than just physical closeness. It's about emotional and mental connection. It's about understanding and accepting each other, no matter what."

Clara's voice softened, her eyes reflecting the deep bond she felt with her friends. "I love you both, and I want us to be honest with each other. Let's talk about what we really need and want from our friendship. Let's make sure we're all comfortable and happy with the choices we make."

She leaned back, her monologue complete, her heart still racing. The room was silent for a moment, the weight of her words sinking in. Clara could see the thoughtful expressions on Sally and Katrina's faces, and she hoped that her message had reached them.

As the silence lingered, Clara felt a sense of relief. She had spoken her truth, and now it was up to her friends to respond. No matter what happened next, she knew that their friendship was strong enough to handle the challenges and changes they faced.

Katrina was the first to break the silence, her voice thoughtful. "Clara, you're right. I guess I sometimes push boundaries without thinking. I didn't mean to make anyone uncomfortable."

Sally nodded; her expression reflective. "I appreciate your honesty, Clara. I think we should talk more about what we're comfortable with and what we want from each other as friends."

Clara smiled, feeling a sense of hope and gratitude. "Thanks, guys. That's all I wanted. Let's keep being honest and supporting each other, no matter what."

Katrina frowned. "Exactly. I take it back. It doesn’t make sense. We shouldn’t resort to such mechanisms. Alright, let’s make a pact. No judging, no awkwardness, just us being our true selves. Just as we are. In our… nun-school uniforms", she smiled slyly.

Sally, partially relived, cheerfully filed Katrina’s statement in her memory for any future awkwardness her pull-ups, or even diapers might cause.

"So, what should we do first?" Sally asked, breaking the tension with a giggle and fighting the urge to imagine what it would have been like to prance around naked with her friends.

Clara was crossing her arms across her chest, but Katrina was the boldest, holding her hands on her hips, in a confident and bossy manner.

"Let’s start with our favorite," Katrina suggested. "Karaoke!"

They spent the next hour belting out their favorite songs, laughing at their off-key notes, and cheering each other on. The initial awkwardness resulting from the challenging conversation faded away as they focused on the music and each other’s company. They forgot about philosophy, nudism and foreign concepts, their intimacy becoming just another aspect of their quirky identity, and they began to feel a newfound sense of freedom and authenticity.

After karaoke, they settled down to watch some funny videos, lying comfortably on the bean bags and chatting casually, taking turns in selecting shorts they had previously watched. The conversation naturally drifted to deeper, more personal topics.

The girls took a break to use Katrina’s ensuite bathroom. Sally admired her claw foot bathtub in the middle of the bathroom. She washed her hands and stared at herself in the mirror, deep in thought. When she returned, both girls were sitting cross-legged on the floor. She sat down with them.

"I’ve always felt so self-conscious about my body," Sally admitted, her voice soft. "But this open relationship... this feels kind of freeing. Like I’m finally accepting myself as I am."

“You’ve got a nice body”, Katrina announced, having seen her naked in the school showers. “I almost expected you to be wearing your, uhm, pull-ups”, she confessed. She raised her hand to stall the obvious outcry from her friends. “I said, no awkwardness, and I meant it. What I mean is, Sally, never be shy or afraid around us. If you feel like wearing your pull-ups, heck, even if they are full-blown diapers, feel absolutely at ease, I swear I am not going to tease or anything”, she announced, her hand still raised.

It was an awkward moment that demanded a hug, but Sally managed to swing her arm around Katrina and give her a half-hug. “Thanks”, she said. “It means a lot, and maybe I will”, she said in a giggle, separating from Katrina.

Clara nodded. “I say the same. It’s like nudism, revealing and sharing, even participating in each other’s deepest secrets… I get that. I’ve always been worried about what others think of me. But being here, like this, with you guys, it makes me realize how much those thoughts don’t matter”, she said, visibly more relaxed.

Katrina smiled warmly at her friends. "I think this is what the philosophy teacher was talking about. Being authentic, experiencing the world—and each other—without barriers. I’m really glad we are doing this."

Clara leaned forward. “Sally, tell us about your pull-ups”.

There was a frozen silence.

“I mean…”, she hesitated, looking for the correct words. “We really feel for you. Since the car accident we were worried about you, looking for signs you were all right… now we don’t know if we should be worried or like it’s totally fine”, Clara said in a caring voice. “Since we’re opening our hearts out, maybe you could give us some insight on what’s going on. We want to know how to better support you”.

Sally frowned. She wasn’t expecting trusting her friends would lead to this level of sincerity.

Sally took a deep breath. "Okay, here it goes. After the accident, I started feeling really anxious, especially about going to the bathroom. I think buying footed pajamas sort of led me to it, I didn’t feel comfortable going to the bathroom, you have to take them almost completely off, it’s like the Pull-ups were a necessary addition. I realized it made me feel more in control to wear pull-ups, knowing I wouldn't have to worry about accidents or uncomfortable situations."

Katrina and Clara listened intently, their faces showing understanding and compassion.

Sally continued, "At first, I thought it was just a phase, but it became more than that. It’s not just about the control it gives me. I realized I actually kind of like it. The feeling of wearing them, the security, even the secrecy of it... there's something comforting about it. And yes, even using them sometimes. I also think they look nice on me”.

Katrina, wide eyed, covered her mouth at Sally’s revelations.

Clara raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt, letting Sally continue.

Sally took another deep breath. "But it’s not as easy as it sounds. I do have a lot of insecurities; anxieties, I guess you would call them. I haven’t started therapy yet, but I plan to. I’m hoping it can help me figure out how to manage this new... thing. But right now, I feel really lost. I don’t know what to do or how to feel about it. I know it’s not normal"

Katrina nodded thoughtfully. "I get it, Sally. It’s a lot to deal with. But you’re not alone. We’re here for you, whatever you need."

Clara added, "Absolutely. And it’s okay to feel confused or scared. We’ll figure it out together."

Sally felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Thank you, guys”.

Katrina grinned suddenly. "You know what? I think it’s kind of cool that you’re exploring this part of yourself. It takes guts to be honest about what you’re going through."

Clara nodded in agreement. "And if you ever need to talk or need any help, we’re here for you. No judgment, just support."

Sally smiled, feeling a newfound sense of optimism. "Thanks. I really appreciate it. Do you have any suggestions on how I should handle this?"

Katrina leaned back, thinking. She was pleased Sally was including them in offering possible insight to her dilemma. "Maybe you could start by wearing them more often. Like at home or when you’re with us. And as you get more comfortable, you can decide when and where you prefer using them."

Clara nodded. "Yeah, good idea. Take it one step at a time and see how you feel."

Sally felt a sense of hope. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I’ll try that. Thanks, guys."

“Definitely, our next sleepover is going to be interesting”, mused Katrina.

“Well, I have to admit, Sally does look terribly cute in her pull-ups”, Clara couldn’t help commenting to Katrina.

“Thanks, Clara”, said Sally, blushing profusely. She was thankful for Clara’s comment, because she knew Clara really meant it, and wasn’t making fun of her. “I can’t believe I just ‘fessed up, like about everything. Thanks for being so nice about it”, murmured Sally.

Katrina reached out and squeezed Sally’s hand. "Anytime, Sally. We’re in this together."

Clara smiled warmly. "Definitely. You’ve got this, Sally. And we’ve got your back."

“And your front”, giggled Katrina. Sally couldn’t help but cover herself, as Katrina jokingly ogled her. Even dressed, Sally had the impression Katrina could see through her.

“Katrina, be nice”, reprimanded Clara.

They continued to share their thoughts and feelings, discussing insecurities, dreams, and the pressures they faced. The vulnerability of being emotionally exposed led to a level of openness they hadn’t experienced before.

By the end of the afternoon, they felt a profound connection, a deepened bond of friendship and trust. They had tested the boundaries of their comfort zones and discovered a new level of intimacy and understanding.

As they got their school bags and prepared to leave, Clara smiled at her friends. "Today was... incredible. I feel like we’ve grown so much closer."

"Me too," Sally agreed. "I think we should do this more often. Not necessarily the deep emotional stuff, but just being open and totally honest with each other."

Katrina smiled, her eyes shining with playfulness. “I was almost looking forward to the nudism part. You two look gorgeous. Absolutely. This is just the beginning of our journey together. The almost nudist trio!”

Clara and Sally blushed. The three friends hugged tightly, knowing that their friendship had been strengthened in ways they never imagined. They left with a renewed sense of confidence and a promise to always support each other, no matter what.

--

Bridget's red SUV pulled up the driveway outside Katrina's mansion. Sally said goodbye to her friends, a broad smile on her face, and hopped into the passenger seat, her heart light and her spirits high after an afternoon of deep conversations and newfound understanding.

"Hey, sweetheart," Bridget greeted warmly as Sally climbed into the car. "How was your time with Clara and Katrina?"

Sally beamed, closing the door and buckling her seatbelt. "It was amazing, Mom. We had the best time!"

Bridget smiled, pulling away from the curb and heading towards home. "I'm so glad to hear that. What did you guys do?"

"Well," Sally began, guarding her words, with no intention of revealing their near brush with nudity. "We started with some karaoke, and then we watched funny videos. But the best part was our conversation."

Bridget glanced at her daughter, intrigued. "Oh? What did you talk about?"

Sally took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "Mom, I told them everything. About my pull-ups, the car accident, and even about starting therapy soon."

Bridget's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she quickly composed herself. "You did? How did they react?"

Sally couldn't suppress her smile. "They were so cool, Mom. Katrina was amazing. She told me that if wearing pull-ups makes me feel better, then I should do whatever I need to. She even said that I should wear my pull-ups around them if I wanted to"

Bridget felt a wave of relief and pride. "That's wonderful, Sally. I'm so proud of you for being honest with your friends."

"And Clara was great too," Sally continued. "At first, she was worried that Katrina might tease me, but she came around. She told me that they’re both here for me, no matter what. We even talked about how I like the feeling of wearing pull-ups and the security they give me. It was such a relief to be open with them."

Bridget reached over and squeezed Sally's hand. "I'm so happy to hear that, honey. It sounds like you have some truly amazing friends."

They got out of the car and walked into the house. Inside, it felt safe and familiar to Sally. Bridget set her keys down on the kitchen counter and turned to her daughter. “I’m so happy you have friends like Clara and Katrina."

Sally smiled, feeling the warmth of her mother's love. "Me too, Mom. And I’m really looking forward to starting therapy with Dr. Thompson. I think it’s going to help me a lot."

Bridget nodded. "I think so too. And remember, you can always talk to me about anything. I’m here for you, no matter what."

"I know, Mom. Thank you," Sally said, hugging her mother tightly.

“Now, go get out of this uniform and into your pull-ups”, said her mother, firmly.

Sally skipped away happily.

“Good girl!”

Chapter 19 – Rabbit Hole

Dr. Thompson began the session with a warm smile. “Hi, Sally. Hi, Bridget. How are you both feeling today?”

Sally glanced at her mom before replying. “I’m okay, just a bit nervous.”

Bridget nodded, squeezing Sally’s hand. “We’re doing alright, Dr. Thompson. Thank you for seeing us.”

“Of course,” Dr. Thompson said, her tone reassuring. “Sally, I want you to know that this is a safe space where you can talk about anything that’s on your mind. There’s no judgment here. Are you ok with your mom being here? Because she doesn’t have to stay”.

Sally nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’d like her to stay.”

Dr. Thompson nodded. “Last time we spoke, your mom mentioned that you’ve been wearing pull-ups and footed pajamas to feel more comfortable and secure. Can you tell me more about how that makes you feel?” she asked gently.

Sally hesitated about speaking openly. “Well, it’s kind of weird to talk about, but… I actually like wearing them. They make me feel safe. I don’t have to worry about accidents or feeling embarrassed”, she said.

Dr. Thompson nodded, her expression encouraging. “That makes a lot of sense. These behaviors are your way of coping with the trauma from the car accident. Let’s explore why they help you feel secure and how we can support you better.”

Sally looked down at her hands, feeling a bit more at ease. “It’s like… when I wear them, I feel like I don’t have to worry about anything. They are comforting, I guess”.

“Sally, do you remember the last time you needed diapers?”, Dr. Thompson asked. “Besides now, I mean”, she clarified.

 Sally thought for a while. “Five? I think I was five when mom said I needed to stop wearing… well, they were pull-ups, so she potty trained me, I guess”.

Bridget was nodding.

Dr. Thompson nodded in encouragement. “Would you say wearing pull-ups now makes you remember your childhood fondly?”, she inquired.

Sally nodded thoughtfully. “It’s like being a kid again when everything was simpler.”

“Exactly,” Dr. Thompson said, smiling. “In Jungian psychology, we often talk about the collective unconscious and archetypes. One of these archetypes is the Inner Child, which represents the innocence and safety of childhood. By wearing garments of choice, you’re reconnecting with that Inner Child, creating a sense of security for yourself.”

Sally’s lost stare made Dr. Thompson rephrase. “There's this idea called the collective unconscious, which is like a shared set of memories and ideas that all humans have. One part of this is called archetypes, which are universal symbols or themes. One of these archetypes is the Inner Child”

Sally nodded, urging her on Dr. Thompson continued. “Sally, an archetype is a common symbol or pattern that everyone recognizes, like a hero or a mother figure. It's a universal idea that shows up in stories and dreams everywhere. The Inner Child represents the innocence and feeling of safety we had when we were kids. By wearing pull-ups and footed pajamas, you're connecting with that Inner Child part of yourself, helping you feel safe and secure like you did when you were younger."

Sally’s eyes widened with understanding. “My “little” side! it’s like I’m trying to feel safe like I did when I was a kid?”

“Precisely,” Dr. Thompson said. “This is a form of symbolic self-healing. It allows you to process your trauma in a non-verbal and intuitive way. These behaviors help you access feelings of comfort and protection that are very important for your healing journey.”

Bridget looked at Dr. Thompson, her concern evident. “So, what can I do to support Sally? How can I help her feel more secure?”

It depends. In one way I could think of it as a superficial whim, but we know it’s far deeper than that. Many times, we are able to hide our feelings, but one time too many they surface and need to get out. Hence the crying, yelling hysterics…

“That’s exactly what happened to me”, Sally whispered. Bridget gave a knowing look at her daughter.

“That’s why I think it’s important we take care to address this in a healthy fashion”, said Dr. Thompson.

Bridget and Sally leaned closer to the doctor.

Dr. Thompson turned to Bridget; her expression thoughtful. “It’s important to create an environment where Sally feels safe and understood. Encouraging her to wear these comforting items – her pull-ups - when she feels anxious can be very helpful. In fact,”, she paused, “it might be beneficial to move beyond pull-ups to actual diapers. Diapers can provide an even greater sense of security and comfort.”

Sally looked shocked, her eyes widening. “Diapers? Like a real baby? No way. That’s too much.”

Bridget held Sally’s hand tightly.

Dr. Thompson remained calm. “I understand that this might seem like a big step, Sally. But think about it—if pull-ups provide you with comfort and security, diapers might enhance that feeling even more. It’s about finding what works best for you. Exploring this “little” side in all its potential”

Sally shook her head, feeling a mix of emotions. “But I’m not a baby. Wearing real diapers would be so embarrassing.”

Bridget gently placed her other hand on Sally’s arm. “Sweetheart, if it helps you feel better, maybe it’s worth trying. We’re here to support you.”

Sally felt a knot in her stomach. She secretly felt an attraction to the idea but didn’t want to admit it. “I don’t know… it just feels so weird.” She tried picturing herself in diapers. What did they look like, for someone her size?

Dr. Thompson leaned forward, her voice soothing. “Sally, this isn’t about being a baby. It’s about addressing your needs and finding what makes you feel secure. Many people use various tools and strategies to cope with anxiety and trauma. There’s nothing wrong with finding what works for you.”

Sally bit her lip, still resistant. “But what if someone finds out?”

Dr. Thompson raised her hand to calm her. “You are emphasizing embarrassment, shame. How about turning around from that and pursuing comfort, exploration, freedom, curiosity, discovery?”, she discoursed, passionately. “There is nothing you need to be ashamed of, as you stated yourself, insisting your mother stay, which is a choice I admire greatly”. 

Dr. Thompson continued: “Your privacy is important, and we can work on ways to ensure you feel comfortable and secure without worrying about others finding out,” she reassured her. “This is about your well-being, and taking care of yourself should be your top priority.”

Bridget nodded in agreement. “We can make sure it’s just between us, Sally. No one else needs to know.”

Sally looked down, feeling torn. She remembered the overwhelming sense of security the pull-ups gave her and couldn’t deny the pull of the idea, even if it felt embarrassing. “I guess… if it really helps, I could try.” She remembered Katrina and Clara’s advice, saying she should take things one step at a time. And then deal with them when they came. Were diapers the next step? At least she already knew she could count on their support.

Dr. Thompson smiled, seeing Sally’s resolve. “That’s all we’re asking, Sally. Just try it and see how you feel. It’s a process, and it’s important to take it one step at a time.”

Sally took a deep breath, feeling a bit more determined. “Okay. I’ll try.”

“Diapers, I am going to wear diapers”, Sally’s thoughts were spinning.

“Wonderful,” Dr. Thompson said, pleased with Sally’s willingness. “Bridget, it will be helpful if you can gently introduce the idea and make it a part of your routine. For instance, if you notice Sally is feeling anxious, you can put her in a diaper as a way to help her relax and feel secure.”

Bridget smiled at her daughter, her eyes filled with love and support. “We’ll get through this together, sweetheart.”

Sally nodded, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension. “Thanks, Mom.”

Dr. Thompson continued, “Remember, this is part of Sally’s individuation process, a key concept in Jungian psychology. By accepting and understanding her need for these comforts, Sally is integrating her past experiences with her present self, leading to a more cohesive and resilient identity.”

Bridget’s resolve strengthened. “Okay, we’ll do this together. I want Sally to feel safe and supported.”

Dr. Thompson smiled warmly. “Let’s set some goals for the coming week. Sally, how about we start with using the diapers at times when you feel particularly stressed, or tired? And Bridget, you can help by being supportive and making sure Sally feels comfortable.”

Sally nodded, feeling a renewed sense of hope. “I can do that.”

Bridget squeezed her daughter’s hand. “We’ll get through this together, sweetheart.”

“And I need to talk to you more about this, Bridget, just some ideas to get you going. Can you come tomorrow?

Bridget assented. “Same time good for you?”.

“Absolutely. Does Sally need to come as well?

“Not really”, said Dr. Thompson.

Sally hesitated. “So, are you going to prescribe like pills or something?”, she asked, wondering if there was something else.

Dr. Thompson looked at her and smiled. “I have a prescription for you”. She took a paper pad with her clinic’s logo and wrote on it. “There, get some of these. You don’t need to go to the pharmacy, you can get them easily online”,

Sally took the note which read: “Disposable extra-absorbent diapers”.

She smiled, turning red.

--

The next day, while Sally was at volleyball practice, Bridget was at Dr. Thompson’s office.

"Bridget, I’ve been considering some strategies to help Sally feel more comfortable and secure in her journey. I’ve been trading ideas with some colleagues and there’s one approach I’d like to discuss with you."

Bridget listened expectantly.

"The idea is to give Sally some space so she can explore and understand her 'little side' on her own. It's not a matter of trust—in fact, it shows how much she trusts you. There are parts of life that require privacy and self-exploration, much like how a child freely discovers the world without inhibitions. At Sally's age, it's more appropriate for her to have this personal time to reflect and grow independently."

“Like, in her own bedroom?”

Dr. Thompson shook her head. “Not there, there’s too many references to her teenage identification, distractions, and such.

Bridget leaned forward; her interest piqued. "Dr. Thompson. What do you have in mind?"

Dr. Thompson smiled reassuringly. "Do you have an unused room in your house, a space that isn’t currently being utilized?"

Bridget thought for a moment. "Actually, yes. We have a large space over the garage that we converted. It’s connected to the upstairs corridor. I initially thought I’d use it as my office, but it felt too isolated from the rest of the house. It’s fully carpeted, has an independent bathroom, painted white to make it brighter, but it has skylights instead of windows... I figured it might be useful as an art studio or something.”

Dr. Thompson nodded, her eyes lighting up with interest. "That sounds perfect. I’d like to suggest using that room as a conditioning space for Sally. A place where she can get used to wearing diapers and explore her creative side. Often, the Inner Child can express itself more freely in a new environment, devoid of familiar memories and distractions."

Bridget looked intrigued but hesitant. "How exactly would this work?"

Dr. Thompson leaned in slightly, her tone gentle but persuasive. "We would encourage Sally to spend time in this room alone, in her diaper. Actually, wearing only her diaper, at least in the beginning. No pants. She would be given paper and writing materials, for example, to express herself. No electronics, at least for now. The idea is to allow her to have a 'raw' experience, free from external influences and pressures. This can help her cope with her emotions and become more comfortable with her feelings and desires."

Bridget’s eyebrows furrowed slightly. "That sounds quite… unconventional. Do you think it will really help her?"

Dr. Thompson smiled warmly. "I understand it might seem unorthodox, but Sally is a bright and intelligent teenager. She’s very aware of the thoughts and expectations of those around her, which can make it difficult for her to fully open up. By providing her with a space where she can be alone and experience wearing a diaper, using it, being free to explore her emotions without judgment, she can begin to make sense of her feelings in a safe and controlled environment."

Bridget considered this for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "I see. It does make sense in a way. Giving her a space where she can be herself without any distractions or expectations… it might just be what she needs."

Dr. Thompson nodded encouragingly. "Exactly. It’s about giving her the freedom to explore her inner world, her “little” side. This space would allow her to express herself creatively and emotionally, helping her to integrate her experiences and feelings."

Bridget’s hesitation began to melt away, replaced by a sense of curiosity and hope. "Alright, Dr. Thompson. I think we can give this a try. I’ll prepare the room and make sure it’s a comfortable and inviting space for her."

Dr. Thompson leaned back; her expression thoughtful. "Let’s introduce the idea to Sally gently, explaining the purpose of the room and how it can help her. We need to be transparent with her, she needs to understand the mechanism. Once she’s comfortable with the idea, we can start as soon as she feels ready."

--

That evening Bridget decided to talk to Sally about Dr. Thompson’s suggestion.

“Sally, can we talk for a moment?” Bridget asked gently.

Sally, curled on the sofa already in her footed pajamas and Goodnites, looked up, curious.

Bridget took a deep breath, then explained Dr. Thompson’s idea about the room over the garage. She described in detail Dr. Thompson’s proposal on how she thought Sally should be introduced to her diapers.

Sally listened quietly, her initial resistance showing in her furrowed brow. “I don’t know. It sounds… strange.”

Bridget nodded, understanding her hesitation. “I get that, sweetheart. But Dr. Thompson thinks it could really help you feel more secure and comfortable with your emotions. It’s a place where you can be yourself without any distractions or expectations.”

Sally thought for a moment, considering the idea. Part of her was curious about the potential benefits, and another part was still resistant. “I guess I could try. It just feels a bit strange.”

Bridget smiled warmly. “That’s all we’re asking, Sally. Just give it a try and see how you feel. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Sally assented, feeling a mixture of apprehension and curiosity.

Bridget hugged her daughter, feeling a sense of hope and determination.

Sally began to feel a growing sense of anticipation. She was already looking forward to wearing diapers. She didn’t know what to expect, but she trusted her mom.

The next day after school Bridget and Sally stood in the doorway of the studio, looking at the cozy, inviting space Sally was supposed to make her own. The room was filled with soft light from the skylights, and the thick carpeting made it feel warm and safe.

“This looks great”, Sally said, feeling a bit more reassured.

Bridget smiled, hugging her daughter. “There’s one more thing, though, sweetheart. Dr. Thompson suggests that you should be in the room wearing only a diaper.”

Sally’s eyes widened in surprise. “What? Like, no pants or anything?”

“I know it sounds extreme, Sally, but there’s a reason for it. Dr. Thompson believes it’s important for you to get used to wearing it—and using it— being only in your diaper and maybe a simple t-shirt, with no distractions or grown-up identifications. Think of it as a blank canvas where you can paint your own story. It’s a way to really explore your emotions and find your way through them.”

Sally felt a wave of embarrassment and fear.  

But deep inside her, Sally was surprised she wasn’t as outraged as she thought she should be. Remembering she had been willing to get naked with her friends, and the reason – closeness and absolute trust – made her understand this process better. She needed to choose to trust her mother – fully.

Like riding in a roller-coaster. Or going down a rabbit hole.

Bridget gently took Sally’s hand. “I understand, honey. It’s a big step, and it feels strange. But this is about helping you feel more secure and comfortable with yourself. You don’t have to do it if you’re not ready, but maybe you could give it a try and see how it feels?”

Sally looked down, her mind racing. Part of her was horrified at the idea, but another part of her was strangely fascinated. Could this really help her understand her feelings better? Could it make her feel more secure? She remembered wearing her Goodnite just the other night… seeing herself wearing only a Goodnite – not even a shirt covering her - in the mirror hadn’t been so bad. In fact, she had looked cute, she remembered Clara saying. She might as well try the same in a diaper.

After a long moment, Sally nodded slowly. “Only if you think it will help.”

Bridget smiled, hugging her daughter tightly. “Remember, this is your space and your journey. I’m here to support you every step of the way. Tomorrow we can begin our discovery journey.”

“For now, let me take care of you the only way I know how”. Her mother took her by the hand and led her to her bedroom.

Sally allowed her mother to gently undress her and slide a Goodnite up her legs. Sally looked in awe at her mother as she stepped into the offered pajama pants – her footed pajamas were in the laundry – and finished off with a cozy pajama top. Bridget helped her daughter into bed and pulled the covers up. Just as she had when Sally was small.

--

Saturday morning shone bright and warm. It looked like any other Saturday in which Sally would sleep, be lazy, and do nothing of profit until the afternoon, when she would lazily get some homework done and study a bit, before relaxing and having fun, whichever way would present itself for a fourteen-year-old.

However, this Saturday was different. Her mother took charge of her bright and early, leading her to the kitchen where she would have breakfast. Her Goodnite was slightly sagging under her pajama pants, as she’d peed herself sometime in the night, going back to a peaceful sleep.

There was a large glass of milk, whole wheat toast with avocado – she loved avocado – and then a large glass of orange juice. “You’ll want to be hydrated, Sally”, her mother explained. Sally blushed at the implications, but she was secretly excited at trying out this experiment with the diapers.

Sally helped her mother clear the dishes as she swelled in anticipation.

“Let’s go upstairs, then?”. Bridget said as she took Sally by the hand, and Sally let herself be led, as she was almost afraid, she’d chicken out.

When they reached the studio – that’s what they had named the room – Bridget pointed out the features. They had installed one of those Ikea sofas that turn swiftly into a bed – it was in the sofa position- and there were notebooks and a collection of pens and crayons for her to use. They could gradually add more things, if there was anything she wished. The room was large, but comfortably warm. Bridget had turned the thermostat all the way up. The door had no lock, so she was free to leave whenever she wanted. She was under no obligation. “Are you ready to begin, Sally?”

Sally nodded. She took her pajama top off, and let her mom slide her bottoms down, and help her rip the wet Goodnite and slide it between her legs. Naked, she let her mother wipe her down with a wet wipe, and help her onto the floor, where a padded mat had been laid out.

It was an intense moment, for both mother and daughter. Bridget was hesitant, but Sally was willing. She had chosen consciously to trust her mother, despite her… shyness? Yes, that would be the word. She wasn’t embarrassed, nor ashamed.

Sally lay naked on the padded mat, and passively watched as her mother ripped the diaper bag open, and managed to slide a diaper out, opening it up. It seemed huge to Sally, who was used to her Goodnites. Bridget tried to manipulate the diaper to make it more malleable, making a characteristic crinkling noise that Sally found relaxing. When the diaper was more or less to her liking, Bridget opened a talc bottle and sprinkled some on Sally’s nether region. Sally couldn’t avoid a giggle, seeing her crotch all covered in white.

Then came the diaper. “Lift up”, and Sally instinctively held her weight with the flats of her feet and lifted up her bum, and her mom slid the open diaper underneath. “Down, gently”, and Sally lowered herself slowly, allowing her mother to position the diaper properly. For Sally, the taping of the diaper over her crotch was like the sealing of her fate, her destiny. The total surrender to a chosen path of self-discovery.

The t-shirt was a pastel green one with a flower on it. Sally had forgotten she still had it, and she raised her arms so her mother could slip it on. It was on the small side, and because of it, Sally felt it exposed her new bulky diaper even more.

Sally took a deep breath and watched her mom step out of the room, feeling a mixture of nerves. As her mother closed the door behind her, she felt a sense of anticipation. She didn’t know what the future held, but she was ready to explore this new chapter of her healing journey.

--

In the quiet, softly lit room, Sally stood for a moment, taking in the peaceful atmosphere, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt exposed and vulnerable, but also strangely liberated. She looked around the room, feeling the soft carpet under her feet. She felt the thick diaper taped on her waist and the snug bulk between her legs. Instinctively, she crossed her arm across her chest, and sighed. She lowered herself on the thick carpeted floor and sat there, cross-legged.

She picked up a piece of paper and a pen, sitting down on the floor. The silence of the room wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, and she began to write. At first, her thoughts were jumbled and hesitant, but gradually, she found a rhythm. She wrote about her fears, her hopes, and her desires. She drew pictures that reflected her emotions, allowing her creativity to flow freely.

As time passed, Sally felt a sense of calm and clarity. The act of expressing herself without any distractions or judgments was an incredible freeing. She realized that this space, and the act of wearing only her diaper, allowed her to connect with her deepest feelings in a way she hadn’t been able to before.

But as her breakfast-induced bladder pressure mounted, she was hesitant to let go. It was like the magic was going to end. She caressed the soft white diaper between her legs. It felt nice. Nicer than the Goodnites. Pure white. Except for the blue sticky tabs. She dropped her notebook and pen and explored her diaper.

She got on her knees and bent over, sliding her hands all over the diaper. She looked around. Then she frowned. She picked up the notebook and wrote “mirror”. She decided she would make a list of things that that were missing. A large mirror on the wall was a must, as she must look cute for sure in that diaper.

“Pillows”. Maybe something to drink. She wasn’t thirsty now, but she wrote “Water bottle?”. She didn’t know what kind of drink she should be having in her studio. Pop would be too… grown-up? Maybe juice. As time went by, she carefully imagined items she was missing to make this a long-term comfortable place for her to be in.

Even wetting her diaper for the first time seemed easier now, as she kept her mind busy in little things. The pressure was making her uncomfortable, so she figured she might as well be done with it. She got on her knees and leaned back, almost sitting on the floor. As she widened her knees a bit, she could feel herself easily releasing her bladder into the diaper. The hiss went on for a while, and she basked in the glory of her diaper filling up. She laid her hand on the front of the diaper, feeling it heat up and seeing it turn yellow. She relaxed as the flow slowly ended, feeling the wetness being absorbed in the back of the diaper as well. When she finished, she gently rested her bottom on the carpeted floor, feeling the squishy warm diaper under her butt.

No fear of leaking. No fear of being discovered. No fear. Period.

Sally’s fear of the magic being over never came to happen. The magic continued, and she could hardly remember any time of her life in which she was more relaxed and at ease. She dozed, relaxedly, on the floor, lying on her back.

When Bridget checked on her later, Sally opened her eyes with a smile. “I think this might actually help, Mom. It feels… right.”

“That’s amazing, honey”, she said.

Bridget was carrying a diaper in her hand, and Sally submitted gladly to her mother changing her diaper. She offered her a large bottle of pineapple juice, and Sally downed half of it. She kept the rest for later.

As lunch approached, Sally was busy rewriting a line of thoughts she had had trouble finding coherence earlier. As she didn’t have a desk in the studio yet, she was kneeling by the sofa and resting her notebook on the seat, and she was delighted to find that position comfortable both for writing… and peeing.

Sally’s juice bottle was empty, and her diaper was full. She was reading her final edit when her mother walked in. She had her apron on, as she had been getting lunch ready. She had one of Sally’s skirts with her and handed it to her. “Lunch is ready, honey, I thought you would want to wear something over that diaper”, she said, winking.

She looked at her daughter in amazement, getting a glimpse of the level of writing she had been doing. “My, you are turning into quite the Shakespeare”, Bridget said. She looked on as Sally struggled to get the skirt up over her diaper. She noticed the diaper was wet once again, but it could wait till after lunch.

“It’s strange writing so much by hand, but I guess I’m getting used to it”, Sally said, while zipping up her skirt and pulling her t-shirt down. “What’s for lunch?”, she said, turning to her mother.

“Vegetable soup and grilled cheese sandwich”, Bridget answered, following Sally out of the studio and closing the door. She considered Sally as she walked on in front of her. The skirt did a good job covering Sally’s diaper, although it was shorter than her school uniform, but the short t-shirt rode up revealing the diaper waistband clearly sticking out the top. It was obvious, though, that Sally was waddling. The wet diaper made her walk differently, but maybe she would get used to walking in a wet diaper in the future.

As Sally silently wolfed down her lunch, Bridget watched her apprehensively as she considered her next steps. She wondered what Sally had experienced up there on her own. Should she pause the experiment, or should she have Sally continue spending time in the studio for the remainder of the day?

“Sally”, said Bridget.

Sally looked up expectantly from her sandwich.

“Tell me, honey? What have you been up to?”, she asked, inviting Sally to give a personalized account.

“Nothing, mostly”, said Sally, shrugging her shoulders.

“More than nothing, I expect”, said Bridget, clearly disappointed, at first. “I see you have done quite a bit of writing”. She added: “You don’t have to share your writing if you don’t want to”.

“Well, it’s OK, nothing important. Mostly ideas and things I was thinking of”, said Sally, warming up to conversing. She bad been silent all day. “I was thinking how we call it a studio, and then I was thinking about art and stuff, and how I could try doing something, like painting or something. I’ll probably suck at it, but it can’t be more embarrassing than wearing diapers”, she said, plainly.

Bridget felt a pang of concern hearing Sally describe wearing diapers as embarrassing. She knew how important it was to support her daughter’s journey and to lift her spirits. She decided to use humor and creativity to help Sally see the lighter side of her situation.

Bridget put on a thoughtful expression and then dramatically placed her hands on her hips. "Embarrassing, you say? Well, let me tell you something, young lady," she began, her voice filled with mock seriousness.

Sally looked at her mother, intrigued by her tone.

Bridget continued, "Did you know that back in ancient times, Romans used to wear togas with diapers underneath? It was all the rage! And they called it 'The Diapered Dignity.' True story."

Sally raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. "I don’t think that’s true."

Bridget waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, but it is! And not only that, but the great philosopher Socrates once said, 'To be truly wise, one must embrace the diaper and all its fluffy glory.' Imagine how sophisticated you'd be if you quoted that in class!"

Sally burst into giggles. "Mom, you’re making that up!"

Bridget grinned, her eyes twinkling. "Okay, maybe I am. But think about it this way: diapers are like our secret superpower. Nobody knows we're wearing them, and it makes us unique. Plus," she leaned in conspiratorially, "I bet if we had a contest for the cutest person in the house, you'd win hands down in those diapers."

Sally laughed harder, her cheeks turning pink. "You’re crazy, Mom!" Despite her mother treating her like a five-year-old, Sally couldn’t avoid find it extremely funny.

Bridget struck a silly pose, pretending to model. "And just think, you could start a new fashion trend! Diapers today, runway tomorrow. We'll call it 'Diaper Chic.'"

Sally was now hysterical with laughter, clutching her sides. "Stop, I can’t breathe!"

Bridget joined in the laughter, feeling a warm sense of relief seeing her daughter so happy. "See, it's not so embarrassing when you can laugh about it, right?"

Sally nodded, still giggling.

Bridget hugged Sally tightly. "With a sense of humor, we can handle anything."

Sally felt a surge of gratitude and love for her mother. "Thanks."

Bridget smiled, kissing the top of Sally’s head. "Now, finish your lunch, and then maybe we can change your diaper. How does that sound?"

Sally nodded. “Good”.

After lunch they returned to the studio. While Bridget was changing Sally’s diaper, she spoke in a tentative, concerned voice. “Sally, there’s something we need to talk about”.

Sally got up on her elbows and raised her eyebrows. “What?”, she asked, concerned.

“When is the last time you went number two?”, Bridget asked.

Sally frowned, thinking. “Yesterday… morning?”

Bridget pressed her lips in a straight line. “I thought so”.

Bridget sat down beside her, placing a gentle hand on her daughter's knee. "I think your body might be having trouble adjusting to the diapers. Sometimes our minds and bodies can react in strange ways to new routines."

Sally shifted uncomfortably, avoiding her mother’s gaze. "Yeah, I’ve been feeling kind of bloated."

Bridget nodded sympathetically. "It’s not uncommon. But I’m worried about you, and I think we need to do something about it. Have you ever heard of a suppository?"

Sally’s eyes widened in surprise and a bit of apprehension. "A suppository? Isn’t that, like, a pill you put... there?"

Bridget chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Yes, it is. It’s a little uncomfortable, but it can help relieve constipation quickly and safely. I know it’s not the most pleasant thing to think about, but it’s important for your health."

Sally sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I don’t know, Mom…"

Bridget squeezed Sally’s hand, giving her a reassuring smile. "I understand. It’s not something anyone enjoys talking about. But sometimes, our health needs to come first, even if it means doing something a bit uncomfortable. And remember, it just part of feeding your “little” side. I used to give you suppositories when you were little", she said, winking.

Sally looked at her mother, seeing the genuine concern in her eyes. She knew her mom was right. "Okay, Mom. For my health. And my “little” me", she said, with a thin smile.

“Now, this is going to be a messy affair, and I understand if you want to forego the diapers and use the toilet. But I suggest you use the diapers at least this once, so your “little” side can have a taste of what it’s really like”.

Sally nodded, thoughtfully.

“So, what’s it going to be, diapers or toilet?”, coaxed Bridget.

Sally turned her head away and kept silent, thinking. “Diapers”, she finally whispered.

Bridget smiled warmly, relieved by Sally’s willingness. "That’s my brave girl”

"First, we need to make sure you’re comfortable," Bridget said, guiding Sally to lie down on her side and moving her legs so that Sally was in a fetal position. "This will only take a moment."

Sally took a deep breath, trying to relax. "Okay”, she said, signaling she was ready.

Bridget gently inserted the suppository, all the while talking to Sally in a calm and soothing voice. "You’re doing great, Sally. Just a little more, and we’re done."

Sally winced slightly but remained still. "Gross”, she mumbled.

Bridget smiled, finishing the process quickly. "And we’re done”. Bridget turned Sally over and sprinkled her with a generous dose of powder, tapping the diaper shut. Now, try and wait for about fifteen minutes and let the suppository do its work. Then you should let it out"

Sally nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. "Thanks, Mom”, she said, red in the face.

Bridget stroked Sally’s hair gently. "You’re welcome, sweetheart. You’re very brave. Now, just relax and let’s wait. I’ll give you some privacy, you can call out for me when you’re done.”

After a while, Sally felt a gentle urge in her stomach, signaling that the suppository was working. She resisted it, counting the minutes on her phone. She was thankful for a little sense of normalcy as her mother suggested she have her phone for the afternoon. She thought of setting the timer, but she figured her eyes were going to be glued to the time on the phone.

She got up and walked around, while checking her messages and social media. She distracted herself as she felt things working and the pressure slowly mounting to a low burning sensation in her bowels. She felt like doubling over, but she resisted, knowing she needed to have a complete effect of the suppository.

She answered Katrina and Clara’s messages on their shared messaging group with a “having a lazy weekend, guys”, and was relieved her friends weren’t up to anything fancy or that required her presence.

She dropped her phone on the floor as a desperate urge made her double over and she hugged her midsection. She kneeled down to pick up her phone, thankful for the thick carpet, but down there on all fours a basic animal instinct took over and she raised her butt to the air heaving with all her might.

Sally was horrified at the stinging hot mess that erupted from her and spread around her diaper, but the pressure continued, forcing her to push harder. She laid her cheek on the soft carpeted floor and rested there, as she tried breathing calmly. She pushed at intervals, but most of it eventually came out, and then it was leftover spasms. She kept pushing gently until nothing more came out. She emptied her bladder as she waited, for good measure.

She was almost afraid to move. She gingerly got up to her feet and looked down at her diaper to survey the damage. It was sagging more than ever, with the mess right in between her legs. She gave a few tentative steps and felt the hot mess squishing against her skin. She wished she had a mirror, to better assess the damage. She suddenly remembered the studio had a bathroom.

She shuffled to the bathroom delicately and looked at herself in the mirror. The diaper was significantly bloated, deep yellow with a brown hue to it. She turned around and looked back to the mirror. While still looking cute in a diaper, Sally couldn’t avoid thinking about the grotesqueness of what it represented, yet… she was stunned to realize she had actually enjoyed the process.

Notwithstanding the realization, she knew she couldn’t remain much longer in this state. She made her way out to the corridor to get her mom, but she was nowhere in sight. She was almost going to call out to her mom she was done, and suddenly remembered herself as a little child, calling out from the bathroom door: “Mommy, I’m done”. Somehow she didn’t feel like exposing herself like that. So, she ventured down the corridor trying to figure out where her mother was. As she took the first uneasy steps in her loaded diaper, she adjusted to the mass and gained confidence in walking in her diaper.

However, this experience proved to be unreal. Here she was, walking in her house exposing her diaper – her dirty diaper – for all to see. Not that there was anybody (except for her mother) in the house. She stopped at the banister and looked down. Some sound was coming from the living room, so that meant her mother was watching TV. Sally could tell the volume had been turned down low, but yet, she still didn’t want to call out to her mom. So, she walked down the staircase down to the living room. One step at a time. She cringed at the mess rubbing between her legs, but she boldly made an effort to normalize her situation as much as possible. She was going to be clean soon.

As she walked into the living room, her mother suddenly turned her head towards her. “Oh! You’re here! I thought I smelled something. Why didn’t you call me?”, she asked, lifting the remote and turning the TV off.

Sally stood there, unable to explain why she didn’t call her. It sounded kind of lame. She just stood there.

“Oh, let’s get you clean”. She stood up and surveyed her daughter. “I was thinking, since this is an exceptional case – there’s two days’ worth of number two – “, she remarked, unaware of Sally’s mortification, “It might be better to hop into the shower directly, what do you say?”.

Sally shrugged, red in the face. “Yeah, better”. She turned around and went through the process of climbing the stairs, walking along the corridor into her bedroom, where she went straight into her bathroom.

Her mother had followed her all the way. “Honey, let me give you a hand”, she said. “Are you ok?, she asked, concerned. “I know it mustn’t have been pleasant”, she remarked.

Sally tried to make sense of her situation. “It was gross, but it was OK. But now, it stinks”, she said, wrinkling her nose.

Sally's nonsensical answer didn't prompt a response from Bridget. Bridget silently nodded as she helped Sally out of her t-shirt and made her stand still as she carefully began to remove Sally's dirty diaper, making sure to unwrap it slowly and precisely to avoid any spills, while Sally stood by the shower, ready to step in once she was clean.

Bridget managed to remove Sally's dirty diaper without any spills, and Sally stepped into the shower, waiting for the water to get hot. As the steam began to rise, she watched the water turn dark as it washed away the mess between her legs, gradually getting clearer as she lathered herself with abundant soap, feeling cleaner and more refreshed with each passing moment.

Her mother was holding up a large bath towel, and Sally gladly stepped out of this unreal experience into its embrace. Her mother gave her some space as she busied herself in getting dry, and Bridget left her on her own. “I’ll be right back, honey”.

Sally was glad for some alone time. She reflected on her unique day. In the whole, she was happy. She did things and thought about things she had never thought she could. Diapers definitely were the real “little” experience, and she had enjoyed them immensely. The “alone” time in the studio had been great, far away from her mother and left to her owns devices. Not that her mother was a problem, but being an only daughter did make her a center of attention. The pooping. The act of pooping in her diaper had been exhilarating, but it was a messy experience, she had to admit.

But the deeper aspects of her day were the seeds planted in her mind. Or rather, sprouted during her time at the studio. She had never even thought of being an artist, yet her time at the “studio” had left her visualizing an easel with a canvas for her to paint. She decided she wanted to try painting and see how she felt about it. The idea of finger painting, with its tactile and immersive nature, seemed like the perfect place to start.

Sally imagined herself dipping her fingers into vibrant colors, feeling the cool, smooth paint against her skin, and letting her hands guide her emotions onto the canvas. The thought of creating something beautiful and personal excited her. She pictured herself lost in the process, her mind free from worries and focused solely on the dance of colors and shapes.

In addition to painting, Sally also felt a strong urge to write. The thoughts and feelings that had emerged during her time in the studio, needed to be expressed in words. She wanted to capture the journey she was on, the blend of emotions and discoveries, and share it through her writing.

With these new creative outlets, Sally felt a sense of purpose and excitement. She couldn't wait to see where this path would lead her, both in painting and writing, as she continued to explore and express her inner world.

Sally wrapped herself with a towel and went into her bedroom, unsure of what to do. Her mother appeared holding a diaper and other supplies. Sally found she was relieved. She really wanted to wear a diaper again. She didn’t want this experience to end. She gladly shed her towel, and Bridget laid the changing mat on the floor.

"Lie down, sweetie," Bridget said gently, her voice calm and reassuring.

Sally did as she was told, laying back on the soft mat. Bridget began by cleaning her thoroughly with gentle, warm wipes, ensuring that every trace of the messy diaper was gone. The sensation of being cleaned was soothing, and Sally closed her eyes, letting herself relax.

Once Bridget was satisfied that Sally was completely clean, she applied a thin layer of diaper cream to her daughter’s skin, making sure to cover all the areas that needed protection. The cream felt cool and smooth, adding to the sense of relief that Sally was already feeling.

Next, Bridget sprinkled a small amount of baby powder onto her hand before gently patting it onto Sally's skin. The powder smelled sweet and comforting, and Sally couldn't help but smile at the familiar scent.

"Almost done, honey," Bridget said softly, unfolding the fresh diaper and sliding it under Sally. She carefully fastened the tabs, making sure the diaper was snug but not too tight.

Sally looked up at her mother, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love. "Thanks, Mom. I feel so much better."

Bridget smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair from Sally's face. "You're welcome, sweetheart. I'm glad you feel better."

Sally sat up, feeling the soft, dry diaper securely in place. The feeling of being cleaned up and put into a fresh diaper was incredibly comforting. She felt like new, refreshed and ready to take on the rest of the evening.

As she got up, she gave her mother a hug.

“How about you get your pajamas on? The footed ones are just washed, in your closet”.

Sally skipped into her closet, her diaper rustling. Bridget smiled at the cuteness of it. She watched as Sally slid her feet into the blue starry footed pajama, and slipped her arms in, making an effort to zip herself up.

The diaper created a noticeable bulge, but that was to be expected. “I’m glad we bought these pajamas. I think they are so cute!”, Sally couldn’t help but exclaim, hugging herself.

Bridget kissed the top of her head. "Me too. Now, how about we celebrate with a movie night? Your choice."

Sally’s eyes lit up with excitement. "That sounds perfect! Thanks, Mom."

Chapters 20-23

Chapter 20 – Deeper than Colors

Sunday

It had been her first night wearing diapers under her pajamas, and she felt a thrill of excitement. Typically, she would be nudged awake by her bowels urging her to use the bathroom. This morning was no different, but the previous day's suppository had left her bowels in overactive mode, making her need to go urgently. In fact, her last diaper change before going to bed had required her mom clean some more stinky mess due to the leftover effect.

Curled up in her bed that Sunday morning, clad in her footed pajamas and already wet diaper, she had a bold idea. Smiling to herself, she pushed and emptied her bowels into the diaper. The sensation was both intense and oddly satisfying, but she hadn’t anticipated the confined space in the diaper. The mess pressed tightly against her, creating a gross, sticky feeling. She suddenly remembered why she had avoided sitting in a soiled diaper the previous day—to avoid exactly this discomfort. Mentally chastising herself for the oversight, she resigned to what was done.

Despite the gross feeling, Sally enjoyed the exhilaration of pooping herself, and figured this was part of experimenting her “little” side. But there was a practical side she needed to address. Yesterday had been a messy affair, and she was forced to take yet another shower. She would probably need another one this morning. She dozed off, trying to ignore her dirty diaper.

But to Sally’s surprise, as the morning wore on, her mother had not appeared to check if she was awake. She got out of bed, trying to get used to the feeling her heavy diaper gave her, and tried not to waddle too much as she walked out of the bedroom. The house was silent, but as she stood by the banister, she could hear her mother in the living room. She padded softly down the stairs and looked in.  “Mom?”

“Sally, you’re awake!”, said Bridget, lounging on the sofa comfortably. She has a mug of coffee next to her and was reading on her kindle.

Sally was a bit confused. “Uhm, I thought you’d wake me up”, she said.

“Come sit”, said Bridget, patting on the sofa next to her. “I figured you’d appreciate the extra sleep. You looked tired last night”.

Sally started walking but stopped. “Uhm, mom, I need a change”. She made a face.

“We can change you after breakfast”, she said, waving her over.

Sally gave her mother a pained expression.

“What’s wrong, Sally”, asked Bridget, concerned. “Oh”, she said. “Oh”, she said a second time, this time louder, as she realized what Sally had done and the implications it had.

Sally nodded her head sheepishly.

“Ok, Sally, go upstairs to your bedroom and get the changing mat, the baby wipes, the diaper cream and the baby powder, and bring a diaper too. We’ll do it right here”.

Sally was stunned. “Here?”

“Here’s as good as any place”, said Bridget, with a curt nod. “And bring something to change into”.

Sally turned around and went back to her bedroom. She tried not to waddle, but it was impossible. She walked into her ensuite bathroom and found the items her mother had requested. Diaper, baby wipes, diaper cream, baby powder. She revised the list in her mind and waddled back to her mother.

Her mother was finishing her coffee and laid her kindle down. “Ok, honey, strip down and lay down”, she instructed.

Sally zipped down her footed pajama and took it off. Freed from it, her diaper sagged even more.

Her mother frowned. “Stinky girl”, she said.

Sally blushed deep red as she laid on the change mat. She cringed as the poop chaffed again on her skin.

As her mother undid the tapes and uncovered Sally’s crotch, she wrinkled her nose.

“Mom…”, began Sally.

Bridget looked at Sally expectantly.

“Mom, is this OK with you? I mean, I guess it sort of stinks and kind of gross. It’s not like baby poop”, she said, unsure of what her mother was thinking.

Bridget paused. “Sally, does this have any relation to yesterday’s suppository? Did you have a sudden urge, like a cramp, or was it a voluntary bowel movement?”

Sally looked away. “Voluntary”, she murmured. “Sorry”, she said, as her mother remained silent.

“It’s OK”, Bridget said, while starting to wipe Sally’s crotch. It took a while to clean most of it. “Well, I guess I wasn’t expecting to clean poop out of you like this”, said Bridget. “I thought yesterday was more of a raw experimental moment for you, and you wouldn’t feel like repeating it. But here we are, I guess”.

“You’re right, it’s gross”, Sally admitted. But it felt awesome, Sally didn’t say.

Bridget instructed Sally to hold her legs high, as she needed better access. Sally complied, hugging the back of her knees and pressing them to her face.

In this exposed position, as Bridget cleaned Sally thoroughly, she continued. “I don’t mind cleaning you anytime that is necessary, but you can also take this aspect into account. You can choose to use the bathroom to go number 2 or go in your diaper and then take a shower, or just come to me and I’ll sort you out. But remember, when you need me to clean and change you, you need to bring me the supplies and I’ll take care of you wherever you find me. Anyplace appropriate, of course”, she added, with a chuckle.

Sally nodded from under her legs.

Bridget slid a diaper under Sally’s raised butt, and applied diaper rash cream in her diaper area. After generously dousing her with baby powder, she covered her with the diaper and taped it securely shut. She slid her finger through the leg gathers and made sure they were correctly positioned. “There”, she said. “Did you bring anything to wear?”, she asked.

“I forgot!”, said Sally.

“Run upstairs and get something. And take your pajamas upstairs”, instructed Bridget. “Come to the kitchen when you’re dressed”.

Sally got up from the change mat and picked up all her diaper change supplies. Clad in her diaper, she hurried upstairs to get something on.

 --

Sally ended up wearing leggings over her diaper. She wanted to avoid a sagging diaper, and she planned to spend time in the Studio. She had taken a bottle of water with her and spent most of the day sprawled on the studio sofa reading, writing and drawing. She was happily releasing the contents of her bladder into the diaper as needed, barely registering the fact that she was doing it. Doing so made her to relax, and she was surprised as the morning wore off at the number of pages she was filling. Although her content wasn’t publishable material, she was glad it was making better sense as she progressed in ordering her thoughts.

--

Bridget had been in the living room all morning, catching up on reading, but she finally found a moment to check on Sally in the Studio.

To her surprise, she found Sally lying face down on the sofa, writing in her notebook. Sally was so engrossed in her writing that she didn't notice her mother's entrance. What caught Bridget's eye immediately, however, was the pair of grey leggings Sally was wearing over her diaper.

Bridget walked over and gently placed a hand on her daughter's back. "Hey, sweetheart," she said softly. "Just wanted to check on you and see if you need a diaper change."

Sally looked up, slightly startled but quickly composed herself. "Oh, hi Mom," she said, blushing a bit. "I'm okay, I think."

Bridget smiled reassuringly. "Let's have a look, just to be sure."

Sally hesitated for a moment but then nodded. Bridget carefully pulled down the grey leggings, revealing a very wet diaper. She sighed and gently patted Sally's diaper. "Looks like you do need a change, honey."

Sally blushed deeper, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. Bridget grabbed a fresh diaper from the stack – a new, thicker pale green one – and laid it out on the changing mat.

"Alright, let's get you all clean and comfy," Bridget said warmly. “I opened a new package so we can try these out, but I want to get some more diapers for you tomorrow”. She expertly removed the wet diaper, cleaned Sally with wipes, and then applied a generous amount of diaper cream and powder. The new diaper felt thicker and softer than the previous ones, with a smooth plastic texture that seemed even more comfortable.

Once Sally was securely diapered in the new diaper, Bridget stood up, holding Sally's leggings in her hand. "There we go, all done. You feel better now?"

Sally nodded, feeling a sense of comfort and security in the new diaper. "Yeah, thanks, Mom."

Bridget smiled and gave her daughter a gentle pat on the back. "Alright then, I'll leave you to your writing. Remember, no leggings in the Studio, okay? It's important for you to feel free and comfortable."

Sally's brow furrowed. "But Mom”, she complained,  “it feels weird not having anything to cover my diaper."

Bridget shook her head gently. "Sally, we've talked about this. It’s only us. This space is for you to be yourself and not worry about hiding."

Sally sighed, glancing down at her new diaper. "I know, it's just... it's hard to get used to."

Bridget knelt down next to Sally, looking her in the eyes. "I understand, sweetheart. But wearing leggings over your diaper defeats the purpose of feeling that freedom and comfort. You need to feel exposed to your own “little” side. Let's give it some time, and I promise it will get easier."

“What if the house goes on fire? I am supposed to run out in diapers too?, challenged Sally, frowning.

Bridget chuckled. “Ok, I’ll leave your skirt out here in the corridor, to use when necessary”.

Sally nodded, still feeling a bit unsure.

Bridget kissed her forehead. "That's my girl. Now, get back to your writing and enjoy the rest of your time here."

Sally watched as her mother walked out of the room with her leggings. Left alone, she took a moment to admire the new diaper. She liked its thickness and the soft plastic texture against her skin. It felt secure, almost like a comforting hug. She smiled ruefully.

Sally leaned back on her elbows; her legs slightly parted as she let herself relax. She felt the warmth spread through her diaper as she wet it, the sensation both comforting and strangely satisfying. Curiosity got the better of her, and she slid her hand over the front of the diaper, marveling at the softness and the way it swelled. The experience was oddly reassuring, yet, there was a physical edge to it, she thought to herself, as she rubbed.

She discovered a new sensation as she fondled herself through the diaper, and added vigor into it. She recalled the first time she had discovered this feeling and followed it, but this time, it was different. Now, she knew where it would lead. She continued until she reached the point of no return, unlocking a whole new dimension in the depths of this rabbit hole.

Dazed and a bit confused, she returned to her writing, trying to push the strange sensations to the back of her mind. But as she shifted slightly, the crinkling of the diaper brought her back to the present, and she couldn't ignore the pleasurable feelings it had sparked. Sally's thoughts wandered, and she found herself wondering why she felt this way. Was it normal? Should she feel guilty? It was one thing to do this naked in the privacy of her bathroom. But while wearing diapers? It seemed… perverted.

She glanced down at the diaper, its soft, thick material hugging her securely. There was an undeniable comfort in its embrace, a sense of safety and warmth that she had rarely felt before. Yet, the pleasure she experienced was new and confusing. She didn't quite understand why wearing and using the diaper was evoking such strong emotions.

Her curiosity grew. Determined to explore this new side of herself, Sally resolved to pay closer attention to her feelings, to understand them better. She wanted to delve deeper into the sensations and emotions the diapers stirred within her. For now, though, she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing back on her writing, but with a new sense of self-awareness and a determination to uncover as time went by.

Monday

Monday morning you sure look fine
Friday I got travelin' on my mind
First you love me and then you fade away
I can't go on believin' this way

Waking up to her mother’s cheesy music was almost a tradition for Sally. She got out of bed and waddled into her bathroom. A wet diaper was also becoming a tradition, she realized, still sleepy. She zipped down her footed pajamas and slid them off, surveying herself in the mirror. Sleepy smile, wet diaper. She pulled on the tapes and let the diaper fall onto the floor. She stepped away and walked into her shower, turning on the spray and she waited for the water to heat. She soaped herself vigorously and when she felt she was clean and refreshed, she wrapped herself in a towel.

Just then, her mother walked into the bathroom. “Morning sweetheart”, she exclaimed, satisfied to see Sally was taking care of herself. Since she had been so dependent during the weekend, she figured Sally might need some help. She was glad that was not the case, and Sally was able to revert to her teen self.

“Thanks for the music”, Sally said, as she rubbed her hair dry. “Only, I didn’t look as fine as the music said”, she complained.

“Would a wet diaper have anything to do with that?”, questioned Bridget, pointing to the abandoned diaper discarded open on the bathroom floor.

Sally gave a guilty look. “I was going to pick that up”.

“Sally, you need to take proper care of your diapers. Don’t leave dirty diapers open on the floor, always roll them up and tape them, this isn’t hygienic!”, her mother scolded.

Sally obediently bent down to pick the diaper and rolled it into a ball, making sure it was secure.

“I’ll have to get a diaper pail; this can get stinky”. Bridget sniffed. “And an air freshener”, she added.

Sally continued her routine for school, getting some makeup on, getting dressed and packing her school bag.

When she was ready, she went to have her breakfast.

“Ready for school?”. her mom asked.

Sally assented, sitting down.

After breakfast, Sally went to get her school bag. When she came down, her mother was at the door. “I can drive you to school, but first, do you want to wear a diaper or a pull-up?”

Sally's heart sank. She had hoped to avoid any more diaper discussions this morning. She bit her lip, feeling a wave of frustration mixed with resignation.

“I thought I could wear normal underwear today,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Bridget shook her head gently. “Sally, we talked about this. The therapy is important for your peace of mind. You don’t have to use it, but you need to wear it for protection. It’s not a punishment, sweetie. It’s just a safety net. Both physical and emotional”

Sally sighed, looking down at her shoes. She knew her mother had a point. Despite her initial resistance, she had to admit that wearing a Goodnite made her feel a bit more secure, especially after the recent experiences she’d had.

“Okay,” Sally mumbled. “I’ll wear a Goodnite.”

Bridget’s face softened, and she nodded approvingly. “Good choice, honey. It’s just for your own comfort. Now, let’s get you ready.”

Bridget handed her a Goodnite. Sally took it and went back to the bathroom to change. She removed her shoes, tights and panties and slipped into the Goodnite, adjusting it under her uniform. It felt snug but not too noticeable. She realized a diaper might have been more practical, as it didn’t require her to pull her shoes and tights off and then put them back on. She looked at herself in the mirror, trying to see if it was visible through her skirt. Satisfied that it wasn’t, she grabbed her school bag and headed back downstairs. For once, she was thankful for her overly conservative school uniform.

Bridget was waiting by the door, and she gave Sally a reassuring smile. “Ready to go?”

Sally nodded, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and relief. “Yeah, I’m ready.” She was almost going to lift her skirt to show she had the Goodnites under her tights, but as her mother turned around she was glad to know she had her mother’s implicit trust.

They walked to the car, and as they drove to school, Bridget kept the conversation light, talking about the plans for the following weekend and asking about Sally’s classes. Sally appreciated the distraction, and by the time they arrived at school, she felt a bit more relaxed.

“Have a good day, sweetheart,” Bridget said as Sally got out of the car. “I slipped a couple pull-ups in your bag for you to change into. They’re in the middle pocket. Remember, you’re doing great. You’re a good girl”.

Sally waved. “See you later.”

As she walked towards the school entrance, she felt the pull-up under her skirt, a constant reminder of her ongoing therapy. But she also felt a bit of comfort knowing it was there, just in case. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and headed to her first class, determined to make it through the day.

--

Monday proved to be a normal school day. The three friends quizzed each other as to how they had spent the weekend, and none had produced anything of great interest. The end of the winter was coming up, and everybody was looking forward to better weather.

But Sally fidgeted nervously as she approached the lunch table where Clara and Katrina were already seated. She could feel the soft padding of the pull-up under her uniform. Taking a deep breath, she put on a smile and sat down.

"Hey, Sally!" Katrina greeted her with her usual exuberance, tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder. "What's up? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sally forced a laugh. "Nothing much, just... you know, the usual Monday blues."

Clara, ever observant, raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's all, Sally? You seem a bit off today. okay? Is it, like, PMS or anything?”, she asked, gently.

Sally shook her head, trying to play it cool. "I'm fine, really."

Katrina leaned in, her eyes narrowing playfully. "Come on, spill. You know we don't buy that 'fine' nonsense. What's really going on?"

Sally hesitated, feeling the weight of their gazes on her. She couldn't bring herself to tell them about the pull-up, not yet. "It's nothing, just some stuff at home."

Clara gave her a sympathetic look, her tone turning motherly. "If there's anything you need to talk about, we're here for you, Sally. You know that."

Sally nodded, but the knot in her stomach tightened. "Thanks, Clara. I appreciate it."

Katrina, growing impatient, drummed her fingers on the table. "Well, if you're not gonna tell us, let's change the subject. Clara, did you finish that history assignment?"

Clara sighed; her tone slightly condescending. "Of course, I did. I don't leave things to the last minute like some people." She shot a pointed look at Katrina.

Katrina rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we can't all be perfect like you."

Sally watched the exchange, feeling even more out of place. The tension between her friends only added to her own discomfort. She shifted in her seat, feeling the Goodnite rustling softly under her uniform. She hoped they wouldn't notice.

Clara turned her attention back to Sally. "You know, Sally, if you're having trouble with anything, I'm always here to help. Whether it's schoolwork or... anything else."

Sally forced another smile. "I know, Clara. Thanks."

Katrina leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "You know what, Sally? Sometimes you just need to let loose and not worry so much. Life's too short to be stressed out all the time."

Sally felt a pang of frustration. She knew Katrina meant well, but her words didn't help. "I guess you're right."

Clara's expression softened, but there was still a hint of patronizing concern. "Just remember, Sally, it's okay to ask for help. You don't have to handle everything on your own. We already talked about this”.

Sally nodded, feeling torn. She appreciated their concern, but their contrasting approaches only made her feel more conflicted. She wished she could tell them the truth, but the fear of their reactions held her back.

As lunch ended and they headed to their next class, Sally lagged behind, lost in her thoughts. She felt a strange mix of comfort and insecurity, knowing she had her pull-up for support but also feeling isolated by her secret. She took the opportunity to use the bathroom, like a big girl. It felt strange pulling down one’s pull-ups to pee in the toilet.

For the rest of the day, the tension between the three girls simmered. Katrina's impatience and Clara's condescending nature clashed with Sally's growing reliance on her pull-ups for emotional comfort, and Sally found herself retreating more into her own world.

--

When the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Sally gathered her things and made her way to the front entrance. She finally let go her bladder into her Goodnites, feeling a wave of relaxation as she did that. She spotted her mother's red SUV and waved, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. Bridget smiled warmly as Sally approached and climbed into the car.

"Hey, sweetheart. How was your day?" Bridget asked as they pulled away from the school.

"It was okay," Sally replied, trying to sound casual. "I'm glad it's over, though." She gingerly sat in the leather seat, feeling her recently wet Goodnite press against her skin.

Bridget nodded. "I bet. We've got a bit of shopping to do on the way home. Think you can help me carry some things?"

"Sure," Sally agreed, curious about what they needed to buy.

When they arrived home, Bridget parked the SUV in the driveway and popped the trunk. Sally's eyes widened in surprise when she saw the trunk filled with packages of diapers.

"I ran into a diaper sale at a medical supply store. Bridget explained with a grin. "I thought we could stock up."

Sally felt a strange excitement as she picked up one of the packages, examining the different brands and colors. "Wow, Mom, you really got a lot”.

Bridget laughed. "I thought it would be good to have a variety. No pink ones, though. Can you imagine pink diapers?"

Sally chuckled. "That would be funny. But this is great."

They carried the packages into the house, and Bridget suggested, "Why don't you distribute these between the studio and your bathroom? That way, you'll always have some handy."

Sally nodded and began organizing the diapers, marveling at the different types. Some were thick and plush, others thin and discreet. There were white, purple, light green, and light blue ones. She found herself looking forward to trying them all out.

As they finished unloading the car, Bridget turned to Sally and asked, "So, how did your pull-ups work today?"

"They were fine," Sally said, feeling a bit more comfortable now. "I only wet them once, at the end of school. I managed to use the toilet a couple of times on my own, though."

Bridget smiled proudly. "That's great to hear. I'm proud of you for managing so well. Do you want me to change you into a diaper now?"

Sally hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah, that would be nice. I have some studying to do."

“Good, then when you’re done, we can visit the Studio, I got you some stuff you’ll like. I’ll get it ready while you study”.

Bridget gently changed Sally out of her wet pull-up and into a fresh, thick light blue diaper from the new package. "There you go, all set," she said with a warm smile. She allowed Sally to put on some lounge pants since she would be studying at her desk in her bedroom.

Sally settled at her desk and opened her textbooks. As she concentrated on her studies, she gradually became absorbed in her work. The hours passed quickly, and Sally, deeply focused on her notes and assignments, almost didn't even realize when she wet her diaper. She paused for a moment, reflecting on the practicality of wearing diapers and not needing to get up to use the bathroom. It allowed her to stay in the zone, maintaining her concentration without interruptions.

Despite the practicality, she found herself needing to stretch and move around. She got up and paced her bedroom, walking back and forth while memorizing some texts. She glanced out the window and noticed the weather seemed to be getting better by the day.

Her mother's voice broke her concentration. "Sally, dinner's ready!"

Sally reluctantly closed her books, feeling the weight of unfinished homework. She knew she could leave some of it for the following days, but the momentum she had built made her eager to continue. She sighed and headed downstairs, the comfortable bulk of her diaper a reassuring presence as she joined her mother for dinner.

Bridget noticed Sally's pensive expression as she set the table. "Everything okay, honey?"

"Yeah, just a lot of homework," Sally replied, taking her seat. "But I’m getting through it."

Bridget smiled, serving the food. "That's good to hear. After dinner, we can visit the Studio and see the new stuff I got for you. It'll be a nice break from studying."

Sally nodded; her curiosity piqued. The thought of new supplies and a visit to the Studio was exciting. As they began to eat, she couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. Despite the challenges and changes, there was a comforting routine and support system that made everything feel manageable.

--

They headed to the studio, where Sally felt most comfortable. She stripped down to her wet diaper and laid the changing mat on the floor. Bridget gathered the supplies and knelt beside her daughter, ready to help.

As Bridget carefully removed the diaper, she spoke softly, "You did really well today, Sally. It's all about finding what makes you comfortable and confident."

Sally nodded, feeling a sense of calm as her mother wiped her clean with gentle hands. "Thanks, Mom. It really helps knowing you're here for me."

Bridget smiled warmly, unfolding a thick, white diaper. "Always, sweetheart. Let's get you into a fresh diaper."

Sally lay back, closing her eyes as Bridget secured the diaper around her. The feeling of the soft padding against her skin was comforting, and she couldn't help but smile. Sally found herself retreating more into her own world, leaning heavily on her mother for support.

"There you go," Bridget said, patting the front of the diaper gently. "All set. How does that feel?"

"Perfect," Sally replied, sitting up and hugging her mother. "Thanks, Mom. I feel like new."

Bridget hugged her back tightly. "I'm glad. Now, let's enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Maybe do some painting in the studio?"

Sally nodded eagerly. "I'd love that."

“I hope you like the stuff I got for you”, she said.

“Wow, you’ve been busy”, she gasped.

--

Sally looked around her. The space opposite the sofa had been transformed into a haven for creativity and self-expression, thanks to her mother’s thoughtful efforts.

In the center stood an easel, sturdy and elegant, holding a blank canvas that seemed to beckon her to unleash her imagination. A small table beside the easel was neatly arranged with an array of high-quality paints, brushes of various sizes, and a palette for mixing colors. Everything was meticulously organized, a testament to her mother’s care and attention to detail.

Sally noticed a pacifier, sized perfectly for her, placed thoughtfully on the table next to the paints. The sight of it brought a smile to her face, a symbol of the comfort and security her mother always strived to provide.

Wearing one of her mother’s old t-shirts, a couple of sizes too big, Sally felt a sense of protection against any potential paint splatters. The soft fabric hung loosely around her, covering her diaper and allowing her the freedom to move without restriction. The diaper, though initially a source of embarrassment, was becoming a part of her routine, a small detail in her journey towards self-discovery.

Sally picked up the pacifier and, with a slight hesitation, placed it in her mouth. The soft silicone felt comforting against her lips and tongue, a soothing sensation that spread through her body. She marveled at its calming power, how something so simple could bring her such a profound sense of peace and security. It was a small gesture, but it made her feel connected to her mother, even in her absence.

Approaching the easel, she slipped on some latex gloves and flexed fer fingers, experiencing them. Her mother had suggested those, to make her experience easier to manage and clean afterwards. Sally’s fingers tingled with anticipation. Instead of picking up a brush, she dipped her fingers directly into the vibrant colors on the palette, feeling the cool, thick paint against the thin gloves. A surge of exhilaration coursed through her as she brought her fingers to the canvas, her initial strokes tentative and exploratory.

Her first touches were simple lines and shapes, smudged patches of blue, green, and yellow that slowly began to take form. She experimented with blending the colors, her fingers gliding smoothly across the surface, leaving trails of mixed hues behind. The tactile sensation of the paint on her fingers was both liberating and soothing, allowing her to connect with her artwork on a deeper level.

Her initial attempts were basic, almost childlike, but each stroke brought her a step closer to understanding the medium. She found herself lost in the process, the act of finger painting becoming a form of meditation. She added layers, mixing and swirling the colors together, creating new shades and textures with each pass of her hand.

Sally paused for a moment, pulling out the pacifier her mother had left for her. She placed it again in her mouth, feeling the soft silicone against her tongue and teeth. The pacifier provided a soothing rhythm to her breathing. It felt like a small, comforting connection to her childhood, a symbol of the security she felt within these walls.

She returned to the canvas with renewed focus, her movements more confident now. She pressed her palms against the surface, dragging them downward to create long flowing lines. She used the tips of her fingers to add finer details, dots, and delicate patterns that added depth to her creation.

As she worked, Sally became more aware of the weight between her legs, the comforting bulk of her wet diaper providing an extra layer of security. She had already wet it, and the sensation of the damp padding against her skin was strangely comforting. It was a constant, gentle reminder of her current state, a private world where she could be herself without judgment.

With each passing minute, Sally's painting evolved. The canvas transformed into a colorful expression of her inner world, a blend of emotions and thoughts that had found their way into her art. The experience was cathartic, a release of pent-up feelings and a journey of self-discovery.

As she finished her session, Sally stepped back to admire her work. The once-blank canvas was now a vibrant tapestry of colors and shapes, a testament to her creativity and the freedom she felt in this space. The studio had become her sanctuary, a place where she could explore her thoughts and emotions without fear.

Sally smiled around her pacifier, feeling a sense of accomplishment and peace. She knew there was still much to learn and many more paintings to create, but for now, she was content. She had found a way to express herself, to embrace her unique journey, and to find comfort in her own skin.

Chapter 21 - Clarity

Resolved complexity refers to the state in which a complex problem, system, or situation has been effectively understood, simplified, and addressed in a way that makes it manageable or clear. This involves breaking down intricate elements into comprehensible parts, finding solutions to underlying issues, and integrating these solutions in a cohesive manner. In other words, resolved complexity means that the initial complexity has been navigated and handled successfully, resulting in a stable, understandable, and functional outcome.

The word "clarity" can encapsulate the essence of resolved complexity. It signifies the state of being clear and understandable, which is the outcome of effectively addressing and simplifying complexity.

Tuesday

Sally shuffled through the crowded hallway, her eyes fixed on the floor. She wasn't actively avoiding her friends, but she wasn't seeking them out either. Her mood was a storm cloud hanging over her head, making her defensive against any questions they might throw her way. Clara's gentle, motherly nature and Katrina's brash, extroverted personality were a clash of titans that she wasn't in the mood to referee.

The first period had just ended, and Sally could feel the warmth spreading through her pull-up. She had wet herself more than she'd intended, and the discomfort was becoming unbearable. She needed to change, and fast. She found refuge in the bathroom, where she quickly slipped into a stall, locking the door behind her.

With trembling hands, Sally took off her skirt and hung it on the door hook. She pulled her tights down and surveyed the swollen Goodnite. She was glad she had decided to change it. She ripped the wet Goodnite off and began cleaning herself as best she could. She stuffed the Goodnite into the garbage can next to her, and covered it with crumpled toilet paper. She hoped nobody found it. She couldn’t imagine the speculation it would stir. But now came the tricky part. To put on a fresh pull-up, she had to remove her shoes and then her tights. She glanced nervously under the stall door, hoping no one would see her. Thankfully, there seemed to be some busy circulation in the bathroom, so nobody would be paying attention.

Sitting down, she slipped on a clean pull-up and held it on her knees. She wriggled her tights partway up to her pull-up and refastened her shoes. Standing up, she finished the process, pulling up her tights and making sure her pull-up was snug and secure. She refastened her skirt and checked herself. Decent. She double checked as she exited the stall, in the now empty bathroom. Good.

Sally arrived late to her next class, but the teacher, engrossed in a lecture, ignored her tardiness. Clara and Katrina exchanged knowing looks, their eyes filled with unspoken questions and concern. Sally avoided their gaze, sinking into her seat with a sigh of relief.

As the class droned on, Sally's mind wandered. She felt the fresh pull-up beneath her tights, the security and comfort it provided. Yet, the anxiety of needing to change it in a public bathroom gnawed at her. She knew her friends cared, but the constant scrutiny was exhausting. For now, she just wanted to get through the day without any more incidents.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the period. Sally gathered her things, steeling herself for the questions she knew were coming. As she stepped into the hallway, Clara and Katrina flanked her, their concern palpable.

"Hey, are you okay?" Clara asked gently.

"Yeah, you seemed really off today," Katrina added, her tone a mix of curiosity and worry.

Sally forced a smile. "I'm fine, just a rough morning."

The girls exchanged glances but didn't press further. They walked together to their next class, a silent understanding hanging in the air. Sally appreciated their concern, even if she wasn't ready to share everything just yet. For now, she was content to have their support, knowing that, no matter what, they had her back.

--

Katrina and Clara were sitting in Clara’s room, textbooks and notes scattered across the bed and floor. Katrina, always struggling to keep up with her schoolwork, had enlisted Clara's help. Clara, ever the nurturing friend, had taken it upon herself to tutor Katrina and get her caught up on her homework.

"Katrina, you really need to focus more," Clara said, trying to maintain her patience. "I know math isn't your favorite, but you can't keep putting it off."

"Ya sé, ya sé," Katrina replied, rubbing her temples. "But it's just so boring. I'd rather be doing anything else right now."

Clara chuckled, shaking her head. "Well, lucky for you, we're almost done. Just a few more problems and we can call it a night."

As the evening wore on, the girls found themselves getting tired. Clara glanced at the clock and realized how late it had become. "Katrina, it's pretty late. Do you want to just stay over? We can finish up in the morning."

Katrina's eyes lit up. "A sleepover? With my favorite beautiful girlfriend? How could I refuse? It's a date!" She gave Clara a playful wink.

Clara blushed at the compliment, feeling a warmth spread across her cheeks. "Thanks, Katrina. That means a lot coming from you."

"You're welcome," Katrina replied with a grin. "Now, where am I sleeping?"

Clara pointed to the bed. "You can have my bed. I'll go and get the air mattress", she announced, raising her eyebrows.

Katrina shook her head. "Ni hablar. We'll both fit on the bed. It'll be like old times."

Clara smiled, grateful for Katrina's easygoing nature. She wanted to sleep with Katrina too. "Okay, deal."

“I was looking forward to sleeping with you”, said Katrina, in a fake husky voice.

Clara rolled her eyes at Katrina’s advances. She changed her tone.

"Katrina," Clara began hesitantly, "I've been worried about Sally."

Katrina's expression darkened. "Me too. She's been so distant lately. It's like she's shutting us out."

Clara nodded. "I think she's struggling with something. It's not easy for her to open up, but we need to find a way to reach her."

Katrina sighed. "I know, but it's frustrating. We had that heart-to-heart in my bedroom, and I thought we were making progress. Now it feels like we're back to square one."

Clara placed a comforting hand on Katrina's shoulder. "It might be harder for Sally than it is for us. She's dealing with a lot, and we need to be patient."

Katrina's eyes filled with determination. "This is a 9-1-1 friendship emergency. We can't just sit back and let this happen. We need to do something."

Clara agreed. "You're right. We need to take desperate measures to fix this and get the three of us back together."

“Let’s go and see her now. I can’t bare meeting her at school tomorrow this way”, said Katrina.

Clara frowned, thinking. Let me talk to my mom, maybe she can take us to Sally’s”.

--

Clara rushed to her mother and talked about their plan. "It's a friendship issue that needs resolving," Clara said, trying to reassure her mother. "We really need to see Sally, but we can't go into details."

Her mother hesitated, then nodded. "Okay, I'll drive you. But I'll wait until you go inside before I leave. And I'll come back to pick you up unless Bridget offers to drive you back."

"Thanks, Mom," Clara said, grateful for her mother's trust.

--

Meanwhile, Sally was in the Studio, lost in her thoughts as she painted. Her diaper was wet and cold, but she didn't want to stop her work to get changed. She was struggling with her art, unable to get the colors to match the way she wanted. Her mood was dark, and she felt a sense of unresolved conflict. The cold, clammy feeling of her wet diaper added to her discomfort, but she chose to focus on her painting, hoping it would provide some solace. Her mind wandered through the labyrinth of her thoughts, reflecting on the complexities of art and emotion.

"Sally’s frustration bubbled to the surface as she muttered under her breath, “Why can't I get this right?” She felt an overwhelming disconnect between her emotions and her art, especially when sadness enveloped her. It was as if the very essence of melancholy resisted being captured on her canvas. A persistent, nagging feeling of something unresolved gnawed at her, driving her to the brink of madness. Her painting felt perpetually incomplete, a visual representation of her internal struggle. Sally was trapped in a cycle of trying to piece together a puzzle with a crucial piece always missing, leaving her feeling more stuck and hopeless with each attempt. The thought that perhaps art wasn’t the key to expressing her inner turmoil crossed her mind, leaving her to wonder if the answers she sought lay elsewhere, just beyond her grasp.

Her diaper felt uncomfortable, adding to her frustration. Sally sighed, feeling the weight of her indecision. She knew that she needed to find her own way, to create art that was true to herself. But how could she do that when she felt so lost, so conflicted? She knew that she needed a change, both physically and emotionally.

She expected her mother to walk in at any moment to change her, but she heard the doorbell ring instead. Frowning, she wondered who it could be at this time.

--

Bridget opened the door to find Clara and Katrina standing there. "Hello, girls. What brings you here?"

"Hi, Mrs. Thompson," Clara said. "We're sorry for intruding, but we really need to speak with Sally”.

Bridget looked at them with raised eyebrows. “Girls, you know you are welcome anytime, but isn’t this… a bit late?”.

“It's a friendship emergency. Can we see Sally?”, Katrina asked.

Bridget's worry deepened. "Is something wrong?"

Clara shook her head. "It's just something we need to resolve with her. She’ll understand."

Bridget guessed it might have something to do with Sally’s confessions about her pull-ups. "Alright. Sally’s in the Studio. I'll call her down."

She called up to Sally, but there was no answer. "Sally, Katrina and Clara are here!"

Sally was stunned. She was only wearing a very wet diaper, and she knew she couldn’t get to her bedroom without being seen. Panic set in as she thought about what to do.

Sally's mind raced frantically as she pondered her next move. She felt trapped, knowing she couldn't let her friends see her in such a vulnerable state, yet hiding forever wasn't an option. Questions swirled in her head—what did they want? Was it about her mood? Her pull-ups? She felt a deep frustration, unable to figure out how to fix the situation.

Her mother called up again, asking if she should send her friends up. Sally knew it was a veiled threat. Suddenly, she remembered the emergency skirt her mother had left outside the Studio door. She quickly slipped it on and tried not to waddle as she made her way downstairs.

As Sally reached the living room, the tension was palpable. She looked at her friends in frown. "What’s going on? Why are you here?"

Katrina took a deep breath, hands on her hips. "Sally, we need to talk. We’re worried about you."

Clara nodded, wringing her hands. "We care about you, Sally. We’re willing to create an uncomfortable situation to resolve this because we love you."

Sally crossed her arms. "I need space. Sometimes, friendship means giving someone space to figure things out."

Katrina shook her head. "Yes, but not when it’s clearly against your well-being. If you were thinking about doing something harmful, we wouldn’t respect that wish. Friendship means helping, even when it’s inconvenient."

Sally's eyes filled with tears. "But you don’t understand. I do need space. You’re interfering."

Clara stepped forward. "We’re interfering because we love you. We want to be there for you, no matter what. We can’t match the love your mother has shown you, but as friends, we need to be there for you, even when it’s uncomfortable."

Sally broke down, sobbing quietly. "It’s not about anything bad… I just need space. Why can’t you understand?"

Katrina and Clara exchanged a glance, then Katrina spoke softly. "We want to go with you through this, Sally. We want to understand and help you, not just watch from the sidelines."

Clara added, "We want to be the best friends we can be. That means sharing your struggles, not just the easy parts."

Through her tears, Sally looked up and pulled off her skirt, revealing her wet diaper. "This," she said, her voice trembling, "is what you have to share with me."

Katrina and Clara stared at Sally, transfixed at her friend wearing a wet diaper.

Sally took a deep breath, trying to steady herself as she prepared to open up to her friends in a way she never had before. Her eyes darted between Clara and Katrina, who were both leaning forward, their faces etched with concern and curiosity.

"I guess I should start from the beginning," Sally began, her voice trembling slightly. "After the car accident, everything changed for me. I felt so out of control, like everything was spinning and I couldn't grasp onto anything solid. That's when I started wearing footed pajamas again. They made me feel safe and cozy, like I was wrapped in a warm hug."

She paused, gauging their reactions. Clara's motherly concern was evident in her eyes, while Katrina's usually confident demeanor was softened by genuine empathy.

"At first, it was just a way to feel secure," Sally continued. "You know, something I could control. It was comforting, like being wrapped in a hug that I could carry with me. It made me feel safe. Then I started wearing pull-ups. They were just another layer of comfort, something that made me feel even more secure."

Clara nodded, her expression one of understanding. "I get that, Sally. Sometimes we all need something to hold onto."

Sally smiled weakly and went on. "Then I started using the pull-ups and discovered it felt good to use them. It wasn't just about the security; there was something more to it. My therapist suggested I wear real diapers to fully experience my 'little' side. So now, I'm wearing diapers, and well," she hesitated, an embarrassed smile forming on her lips, "using them."

Katrina and Clara exchanged glances, then Katrina said with a gentle smile, "You actually look adorable, Sally."

Sally turned red, but continued speaking. "The Studio became my sanctuary, a place where I could escape and just be myself. I started painting, hoping it would help me express all the things I couldn't put into words. But painting when I'm sad is really hard. It's like the emotions are too heavy to translate into art. The colors don't mix right, and the shapes don't form the way I want them to. Everything just feels incomplete."

She picked at a loose thread on her shirt, her voice growing softer. "And then there's the pacifier. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's so soothing. When I'm using it, I feel a sense of calm that I can't find anywhere else. It helps me focus, especially when I'm feeling overwhelmed."

Katrina, who had been quiet until now, spoke up. "It's not ridiculous, Sally. We all have our ways of coping. Yours might be different, but that doesn't make them any less valid."

Sally's eyes welled up with tears. "Thanks, Katrina. I just... I feel so embarrassed about it all. The diapers, the pacifier, the painting... it makes me feel like a child, and I worry what people will think if they find out."

Clara reached over and squeezed Sally's hand. "You don't have to worry about us. We're your friends, and we love you no matter what. We just want to understand and support you."

Sally took a deep breath, feeling a wave of relief wash over her. "I've been using the diapers more than just for security. There are times when I actually use them because it makes me feel more connected to that sense of safety and comfort. It’s not just about avoiding the bathroom; it’s about the emotional release it provides."

Katrina and Clara nodded, their expressions serious but kind.

"And the Studio," Sally continued, "it's become my place to explore all these feelings. When I'm there, surrounded by my art and my pacifier, I feel like I can finally breathe. It's like the outside world fades away, and I'm just... me. But even there, I struggle with my paintings. They often reflect my frustration and sadness, and it's hard to see them incomplete, like they're mirroring how I feel inside."

Katrina gave her a warm smile. "Sally, your art is beautiful because it’s a part of you. Even if it feels incomplete, it’s a step towards understanding yourself. And it’s okay to need help along the way."

Sally wiped a tear from her cheek. "Thank you, Katrina. I guess I’ve been so scared of being judged that I didn't realize how much I needed to talk about this. I feel like I’ve been carrying this huge weight, and just sharing it with you both makes it a little lighter."

Clara nodded. "That's what friends are for. We're here to help you carry that weight, no matter what it is."

Sally looked at her friends, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love. "I don't know what I'd do without you two. It’s been so hard to navigate all of this on my own. And I know I’ve been distant and moody, but it’s just because I didn’t know how to share this part of myself."

Katrina leaned in closer. "We’re here for you, Sally. Always. And we’ll figure this out together. If you need to talk, or if you just need us to be there, we will be."

"We love you, Sally," Clara said, stepping forward to hug her. Katrina joined in, and they embraced in a three-way hug. Sally felt a hand rest on her diapered butt and found that touch pleasant. She pushed against it, wondering who’s it was.

Bridget stood in the sidelines, teary-eyed, holding a diaper and changing supplies. "I’d better change you, Sally. You’re way overdue."

Katrina turned to Bridget. "We will change her," she said, and Clara agreed. They needed to prove their acceptance and love for Sally.

Sally was resistant at first, but her friends convinced her. Her mother walked away in support of Sally’s friends. Sally trembled in anticipation as they laid her down on the changing mat. Katrina held Sally’s head on her lap as Clara opened the diaper and cleaned her up, taping on a fresh one. Katrina said soothing words to calm Sally, holding her hand.

When the diaper change was done, the three girls moved to the sofa for a group cuddle. Their friendship felt stronger than ever.

Bridget asked if they wanted something to drink, offering pineapple juice – that was all she had. They accepted, and she brought two glasses and an adult-sized baby bottle for Sally.

Sally was surprised and curious at the bottle, but accepted it. She tried to suck from it, but it didn’t work too well. Katrina suggested she lie down on her back and try sucking from it. Sally lay on Katrina’s lap, and as Katrina held the baby bottle, Sally sucked on the silicone teat, finding it easier this way. Clara squeezed in under Sally’s lower body and held Sally’s knees, supporting her gently.

Sally was in bliss, relaxed in the arms of her friends, feeling their love and support. As she lay there, sucking on her baby bottle, she wet her diaper again, feeling content and cared for. The bond between the three friends was now unbreakable, sealed with understanding, acceptance, and love.

--

Clara and Katrina lay in bed together, the room shrouded in darkness, the only sound the occasional rustling of the sheets as they adjusted their positions. The visit to Sally’s house had been emotionally intense, and now, in the quiet of the night, they found themselves reflecting on what had happened.

“I still can’t believe Sally revealed herself like that,” Katrina whispered, breaking the silence. “Taking her skirt off in front of us… that was so brave.”

Clara nodded, her mind replaying the moment. “Yeah, it was. I can’t imagine how embarrassing that must have been for her. Honestly, it was embarrassing for me to see her like that too, but also… I don’t know. It felt important, like she was trusting us with a part of herself she’s been hiding for so long.”

Katrina turned to face Clara, her eyes adjusting to the darkness. “You know, I’ve been thinking about it, and Sally looked... I don’t know how to put it. Alluring, I guess, in a diaper. There was something so raw and honest about it.”

Clara struggled to find the right words. “Yeah, I felt that too. There was this mix of a sinister look and a deeply infantile, yet decidedly mature quality about it. Seeing her in a wet diaper was… it made me feel things I didn’t expect. It was like she was showing us her most vulnerable side, and it was both heartbreaking and powerful.”

Katrina sighed. “I know exactly what you mean. And did you notice, when we were leaving, that Sally had wet her diaper again?”

Clara’s eyes widened. “Yes, I did. I actually felt it. When she was drinking from the bottle, she went sort of limp in my arms, and I could feel the diaper suddenly heating up as it rested on my lap. It was such an intimate moment.”

“When we hugged, my hand ended resting on her diaper – I wanted to see how it felt – and I think she liked it. She pressed against my hand”, confessed Katrina.

“You’re a funky girl, aren’t you?”, said Clara, affectionately.

Katrina scooted closer, her hand finding Clara’s under the covers. “This friendship is going places I never imagined. It’s like we’re crossing all these boundaries, but it feels right. We’re really getting to know each other on a deeper level.”

Clara squeezed Katrina’s hand, her heart full. “Yeah, we are. And it’s not just about seeing each other’s vulnerabilities, it’s about accepting them, and being there for each other no matter what.”

They spooned, their bodies finding comfort in the shared warmth. The events of the day had brought them closer, solidifying a bond that was becoming unbreakable.

“I’m glad we’re in this together,” Katrina murmured, her voice soft with affection.

“Me too,” Clara replied, her heart swelling with gratitude. “No matter what happens, we have each other. And we’ll be there for Sally, just like she’s been there for us.”

In the darkness, they held each other, finding solace in their friendship and the unspoken promise to support one another through anything life threw at them. It was a new beginning to an old friendship, and they were ready to face it together.

Wednesday

The next day, Sally woke up feeling the familiar sensation of a wet diaper clinging to her skin. She tried to remember when she had wet it, but the memory was hazy. Oh, yes, she did sort of wake up sometime in the night, and… just went in her diaper. It was funny how it was getting more difficult to remember when exactly she wet. She decided to wet it one more time and basked in the warmth spreading through her diaper, feeling a comforting sense of security.

Turning her head, she spotted her pacifier and baby bottle on the bedside table. She smiled, knowing her mother must have left them there when she changed her diaper last night. Sally reached for the baby bottle, put the silicone nipple in her mouth, and started sucking. She felt the cool, fresh mineral water fill her mouth, hydrating her after a good night’s sleep and relieving the pastiness.

As she sucked on her bottle, Sally’s thoughts drifted to the previous day with Clara and Katrina. She meditated extensively on what happened and how she felt. The relief of finally opening up to her friends about her pull-ups and diapers was immense. She felt a sense of happiness she hadn’t felt in a long time. The understanding and acceptance from her friends had lifted a weight off her shoulders. She felt a warm glow inside, knowing that her friends were there for her, no matter what. Sally felt a renewed sense of anticipation about seeing Clara and Katrina at school today. She hoped their friendship would continue to grow stronger after yesterday’s heartfelt conversation.

A gentle knock on her door pulled Sally from her reverie. “Time for breakfast, honey,” her mother’s voice called from the other side. “I’m in a hurry this morning.”

Sally rolled out of bed, feeling the familiar bulk of her diaper between her legs. She didn’t bother to change out of her t-shirt and diaper. She was really tired when her mother had taken her to bed last night and changed her diaper. Besides, it was getting warmer, and the footed pajamas were beginning to feel a bit heavy on her. She figured she’d get a proper change after breakfast. She walked down the stairs, not realizing she was still only in her t-shirt and diaper, the crinkling sound barely registering in her relaxed state.

Bridget was bustling around the kitchen, preparing a quick breakfast. She turned and smiled warmly at Sally. “Good morning, sweetie. Sleep well?”

“Morning, Mom. Yeah, I slept really well,” Sally replied, her pacifier still in hand.

Bridget raised an eyebrow playfully. “Well, I can see you’re comfortable,” she said, noting Sally’s attire. “Come on, sit down and have some breakfast. We don’t have much time.”

Sally sat at the kitchen table, feeling a sense of normalcy despite her unusual outfit. She dug into her breakfast, enjoying the comforting routine. As she ate, her mind wandered back to her friends and the hopeful feeling of moving forward with them. Today was a new day, and Sally felt ready to face whatever challenges came her way, knowing she had the support of her mother and her friends.

Finishing her breakfast, Sally felt ready to start the day. She stood up, stretched, and felt the slightly cold sensation of her wet diaper reminding her it was time for a change. But for now, she was content. She walked back upstairs to get ready for school, looking forward to the day ahead and the support of the people she loved.

--

Sally, Katrina, and Clara met at school the next day, their usual banter and laughter filling the hallways as they walked to their first class. Though what had transpired between them the previous evening went unspoken, there was a new sense of closeness that subtly altered the dynamic of their friendship.

The day at school passed in a blur of classes, lunch breaks, and shared jokes. Katrina's extroverted, bossy demeanor clashed humorously with Clara's motherly, know-it-all attitude, creating an entertaining backdrop to their academic routine.

"Did you see Mrs. Jensen’s face when Katrina corrected her about the Pythagorean theorem?" Clara laughed as they exited their math class.

"I couldn’t help it! She was so wrong," Katrina defended herself, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Sally giggled, feeling more relaxed than she had in days. "You two are impossible."

At lunch, they sat under their usual tree in the courtyard, enjoying the mild weather. Clara pulled out her notebook, reviewing her strategy for her online chess tournament later that afternoon.

"You know, you should come over after school," Katrina suggested, nudging Sally. "We can hang out, watch a movie or something."

Clara glanced up from her notes. "I wish I could, but I have that chess tournament. Sally, you should definitely go. It’ll be fun."

Sally hesitated, feeling the dampness of her pull-up reminding her of its presence. She had already changed twice today and didn’t have any more pull-ups to change into. But she really wanted to spend time with Katrina. Deciding to forego her pull-ups for the afternoon, she nodded. "Sure, I'd love to."

The final bell rang, and the girls parted ways. Katrina and Sally walked together to Katrina’s house, chatting about their plans for the weekend.

Once inside Katrina's room, Katrina offered, "Do you want to change into something more comfortable? I’ve got some clothes that might fit you."

Sally agreed, feeling a bit nervous but excited. They rummaged through Katrina’s closet, eventually finding a t-shirt and some lounge pants that would work for Sally. Katrina had already stripped down and was changing into something similar. As Sally did the same, she unveiled her wet pull-up to Katrina.

"It’s time for a change, don’t you think?" Katrina remarked casually.

Sally blushed. "I didn’t bring any extra pull-ups with me."

Katrina winked. "I’ve got just the thing." Wearing only panties, she charged into her closet and returned with a package of Ninjamas.

Sally was stunned. "Why do you have these?"

Katrina grinned. "I bought them a few days ago, just in case you might need them. I’m glad I did."

Sally noticed the package had been opened. "You opened them already."

Katrina's grin turned sly. "I had to try one on to make sure they’d fit you. And now I’m confident they will."

Sally couldn't help but laugh, imagining Katrina trying on a Ninjama. "I bet you looked adorable in them."

"Not as adorable as you will," Katrina teased, holding out an open Ninjama.

With a mix of embarrassment and appreciation, Sally stripped down completely and removed her pull-up. Katrina, with foresight, handed her a brand-new package of baby wipes.

"Thanks," Sally said timidly, wiping herself down. She then stepped into the open Ninjama that Katrina held out for her and allowed her friend to pull them snugly up her legs and onto her hips.

Blushing, Sally twirled around for Katrina’s enjoyment. "They feel different from my Goodnites. I like the colorful designs."

Katrina beamed. "I knew you’d like them."

Sally finished dressing in the shorts and t-shirt, grateful for the comfort and security of the new Ninjama. They settled down to finish their homework, the room filled with a comfortable silence occasionally broken by snippets of conversation and laughter.

Later, they went downstairs for dinner. Katrina’s mother greeted them warmly, asking about their day. Sally was thankful that Katrina was a couple of sizes bigger than her; the baggy pants hid her new Ninjamas well.

As they ate, Sally reflected on how fortunate she was to have friends like Katrina and Clara. Their support and understanding meant everything to her. She smiled, feeling a sense of peace and contentment.

After dinner, they retreated back to Katrina’s room, where they continued their conversation and shared more laughs. Sally couldn’t help but feel grateful for the bond they shared, knowing that no matter what challenges came their way, their friendship would remain strong and unbreakable. Sally had taken her pants off as Katrina had shed hers first, a testament to Sally’s relaxed demeanor.

Thursday

After school and homework, Thursday in the Studio brought another new addition: a pair of yellow plastic panties. Sally eagerly put them on over her diaper, feeling the added layer of protection and the slight crinkle they made with each movement. She paired them with her pink t-shirt that was two sizes too small, completing the look and making her feel even more like a baby.

Sally's painting continued to evolve as she delved into more detailed subjects, like serene landscapes and intricate still-life compositions. The plastic panties she wore over her diaper provided a newfound sense of security, allowing her to focus entirely on her art without any distractions.

As she moved around her studio, Sally couldn't help but be fascinated by the smooth, slick texture of the plastic panties. The waistband fit perfectly, and the soft rustling sound they made with every step added to the comforting ambiance of her creative space. Frequently, she ran her fingers over the plastic material, marveling at how it crinkled and flexed with her movements, amplifying her sense of being wrapped up and secure.

Lost in the process of painting, Sally felt the familiar urge to pee. Without breaking her concentration, she relaxed and let the warm liquid flow into her diaper. The warmth spread quickly, and she felt the diaper swell slightly under the protective barrier of her plastic panties. The sensation was deeply comforting, a physical reminder of her secure, infantile state.

The plastic panties held everything in place, preventing any leaks. Sally loved how the plastic felt even more over a wet diaper—there was a satisfying squishiness when she pressed her hand against the front, and the added weight made her feel even more grounded and secure. The rustling sound was more pronounced now, enhancing her sense of comfort and safety. She couldn’t keep her hands off herself, and eventually the silicone gloves came off for good.

--

Bridget walked confidently towards the Studio, ready to change Sally’s diaper. It had become a routine, a part of their unique mother-daughter bond that had grown stronger over the past few months and something she looked forward to doing. As she opened the door, she was taken aback by what she saw.

Sally was lying on the sofa, her hand rubbing the front of her new plastic panties as if she had an itch. The look of surprise on Sally’s face was like a deer caught in the headlights. Her eyes widened, and her hand froze. Bridget could see the mix of emotions flooding Sally’s face—embarrassment, confusion, and fear.

Bridget’s heart ached for her daughter. She quickly closed the door, giving Sally a moment to compose herself. Bridget felt a wave of embarrassment herself, but she knew she had to handle this with love and sensitivity. She took a deep breath and knocked gently on the door before opening it again.

“Sally, sweetie, can I come in?” Bridget asked softly, her voice filled with compassion.

Sally sat up; her face flushed with shame. “Mom, I... I didn’t mean...”

Bridget crossed the room and sat next to Sally, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to explain right now. I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Sally’s eyes filled with tears. “Mom, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just... sometimes it feels... good, and I don’t understand why. Am I crazy?”

Bridget wrapped her arms around Sally, pulling her into a comforting embrace. “Oh, sweetheart, you are not crazy. There are so many things about ourselves that we don’t understand, and that’s okay. What you’re feeling is natural, and it’s something we can talk to Dr. Thompson about. She’ll know how to help us put the correct focus on this.”

Sally clung to her mother, her body trembling with emotion. “I’m so embarrassed, Mom. What if Dr. Thompson thinks I’m weird?”

Bridget gently lifted Sally’s chin, looking into her eyes with warmth and love. “Dr. Thompson is here to help us, not judge us. And I promise you, she’s seen and heard everything. This is just another part of our journey, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Sally sniffled and nodded, her tears beginning to subside. “But what if... what if I can’t stop feeling like this?”

Bridget stroked Sally’s hair, her voice soothing and calm. “Feelings can be a part of who we are, Sally. They guide us and help us understand ourselves better. What’s important is that we learn to manage them in a healthy way. And that’s why we have Dr. Thompson. She’s here to guide us through this, together.”

Sally took a deep breath, finding comfort in her mother’s words. “Thank you, Mom. I’m scared”.

Bridget smiled, kissing the top of Sally’s head. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Now, how about we get you changed and then maybe we can do something fun together?”

Sally nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “I’d like that”, she said, still red in the face.

Bridget helped Sally lie back down, carefully and lovingly changing her diaper. She made sure to be gentle, not just with her hands, but with her words, constantly reassuring Sally that she was loved and accepted no matter what.

Once the fresh diaper was in place, Bridget helped Sally into her favorite t-shirt and led her out of the studio. They spent the rest of the afternoon doing things that made Sally happy, eating, watching a movie, and just being together.

As the evening drew to a close, Bridget tucked Sally into bed, her heart swelling with pride and love for her brave daughter. “Goodnight, Sally. Remember, you’re never alone in this. We’ll figure it out together.”

Sally smiled sleepily. “Love ya.”

“I love you too, sweetheart. Always,” Bridget whispered, turning off the light and closing the door.

As Bridget walked down the hallway, she felt a sense of peace. She knew there were challenges ahead, but with love, respect, and the right guidance from Dr. Thompson, they would face them together.

Chapter 22 – Flying Altitude

Friday

Dr. Thompson’s office, a warm and welcoming space, had become a familiar place for Sally. The soft lighting, comfortable furniture, and calming artwork created an environment where she felt safe to express her thoughts and feelings. Today, however, she felt more nervous than usual.

Sitting in a plush chair, Sally fidgeted with her hands, glancing around the room. Dr. Thompson, a kind and empathetic woman, sat across from her, radiating calm and understanding.

"Hi, Sally," Dr. Thompson greeted her warmly. "How are you feeling today?"

Sally took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I’m okay, Dr. Thompson. There’s something I need to talk about, though. It’s... a bit embarrassing."

"Remember, Sally, you can talk to me about anything," Dr. Thompson reassured her. "This is a safe space, and I’m here to help."

Sally shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting around the room. "I don't know where to start," she mumbled, her voice barely audible.

Dr. Thompson nodded understandingly. "It's okay to feel anxious, Sally. We can take it one step at a time. Is there something specific that's been on your mind lately?"

Sally hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "Well, it's just... I've been feeling really... I don't know, embarrassed about something."

Dr. Thompson leaned forward slightly, maintaining a gentle tone. "Sometimes it helps to talk about those things that make us feel embarrassed. Is it about something you've been doing or thinking about?"

Sally's face flushed, and she looked down at her hands. "Maybe," she whispered.

Dr. Thompson offered a reassuring smile. "Your mom mentioned she was a bit worried about you experiencing your diapers in a physical way. Is that something that's been on your mind?"

Sally's head snapped up, and she quickly looked away, her body tensing. "I... I don't want to talk about that," she said, her voice shaking.

"That's okay, Sally," Dr. Thompson said softly. "I just want to help you feel at ease. Masturbation is actually quite common, and it's not something to be ashamed of. It's natural to feel curious about our bodies, especially during the teenage years."

Sally's eyes widened slightly, but she remained silent.

Dr. Thompson continued, "Physical sensations can be wonderful, and discovering them is a part of growing up. There's no shame in it. Sometimes, when we're caught in an intimate moment, like when we are undressed, in the bathroom… and when we are masturbating. It can feel shocking or embarrassing, but that's okay. These moments are part of learning about ourselves."

Sally took a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing a bit. "So... it isn’t weird?"

"Not at all," Dr. Thompson reassured her. "It's just a part of being human. And talking about it, even if it feels uncomfortable at first, can help you understand and feel better about it. You're not alone, Sally. Many people explore their bodies and their sexuality in different ways. Masturbation, in particular, is a natural and healthy way to understand your own sexual desires and needs."

Sally’s face radiated skepticism. "Really? But the diapers... isn’t that weird?"

Dr. Thompson shook her head. "Not at all, Sally. Everyone has unique ways of experiencing pleasure and comfort. In your case, wearing diapers provides you with a sense of security and control, which can be very comforting, especially given your recent experiences."

Sally listened intently, feeling a bit of the weight lifting from her shoulders. "So, it's really okay for me to feel this way?" Her voice turned to barely above a whisper. "The other day, my mom walked in on me... rubbing myself over my diaper. It felt good, but I didn’t mean for it to happen. I’ve done it several times and... I’ve reached… I’ve reached orgasm every time. Like powerful, better than when I did it like… the normal way. Am I crazy?"

"Absolutely not," Dr. Thompson reassured her, passionately. "From a psychological perspective, what you're doing is a form of self-exploration. It’s important to understand that masturbation is a healthy part of sexual development. By exploring your feelings and desires, you're learning more about yourself."

Sally looked thoughtful. "But why do I feel this way? Why do the diapers make me feel secure and... excited this way?"

Dr. Thomson nodded thoughtfully, maintaining a calm and compassionate demeanor. "It's completely normal to have different things that make us feel secure or even aroused. Our minds and bodies are complex, and sometimes they form connections that we might not fully understand at first."

She paused for a moment, allowing Sally to process her words. "Feeling secure with certain objects, like diapers in your case, could be linked to various factors from your past experiences or even the sense of comfort they provide. It's important to remember that human sexuality and emotions are diverse, and there’s no one 'right' way to feel."

Dr. Thompson continued gently, "What's most important is understanding that these feelings are a part of who you are, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's about exploring them in a way that feels safe and healthy for you. If these feelings ever make you uncomfortable or if you have any concerns, we can talk through them together and find ways to help you feel more at ease."

Sally looked relieved but still a bit uncertain. "So, it's okay to feel this way… and do that?"

"Absolutely," Dr. Thompson affirmed with a warm smile. "Everyone has unique aspects of their identity and what makes them feel secure or excited. The key is to approach these feelings with kindness toward yourself and to understand that they don't define your worth or who you are. If you ever need to talk more about this, or anything else, know that I'm here to support you every step of the way."

Sally nodded slowly, a small smile forming on her lips. "Thanks, Dr. Thompson. I think I feel a bit better now."

"That's what I'm here for," Dr. Thompson said warmly. "We can keep talking about anything you need, at your own pace."

Sally took another deep breath, feeling a bit more at ease. "Okay. I'll try."

"You're doing great, Sally," Dr. Thompson encouraged. "Remember, this is your space to share anything you need to."

--

Bridget sat in Dr. Thompson’s office, feeling a mix of anxiety and determination. She needed guidance on how to support her daughter through this confusing time. Dr. Thompson’s calm presence helped soothe her nerves. She had left Sally waiting outside, relieved to see her content and calm.

"Bridget, it’s good to see you," Dr. Thompson greeted her with a reassuring smile. "How are you holding up?"

Bridget sighed, feeling the weight of her worries. "I’m doing okay. When I saw Sally now, she seemed so serene. I was relieved to see her like that."

Dr. Thompson nodded. "That's wonderful to hear. I've been quite satisfied with Sally's progress so far. Now, let's discuss what's been happening and how we can continue to support her."

Bridget sighed, feeling the weight of her worries. "There’s something that happened with Sally that I’m not sure how to handle."

"Tell me what’s on your mind," Dr. Thompson encouraged, her tone gentle.

Bridget took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. "The other day, I walked in on Sally... touching herself over her diaper… she was clearly masturbating. She looked so embarrassed and confused. I didn’t know what to say, so I just tried to comfort her."

Dr. Thompson nodded, listening intently. "It sounds like you handled it with a lot of compassion, Bridget. That’s important."

"But what do I do now?" Bridget asked, her voice tinged with worry. "I don’t want her to feel ashamed or think there’s something wrong with her."

Dr. Thompson leaned back, her expression thoughtful. "It’s crucial for Sally to understand that her feelings and actions are normal. She mentioned to me that she has masturbated in her diapers several times and reached orgasm. Powerful ones. This shows that she’s exploring her body and understanding her needs. It’s a sign that she’s accepting her 'little' side, which is a positive step in her emotional development."

Bridget’s eyes widened slightly. "Really? I was worried she might be feeling more confused."

Dr. Thompson smiled reassuringly. "It’s natural for her to feel confused, but what’s important is that she’s not suppressing these feelings. We need to help her understand and accept them without shame. It’s about building her self-esteem and helping her feel secure in her identity."

"So, what should I do?" Bridget asked, eager to support her daughter.

"Continue to be there for her, just as you have been," Dr. Thompson advised. "Reassure her that her feelings are valid and that she’s not alone. Encourage open communication, and let her know that it’s okay to talk about these things without fear of judgment. And, of course, we’ll continue to work together in therapy to help her navigate these emotions."

Bridget looked down, fidgeting with her fingers. "But the diapers... and the fact that she was doing it in such a... childlike context. It just feels so confusing."

Dr. Thompson nodded thoughtfully. "It’s not uncommon for people to find comfort in familiar or comforting items, especially during such explorative moments. Sally is navigating her feelings and her sense of self. The diapers are a part of her 'little' side that she finds soothing. It doesn’t negate her teenage body and urges”, she said, reasonably.

Bridget’s eyes met Dr. Thompson's, seeking reassurance. "So, you’re saying this is all part of her growing process?"

"Exactly," Dr. Thompson said with a warm smile. "Sally is blending her experiences of comfort with her natural teenage curiosity and physical urges. It’s a part of her development. By exploring her 'little' side, she's finding ways to feel safe and secure. And I want to emphasize that this doesn't cancel out her normal teenage desires, she has a developing body; if anything, these desires might be more pronounced because she's more in tune with herself."

Bridget took a deep breath, remembering her own teenage years. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders. "I was so afraid I was failing her, not knowing how to react."

Dr. Thompson shook her head gently. "You’re doing an excellent job, Bridget. You’re supportive and caring, which is exactly what Sally needs. It’s okay to feel uncertain, but remember, this is a journey for both of you. As Sally continues to grow and explore, there will be moments of confusion, but that’s part of the process."

Bridget nodded, feeling a sense of relief. "Thank you, Dr. Thompson. I’ll do my best to support Sally and help her feel comfortable with herself."

"That’s the best thing you can do, Bridget," Dr. Thompson said warmly. "With your love and support, Sally will continue to grow and understand herself better. And remember, I’m always here to help guide both of you through this process."

--

As Sally and her mother Bridget drove home from their sessions with Dr. Thompson, the car was filled with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. Bridget glanced over at Sally, who was staring out the window, lost in thought. The gentle hum of the car engine provided a comforting background noise.

Bridget cleared her throat, breaking the silence. "Hey, Sally. Do you want to talk a bit more about what happened? I know it was really awkward and embarrassing when I walked in on you, and I want to make sure you're okay."

Sally shifted in her seat, her fingers tracing patterns on her skirt. "Yeah, it was pretty embarrassing. I didn't know how to explain it, and I felt so… exposed."

Bridget nodded, keeping her eyes on the road. "I can only imagine how hard that must have been for you. But I want you to know that I'm not judging you at all. We all have things that make us feel secure or comforted, and there's nothing wrong with that."

Sally turned to look at her mother, her eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. "Really? You don't think I'm weird?"

Bridget gave her a reassuring smile. "Absolutely not. You're my daughter, and I love you no matter what. Dr. Thompson helped me understand that these feelings are just a part of who you are, and that's okay. I'm here to support you."

Sally felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Thanks, Mom. It means a lot to hear you say that. I was so scared you'd think differently of me."

Bridget reached over and gently squeezed Sally's hand. "Never. We all have our own quirks and things that make us feel safe. What matters is that we understand and support each other. If you ever want to talk about it more or need anything, I'm here."

Sally squeezed her mother's hand back, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it. I guess I just need some time to get used to talking about it."

Bridget nodded. "Take all the time you need. There's no rush. Just know that you don't have to go through this alone. We've got each other."

After a brief pause, Bridget took a deep breath and said, "You know, Sally, I want to tell you something important. When I walked in on you that day, it was definitely a shock, but as I thought about it later, I realized something. I was actually proud of you."

Sally looked at her mother in surprise. "Proud? Why?"

Bridget smiled warmly. "Because it showed that you were completely enjoying and accepting this new 'little' side of yourself. You were at ease and relaxed, just being yourself in your diapers and feeling secure. That takes a lot of courage and self-acceptance, and I'm proud of you for that. I’ll have to announce my presence before I enter the studio from now on", she said, winking.

Sally smiled as her eyes filled with tears, but this time they were tears of relief and gratitude. "Thanks, Mom. That means so much to me. I was so worried you'd be disappointed or think I was weird."

Bridget shook her head. "Not at all. You're exploring who you are, and that's a beautiful thing. We'll figure this out together, one step at a time."

The car fell into a comfortable silence for a while, the tension from earlier dissipating. The bond between them felt stronger, and Sally knew she could count on her mother's support.

As they approached their neighborhood, Sally spoke up again, with a broken voice, trying to keep even. "Maybe we can do something fun together when we get home? Like watch a movie or play a game?"

Bridget's face lit up with a smile. "That sounds perfect. Let's do something that makes us both happy."

Sally hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. "Mom, there's one more thing... I, um, I wet my diaper."

Bridget's eyes widened in surprise. "You’re wearing a diaper right now? An actual diaper?" She hadn’t expected Sally to be wearing a diaper outside of house.

Sally blushed and lifted the edge of her skirt, revealing the crotch of a wet diaper. "Yeah, I am. I felt so comfortable in them during the session. It relaxed me."

Bridget took a moment to process, then smiled warmly. "I'm surprised, but also impressed that you felt so at ease. I admire your confidence, Sally."

Sally grinned slyly. "And you know what? Dr. Thompson didn't even notice."

They both laughed, the tension fully melting away. Bridget shook her head, chuckling. "Well, you certainly managed to pull that off with style."

Sally giggled. "Maybe I've found my hidden talent. Stealth diaper wearing!"

Bridget laughed along with her. "Well, let's get home and enjoy that movie or game. And if you need a change, just let me know."

With that, they continued their journey home, feeling closer and more connected than ever, ready to face whatever came their way together.

--

Arriving home offered more excitement. Sally entered the studio to find a new diaper waiting for her—one with baby prints, reminiscent of the Pampers she wore as a little baby. It was her size, she realized, in amazement. Her mother had followed her and was there to help her change into it, and the experience was both exciting and nostalgic.

As Bridget gently helped Sally into the new diaper, they shared a tender moment, filled with love.

As Bridget looked at her teenage daughter wearing a baby-printed diaper, a rush of emotions washed over her. The sight reawakened her motherly yearns, bringing back memories of when Sally was just a little baby, completely dependent on her for comfort and care. There was something profoundly touching about seeing her daughter embrace this vulnerable side of herself, and Bridget felt a deep sense of connection and protectiveness.

Afterwards, they headed to the living room. "Alright, Mom," Sally said with a smile, "your turn to pick the movie."

Bridget hesitated. "Are you sure, sweetheart? I want to choose something we both enjoy."

Sally nodded firmly. "I insist. I want to please you, Mom. Just pick something you love."

With a sigh and a smile, Bridget finally relented. "Okay, how about 'Before Sunset'? It's one of my favorites."

Sally's eyes twinkled with secret happiness. "Perfect. Let's get cozy."

They settled onto the couch, with Sally snuggling up close to her mother. As the movie started, Sally felt the warmth and safety of her mother's embrace. The long, soothing dialogues soon had the desired effect, and Sally's eyes began to droop.

Bridget looked down at her daughter, a soft smile on her face. She gently stroked Sally's hair, feeling a deep sense of contentment. Sally was right where she wanted to be, in one of her favorite places in the world: her mother's arms.

As the movie played on, Sally drifted off to sleep, the comforting presence of her mother wrapping around her like a warm blanket. Bridget continued to watch, holding her daughter close, feeling grateful for these precious moments together. Their bond had grown stronger through their shared experiences, and they both knew they could face anything together.

In the quiet of the living room, with the soft glow of the TV casting gentle shadows, mother and daughter found peace and joy in each other's company. It was a perfect end to a day filled with understanding, acceptance, and love.

As Bridget continued to gently brush Sally's hair, she could feel her daughter relaxing even more. Sally, so positively relaxed and drowsy, let herself completely unwind.

The comforting routine of her mother's gentle strokes through her hair made her feel safe and loved. In that blissful state, she felt a warm sensation spread through her diaper as she let herself pee, fully surrendering to the comfort of the moment.

Bridget noticed and held Sally even closer, whispering softly, "It's okay, sweetheart. Just relax. I'm here." Sally smiled drowsily, feeling utterly at peace. She knew she was loved unconditionally and that her mother would always be there for her, no matter what. As she drifted off to sleep, she felt an overwhelming sense of security and happiness, wrapped in her mother's unwavering love.

--

"Hey, Sally, the movie's over," Bridget said softly, gently nudging her daughter awake. "How are you feeling?"

“Sleepy. What time is it?

Bridget glanced at the clock. "It's just past 10 PM, sweetheart. You dozed off pretty early. Did you have a good nap?"

“More like a deep sleep”, she murmured. “Are we going to bed?

Bridget smiled warmly. "Yes, it seems like you really needed it. We can head to bed now if you'd like. Do you want me to help you get ready for bed?"

“I wet my diaper”, Sally announced.

Bridget nodded gently, her expression warm and understanding. "That's okay, sweetheart. Let's get you cleaned up and into a fresh one before we head to bed. I'm here to help."

“I left my plastic panties in the Studio. Can I wear them to bed?”, asked Sally, still sleepy, but inspired.

Bridget smiled reassuringly. "Of course, sweetheart. I’ll go to the studio and get your panties. Then we can get you ready for bed. Do you need anything else?"

Sally shook her head and got up groggily from the sofa. Her mother walked her to bed. She noticed her new baby diaper was quite soaked. She laid her in bed and went to the Studio to get the new plastic panties. When she returned Sally was asleep again.

Bridget gently coaxed Sally awake, her voice soft and soothing. "Sally, sweetheart, I need to get you changed before you go back to sleep," she murmured, giving her daughter's shoulder a gentle shake.

Sally groaned, her eyes fluttering open, and she complained, rubbing her eyes.

Bridget smiled warmly. "I know, honey. It'll just take a minute, and then you can go back to sleep, all cozy and dry."

With practiced care, Bridget began changing Sally's wet diaper. Sally squirmed a bit, still groggy and half-asleep. "Do we really have to do this now?" she mumbled.

"Yes, we do," Bridget said gently, her hands moving with efficiency and tenderness. "You'll feel much better, I promise."

After cleaning Sally up, Bridget reached for a new, thicker diaper. She wryly slipped in a booster pad for additional absorbency, knowing her daughter was likely to wet a lot during the night. "This will help you stay dry until morning," she explained, more to herself than to Sally, who was already starting to drift off again.

Bridget carefully taped the diaper in place, making sure it was snug and secure. Then she picked up the plastic panties, struggling slightly to get them over the now very thick diaper. With a bit of effort, she managed to slip them up and over, ensuring they fit properly.

"There we go," Bridget said softly, leaning down to kiss Sally's forehead. "All set. You can go back to sleep now, sweetheart."

Sally murmured something unintelligible, already halfway back to dreamland. Bridget tucked the blanket around her daughter, making sure she was comfortable and warm.

"Goodnight, my sweet girl," she whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from Sally's face. "Sleep well."

As Bridget turned off the light and quietly left the room, she felt a deep sense of love and fulfillment. These tender moments, caring for her daughter with such devotion, were the ones she cherished most.

--

Sally woke up slowly, the morning light filtering through her bedroom window. She stretched, feeling the bulk of the thick diaper and plastic panties, which reminded her of the previous night's events. With a slight waddle, she made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where her mother was preparing breakfast.

Hearing Sally’s plastic panties rustle, she turned to the stairway. "Good morning, sweetheart," Bridget greeted her with a warm smile. "How did you sleep?"

"Morning, Mom," Sally replied, waddling down, still feeling a bit groggy. "I slept really well. I didn't even wake up once."

Bridget glanced at her daughter, noticing the slight waddle. "That's good to hear. Did you wet your diaper?"

Sally blushed slightly but nodded. "Yeah, but it's such a thick diaper that I don't even feel wet."

Bridget chuckled softly. "That's exactly why I put you in a thicker diaper with a booster pad, so you wouldn't have to worry about any leaks. Looks like it did the job perfectly."

Sally grinned, feeling a mix of amusement and comfort. "I guess so. It still feels like there's plenty of room for more wetting."

"Good to know," Bridget said with a playful smile. "That means you can enjoy your breakfast without any interruptions. Let's sit down and eat."

They both sat at the table, enjoying a hearty breakfast. Sally couldn't help but feel a sense of normalcy and acceptance from her mother, which made her feel more at ease with her "little" side.

After finishing breakfast, Bridget gently suggested, "How about we head to the studio? I have a little surprise for you there."

Sally's eyes lit up with curiosity. "A surprise? I love surprises!"

Bridget led Sally to the studio. As they entered the room, Sally immediately noticed a brand new onesie laid out on a chair. It was covered in playful, childish designs of animals and balloons, complete with a snap crotch.

"Wow, Mom, look at this!" Sally exclaimed, her face lighting up with delight. "It's so cute!"

Bridget smiled warmly. "I thought you might like it. I wanted to get you something that would keep your diaper from sagging and make you feel even more comfortable."

Sally couldn't wait to try it on. She quickly pulled off her t-shirt. Bridget helped her slide the onesie over her head and arms, adjusting it until it fit perfectly.

"Alright, sweetheart, open your legs so I can snap it closed," Bridget instructed gently.

Sally obediently spread her legs, and Bridget skillfully snapped the crotch of the onesie over the plastic panties. "There you go, all set."

Bridget stepped back, admiring how adorable and comfortable Sally looked. "You look wonderful, Sally. I'll leave you alone for a bit to get used to it. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

As her mother left the room, Sally walked over to the full-length mirror. She turned from side to side, admiring the fit of the onesie. The playful designs made her smile, and she loved how the onesie held her diaper snugly in place, preventing any sagging. Sally let go and peed into the diaper, feeling a delightful sensation as the soaked padding was pressing gently against her, this time with no sagging.

"This is perfect," Sally murmured to herself, running her hands over and pressing the soft fabric. "It feels so cozy."

She took a few steps, feeling how the onesie moved with her and kept her diaper secure. The snug fit made her feel safe and embraced, almost like a gentle hug. It even muffled the plastic panties protecting her from leaks.

Sally's reflection beamed back at her, the combination of the thick diaper and the new onesie giving her a sense of comfort and delight. She spun around once more, feeling the playful designs add a touch of joy to her day.

"I love this onesie."

Filled with a renewed sense of happiness and comfort, Sally headed to her painting station, ready to let her creativity flow. She felt a surge of gratitude for her mother's thoughtfulness, knowing that she was truly loved and accepted just as she was.

Satudray

As the morning sun streamed through the studio windows, Sally was already immersed in her painting, feeling the comfort of her new onesie. Just then, the doorbell rang, breaking her concentration.

Bridget opened the door to reveal Clara and Katrina, Sally’s best friends. Clara, with her calm demeanor and thoughtful smile, greeted Bridget warmly, while Katrina, with her wild curls and infectious energy, bounced on her heels.

“Hey, Mrs. B! We’re here to keep our favorite artist company!” Katrina announced enthusiastically.

“Thanks for coming, girls,” Bridget said with a smile. “I need to get some shopping done, and I know Sally will appreciate the company.”

Clara nodded. “Of course, we’re happy to babysit. We’ll make sure she’s well taken care of.”

Bridget glanced back at the studio and saw Sally was peeking out the banister, bashful, yet excited to see her friends. “Alright then, I’ll be back in a few hours. Have fun, girls!”

With a wave, Bridget left, leaving the three friends in the cozy studio.

“Hey, Sally! Look at you in that adorable onesie!” Katrina exclaimed as she and Clara walked in.

Sally blushed a bit but grinned. “Thanks. My mom got it for me. It’s really comfy.”

Katrina smiled and noticed the slight bulge under the onesie. “Wow, that diaper looks pretty thick today. Are you wearing plastic panties too?”

Sally nodded, feeling a mix of shyness and comfort from her friends' acceptance. “Yeah, my mom put a booster pad in to make it more absorbent, and the plastic panties are to protect from leaks.”

Clara walked over and gave Sally a gentle hug. “You look great, Sal. And it looks like you’re making amazing progress on your painting.”

Katrina plopped down on a beanbag chair with a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, school has been such a drag lately. I’m so glad we get to hang out here instead. What’s the latest gossip?”

Sally laughed, dipping her brush in paint. “Not much, really. Just the usual life stuff. But I did hear that my mom’s charity project is about to kick off in a big way. They’re launching a nationwide education program for gifted teenagers from low-income families.”

Clara’s eyes widened with interest. “That sounds incredible. It’s such an important cause. Your mom must be really busy with that.”

Katrina nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, that sounds like a huge project. I can’t imagine all the planning and coordination it must take.”

Sally sighed, her brush pausing mid-stroke. “She’s going to be even busier in the coming weeks. I’m really proud of her, but I’m worried I’ll have to spend more time on my own.”

Clara grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, that just means more time for us to get into trouble together.”

Katrina laughed. “Exactly! Who needs moms when you have best friends ready to help you take over the world—or at least the mall?”

Sally chuckled, feeling her spirits lift. “You two always know how to cheer me up. But seriously, I’m not sure what I’ll do with all that free time.”

Clara winked. “Oh, we’ll think of something. Maybe we can start our own little project. I’ve always wanted to see if we can break the record for the longest movie marathon.”

Katrina’s eyes lit up. “Or we could try every single dessert in that new bakery downtown. It’s for science, of course.”

Sally laughed, feeling the weight of her worries lighten. “You both have a knack for making everything sound like an adventure. I guess I’m in good hands.”

Clara nodded sagely. “Naturally. We’re experts in turning boredom into excitement. It’s a tough job, but someone’s got to do it.”

Katrina added, “And who knows, maybe we’ll discover a hidden talent. Like becoming world-class painters, or mastering the art of procrastination.”

Sally grinned. “Pretty sure we’ve already got that last one down.”

Clara and Katrina laughed along with her. “True, but there’s always room for improvement,” Clara said, her eyes sparkling with humor.

Katrina then leaned closer, her tone becoming more serious yet playful. “You know, Sally, even though your mom will be busy, Clara and I are here for you. We’re your mommies now, for whatever you need. For example, to change the soaked diaper you’re wearing.”

Sally blushed but smiled, feeling a wave of affection for her friends. “Thanks, you two. I guess this won’t be so bad after all.”

Katrina nudged Sally playfully. “Of course not. With us around, it’s going to be legendary. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sally stood up and gathered the supplies, including the baby diaper she had worn yesterday. She laid out her changing mat on the floor and lay down, feeling a mix of shyness and trust.

Clara knelt beside her, her voice soft and encouraging. “You’re such a good girl, Sally.” She noticed how Sally’s face lit up at the praise.

Katrina joined in, gently helping with the change. “We’re always here for you, Sally. Just like real mommies.”

As they changed Sally’s diaper, their actions were filled with care and tenderness, deepening the bond between them. Sally felt truly loved and supported, knowing that Clara and Katrina would always be there for her, no matter what.

As the conversation flowed, Clara and Katrina took turns admiring Sally’s artwork, praising her talent and creativity. Katrina occasionally jumped up to grab snacks or mimic a particularly funny teacher, making Sally and Clara laugh.

Sally felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. Despite her daytime incontinence issues, her friends treated her with such kindness and normalcy. Their support made her feel loved and accepted.

After a while, Sally put down her brush and stretched. “Thanks for hanging out with me, guys. It really means a lot.”

Clara smiled warmly. “Anytime, Sal. We’re always here for you.”

Katrina nodded vigorously. “Absolutely! Besides, who wouldn’t want to hang out with our favorite little artist?”

--

Clara and Katrina found themselves sitting in a cozy nook of Katrina’s bedroom, a soft glow from the setting sun casting warm light across the room. They had just finished their day with Sally, and now, with a moment to themselves, they reflected on the progress their friendship had made.

Katrina leaned back against the cushions, her fingers gently playing with a strand of Clara’s hair. “You know, today felt really special. I think we’ve come a long way with Sally.”

Clara nodded, her hand resting on Katrina’s knee, drawing small circles. “Absolutely. I was thinking about something, though. Earlier, when I called Sally a ‘good girl,’ she seemed to light up. It was like those words transformed her.”

Katrina tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “Really? That’s interesting. Did you notice if it happened before?”

Clara sighed softly, recalling past moments. “Yes, I’ve seen it before. Whenever I’ve said something similar, she always reacts positively. I wonder if it’s some kind of trigger for her, something that makes her feel especially safe and valued.”

Katrina’s fingers traced gentle patterns on Clara’s arm. “That makes sense. Trigger words can have a powerful effect, especially if they tap into deep-seated feelings or needs. If ‘good girl’ brings her comfort and affirmation, it could be really beneficial for her.”

Clara smiled, her eyes meeting Katrina’s with a shared understanding. “We should keep that in mind. Using trigger words like that could help Sally feel more secure and loved. It’s amazing how small things can make such a big difference.”

Katrina leaned in, brushing a tender kiss against Clara’s temple. “You have such a wonderful way of noticing these things, Clara. It’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

Clara’s cheeks flushed with warmth, her heart swelling with affection. “Thank you, Katrina. And I love you too. Your strength and compassion are what make us such a great team.”

Katrina smiled warmly, her hand gently cupping Clara’s cheek. “I love you because you’re such an excellent mommy for Sally. The way you care for her is truly amazing.”

Clara’s eyes filled with emotion, and she placed her hand over Katrina’s. “I feel the same way about you, Katrina. You’re a wonderful mommy to Sally, and I’m so grateful for you.”

Katrina leaned in closer, her voice a soft whisper. “You know, Clara, it’s not just your nurturing side that I love. It’s everything about you. The way you laugh, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about.”

Clara blushed, feeling the warmth of Katrina’s words. “You always know how to make me feel special. It’s one of the many reasons I love you so much.”

Katrina’s eyes sparkled with affection. “And I love the way you challenge me, the way you’re always there to lift me up when I need it. You make me a better person, Clara.”

Clara’s heart swelled with love. “You do the same for me, Katrina. You bring so much joy and excitement into my life. I can’t imagine it without you.”

Katrina smiled, her thumb gently caressing Clara’s cheek. “We make a great team, don’t we?”

Clara nodded, her eyes shining with tears of happiness. “Yes, we do. And I’m so grateful for every moment we share.”

Katrina leaned in, closing the distance between them, and kissed Clara softly on the lips. “Here’s to many more moments together,” she murmured against Clara’s lips.

Clara smiled, feeling a surge of love and contentment. “To many more,” she whispered back, pulling Katrina into a loving embrace and returning the kiss.

As they held each other, their hearts beat in unison, filled with the promise of a future built on love, trust, and unwavering support. Their bond, strengthened by their shared experiences and deep affection for each other, felt unbreakable.

 

 

Chapter 23 - Deep enough

[A few weeks later]

As Sally, Katrina, and Clara walked through the mall, their usual banter and laughter filled the air. They had spent the last hour trying on clothes, joking about fashion choices, and sharing inside jokes that only close friends could understand. But as the day wore on, Sally couldn’t shake the feeling that something needed to be addressed. The subtle touches, the lingering glances, the way Katrina and Clara seemed almost in their own little world sometimes—it was all becoming too obvious to ignore.

Sally had always been observant, and over the past few weeks, she had noticed how their dynamic had shifted. It wasn’t just about the time they spent together or the way they looked at each other. There was a new layer to their relationship, something unspoken but palpable. Sally had her suspicions, but she wanted to hear it from them directly.

As they left one of the stores, Sally suggested they take a break at a café. They found a cozy corner and ordered drinks, the atmosphere relaxed but charged with an undercurrent of anticipation—at least for Sally. She took a deep breath, deciding that now was the time to address what had been on her mind.

“Hey, can I ask you guys something?” Sally began, her tone light but with an edge of seriousness.

“Sure, what’s up?” Katrina replied, taking a sip of her iced coffee.

Sally hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “I’ve noticed something... different between you two lately. I mean, we’ve always been close, but... well, I’ve just been wondering if there’s something more going on between you guys.”

Katrina and Clara exchanged a quick glance, the kind of look that spoke volumes without saying a word. Sally caught it and decided to push a little further.

“You know, you don’t have to hide anything from me,” Sally said softly. “I’ve seen the way you look at each other, the way you touch each other. It’s not just friendly anymore, is it?”

There was a brief silence as Katrina and Clara both looked down at their drinks, seemingly unsure of how to respond. Sally could see the wheels turning in their minds, trying to figure out how to approach this conversation.

“It’s just...” Sally continued, her voice a little more hesitant now. “I’ve been picking up on things. Like, last week at the café when you both ‘accidentally’ ordered the same drink, and then spent the whole time sharing it. Or how you’ve been spending a lot more time at each other’s places. And the way you two are always finding excuses to be close to each other... I mean, I’m not blind.”

Katrina finally looked up, her eyes meeting Sally’s with a mix of surprise and something else—relief, maybe. “Sally, it’s not that we’ve been hiding it from you. It’s just... we didn’t know how to tell you.”

Clara nodded, her voice soft as she spoke. “We’ve been... figuring things out ourselves. We didn’t want to make it weird or make you feel left out. But yeah, you’re right. There is something more between us.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly as she leaned in, her curiosity piqued. “You mean, like sleeping together?” she asked, wide-eyed, wanting to be sure she understood.

Clara blushed slightly but didn’t shy away from the truth. “That, and... everything else,” she said, her voice steady, as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders by finally saying it out loud.

Sally couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “I’m so happy for you guys. Really, I am. I was just worried you felt like you couldn’t talk to me about it. But you don’t have to hide anything from me. You two are amazing together, and I’m just glad you’re both happy.”

Katrina reached across the table and took Sally’s hand, squeezing it gently. “We didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or left out. You mean so much to us, Sally. We were just... scared of how to bring it up.”

Clara nodded in agreement. “But we should have known you’d be cool with it. You’re the best friend we could ask for.”

Sally felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back, smiling brightly at them both. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. And just so you know, I’m always here for you—both of you. I’m proud of you for being honest, and I’m so glad you’ve found each other.”

As Sally, Katrina, and Clara continued their conversation at the café, the atmosphere became increasingly intimate, the air thick with the unspoken truths they were beginning to uncover. After admitting their relationship, Katrina and Clara seemed more relaxed, though there was still a sense of anticipation between them. Sally could feel it, too—a mixture of curiosity and a desire to understand her friends on a deeper level.

Sally, always one to be direct when it mattered most, felt a surge of curiosity rise within her. This was her chance to ask the question that had been on her mind since they first started talking about their relationship. She bit her lip, hesitating for only a moment before her curiosity got the better of her.

“Can I ask you something?” Sally began, her voice quieter now, as if she wasn’t entirely sure she should say what was on her mind.

“Of course,” Katrina said, smiling gently. “You can ask us anything.”

Sally took a deep breath, then blurted out the question that had been burning in her thoughts. “How is it? I mean, what’s it like to sleep together and... do everything else?”

Her words hung in the air for a moment, and Sally felt her cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and boldness. It wasn’t a question she had ever imagined herself asking, but now that it was out there, she couldn’t take it back.

Katrina and Clara exchanged a look—one filled with a mixture of surprise, amusement, and a shared understanding. They had clearly not expected Sally to be so frank, but they didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, they seemed to appreciate her curiosity and openness.

Clara was the first to speak, her voice soft but candid. “It’s... well, it’s incredible, really. Being with someone you care about so deeply, someone who understands you in ways you didn’t think anyone could—it makes everything feel so much more intense and special.”

Katrina, never one to miss an opportunity for humor, grinned playfully and nudged Clara gently with her elbow. “Of course, let’s not forget the critical ingredient to all that understanding and specialness—el cuerpazo,” she teased, using the Spanish word for ‘gorgeous body,’ which she knew would make Clara blush.

Clara rolled her eyes with a smile, but Katrina wasn’t done. “Seriously, have you seen this woman’s body? ¡Espectacular! When you’ve got a cuerpo like that, it’s like an instant upgrade to everything—feelings, understanding, and all that deep emotional connection stuff. And trust me, it’s pretty hard to misunderstand someone when they look that good!” She winked at Sally, who couldn’t help but laugh.

Katrina continued, clearly enjoying herself. “You know, todo se pone más intenso, you’re with someone who’s not only amazing on the inside but also, well, let’s just say, very easy on the eyes. I mean, who wouldn’t feel special when you’re getting those deep talks and al mismo tiempo”—she leaned in as if sharing a secret—“you’re also thinking, ‘Wow, how did I get so lucky?’”

Sally chuckled, watching the two with amusement, but then Katrina’s grin turned mischievous as she added, “Honestly, Clara’s body is like a work of art, but let’s not forget, Sally, the allure of seeing you in those thick diapers. There’s something about it—like a forbidden charm, ¿sabes?” she teased, her eyes twinkling with playful mischief.

Sally’s eyes widened in surprise, and her face turned a bright shade of red. “Katrina!” she exclaimed, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “You did not just say that!”

Katrina laughed, clearly enjoying the reaction she got. “Oh, I totally did. I mean, come on, Sally, you’ve got that innocent, cute look down, and with those diapers, it’s like you’ve got your own little charm going on. You’re giving Clara’s cuerpo a run for its money in the ‘special and intense’ department, if you ask me.”

Clara burst out laughing, and Sally, despite her embarrassment, couldn’t help but join in. Katrina’s playful teasing had a way of breaking the tension and making even the most personal topics feel light-hearted and fun.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Sally managed between giggles. “You two are impossible.”

Katrina winked at her. “What can I say? We’ve all got our unique charms, ¿no? But seriously, Clara’s got the whole package—inside and out—and I’m just lucky enough to enjoy it all.”

Clara, though clearly flustered by the compliments, smiled and leaned into Katrina. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you love me for it,” Katrina replied with a smirk, planting a quick kiss on Clara’s forehead.

Sally, still smiling, shook her head. “You two are something else. But I guess that’s why I love you both so much.”

Katrina nodded, “It’s not just about the physical part, though that’s obviously amazing. It’s the connection we feel with each other. When we’re together, it’s like everything else fades away, and it’s just us. There’s this sense of trust, of being completely open with one another. It’s hard to describe, but it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.”

Clara smiled warmly at Katrina before turning back to Sally. “And as for... ‘everything else,’ well, it’s kind of the same thing. It’s all about being vulnerable and open, letting someone in completely. It’s about exploring those feelings together and learning more about each other with every touch, every kiss. It’s beautiful, really.”

Sally listened intently, her initial embarrassment fading as she absorbed what her friends were saying. There was something incredibly touching about the way they spoke—so genuine, so filled with love and respect for each other. It was clear that what they had was special, something that went far beyond just the physical aspect.

“I’m really happy for you two,” Sally said after a moment, her voice filled with sincerity. “It sounds like what you have is really beautiful.”

Katrina smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze Sally’s hand. “Thank you, Sally. That means a lot to us. We’ve been so lucky to find this with each other, and we’re glad we can share it with you.”

Clara nodded, her eyes shining with affection. “We’re always here for you, Sally. Just like you’re here for us.”

Sally felt a swell of emotion in her chest, a deep gratitude for the honesty and love they had shared in this conversation. She had asked a question out of curiosity, but what she had received was a glimpse into the profound connection her friends had found together. It made her feel closer to them, more connected than ever.

Without another word, the three of them leaned in for a group hug, holding each other tightly. The embrace was warm and comforting, filled with a sense of love and acceptance that only true friends could share. They were warm from their earlier conversation, their breaths mingling as they hugged, but none of that mattered. What mattered was the bond they shared, a bond that had just grown even stronger.

As they pulled back, still smiling at each other, Sally felt a new sense of resolve. She had confronted something important today—not just in her friends, but in herself. She was learning to be strong, to be the person she wanted to be, and that included being there for the people she loved.

--

As the three friends jogged together, the afternoon sun cast long shadows on the pavement. The rhythm of their feet hitting the ground was steady, punctuated by the occasional burst of conversation. They had started the run with easy banter, but now, with their breaths growing heavier, the conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence. Sally felt good—strong and confident in her decision to run without the extra protection of her Goodnite. It was a small step, but an important one.

Katrina, who was running just behind Sally, suddenly spoke up, her voice playful despite the panting. “¡Oye, Sally! ¡Tu trasero se ve increíble! Pero, casi extraño ese bultito del pañal al que me había acostumbrado,” she teased, a grin spreading across her face.

Sally nearly stumbled at the comment, feeling a mix of surprise and embarrassment. She could feel her cheeks flush, but she quickly laughed it off, appreciating the lightheartedness. Katrina had always been straightforward, and Sally knew there was no malice behind the joke.

“¡Katrina!” Sally exclaimed, half-laughing, half-gasping for air. “You’re terrible, you know that?”

Clara, jogging beside Sally, giggled. “She’s got a point, though. It’s kind of like your signature look.”

Sally rolled her eyes playfully but couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. “Okay, okay, I get it. But actually... there’s something I wanted to talk to you both about.”

Katrina’s playful expression softened as she picked up on the shift in Sally’s tone. “What’s up, Sal?” she asked, her voice more serious now.

Sally took a deep breath, trying to find the right words as they continued to jog. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about... you know, the diapers. I’ve been relying on them for comfort, but I think it’s time I start moving away from them. Slowly, but surely.”

Clara gave Sally a supportive look, her tone encouraging. “That’s a big step, Sally. But you don’t have to rush it. We’re here for you, whatever you need.”

Katrina nodded, her earlier teasing replaced with genuine concern. “Exactly. It’s all about what makes you feel comfortable and secure. If you’re ready to ease off, we’ll support you all the way.” Then, with a playful glint returning to her eyes, she added, “But I’ve got to admit, it’s a bit of a pity. I mean, who’s going to fill the role of our adorable bebecita in diapers now? Seeing you without that cute, crinkly confidence is going to take some getting used to. ¡Ay, caramba! You’ve set the bar pretty high in the ‘adorably unique’ department, Sally.” She winked at her, the corners of her mouth curling into a mischievous grin, clearly enjoying the banter. “I guess we’ll just have to find new ways to tease you, ¿verdad?”

Sally felt a warmth in her chest at their words, a mix of gratitude and determination. “Thanks, guys. I really appreciate that. I just... I don’t want to be dependent on them forever, you know? I want to be strong, for myself and for you two.”

Clara smiled, reaching out to give Sally’s arm a gentle squeeze as they ran. “You already are strong, Sally. And taking this step is proof of that.”

Katrina grinned, adding a bit of her usual humor back into the conversation. “But just so you know, even without the diaper bulge, your bottom still looks fantastic.”

Sally laughed, the tension easing as they returned to their usual banter. “Well, I’m glad I have your approval,” she joked, feeling lighter than she had in a while.

As they continued their run, the conversation flowed more easily, with Sally feeling a newfound sense of freedom. She had opened up about something deeply personal, and her friends had responded with nothing but love and support. It made her feel more confident in her decision to start weaning herself off the diapers, knowing that she had a solid support system in Katrina and Clara.

--

After parting ways with Katrina and Clara, Sally went home feeling a satisfying blend of exhaustion and contentment. The day had been filled with meaningful conversations and personal milestones, and now all she wanted was to relax and unwind. Her muscles ached pleasantly from the rigorous jog, reminding her of the strength she had found both physically and emotionally today.

As she stepped through the front door, the comforting familiarity of home enveloped her. The house was quiet, with her mother Bridget likely engrossed in a book or enjoying some evening television upstairs. Sally kicked off her running shoes and headed straight for the bathroom, eager to soothe her tired body with a hot shower.

Entering the bathroom, Sally flicked on the soft overhead light, casting a warm glow across the tiled space. She turned on the shower faucet, adjusting it until a steady stream of hot water cascaded down, filling the room with swirling tendrils of steam that began to fog up the mirror.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the hazy reflection—cheeks flushed from the run, hair slightly disheveled, and eyes shining with the day's triumphs. A small smile played on her lips as she peeled off her damp clothes, feeling the cool air brush against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth that was quickly building in the room.

Stepping into the shower, Sally let out a soft sigh as the hot water poured over her, instantly relaxing the taut muscles in her shoulders and back. She tilted her head back, allowing the water to cascade through her hair, soaking every strand and washing away the sweat and tension of the day.

Reaching for her favorite lavender-scented body wash, she lathered it between her hands, the fragrant aroma mingling with the steam and creating a soothing, spa-like atmosphere. As she massaged the silky suds over her arms and legs, she could feel the knots in her muscles slowly unwinding, the warmth penetrating deep into her body and bringing a profound sense of relaxation.

She took her time, savoring each moment as she worked the lather across her skin, the gentle pressure of her hands combined with the steady stream of water creating a calming, almost meditative rhythm. The steam enveloped her, cocooning her in a world of warmth and tranquility where the stresses and worries of life seemed to melt away.

Sally poured a dollop of shampoo into her palm, working it into her scalp with slow, deliberate motions. The scent of fresh citrus filled the air, invigorating her senses even as her body relaxed further. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of her fingers massaging her scalp, the foamy bubbles trailing down her neck and shoulders before being swept away by the water.

As she rinsed the shampoo from her hair, Sally could feel the weight of the day washing away with it, leaving her feeling refreshed and renewed. She stood under the steady stream for a few more moments, simply enjoying the embrace of the hot water as it cascaded over her, droplets dancing across her skin before disappearing down the drain.

Finally, feeling thoroughly relaxed and cleansed, she turned off the water, the sudden quiet amplifying the serene atmosphere that had settled around her. Reaching for a plush, oversized towel, she wrapped it around herself, reveling in the soft, comforting fabric as it absorbed the lingering moisture from her skin.

She stepped out of the shower, the cool tile beneath her feet grounding her as she began to dry off, gently patting her skin and wrapping her hair up in a smaller towel. The mirror was completely fogged over now, hiding her reflection and adding to the sense of peaceful isolation that the shower had created.

As Sally walked into her bedroom, still enveloped in the warmth and comfort from her shower, she felt a familiar yet complex emotion stirring within her. The relaxation had opened up space in her mind for deeper feelings to surface, and she became acutely aware of a strong, almost magnetic pull towards the comfort and security that her diapers provided.

She sat down on the edge of her neatly made bed, the soft duvet inviting beneath her. Droplets of water still clung to her skin, cooling slowly in the evening air, but inside she felt a growing warmth—a longing for the soothing embrace that only her diapers seemed to offer.

Sally sighed softly, her mind drifting back over the events of the day. She had made significant strides towards independence, choosing to go without her Goodnite during the jog and openly discussing her intentions with her friends. She was proud of herself for taking those steps, for asserting her strength and beginning to reclaim her sense of autonomy.

Yet, in this quiet moment alone, she couldn't deny how much she missed the comforting presence of her diaper. The physical sensation—the soft, cushioned feel against her skin, the gentle snugness that seemed to hold her together—brought her a profound sense of peace that was difficult to replicate elsewhere.

"Maybe it's okay to take it slow," she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper in the serene stillness of her room. "Progress doesn't have to mean giving up what makes me feel safe and comfortable all at once."

She pondered this thought, realizing that embracing her need for comfort didn't negate the strides she was making towards independence. It was all part of her journey—understanding and accepting all parts of herself, including the ones that craved this unique form of solace.

Making up her mind, Sally stood up and walked over to her dresser, opening the drawer where she kept her supplies. She pulled out a fresh, neatly folded diaper, its soft pastel colors and delicate design bringing a small, contented smile to her face.

As she carefully laid it out on the bed, she felt a wave of anticipation mixed with relief wash over her. This was her choice, made on her terms, and that made all the difference. She was not regressing but rather honoring her needs in this moment, understanding that self-care took many forms.

Sally applied a light layer of soothing lotion to her skin, the subtle scent adding another layer of comfort to the experience. She then positioned herself over the diaper, slowly fastening it securely around her waist. The familiar sensation enveloped her, bringing an immediate sense of calm and contentment that settled deep within her.

She stood up, adjusting it slightly to ensure a perfect fit, and caught a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror. Wrapped in the soft embrace of her diaper, her hair still damp and skin glowing from the shower, she saw not a person struggling with dependence, but someone embracing self-love and understanding.

Clad in an oversized, cozy t-shirt that fell just over the top of her diaper, Sally felt completely at ease. She padded over to her bed and climbed under the covers, propping herself up with a pile of fluffy pillows. Reaching for her favorite book on the nightstand, she settled in for a peaceful evening, the stresses of the day now a distant memory.

As she began to read, the soft rustle of the diaper with each small movement served as a comforting reminder of the security she had granted herself. Sally knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges and opportunities for growth, but for now, she allowed herself to fully enjoy this moment of tranquility.

She realized that moving forward didn't mean abandoning the things that brought her comfort; it meant integrating them into her life in a healthy and balanced way. Acknowledging and accepting her needs was a strength in itself, a sign of the self-awareness and compassion she was cultivating on this journey.

As the evening wore on and her eyes grew heavy, Sally closed her book and switched off the bedside lamp, the room falling into a peaceful darkness. Snuggled beneath the warm blankets, cocooned in comfort and serenity, she drifted off to sleep with a contented smile, ready to face whatever tomorrow would bring.

As Sally settled into the comfort of her bed, propped up by a pile of fluffy pillows with her favorite book in hand, she heard a soft knock on the door. A moment later, her mother, Bridget, walked into the room with a warm smile on her face.

“How’s my girl doing?” Bridget asked, her eyes softening as she took in the sight of Sally, cozy in her oversized t-shirt, the subtle outline of her diaper just visible beneath the fabric.

Sally returned the smile, feeling a sense of peace. “I’m good, Mom. Really good. I had a great day with Katrina and Clara. We did some shopping, had a long talk, and even went jogging together.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Jogging? That’s wonderful, Sally! How did that go?”

“It was great,” Sally said, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm. “We talked about a lot of things—like how I’m thinking of starting to ease off on my diapers. I want to feel more independent, you know? But they were so supportive, and... well, I also found out that Katrina and Clara are more than just friends. They’re, um, really special to each other.”

Bridget’s smile widened with understanding. “Ah, so the ‘special friendship’ was finally revealed, huh? I’m glad you had such an open and supportive conversation with them. They sound like wonderful friends.”

“They really are,” Sally agreed, feeling the warmth of her mother’s acceptance. “I just feel like it’s time for me to start moving forward, little by little. Maybe I don’t need to rely on diapers as much anymore.”

Bridget nodded, her expression both proud and understanding. “I think that’s a great idea, Sally. But remember, there’s no rush. You’ve been doing so well, and I’m so proud of the progress you’ve made. It’s all about taking things at your own pace.”

Sally looked down for a moment, then back up at her mother, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Thanks, Mom. I’m lucky to have you.”

Bridget walked over to the bed, leaning down to give Sally a gentle kiss on the forehead. “You’ve always been strong, Sally. And you’ll keep getting stronger, I have no doubt about that.”

Then, with a twinkle in her eye, Bridget added, “So, are you thinking of starting this whole ‘gearing down’ thing right now, or were you planning to enjoy one last cozy night?” She glanced meaningfully at the snug diaper peeking out from under Sally’s t-shirt.

Sally laughed softly, feeling the lightness in the air. “Maybe I’ll start tomorrow,” she admitted with a smile. “Tonight, I think I’ll just enjoy being cozy and comfortable.”

Bridget chuckled, giving her daughter a loving look. “That sounds like a perfect plan. You deserve to be comfortable. And whenever you’re ready to take the next step, I’ll be right here cheering you on.”

Sally beamed at her mother, feeling the deep bond between them. “Thanks, Mom. That means a lot.”

With one last affectionate glance, Bridget turned to leave the room, but not before turning back and saying, “Sweet dreams, Sally. And remember, you’re doing just fine—diaper or no diaper.”

As the door closed softly behind her mother, Sally settled back into the comforting warmth of her bed. The soft rustle of her diaper accompanied her every small movement, a sound that had become oddly reassuring over time. She opened her book, intending to lose herself in its pages, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the day's events, the conversations, and the feelings they had stirred within her.

She felt proud of herself for deciding to start easing off her dependency on diapers, but in this quiet moment, she also couldn’t deny how much she enjoyed the sense of security they provided. The thick, padded embrace was like a gentle hug that made her feel safe, protected, and—dare she admit it?—comforted in a way that was hard to let go of.

As she shifted slightly under the covers, Sally felt a familiar pressure in her bladder, a reminder that she hadn’t used the bathroom before climbing into bed. She hesitated for a moment, her thoughts swirling between the commitment she had made to herself and the immediate comfort of the present moment.

A small smile played on her lips as she decided, just this once, to allow herself this simple pleasure. After all, she reasoned, change didn’t have to happen all at once. And right now, the warmth and security she felt in her thick, snug diaper was something she wasn’t quite ready to give up.

Taking a deep breath, Sally gingerly opened her legs beneath the covers, feeling the soft material shift against her skin. She relaxed into the moment, letting go of any lingering hesitation. Slowly, she allowed herself to release, feeling the warm, soothing sensation as she voided her bladder into the diaper. The soft, comforting warmth spread through the thick padding, enveloping her in a cocoon of safety and contentment.

A soft sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, sinking deeper into the pillows and the comforting embrace of her diaper. The experience was a strange mix of emotions—relief, satisfaction, and a deep sense of peace. In that moment, all the worries and stresses of the day seemed to melt away, leaving her with nothing but the simple, quiet pleasure of being exactly where she wanted to be.

Sally knew that tomorrow she would continue on her journey towards independence, but tonight, she allowed herself this small indulgence. She smiled to herself, feeling completely at ease as she drifted closer to sleep, the soft rustling of her diaper and the lingering warmth serving as a gentle reminder that it was okay to take things one step at a time.

With her book forgotten beside her, Sally snuggled deeper under the covers, her breathing slowing as she finally surrendered to the tranquility of the night. Her last thought before sleep claimed her was a simple one—she was safe, she was loved, and she was exactly where she needed to be.

[FlyingFox]

 Chapters 24-76

Chapter 24 - Growing...

Sally jolted awake, heart pounding in her chest. For a brief, disorienting moment, she thought she had wet herself. Her hand instinctively shot under the covers, feeling the coolness of the sheets, ready to brace for the dampness she’d grown accustomed to over the past weeks. But, to her surprise, everything was dry. Her hand found only the soft fabric of her panties, and relief flooded her, though it quickly turned into a strange mix of emotions she couldn’t quite pin down.

Sally sighed deeply, sinking back into her pillow. She had been so close—too close. It was almost automatic by now, the way her body would relax during the night, letting go without a second thought. She could still vividly recall the feeling of security those thick, cushioned diapers had given her. She had grown to love the snugness of them, how they hugged her tightly, especially at night. The crinkle of the plastic as she moved beneath the covers, the slight weight between her legs that comforted her in ways she never fully understood but always welcomed. And then, there was the sensation of wetting them—how easy it had been, how safe. She could lie there, half-asleep, feeling the warmth spread through the thick padding as she let go, knowing that nothing bad would happen. No mess. No embarrassment. Just warmth and comfort, wrapped around her like a protective cocoon.

Part of her missed it. She missed how easy it had been to not think, to just allow herself to relax. And now, without them, she felt strangely vulnerable. The panties she had insisted on wearing felt flimsy in comparison—thin, unreliable. What if tonight she hadn’t woken up in time? The question gnawed at her. For a moment, she regretted her decision to give up the diapers. She could still be wrapped in that comforting safety, without the stress of wondering if she was going to make it through the night dry.

But Sally clenched her jaw and threw the covers back. No. She was fourteen now, and it was time to grow up. She had made the decision to wean off diapers, and she was determined to stick to it. This was a new step, one she had to take if she ever wanted to feel like she wasn’t the baby in the room. She wasn’t going to let herself fall back into old habits. She wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

Dragging herself out of bed, Sally shuffled to the bathroom. She didn’t even need to go, but she forced herself to sit down on the toilet anyway, feeling the cold seat beneath her thighs. The irony wasn’t lost on her—she was trying to wean herself off diapers, and yet here she was, practically forcing herself to go, just to feel more in control. She sighed again, annoyed at herself for even feeling the need to prove something to herself in this small moment. She flushed, stood up, and washed her hands, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She didn’t feel any more grown-up than she had yesterday.

Grabbing her toothbrush, she scrubbed at her teeth with a little too much force, still caught between frustration and the lingering warmth of her memories. She shook her head, pushing it all away. When she finished, she wandered out of the bathroom, padding down the hallway toward the kitchen in just her panties and regular-sized T-shirt, not even thinking about it. Her panties, pale pink with a simple bow at the waistband, were on full display—a sign of her vulnerability, though she didn’t quite realize it as she descended the stairs.

As she reached the kitchen, the smell of breakfast greeted her—pancakes, syrup, and bacon sizzling away. Her mom, already at the stove, was humming softly to herself, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.

"Morning, sweetie," her mom greeted her warmly, glancing over her shoulder. "How’d you sleep?"

Sally grunted, shuffling to the table and plopping down. Her mom raised an eyebrow but didn’t press her right away. She simply turned back to the stove, finishing the pancakes before walking over with a plate and setting it down in front of Sally.

"That good, huh?" her mom teased lightly, sitting down across from her with a mug of coffee. Sally just shrugged and reached for the syrup. She didn’t feel like talking. At least, not about how she had woken up in a panic, convinced she had wet herself.

Her mom sipped her coffee, her eyes watching Sally over the rim of the mug, clearly gauging her mood. "You’re still dry, aren’t you?" she asked, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the subtle tension in her voice.

Sally tensed, suddenly aware that she was sitting there in just her panties and a regular T-shirt, with nothing to cover her legs. She looked down at her lap, where her bare thighs met the edge of the chair, and nodded. "Yeah. Dry."

Her mom smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "That’s great, honey." There was a pause, the air thick with unspoken words. "You know, if you ever want to take a break from… this whole thing, it’s okay. You don’t have to rush."

Sally’s jaw tightened. "I don’t need a break, Mom. I’m not a little kid anymore." She stabbed her fork into the stack of pancakes a little harder than necessary.

Her mom’s face softened, and she reached across the table to touch Sally’s hand. "I know, sweetie. But it’s a big change. You’ve been used to... a certain routine for a few weeks. It seemed to be working well. There’s no harm in taking it slow."

"I don’t want to take it slow," Sally snapped, immediately regretting the sharpness in her tone. Her mom pulled back, her hand retreating. "I’m sorry," Sally muttered, pushing her plate away. "I just... I don’t want to go back."

Her mom smiled gently. "I understand. But it's okay to feel a little... conflicted."

Sally crossed her arms, feeling moody and irritable. "I’m fine, Mom. I just need time."

Her mother sighed, giving Sally the space she needed, though Sally could feel the concern in her gaze. "Well, whatever happens, I’m here, okay?"

Sally nodded but didn’t respond, the weight of the morning still hanging over her. She had made the choice, and despite the lingering doubts, despite how easy it would be to fall back into old habits, she was going to stick to it. Even if it meant mornings like this, full of uncertainty and mixed emotions.

As her mom watched her quietly, she couldn’t help but smile to herself. No matter how grown-up Sally wanted to be, there was something undeniably cute about the way she looked sitting there in just her T-shirt and panties, determined but still so vulnerable.

--

In the bright, sunlit classroom of their elite private school, Sally sat with her two best friends, Katrina and Clara. The room was quiet, except for the faint sound of chalk on the board as Mr. Anderson, their math teacher, drew diagrams and equations. Sally’s fingers idly tapped her notebook, excited for today’s math lesson. Math was her escape—a place where numbers and logic made sense, unlike the mess of emotions she often felt outside the classroom.

Katrina, who sat to Sally's right, was bouncing her knee under the desk, as usual. When Katrina got excited, she couldn’t sit still. She leaned over to Clara, who sat on her left, whispering in Spanish, “¡Esto es demasiado aburrido!” Clara, ever the calm and collected one, gently nudged her with a slight smirk, signaling her to quiet down as Mr. Anderson turned back to the class.

"All right, everyone," Mr. Anderson began, adjusting his glasses as he addressed the class. "Today, we're going to talk about how the math you’re learning now applies to real-world economics—personal finance, national economy, banking, and everything in between. You may not realize it, but understanding basic math concepts like percentages, fractions, and equations is crucial when it comes to managing money. Let's start with a simple example: saving versus spending."

Katrina raised her hand without hesitation. "Saving is for boring people who don’t know how to have fun." Her eyes twinkled mischievously as she grinned at Clara and Sally.

Mr. Anderson chuckled, clearly used to Katrina’s wild comments. "Saving may seem boring, but it’s also what allows people to have the freedom to enjoy life later on. You can spend now and enjoy yourself in the moment, but if you don’t plan for the future, you might run into trouble when you need money for important things later."

Clara, always the voice of reason, spoke up, her tone measured. "Isn't it about balance? If you spend too much, you won’t have enough for emergencies or opportunities that might come later, but if you save too much, you miss out on enjoying life in the present."

"Exactly!" Mr. Anderson beamed at her, clearly pleased. "It's about balancing short-term gratification with long-term security. That’s why people use math, especially percentages, to manage their budgets and allocate how much to save and spend."

Sally, always inquisitive and eager to understand things on a deeper level, raised her hand next. "But how do banks fit into all of this? Like, they don’t just keep your money in a vault somewhere, right? How do savings accounts actually work?"

Mr. Anderson nodded, knowing Sally was always the one to dig into the details. "Great question, Sally. Banks don’t just keep your money sitting in a vault collecting dust. When you deposit money into a savings account, the bank actually lends it out to other people or businesses. They charge interest on those loans, and they pay you a small portion of that interest to encourage you to keep your money in the bank. In return, the bank gets to use your money to fund other people's mortgages, business loans, or even the national economy."

Katrina, who had been half-listening, suddenly perked up. "So, wait. My money is out there, like, funding someone’s yacht?"

"Not exactly a yacht," Clara muttered under her breath, causing Sally to stifle a laugh.

Mr. Anderson smiled. "Well, in a way, yes. If someone takes out a loan to buy a boat, and your money is part of the pool the bank lends from, then technically, yes, you’re helping them fund that boat. But more commonly, your money is helping families buy homes, businesses expand, or even supporting students through college loans."

Katrina grinned widely. "¡Guau! I'm funding people’s dreams. Maybe I should start asking for a cut!" Her playful tone made a few students nearby giggle.

Mr. Anderson raised a brow. "That’s what interest is for, Katrina. The bank gives you a portion of the profits in the form of interest. But the bank keeps most of the profit because they’re taking the risk of lending out your money. The key is that it’s safe for you because your money is guaranteed—up to a certain limit, at least."

Sally, always thinking ahead, asked, "But what happens if a bank runs out of money? Like, in a crisis?"

"Good question again," Mr. Anderson replied. "Banks are required to keep a certain amount of money on hand, called reserves. And, in most countries, banks are insured by the government, which means that even if a bank fails, your deposits are protected up to a certain amount. But when a lot of people try to take their money out of the bank all at once—like in a panic during a financial crisis—that’s when things get tricky."

Clara, always grounded in reality, added thoughtfully, "That’s why having a personal savings strategy is important. You can’t always rely on institutions to protect your money in every situation."

Katrina groaned dramatically. "Okay, but this sounds like a lot of responsibility. What about us lucky ones with trust funds?" She winked at Sally, making her friend smirk. Katrina's parents were wealthy, and she never missed an opportunity to joke about her privileged upbringing.

Mr. Anderson nodded, always encouraging the class to reflect on different experiences. "Trust funds are an interesting part of the conversation. For those who are lucky enough to have one, they provide long-term financial security, but even with a trust fund, managing that wealth responsibly is key. If you don't understand how to budget, save, and invest, even a large sum can disappear faster than you'd expect."

Katrina leaned back in her chair, her fingers twirling her hair. "I guess I’ll have to pay more attention, huh? Can’t live off mom and dad forever." She smirked, but there was a hint of truth in her words.

Sally smiled. "Yeah, Kat. You might actually need to understand compound interest one day." She teased her friend, nudging her lightly.

Clara, ever the level-headed one, looked between them and added, "I’m just glad we’re learning this now. My parents always talk about how they wish they’d learned more about finance in school. They’ve told me it’s not about how much you have, but how you use what you have wisely."

Mr. Anderson gestured to Clara with a nod of approval. "That’s exactly it, Clara. Whether you have a little or a lot, understanding how to manage your money is critical. The math we’re learning now—percentages, interest rates, and even basic algebra—these are the building blocks for financial literacy. If you understand these concepts, you’ll be better prepared to manage a budget, save for the future, and even invest if you choose."

Sally felt a wave of satisfaction wash over her as Mr. Anderson turned back to the board, explaining how compound interest worked. She loved this—understanding how things fit together, how the math they were learning wasn’t just abstract but had real-world applications.

Katrina, however, leaned toward her again, whispering in Spanish, “¡Esto es mucho! ¿Quién sabía que ser adulto era tan complicado?”

Clara raised an eyebrow and replied with a smirk, "You're just realizing this now?"

Sally couldn’t help but laugh softly as she scribbled notes in her notebook. The banter between Katrina and Clara was one of the things she loved most about being with them. Despite all their quirks, they made her feel normal—part of something.

Mr. Anderson wrapped up the lesson by turning back to the class. "All right, everyone. Remember, math is more than just numbers on a page. It’s a tool—a way to understand the world around you. Whether you’re managing a budget, calculating interest, or planning for the future, these concepts will serve you well. So, even if some of you feel like it’s a lot now, trust me—it’s worth learning."

Katrina leaned over again, whispering dramatically to Sally, "I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for recess. My brain is fried."

Sally grinned, feeling a sense of comfort amidst the conversation. For a moment, all her worries seemed far away. In this room, with Katrina and Clara by her side, life felt... manageable.

Mr. Anderson continued his explanation, transitioning smoothly into a new example. "Let's talk about family earnings and how income affects everything we’ve just discussed—savings, spending, and even investments. Your family’s income largely determines how much flexibility you have with these financial decisions. Whether it's through salaries, investments, or other sources, understanding where money comes from and where it goes is essential."

Sally furrowed her brow slightly. She hadn’t really thought about her own family’s finances much. Her life always seemed comfortable. They lived in a nice house, she went to this expensive school, and her mom always appeared confident in managing things. Sally assumed her mother’s job—managing a charity—was just what kept everything running smoothly. Charity work didn’t exactly scream "big income" to her, but they never seemed to want for anything.

As Mr. Anderson spoke, Sally found herself growing curious. She realized she had no idea what her family's financial situation really was. Did her mom make a lot of money managing the charity? Or was there something else? It struck her as strange that she’d never thought to ask.

Katrina, never one to miss an opportunity for a quip, raised her hand. "So, like, if my parents earn a bunch, does that mean I don’t really need to save at all? Just keep spending, and the money will keep coming, right?"

Mr. Anderson smiled but shook his head. "Not quite, Katrina. Even if your family earns a lot, financial planning is still necessary. Without budgeting and saving, money can disappear faster than you think. Take professional athletes, for example—many make millions of dollars but end up bankrupt because they didn’t plan for the long term. Family earnings give you opportunities, but smart management ensures those opportunities last."

 

Clara, always the one to ground the conversation in practicality, jumped in. "So even if you have a trust fund or your family is wealthy, it doesn’t mean you can just spend endlessly, right?"

"Exactly, Clara," Mr. Anderson nodded. "Even large sums of money need to be managed wisely. Whether a family is living paycheck to paycheck or has millions, math is what helps us make sense of it all. You all have the chance to understand these principles now and be better prepared for when you’re making your own financial decisions."

As Mr. Anderson turned to the board, Katrina leaned over to Clara, her eyes glinting with mischief. "So, does that mean I should start planning for our future finances now, querida?" she whispered, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

Clara, who was always composed, blushed slightly but shot Katrina a playful look. "Only if you’re planning on funding our honeymoon."

Sally giggled quietly beside them, shaking her head. The way Katrina and Clara flirted so openly, even in class, never ceased to amuse her. It was one of the many reasons she loved being around them—they always made everything lighter, more fun.

Mr. Anderson, who was used to the trio’s dynamic by now, paused mid-explanation and shot a pointed look at Katrina and Clara. "Ladies, while I’m sure your future financial plans are very exciting, let’s focus on the present math lesson, shall we?"

Katrina gave a dramatic sigh, leaning back in her chair. "Fine, fine. But I’m just saying, math and romance—what a combination."

Clara rolled her eyes affectionately and smiled, then quickly brought the conversation back on track. "But what about when the family income isn’t steady? What if it fluctuates? My parents are both freelancers, so their income changes every month. How do you budget for that?"

Mr. Anderson nodded, clearly impressed. "That’s an excellent question, Clara. When a family has an irregular income, it's even more important to budget carefully. Families like yours often need to save more during the good months to cover expenses during the slower ones. This is where understanding how to allocate money comes in—something that we can calculate using basic algebra, percentages, and projections."

As Mr. Anderson elaborated on budgeting for variable incomes, Sally couldn’t help but return to her own thoughts. Her family seemed to do fine, but she didn’t know the details of how. She remembered her mother always saying she worked for a charity, but that didn’t seem like the kind of job that would allow them to live so comfortably. Had she simply never thought to ask? She made a mental note to talk to her mom about it later—after all, if she was learning to be responsible about money, maybe it was time to understand more about how her own household worked.

Katrina interrupted her train of thought once again, nudging Sally playfully. "Hey, if you’re planning to get all serious about finances, maybe you should take over as our money manager. Clara and I can’t be trusted to stay focused, especially if we’re planning future getaways." She winked at Clara, whose cheeks turned slightly pink.

"That’s because you spend all your money on concert tickets and snacks," Clara shot back, smirking. "You need me to balance you out."

Sally chuckled. "I think managing the two of you would be a full-time job."

Mr. Anderson, overhearing once again, gave the trio a knowing look. "Sally, if you ever decide to pursue a career in financial planning, I think you'd have your hands full with those two."

The class laughed, and Katrina leaned back in her chair with a grin. "What can I say? I’m a financial nightmare. But at least I’m fun."

As the discussion continued, Sally found herself engrossed, not just in the math, but in the broader idea of money and how it shaped lives. The thought of her mom and their comfortable lifestyle stayed in the back of her mind, stirring up a curiosity she hadn’t felt before. How much do I really know about my family’s finances? she wondered.

Meanwhile, Mr. Anderson wrapped up the lesson, explaining how percentages and savings could help people prepare for both expected and unexpected financial changes. "Remember," he said, "math isn't just about numbers—it's about understanding the world around you, including how money works. The more you know, the more control you have over your future."

As the bell rang, signaling the end of class, Sally gathered her things, feeling a mix of excitement and confusion. She was ready to dive into the topic more, both in school and at home. She gave Katrina and Clara a knowing look as they packed up their bags, laughing about something Katrina had whispered in Spanish again. They were her rock, even when the world felt uncertain—and she was glad to have them by her side.

But as they headed to their next class, Sally’s thoughts lingered on her mother. Maybe it was time to ask a few questions. She was learning about financial responsibility, after all—and it was time to understand how that applied to her own life.

Chapter 25 - In and Out

Bridget sat in the comfortable leather chair across from Dr. Thompson, Sally’s therapist. The soft hum of the office’s white noise machine filled the air, creating a calming atmosphere. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting a gentle glow over the room, but Bridget’s thoughts were far from tranquil. She glanced nervously at Dr. Thompson, who was jotting something down in her notepad before looking up with a warm smile.

“Thank you for coming in today, Bridget,” Dr. Thompson said, her voice measured and soothing. “I’m so glad we could sit down and discuss Sally’s progress.”

Bridget sighed, leaning forward in her chair. “I’m not sure how much progress there’s been lately,” she admitted, her brow furrowing. “She was doing so well with the diapers, and now she’s trying to stop altogether. I’m worried that she’s pushing herself too hard.”

Dr. Thompson nodded thoughtfully, her expression calm but attentive. “It’s not uncommon for a teenager like Sally to want to assert more independence, especially when they feel they’re moving past something they associate with childhood.” She crossed her legs, settling into her chair as she continued. “But you’re right to have concerns. I think it’s important that we look at why she’s choosing to stop now and what that says about how she’s feeling.”

Bridget’s gaze flickered around the room, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want to hold her back, but… I just can’t shake the feeling that she’s rushing things. Wearing diapers, strange as it might seem to some people, was really helping her. She was so much calmer. More in control, even though it might seem like the opposite.”

Dr. Thompson smiled gently. “That’s precisely what we expected. When we started this journey with Sally, it was based on Jungian therapeutic principles—using the diapers to create a sense of security, containment, and contentment. It was about infantilizing her and providing a sense of containment, allowing her to release stress and let go of the pressures she felt in her daily life. Jung believed that external symbols, even something as simple as diapers in Sally’s case, could help anchor someone’s inner world. It wasn’t infantilizing in a negative way, but a purposeful regression that gave her the safety and comfort to process her emotions.”

Bridget nodded. “I know. She was so positive about it at first. It was almost like it gave her permission to relax, to not be so on edge all the time. She even started wetting the diapers at night without worrying about it, which is something I never thought I’d be happy about,” she added with a rueful smile. “But now, all of a sudden, she’s determined to stop. She says she doesn’t want to go backward. But I’m afraid she’s losing the one thing that was actually helping her.”

Dr. Thompson folded her hands in her lap, considering Bridget’s words carefully. “It’s important to remember that Sally’s desire to wean herself off the diapers is a sign that she’s taking control. She’s asserting her independence, which is a healthy part of her development. She’s seeking a balance between her comfort and her sense of maturity. But,” Dr. Thompson added, her tone becoming more measured, “you’re right to be concerned if it feels like she’s going too far, too fast.”

Bridget glanced down at her hands, her fingers twisting together. “So, what do we do? How do we help her find that balance?”

“Well,” Dr. Thompson began, “first, we need to acknowledge the progress she’s made on her own. Sally’s decision to wear panties and try to manage without the diapers shows she’s actively thinking about how she wants to navigate this phase of her life. It’s important not to discourage that initiative, but at the same time, we need to make sure she’s not pushing herself into discomfort or self-imposed stress by abandoning what’s been working for her.”

Bridget nodded slowly. “She’s been so moody lately. I can tell she’s struggling with it, even if she doesn’t say it outright. I don’t want to push her back into wearing diapers if she doesn’t want to, but I also don’t want her to feel lost without that sense of security.”

Dr. Thompson leaned back in her chair, her face thoughtful. “I think what we’re seeing is Sally testing the boundaries of her independence. She feels ready to leave the diapers behind, but part of her might not be as prepared as she believes. The best approach might be to talk through it together. I’d like to have a session with you, Sally, and myself so that we can explore her feelings about this shift. It’s important that she knows she’s supported no matter what she decides.”

Bridget exhaled a small sigh of relief. “I think that would help. She’s been keeping a lot to herself lately, and I don’t want her to feel like she’s dealing with all of this alone.”

Dr. Thompson nodded. “I’ve seen this before in teens with anxiety and stress-related conditions. Sally’s journey has been deeply personal, and as she’s grown more comfortable in the space we created for her, she’s now attempting to redefine that space. We need to ensure she has the tools to navigate it, whether that means continuing with the diapers or finding new ways to manage her stress. What’s most important is that she’s not forced into either extreme.”

Bridget’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “I trust your judgment, Dr. Thompson. You’ve been so good for her. I never imagined that something like Jungian therapy and this whole diaper strategy would work, but it really has.”

“It’s been a unique approach, but it’s allowed Sally to reconnect with parts of herself that she was trying to shut down. Sometimes, therapeutic symbols like the diapers help a person feel contained in a world that feels too overwhelming. Now, we need to help her find new symbols of that containment, new strategies that give her the same sense of security as she moves forward.”

Bridget smiled softly. “She’s lucky to have you.”

“And I’m lucky to work with her,” Dr. Thompson replied warmly. “Sally’s shown tremendous resilience. We’ll meet tomorrow, the three of us, and have a conversation. I’ll guide the discussion so we can address these concerns in a safe space. We’ll help her explore what’s driving her decision to move away from the diapers, and if she’s ready for that next step or if she still needs their security for a while longer.”

Bridget nodded. “That sounds like a good plan.”

Dr. Thompson tapped her pen thoughtfully against her notebook for a moment. “Actually, Bridget, I’d like to propose a small test for today, before we meet tomorrow.”

Bridget looked up, curious. “A test?”

“Yes,” Dr. Thompson said, leaning forward slightly. “When Sally comes home from school today, I want you to insist on diapering her. Not in a confrontational way, but be firm and make it clear that you think she needs it to relax after a long day. She may resist at first, but be persistent. The idea is to see how she reacts when she’s given an opportunity to let go of the responsibility she’s putting on herself. If she eventually gives in, it could be a good release for her—a way for her to decompress without feeling like she’s giving up on her progress.”

Bridget bit her lip, thinking it over. “You think she’ll go for it?”

“She might,” Dr. Thompson replied with a soft smile. “Sally’s at a crossroads right now. She’s pushing herself to grow up, but part of her still craves that safety and contentment we created with the diapers. If she resists but eventually relents, it will give us more insight into what she’s truly feeling—whether she’s trying to prove something to herself or if she’s genuinely ready to move on. Either way, it’ll be helpful for our conversation tomorrow.”

Bridget nodded slowly. “I’ll try it. It makes sense, giving her that chance to relax after school.”

“Good,” Dr. Thompson said, standing up as their meeting came to an end. “And remember, this is about giving her space to explore her emotions without judgment. Whether she accepts the comfort or not, it’s important she knows it’s okay to need a break from the pressures she’s putting on herself.”

Bridget smiled, feeling a little more confident about the path ahead. “Thank you, Dr. Thompson. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As she left the office, Bridget felt a renewed sense of purpose. This small test could reveal a lot about where Sally was emotionally, and she hoped it would give her daughter the chance to relax and let go—if only for an afternoon.

--

As Sally rounded the corner of the school building, she spotted Katrina and Clara standing just outside the gates, leaning against the low brick wall. Her friends were lost in their own world, oblivious to everything around them as they shared a quick, tender kiss. Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Ugh, get a room, would you?" Sally called out, her voice dripping with mock exasperation as she approached them.

Katrina pulled away from Clara with a wicked grin, her dark eyes flashing with playful mischief. "Oh, don’t worry. That’s exactly where we’re going."

Sally’s cheeks flushed pink as Katrina winked at her. "Katrina!" she groaned, feeling the warmth rise to her face. Clara, ever the more composed one, chuckled softly, her hand slipping back into Katrina’s.

"What? We’re teenagers. We’re allowed to have fun," Katrina teased, nudging Sally with her elbow as she shifted her backpack over her shoulder.

Sally shook her head, trying to fight the grin on her face. "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me regret walking over here."

The trio began making their way toward the pickup area, where cars were already starting to pull in for the after-school rush. As they walked, the conversation drifted back to their math class.

"I can’t believe how into that financial stuff you were, Sally," Katrina said, raising an eyebrow. "You had, like, a dozen questions. I thought you were gonna start teaching the class yourself."

Sally shrugged, still feeling the buzz from the math lesson. "It’s interesting! I mean, math is actually useful for something, you know? I never really thought about how family income and savings work. It got me thinking about my mom's job and how we manage stuff at home."

Clara nodded in agreement. "Yeah, it’s not just numbers on a page. It’s how we live. I didn’t realize how much math plays into... everything. Especially managing irregular income, like what my parents deal with. It’s nice to know I can actually use this stuff."

Katrina rolled her eyes dramatically. "Ugh, I’m glad you two are into it, but honestly, the only thing I want to do with math is forget about it. My brain was fried halfway through Mr. Anderson’s lecture." She turned to Clara and grinned. "I think I’ll just have you manage our future finances."

Clara chuckled softly. "Happy to help. We’d be broke in a week if it were up to you."

Katrina laughed, leaning closer to Clara and squeezing her hand. "Good thing I’ve got you to keep me from spending it all on concert tickets and snacks."

Sally shook her head, amused by their banter. Just then, a large black Suburban pulled up to the curb, its sleek exterior gleaming in the afternoon sun. Katrina's grin widened as she saw the car, and she waved casually to the woman behind the wheel.

"Ah, my bodyguard is here," Katrina said with a smirk, making both Sally and Clara laugh.

The driver, a poised woman in a tailored suit and sunglasses, gave them a patient smile. She remained silent but nodded in acknowledgment, clearly used to Katrina's playful banter.

"Hey," Katrina greeted casually as she opened the back door of the SUV. "Ready to whisk us away?"

The driver smiled slightly, waiting patiently as Katrina and Clara slid into the backseat, still holding hands. Sally lingered by the curb, watching the exchange with a smile. "I guess I’ll catch you guys tomorrow—"

Katrina leaned forward in the backseat, interrupting her. "Oh no you don’t, Sally. You’re not taking that sad school bus home. Get in the car. She doesn’t mind, right?"

The driver glanced at Sally and gave her a welcoming nod. "Not at all. Hop in, Sally. We’ve got plenty of room."

Sally hesitated for a moment, but the thought of avoiding the crowded, noisy bus was too tempting. "Okay, fine," she said with a sigh, walking around to the front passenger side and opening the door. "Thanks."

"Anytime," the driver replied as Sally climbed in and buckled her seatbelt.

Katrina and Clara settled into the backseat, leaning comfortably against each other as the SUV pulled smoothly away from the curb. Katrina, still holding Clara’s hand, rested her head on Clara’s shoulder, her mischievous energy fading into a soft, contented quiet.

As they drove through the winding suburban streets, Sally gazed out the window, lost in thought. The conversation from math class swirled in her mind again—about family earnings, finances, and saving. The more she thought about it, the more questions she had about how things worked at home. Her mother had always made everything seem so effortless, but now Sally was starting to wonder how much she really knew about their financial situation.

Katrina’s voice broke through her thoughts. "Hey, Sal," she called from the backseat. "What’re you thinking about? You’ve got that serious math-brain look again."

Sally glanced back over her shoulder with a smile. "Just... thinking about home. Math class really got me curious."

Katrina made a mockingly serious face, lowering her voice dramatically. "Ah, yes. Serious Sally, calculating all the numbers."

Clara smiled softly and squeezed Katrina’s hand. "Hey, it’s good she’s thinking ahead. You could learn something from her."

"Yeah, yeah," Katrina said, grinning. "But I’d rather think about fun stuff. Like what we’re doing this weekend."

The conversation drifted to weekend plans, and soon enough, the Suburban slowed as they approached Sally’s house. The driver pulled up to the curb and turned to her. "Here we are, Sally."

"Thanks again," Sally said as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door.

"Anytime, Sally," the driver replied warmly.

As she climbed out of the car, Katrina leaned out the back window. "See you tomorrow, Sal! And don’t think too hard about all that math, okay?"

Sally rolled her eyes, grinning. "No promises. See you guys tomorrow."

With that, Sally waved as the Suburban pulled away, and she made her way up the driveway to her house, her thoughts once again shifting back to the upcoming evening with her mom.

--

Sally stepped through the front door, feeling the tension still hanging in the air from the awkward moments of the morning. Her backpack slipped from her shoulder, landing softly on the floor, and she kicked off her shoes, ready to head straight to her room. But as she turned the corner into the living room, her heart skipped a beat.

Her mother, Bridget, was waiting for her—standing near the couch with a soft, thick diaper in her hand.

Sally froze. The sight of the diaper brought an immediate rush of emotions. A wave of longing hit her, so intense that it nearly knocked the breath out of her. But just as quickly, her mind resisted. She had been working so hard to stop. She had made the decision to wean herself off the comfort and safety of diapers. Yet here was her mother, offering her that very comfort, as though she’d never tried to give it up in the first place.

Bridget’s face was warm, gentle, filled with that maternal love Sally always felt in her bones. She took a small step forward, the diaper still in her hand, and her eyes met Sally’s.

"Sweetheart," her mother began softly, "I know you’ve been trying to be strong. To grow up, to move past this." Her voice was kind but firm, as though she understood exactly what Sally was feeling without needing to ask. "But I also know how much you’ve been carrying lately. How much pressure you’ve put on yourself."

Sally’s chest tightened. She looked down at the floor, her emotions swirling. "I’m fine, Mom," she muttered, though even as she said it, the words felt hollow. The truth was, she missed it. She missed the security. She missed the simplicity of letting go.

Bridget sighed softly, stepping closer. "Sally," she said, her voice tender. "You don’t have to keep up this wall. You don’t have to be so tough all the time. It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to need this."

Sally bit her lip, trying to hold back the surge of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. "But I’m supposed to stop," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I don’t want to go backward."

Bridget smiled gently, reaching out to touch her daughter’s arm. "You’re not going backward. You’re taking care of yourself. There’s no timeline, no race to be 'grown-up' all at once. And right now, what you need more than anything is to feel safe. To let go, even if just for a little while."

Tears welled up in Sally’s eyes, and she blinked them back furiously. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to admit how badly she wanted the comfort of that diaper, how much she missed the feeling of being wrapped in its soft embrace. Her body ached for it, but her mind kept resisting, like giving in would somehow mean she was failing.

"I don’t know, Mom," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I feel like... if I put it on, I’m admitting I can’t do this on my own."

Bridget’s eyes softened, and she gently cupped Sally’s face, brushing away the tear that had escaped. "Sweetheart, needing help doesn’t mean you’re not strong. It means you’re human. And right now, you’re trying to handle too much alone. Let me help you. Let me take care of you, just for a little while. You don’t have to do everything on your own."

Sally’s heart clenched, and her throat tightened as more tears threatened to spill. The thought of lying down, of feeling the thick, soft padding of the diaper around her, the sense of peace and security it always gave her—it was overwhelming. And the truth was, she didn’t want to keep resisting. She was tired of being strong. She was tired of pretending that she didn’t need this.

Bridget pulled her into a gentle hug, holding her close, and that’s when the tears finally came. Sally clung to her mom, her body trembling as she let out the tears she had been holding back for so long. But they weren’t just tears of frustration. They were tears of longing. Tears of relief. Tears of joy that her mom knew what she needed, even when she couldn’t say it out loud.

"It’s okay, sweetheart," Bridget whispered, rubbing Sally’s back soothingly. "You’re safe. You’re always safe with me."

Sally sniffled, pulling back slightly to meet her mom’s eyes, her tears now drying but her face flushed. "I... I think I want to," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But I’m scared. I don’t want you to think I’m... weak."

Bridget smiled gently and brushed a strand of hair from Sally’s face. "Oh, honey," she said softly. "You’re anything but weak. Being able to say you need something—that takes strength. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what you need."

Sally took a shaky breath, and after a long moment, she nodded. She didn’t need to fight it anymore. She didn’t need to prove anything. She slowly reached for the waistband of her skirt, unzipping it with trembling fingers. The skirt slipped down to the floor, and she stepped out of it, feeling vulnerable but also... relieved.

Bridget smiled warmly, her love shining through as she led Sally to the couch. "Lie down, sweetheart," she said gently, unfolding the thick diaper with practiced ease.

Sally lay down on the soft cushions, her heart pounding, but there was an unmistakable sense of comfort as her mother slid the diaper under her. The feeling of the soft padding against her skin brought back a flood of memories—nights where she had felt nothing but peace, where the weight of the world seemed to slip away.

Bridget worked carefully, lovingly, fastening the tapes with a precision that came from years of practice. "There," she said softly, patting the front of the diaper with a smile. "All snug and cozy."

Sally sat up, glancing down at herself in her crisp school blouse and sweater with the school crest, the thick diaper crinkling audibly as she moved. The white, padded bulk beneath her made her feel small and cocooned, but there was something about the way it looked—paired with her neatly tucked blouse and the black Mary-Jane shoes she had forgotten to take off—that made her laugh softly.

"Like a weird new school uniform," she muttered with a small laugh, the image of her current outfit almost ridiculous. Her socks, still perfectly pulled up, added to the contrast, making her look like she was in some odd combination of serious student and overgrown toddler.

Bridget couldn’t help but laugh too, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she took in the sight. "Maybe we’re onto something," she teased, nudging Sally gently. "The latest trend in school uniforms: crisp blouse, shiny shoes, and a... fluffy diaper to top it all off. What do you think? We’ll start a fashion revolution."

Sally laughed, shaking her head. "Pretty sure the school board would have a heart attack if they saw this."

Bridget smiled warmly, sitting beside her daughter and brushing her hand over Sally’s hair. "Honestly, sweetheart, it suits you. Not the uniform part, but the way you’re finally relaxing." Her voice was gentle, the love in her eyes unmistakable. "It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so at ease."

Sally shifted slightly, the soft padding around her bottom reminding her just how different this felt from her usual clothes. The crinkling of the diaper with every movement was oddly comforting, and even though she felt a bit silly, she couldn’t deny the sense of safety and warmth wrapping around her.

"I don’t know," she said with a small grin, glancing down at herself again. "I kind of feel like a little kid who got dressed halfway and then decided, 'Eh, good enough!'"

Bridget chuckled and gave her a playful nudge. "Well, you do look pretty adorable like this. But I’ll let you decide if the diaper stays part of your future outfits."

Sally grinned, the tension in her chest easing completely as she let herself fully embrace the moment. There was no judgment, no need to prove anything. Just her mother, her soft, thick diaper, and the relief of knowing she could simply be herself.

As Sally stood up, the bulk of the diaper pressing gently against her thighs, she felt an odd sense of pride. Her school blouse tucked neatly into the waistband of the diaper, her black Mary-Jane shoes still on, it was a strange but oddly comforting mix of responsibility and vulnerability. The absurdity of the look was not lost on her, but it made her smile in a way that felt freeing.

"Maybe I’ll wear this to class tomorrow," she joked, giving her mom a sly look. "See how well the math teacher handles this look."

Bridget grinned back, playing along. "I’m sure Mr. Anderson would be thoroughly impressed by your... creative interpretation of the dress code."

Sally giggled, feeling a deep sense of contentment wash over her. She padded off to her room, pulling off her sweater, unbuttoning her school blouse and pulling on a soft, loose T-shirt. The diaper stayed on, crinkling softly with every movement, a gentle reminder of the love and care she had received from her mom.

She sat down at her desk, pulling out her books and starting her homework, the sense of relief and calm settling over her like a warm blanket. The world outside could wait. For now, she had everything she needed—her mom’s love, the comfort of her diaper, and a little bit of peace.

And that was enough.

Chapter 26 - Unknown

As Sally settled into her desk chair, her soft T-shirt hanging loosely over the padding of her diaper, she felt an undeniable sense of calm wash over her. The snug fit of the diaper against her skin, the gentle crinkle with every small shift in movement—it all felt comforting, familiar, and safe. For the first time in days, she allowed herself to relax fully, both in body and mind.

She had missed this feeling—the feeling of being cared for, of not needing to hold everything together all the time. The diaper reminded her that she didn’t always need to be strong or grown-up. Sometimes, it was okay to let go, to let herself be wrapped up in warmth and security.

As she opened her math book, ready to dive into her homework, Sally noticed how different she felt. There was no nagging tension in her shoulders, no tightness in her chest from the pressures she usually carried. She felt lighter, more peaceful. The soft bulk of the diaper cradled her gently, reminding her that she was safe, that she could take a break from the responsibilities she’d been struggling with.

It wasn’t long before she felt the familiar sensation of needing to use the bathroom. Normally, she would’ve jumped up from her chair, a flash of anxiety urging her to stay in control. But today, she didn’t feel that pressure. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes for a moment, and let herself relax even more. There was no reason to hold on. She was already so comfortable, already so at peace.

Slowly, almost without thinking, Sally allowed herself to let go. The warmth spread through the thick padding of her diaper, enveloping her in a soothing sensation that made her sigh in relief. It was gentle, calming, and strangely satisfying—something she hadn’t let herself experience for days. The warmth was like a blanket of comfort, wrapping her up and making her feel even more secure.

For a moment, Sally just sat there, enjoying the feeling. The warmth, the softness—it was all so simple, yet so powerful in the way it made her feel at ease. There was no embarrassment, no guilt. Just peace.

Sally opened her eyes, her mind wandering as it often did when she had time to herself. Thoughts of Katrina and Clara floated to the surface, making her smile. She could still hear Katrina’s teasing voice from earlier, telling her they were going to "get a room." The comment had made her blush at the time, but now, sitting in her cozy little world, it made her chuckle softly.

Were they really going to? she wondered. Her mind played with the idea, but it wasn’t easy to picture. She knew Katrina and Clara were dating—she had known for a while—but imagining what they did when they were alone was like trying to visualize a scene from a movie she “hadn’t seen”. They were so open and free around her, always giggling and teasing each other. In her head, the idea of them "getting a room" didn’t go much further than more of the same—laughter, playful banter, maybe a kiss here and there.

But then again... Blue is the Warmest Color. That film had been her first real look into something deeper, something more intense. She hadn’t been supposed to watch it, but one night curiosity had gotten the better of her. It was so different from the lighthearted way Katrina and Clara acted at school. The film had shown a raw, intimate connection between two girls, and it had stayed with her long after she finished watching. The emotions, the passion—it had been beautiful, but also confusing for Sally. She hadn’t fully understood what she was seeing, and it had left her with more questions than answers.

Now, as she thought about Katrina and Clara, she tried to relate the two images in her mind: the fun, teasing friends she saw every day and the kind of relationship she had glimpsed in the film. Did her friends share that kind of connection? Did they feel that same intensity? Sally wasn’t sure. The idea made her feel a little awkward, but also... curious.

Sally shifted in her chair, the soft crinkle of her diaper grounding her back in the moment. She didn’t really need to know the details of what Katrina and Clara did when they were alone. They were her friends, and that was all that mattered. They were so unapologetically themselves—laughing, teasing, and being completely open about who they were. Sally admired that about them. She admired how they didn’t seem to care what anyone else thought, how they were free to love and express themselves without fear or embarrassment.

Still, Sally’s mind couldn’t help but drift back to that film, wondering if Katrina and Clara had moments like that—quiet, intense moments filled with love and passion. Did they ever sit in silence, just holding each other, or was it always light and fun? Sally wasn’t sure, and she realized she didn’t really need to be sure. Everyone’s relationship was different, and however Katrina and Clara connected, it worked for them.

Lost in thought, her mind still circling around Katrina and Clara’s admission of “sleeping together and everything else.” It was such a vague phrase, and she found herself dwelling on its meaning. But as she shifted slightly in her chair, the soft crinkle of her diaper reminded her of something else—something that pulled her thoughts in an entirely different direction.

The feeling of the diaper against her skin, the comforting bulk, the warmth—it was all so familiar and yet, somehow, intense. It made her feel safe, yes, but there was also something deeper, something more personal about it. She wasn’t sure she could even explain it, but the sensations were powerful in a way she hadn’t expected. When she allowed herself to relax into the diaper, when she let herself feel the warmth spread and the softness hug her, there was a strange sense of surrender, a kind of peace that flooded over her body and mind. It wasn’t just about comfort. It was about letting go completely, releasing all the tension she carried and giving in to that quiet, enveloping calm.

Her thoughts drifted back to “Blue is the Warmest Color”, to the intense emotions she had experienced while watching it. She hadn’t fully understood everything she saw in the film, but she remembered how watching those intimate moments had stirred something in her. It was more than just curiosity—it was a physical sensation, like a quiet shiver running through her as she watched the characters connect on such a deep level. It was emotional, yes, but it was also something she could feel in her body, a kind of warmth and intensity that she hadn’t been able to explain at the time.

Sally shifted again in her chair, thinking about how similar those feelings were to what she experienced now, sitting here in her diaper. There was something about the way it made her feel—vulnerable, yes, but also free in a strange way. Just as she had felt captivated by the film’s portrayal of love and intimacy, she now felt a sense of connection to herself, to her body, as she let herself sink into the comfort of the diaper. The emotions and sensations were intertwined, and though they were different, there was a thread of similarity between them. Watching that film had left her feeling raw, exposed to emotions she didn’t fully understand. Sitting here now, in the quiet, with the soft crinkle of her diaper grounding her, she felt a different kind of exposure—one that made her feel safe, rather than uncertain.

She wondered if Katrina and Clara ever felt that same intensity, that same sense of vulnerability and closeness with each other. Did they experience the same kind of raw connection she had seen in the movie? Did they ever feel that deep, physical comfort that came with letting go completely? Sally wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t help thinking about it as she traced the connection between her own experience and what she had witnessed on screen.

The feelings, the emotions—they weren’t so different. Whether it was the warmth of her diaper or the intensity of watching that film, there was a shared sense of surrender, of allowing oneself to feel something fully without holding back. Sally had always been careful, always trying to stay in control, but in moments like this—whether watching a movie or simply sitting quietly in her room—she found herself letting go, even if only for a little while.

Before she could reflect any further, her mother’s voice called from downstairs, breaking the silence. "Sally! Dinner’s ready!"

She stood up slowly, the crinkling of her diaper bringing her back to the present. As she made her way downstairs, she smiled to herself, feeling both at peace and slightly in awe of the emotions she had just explored. Maybe she didn’t fully understand everything yet, but she was beginning to realize that it was okay to simply feel—to allow herself to experience the comfort, the warmth, and the emotions that came with letting go, whether in a diaper or in the quiet contemplation of her thoughts.

--

Bridget settled comfortably on the couch, watching Sally flip half-heartedly through the photography book on the Bahamas. She could tell something was on her daughter’s mind, even as she talked about their upcoming vacation. Sally had that distant look, the kind that meant she was thinking deeply about something but didn’t quite know how to bring it up.

"So, are you excited for the trip?" Bridget asked, trying to coax her back into the conversation.

Sally nodded but didn’t seem particularly focused. "Yeah, I guess. The water’s always nice. I love that beach with the long boardwalk... but..." She trailed off, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of a page, not making eye contact.

Bridget leaned in a little, sensing the hesitation. "But something’s on your mind," she finished gently.

Sally hesitated, then sighed. "It’s just... something from math class, I guess. We were talking about family income and savings today, and I realized we’ve never really talked about it." She looked up at her mom cautiously. "I mean, how much do you make?"

Bridget raised her eyebrows, a bit surprised by the directness of the question, but she knew it was bound to come up sooner or later. "Well, that’s a big topic," she began, giving Sally a warm smile. "But I can explain it."

Sally sat up a little, clearly curious but unsure. "I know you work, but... we’ve never really talked about how we pay for everything. The house, vacations, my school—it all seems... a lot."

Bridget took a deep breath and nodded. "You’re right. We haven’t talked about it, and that’s mostly because you never really had to worry about it. But now that you’re older, I think it’s good for you to understand. So, here’s the thing." She paused, making sure Sally was following. "Your father takes care of most of our expenses. He bought this house for us, and the red SUV you like so much? He got that for us, too. Well, he bought all the cars we had, actualy".

Sally’s eyes widened a little. "He bought the house and the car?"

Bridget smiled softly. "Yes, he did. Even though he’s not around much, he’s always made sure we’re well taken care of. That includes your school tuition, our vacations, and anything else we need. He insists on paying for it all."

Sally shifted slightly on the couch, processing the information. She had always known her dad was wealthy, but she hadn’t realized just how much he was involved financially in their lives, even from afar.

"And what about you?" Sally asked, still trying to piece it all together. "Your job... the charity?"

Bridget shook her head gently. "Sweetheart, I don’t make any money from working at the charity. It’s something I do because I love it, and it helps people. But it’s not what supports us financially. Most of what we live on comes from your father."

Sally blinked, surprised. "So, we live off of Dad’s money?" she asked, a little more bluntly than she intended.

Bridget nodded. "That’s right. But there’s more to it than just your father’s support. Your grandparents—my parents—were also very wealthy. When they passed, they left me a significant inheritance. That’s also helped us stay comfortable."

Sally took a deep breath, trying to wrap her head around everything. Her mom’s parents had left them money, and her father, who wasn’t even in the picture most of the time, was paying for nearly everything. It was a lot to take in.

Bridget smiled gently, knowing Sally still had questions. "And there’s one more thing," she added. "You have a trust fund, Sally. Your father and your grandparents set it up for you. It’s there for when you’re older, to help you with whatever you want to do—whether it’s college, starting a business, or anything else."

Sally frowned, her thoughts immediately jumping to something from her favorite TV show. "Like Logan Huntzberger?" she asked, her brow furrowed, her voice carrying a hint of skepticism.

Bridget laughed lightly, recognizing the reference. "Yes, like Logan. But good people also have trust funds, you know," she teased, giving Sally a playful nudge.

Sally couldn’t help but smile, though the idea still felt strange to her. "I guess I never thought about it," she said quietly. "I just assumed you were earning the money."

Bridget’s smile softened, and she wrapped an arm around Sally’s shoulders. "I know. We’ve never really talked about it because I didn’t want you to feel like money was something you had to think about. But now that you’re older, you deserve to know how things work. You don’t need to worry about any of it, though. You have time to understand everything, and I’ll be here to explain more when you’re ready."

Sally nodded, still processing it all. "So, we’re... rich?" she asked hesitantly, the word feeling odd in her mouth.

Bridget chuckled softly. "We’re comfortable. And we’re fortunate, yes. But more importantly, we’re taken care of. And when the time comes, you’ll have the resources you need to do whatever you want."

As Bridget spoke, Sally felt a strange sense of relief mixed with confusion. It was a lot to take in, but at the same time, it explained so much. She had never worried about money because she had never needed to. Everything had always been there for her. And now, learning about the trust fund and the family wealth, she realized how much had been taken care of behind the scenes.

As her mother continued talking, Sally felt herself relax, letting go of the tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding. Unconsciously, she wet her diaper, the warmth spreading through the padding, making her feel even more secure. She barely noticed it happening, her mind too wrapped up in the conversation and the gentle, comforting presence of her mother beside her.

Bridget finished explaining, her voice soft and reassuring. "Does that help answer your questions, sweetheart?"

Sally nodded slowly, her voice quieter now. "Yeah, it does. I just... I didn’t realize how much was going on that I didn’t know about."

Bridget kissed her daughter’s forehead gently. "And that’s okay. You’re learning. There’s no rush to understand everything right now."

They sat together in comfortable silence for a moment before the conversation turned back to lighter topics, like their upcoming trip and plans for the summer. Though Sally’s mind was still swirling with thoughts about the family finances, she felt at peace, knowing that her mother had her back and that everything would be explained to her in time.

--

As Sally sat on the couch, digesting everything her mother had explained to her, she felt a mixture of emotions—relief, confusion, and a newfound understanding of her life. The conversation about money and their family’s financial situation had lifted a weight she hadn’t even known she was carrying. Yet there was something else, something simpler, that had settled in her mind during it all.

The warmth and comfort of the diaper she was wearing had become a constant presence throughout the evening. It felt like a physical manifestation of the care her mother had given her, and in that moment, it represented more than just convenience—it was a symbol of security. A way to let go of the pressure and stress she had been holding onto for weeks.

As Bridget stood up to clear the dishes, Sally remained on the couch, quietly turning things over in her mind. She could feel the soft bulk of the diaper around her, snug and comforting, and for the first time, she felt ready to accept what it gave her. The familiar crinkle as she shifted was no longer something she felt embarrassed by—it was reassuring, a reminder that it was okay to seek comfort in ways that worked for her.

Finally, as she glanced over at her mom, who smiled at her from the kitchen, Sally made a quiet resolution.

I’m going to wear a diaper to bed, she thought to herself, a sense of calm settling over her. But I’m not going to wet it.

It was a compromise—a way of allowing herself the comfort and security she craved, without feeling like she was going backward. Sally didn’t want to rely on diapers in the way she had before, but she also didn’t want to push herself too far too fast. Wearing one to bed felt like a small step toward finding that balance.

--

That night, after getting ready for bed, Sally slipped into a fresh diaper. The familiar feeling of it wrapping around her gave her a sense of calm, but she reminded herself of her resolution. She didn’t need to wet it. Just wearing it was enough. She was a big girl.

As she climbed into bed, the soft padding crinkling beneath her, she felt peaceful. For the first time in days, she was looking forward to a night of restful sleep, knowing that she was in control—not of everything, but of the choices she made for herself.

Sally pulled the blankets up to her chin and smiled, her mind clear as she drifted off, feeling safe, comfortable, and, for the first time in a while, completely at ease with who she was.

--

Somewhere in the depths of her sleep, Sally was having one of those dreams—odd, disjointed, and yet strangely vivid.

She was in school, wandering the familiar hallways in her neatly pressed uniform, her shoes clicking softly on the tile floors. The only problem was, instead of her usual pleated skirt, she was wearing a diaper—bare and fully visible to anyone passing by. She could feel its soft bulk around her waist, the crinkling sound with every step she took echoing louder than usual. She tried to ignore the sensation, but a nagging feeling sat heavy in her chest, like something wasn’t quite right.

Students passed her by, whispering and laughing, though none of them seemed to directly acknowledge her appearance. They smiled and waved as though everything was perfectly normal, but Sally’s stomach knotted with anxiety. She felt exposed, vulnerable, like everyone was watching her even if no one said anything outright.

As her discomfort grew, her father suddenly appeared beside her, as if he had always been there. Tall and stern, with his slightly furrowed brow and the ever-present hint of a German accent, Adrian Weiss glanced down at her with his usual composed expression. His presence was as steady and nonchalant as ever.

"Everything is as it should be," he said calmly, his deep voice matter-of-fact, as though there was nothing strange about her walking around school in a diaper for all to see.

"But—" Sally began, her voice small and uncertain, feeling the growing sense of panic rise in her chest. She wanted to protest, to tell him something wasn’t right, but the words wouldn’t come out. She glanced down, realizing that the diaper around her waist was slowly expanding. It swelled, becoming bulkier with each passing moment, making her legs stiffen and her steps shorter. She began to waddle as the diaper grew larger and larger, the crinkling now unbearably loud.

She tried to move faster, but the more the diaper expanded, the harder it became to walk. Soon, it was so big that she could barely take a step. Her legs were forced apart, and she was stuck in place, unable to move forward as the students around her finally stopped and stared. Their eyes locked onto her, curious and judgmental, and her heart pounded in her chest as her anxiety spiked.

She glanced desperately at her father for reassurance, but he remained unfazed, his expression still calm and detached. "This is normal, Sally. Don’t worry."

But she couldn’t help it. She felt frozen, trapped in the oversized diaper, completely exposed in front of everyone. Her cheeks flushed as she looked around at the crowd of staring faces, unable to take another step. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming.

Then, just as the pressure of the situation became unbearable, she woke up.

Sally blinked her eyes open, the morning light gently spilling through her curtains. She felt the soft pillow beneath her head and the familiar warmth of her bed, the strange dream already fading from her memory like a wisp of smoke. There were only fragments now—a vague sense of anxiety, the image of her father’s calm face, and the odd sensation of being unable to walk.

But as she hugged her pillow close, relief washed over her. She smiled softly to herself, her heart no longer racing, and the tension in her body eased. It had just been a dream, nothing more. Everything was okay now.

She shifted slightly beneath the covers, feeling the comforting bulk of her diaper still snug around her waist. With a quick, gentle touch, she realized it was still dry. That made her smile even more, as if it were a small victory, a reassurance that she was still in control—at least for now.

Sally let out a soft breath, her mind settling into the calmness of the morning. She glanced at the clock beside her bed, knowing that today would be an important day. In just a few hours, she’d be going with her mom to see Dr. Thompson. But for now, she lingered in the peaceful comfort of her bed, the remnants of her strange dream already drifting away.

--

Chapter 27 - Revelations

After school, Sally spotted her mother’s red SUV among the sea of cars and couldn’t help but smile slightly. There was something comforting about seeing it, though today it felt like a reminder of what lay ahead. She slid into the passenger seat, dropping her backpack with a thud at her feet, and buckled her seatbelt. Bridget smiled at her warmly, but there was an undercurrent of tension. They both knew today’s destination: Dr. Thompson’s office.

As they pulled out of the parking lot, the usual chatter between them was replaced by silence. Sally glanced out the window, her mind spinning as she thought about the session to come. She’d made the decision weeks ago to stop wearing diapers, thinking it was a sign of her growing up. But recently, that decision had felt more like a weight she wasn’t sure she could handle.

The drive to Dr. Thompson’s office passed quickly, almost too quickly for Sally’s liking. Before she knew it, they were pulling into the parking lot, and her stomach twisted in nervous anticipation. The familiar comfort of the waiting room wasn’t enough to quell her anxiety as they walked in. After a few minutes, they were called into Dr. Thompson’s cozy office, where the therapist greeted them with her usual calm, composed demeanor.

“Hi, Sally. Hi, Bridget,” Dr. Thompson said with a welcoming smile as they settled onto the couch. “It’s good to see you both. How are you feeling today?”

Sally hesitated for a moment, playing with the edge of her shirt as she tried to figure out how to sum up everything she was feeling. “I’m... okay,” she said quietly, though it sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.

Bridget gave her a soft look, squeezing her daughter’s hand gently. “We’ve been doing alright, I think. But Sally’s had some changes lately.”

Sally knew what was coming. She braced herself as Dr. Thompson leaned forward slightly, her expression gentle but probing.

“So, Sally,” Dr. Thompson began, “I hear you’ve made some changes regarding your therapy. You’ve decided to stop wearing diapers. Can you tell me about that decision?”

Sally squirmed slightly in her seat, glancing at her mom before looking back at Dr. Thompson. “I just... I thought it was time,” she started, her voice uncertain. “I mean, I’m almost 15. I shouldn’t need them anymore, right?”

Dr. Thompson nodded slowly, listening intently. “I understand the desire to grow up and move forward. But I want to explore why you felt the need to stop wearing them so suddenly. You were responding well to the therapy before. How have you been feeling since you made the change?”

Sally bit her lip, her fingers still nervously twisting the fabric of her shirt. She knew the truth. She hadn’t been feeling great since she’d stopped wearing the diapers, but admitting that felt like admitting she couldn’t handle growing up.

“I don’t know,” she said, her voice softer. “I’ve been kind of stressed, I guess. I’m not sleeping well...”

Bridget chimed in, her voice full of concern. “She’s definitely seemed more anxious lately.”

Sally felt a sudden surge of irritation. Did Mom really have to say that? It felt like her mother was exposing her, laying out her emotions for everyone to see. She shot her mom a quick look, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. It wasn’t that her mom was wrong—Sally had been more anxious—but hearing it said so openly made her bristle. It felt too revealing, like she wasn’t in control of her own story.

Bridget noticed the tension but pressed on, her voice soft and careful. “Sally, I noticed yesterday, after school, when I suggested you wear a diaper for the afternoon... you were so tense before, but once I put it on, your anxiety disappeared. You even seemed... calmer.”

Sally's face flushed even more. She had hoped her mother wouldn’t bring that up. It was true—when Bridget had spontaneously diapered her after a particularly stressful day at school, her nerves had melted away almost instantly. But hearing her mother say it out loud in front of Dr. Thompson made her feel exposed, like a little kid who needed her mom to take care of her. She shifted uncomfortably on the couch, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on a random spot on the floor.

Dr. Thompson, watching the dynamic closely, leaned in with curiosity. “Is that true, Sally? Did you feel calmer after your mom diapered you?”

Sally’s stomach twisted. She didn’t want to admit it. It felt like giving in, like confirming that she really did need those diapers after all. But deep down, she knew it was the truth. She had felt better—so much better that she had almost forgotten why she had been anxious in the first place.

With a reluctant sigh, Sally nodded. “Yeah... I guess,” she muttered, barely looking up. “It did help.”

Dr. Thompson’s gentle smile reassured her. “There’s no shame in admitting what helps you, Sally. It sounds like the diapers are giving you a sense of security when you need it most. That’s important, and it’s nothing to feel embarrassed about.”

Sally kept her eyes down, still feeling the prick of resentment at her mother for sharing the details, but she couldn’t deny the truth. Wearing the diaper yesterday had helped, and despite her desire to feel like a "big girl," part of her craved that comfort again.

Dr. Thompson nodded again, her expression thoughtful. “Sally, it’s perfectly normal to want to move forward and feel like you’re growing up. But growing up doesn’t mean you have to abandon the things that help you feel safe. Diapers were a tool we used to help manage your anxiety and give you that sense of security. Why do you think you felt the need to stop?”

Sally frowned, her eyes darting around the room. She wasn’t sure how to explain it. Part of her had just wanted to feel normal, like the other kids at school who didn’t need... this.

“I didn’t want to feel different,” she muttered. “Everyone else my age doesn’t need them. I thought if I stopped, it would mean I was... a big girl.”

Dr. Thompson smiled softly, understanding the pressure Sally was putting on herself. “I see. But wearing diapers wasn’t about being a little kid, Sally. It was about helping you manage your emotions and anxiety. You’re still growing up, regardless of whether you’re using them or not.”

Sally slumped back into the couch, frustrated but knowing deep down that Dr. Thompson had a point. The truth was, since she’d stopped wearing them, everything had felt more difficult. She missed the calm, the security, even if she didn’t want to admit it.

“I just don’t want to feel like I’m going backward,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Dr. Thompson leaned in slightly, her tone gentle but firm. “You’re not going backward, Sally. You’re taking care of yourself. We need to make sure you have the tools to manage your anxiety and stress, and the diapers were helping with that. It’s not about moving backward—it’s about giving yourself what you need to feel emotionally safe.”

Sally sighed, glancing over at her mom, who was looking at her with an encouraging smile. There was a lump in her throat, and she didn’t quite know why. She had thought stopping the diapers was the right thing to do, but now, she wasn’t so sure.

Dr. Thompson continued, “What I’m proposing is that we go back to what was working before. I want you to wear diapers every night, just like we did previously. This will help you get the restful sleep you need and give you that emotional release.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly. She opened her mouth to protest, but Dr. Thompson kept speaking gently, leaving little room for argument.

“And not just at night. If you’re feeling anxious during the day, I want you to allow your mother to help you. Bridget, you can diaper Sally when she’s feeling particularly stressed. It’s not about dependency; it’s about giving her the security she needs during those difficult moments.”

Sally shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “But... I’m almost 15,” she muttered, her voice sounding uncertain even to herself. “I don’t need diapers all the time. I’m supposed to be growing up.”

Dr. Thompson’s eyes softened, and she smiled. “Sally, being a big girl doesn’t mean you have to stop doing the things that help you feel better. Think of it like wearing glasses. Just because someone wears glasses to help them see doesn’t mean they’re weak or not growing up. They’re just using a tool to make life easier. Diapers are the same—they’re helping you manage your emotions.”

Sally blinked, unsure of what to say. Glasses? She hadn’t thought of it like that. Her defenses were crumbling faster than she’d anticipated, and the truth was, the idea of wearing diapers again wasn’t as awful as she’d convinced herself it would be.

“And let’s be real,” Dr. Thompson added, with a small, knowing smile, “if glasses suddenly became socially embarrassing, I’m pretty sure people would still wear them, right? I don’t think anyone would go around bumping into walls just to avoid a bit of awkwardness.”

Sally chuckled softly, despite herself. The tension in the room lightened a little, and she felt her resolve slipping away. She glanced at her mother again, seeing the warmth in Bridget’s eyes.

Bridget chimed in, her tone gentle but supportive. “Sweetheart, this is just about helping you feel safe. You’re doing great, and growing up doesn’t mean you have to do it all at once.”

Sally sighed, a mix of resignation and relief washing over her. She knew, deep down, that they were right. And truth be told, part of her—the part she wouldn’t admit out loud—was relieved. There was a strange comfort in knowing she wouldn’t have to keep fighting this battle with herself. Maybe wearing diapers didn’t mean she wasn’t growing up. Maybe it just meant she was taking care of herself.

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding slightly. “I’ll wear them... if it helps.”

Bridget smiled and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, sweetheart. We’ll take it one day at a time.”

Dr. Thompson nodded approvingly. “I think you’ll find that this will help you feel more secure. And remember, it’s okay to need support. There’s no rush to be ‘grown up.’ Growing up is about finding what works for you emotionally, and this is part of that.”

Sally sat there quietly, processing everything. She didn’t feel quite so anxious now, and the humor in Dr. Thompson’s analogy had made her realize that maybe she didn’t need to be so hard on herself.

Dr. Thompson leaned back with a smile, “Besides, if it turns out I’m wrong about this, you can say ‘I told you so,’ and I’ll take you out for ice cream. Deal?”

Sally laughed, feeling the tension finally break. “Deal.”

The session wrapped up soon after, and as they walked out to the car, Sally felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She climbed into the passenger seat of the red SUV, settling in as Bridget started the engine. The drive home was quiet, but it wasn’t the same tense silence as before. Instead, it was a peaceful kind of quiet.

Sally stared out the window, her mind still spinning, but she smiled to herself. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever admit it out loud, but there was a part of her—small but growing—that was glad to be going back to wearing diapers. It was like a secret relief, something comforting she could hold onto in her mind. She even felt a little... excited? Not that she’d say that. Not yet, anyway.

As they drove home, Sally hugged the feeling to herself, relishing the quiet comfort it brought.

--

As they arrived home, the cool spring air greeted them, a gentle breeze rustling the trees that lined their quiet neighborhood. Bridget said nothing as they entered the house, the unspoken weight of their earlier conversation lingering. She refrained from any further comments, allowing Sally to slip quietly to her room, a small gesture of respect for her daughter’s space.

Sally stood for a moment in her room, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling in her chest. She knew that later, she would have to wear a diaper for bed as Dr. Thompson had prescribed, but for now, she was content to slide into something more normal. Digging through her drawers, she pulled out a pair of tight, well-worn jeans that clung to her legs and hips, accentuating the flat, unpadded curve of her buttocks. Paired with a short, slightly snug t-shirt, she felt a sense of comfort—maybe even a little bit of rebellion against what was to come later.

For now, everything felt normal. After dinner, they talked about little things—school, the upcoming spring break, the usual day-to-day chatter. The house felt calm, the kind of calm that only comes after a long day when the world outside seems far away. But underneath it, there was a quiet undercurrent of anticipation, the knowledge that the night would end with a routine that Sally was still trying to accept.

Later, after the dishes were cleared and the kitchen lights dimmed, Sally wandered down the hallway. The house was quiet now, save for the soft creak of the floor beneath her feet. She paused outside her mother’s room, noticing the door was slightly ajar. Pushing it open gently, she stepped inside, where the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume lingered in the air.

Bridget’s bedroom was large, more grand than Sally’s, and positioned to take full advantage of the night’s soft glow. The corner windows stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a sweeping view of the trees outside, their branches swaying in the gentle spring breeze. Beyond the treetops, the half-moon hung low in the sky, casting silver light across the room. The room itself was warm and inviting, with soft cream-colored walls, a plush, oversized bed draped in a thick duvet, and elegant lamps on either side of the headboard. It felt luxurious but lived-in, a perfect blend of comfort and style.

Sally padded quietly across the room, making her way to the foot of the bed, where she sat cross-legged on the soft duvet, her jeans creasing as she settled in. From where she sat, she could see her mother sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair in slow, rhythmic strokes. The soft glow of the lamp on the vanity table bathed Bridget in a warm light, making the whole scene feel peaceful, almost timeless.

Sally watched her mother for a moment, her gaze softening as she took in the familiar ritual. There was something calming about watching Bridget in this moment of quiet self-care. It felt like a small anchor, a glimpse of stability in a world that sometimes felt uncertain.

Bridget, noticing her daughter’s presence in the reflection of the mirror, paused her brushing and turned slightly to look at her. Her eyes traveled over Sally, lingering for a moment on her tight jeans and the way they emphasized her unpadded form. There was a moment of quiet as Bridget took in the sight of her daughter, growing up far too quickly for her liking.

Sally, sitting on the bed with her bare feet tucked underneath her, looked so at ease, so sure of herself in those jeans and that snug t-shirt. There was no padding beneath her, no security of a diaper, and in this small detail, Bridget felt a mixture of pride and melancholy. Sally was becoming more independent, more comfortable in her own skin, but that also meant she was slipping further from the little girl Bridget had always been able to protect.

The thought made Bridget’s heart ache just a little. She knew that Sally’s growing up was inevitable, but seeing it unfold in such small, everyday moments made it all the more real.

“You look comfortable,” Bridget said softly, breaking the silence. Her voice carried a hint of warmth, a mother’s fondness for the young woman her daughter was becoming.

Sally gave a small smile, shrugging lightly. “Yeah, just... trying to relax before bed.”

Bridget’s eyes softened further as she turned to face her daughter fully. “It’s good to see you like this,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “You’ve had a long day.”

Sally didn’t reply immediately, but the corners of her mouth lifted slightly as she glanced out the window. The half-moon hung low, its silvery light casting faint shadows across the room, and the breeze stirred the branches outside. There was something peaceful about this moment, about being in her mother’s room, where everything seemed just a little bit more serene.

Bridget watched her daughter closely, her gaze lingering on the curve of Sally’s back, the way the jeans hugged her legs, how she seemed so grown up now, even if she still held onto certain comforts. She couldn’t help but feel a wave of fondness wash over her. Sally was finding her way, but Bridget knew that deep down, her daughter still craved the security of being cared for. And that was okay.

“I was thinking,” Bridget began, her voice soft but deliberate, “that maybe we could talk a little more before bed. You’ve been handling everything so well, but it’s a lot, and I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

Sally glanced at her mother, feeling a flicker of hesitation. She knew what was coming next. The diapers, the routine. But in this moment, sitting on her mother’s bed with the trees swaying outside and the half-moon glowing softly in the sky, it didn’t feel as bad as she’d thought.

“Yeah,” she said quietly. “I’m okay.”

Bridget smiled, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I know you are, sweetheart.”

“Mom,” Sally began, her voice cutting through the stillness. “Why hasn’t Dad visited? It’s been almost a year. What’s going on?”

Bridget, who had been quietly brushing her hair in front of the vanity, froze for a moment. She hadn’t expected Sally to ask about her father so directly, though she knew it had been on her mind. She placed the brush down gently, turning in her chair to face her daughter, who was sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed.

Sally’s eyes were steady, full of curiosity and a hint of frustration. Bridget sighed softly, knowing this conversation was long overdue. “I know it feels like he’s been gone for a long time,” Bridget said, her voice soft, careful. “Your father’s always had a lot of responsibilities, Sally. His life is... complicated.”

Sally didn’t wait for more, her voice sharper now. “Complicated? Mom, he used to visit twice a year, and now nothing. It’s like he disappeared. What could be so complicated?”

Bridget paused, gathering her thoughts, knowing she couldn’t dodge the truth anymore. “He has always been involved in a lot of things, things that tie him to Switzerland. His family’s business, their estate, it’s... a different kind of life than what we have here. His father was... very demanding.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, still unsatisfied. “But what does that even mean? Why doesn’t he come around more? Did something happen between you two?”

Bridget gave a small, wistful smile as she considered how to answer. “No, nothing happened between us. We always cared about each other. But your father’s world... it’s very different from ours. We met in Switzerland, remember? I was there on vacation, just trying to get away for a while. I didn’t expect to meet someone like him.”

Sally leaned in slightly, her curiosity piqued. “So, how did you meet? Was it, like, some romantic thing?”

Bridget laughed softly, shaking her head. “It wasn’t exactly like that at first. We met through some mutual friends at a gathering. Zurich is a beautiful city, but I didn’t expect to meet anyone special there. Your dad stood out, though. He had this air about him—calm, confident, like nothing could rattle him. And he was, well, charming in his own way.”

Sally’s eyes lit up with interest. “Okay, so what happened next?”

Bridget’s eyes softened as she continued. “He offered to show me around the country, and I didn’t see why not. It felt spontaneous, and I figured, why not take a chance? The next thing I knew, I was in his Porsche, and we were speeding down the autobahn on our way to Germany.”

Sally blinked, surprised. “Wait, he had a Porsche?”

Bridget chuckled. “Oh, yes. He still has it, I’m sure. He loved that car. I remember the way it felt flying down the autobahn... no speed limits, just open road and the wind in my hair. We were going so fast, I didn’t even realize how nervous I should have been. But it was thrilling.”

Sally grinned, her mind spinning at the image of her parents racing down the German highway. “That sounds... wild.”

Bridget smiled back, her eyes distant, remembering. “It was. We drove through the Alps, winding along these roads with sheer drops on either side, the mountains towering above us, snow-capped and beautiful. We visited castles—Schloss Neuschwanstein, one of the most famous, perched on the cliffs like something out of a fairy tale. We crossed rivers, visited these little villages nestled into the valleys. It was like stepping into another world. I had never seen anything like it.”

Sally was transfixed, her mind conjuring images of majestic mountains and ancient castles. “That sounds amazing. But... if things were so great, why didn’t it last?”

Bridget’s expression shifted, her smile fading just a little. “Your father’s life wasn’t just about us, Sally. It was about his family’s legacy. He’s... wealthy, but it’s not just about the money. It’s about expectations. His father, your grandfather, was very strict about how things should be done. When I met Adrian, he was already balancing a life that was very rigid and controlled. His father wanted him to marry someone from their world, someone who understood the life of the Swiss elite.”

Sally blinked, surprised. “You mean, like, they didn’t want him to marry you?”

Bridget nodded gently. “It wasn’t that they didn’t like me, exactly. I just didn’t fit into their idea of what Adrian’s future should look like. His father, especially, made it clear that I wasn’t the right ‘fit.’ He disapproved, and when I became pregnant with you, it only complicated things further.”

Sally sat up straighter, her brow furrowed. “So, what happened when you found out you were pregnant?”

Bridget hesitated, her voice growing softer. “Adrian was supportive. He took responsibility immediately and made sure I was okay. But we both knew that staying together wasn’t going to work. His life... it was too structured, too demanding. And I wasn’t ready to live in that world, where everything was dictated by his father’s expectations.”

Sally chewed on her lip, processing the weight of Bridget’s words. “So, that’s why you broke up? Because of his family?”

Bridget nodded. “In a way, yes. His father’s influence was huge. And Adrian was loyal to his family, their business, their legacy. It was a life full of responsibilities that I couldn’t be part of, not in the way they needed me to be. It was hard, but we both knew that I couldn’t stay in Switzerland.”

Sally was silent for a moment, her mind reeling from the flood of new information. “So... you went on this amazing trip, and then just... that was it?”

Bridget sighed, leaning back slightly. “Not quite. We stayed in touch after that. And when I found out about you, we talked a lot. Adrian wanted to make sure we were taken care of, and he has, always. He loves you, Sally. Even if he’s not around all the time, he’s always made sure you’re supported.”

Sally frowned slightly, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “Yeah, but... he’s not here. He never stays long, and now he hasn’t visited in almost a year. It’s like he’s some distant figure who just shows up, takes me out to dinner, and then disappears again.”

Bridget reached out, resting a hand on Sally’s knee. “I know, sweetheart. And I wish I had a better answer for you. His life is still complicated, more than I even understand sometimes. But it’s not that he doesn’t care. He just... he’s not good at balancing everything. He tries to keep his distance because he thinks it’s easier that way.”

Sally’s frustration softened, replaced by a quiet sadness. “I just don’t understand why he can’t be here more.”

Bridget’s heart ached at the sight of her daughter’s disappointment. “I know. It’s hard to explain, but he’s dealing with a lot that we don’t see. His father passed away recently, and I think that’s been weighing on him. There’s more to his world than we know.”

Sally sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I just... wish he was around more.”

Bridget pulled her daughter into a hug, holding her close. “I know, Sally. And I’m sorry it’s like this. But I promise, he loves you. Even if it doesn’t always feel that way.”

Sally rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, quiet for a moment. “It’s just... weird, knowing all this now. I didn’t know how complicated everything was.”

Bridget smiled softly, stroking Sally’s hair. “You’re learning more about him, and about where you come from. It’s okay to feel confused. But know that no matter what, you’re loved.”

As they sat together, the silence of the room returned, but now it felt different—full of the weight of the conversation they had just shared. Sally had learned more about her father than she ever expected, and though there were still unanswered questions, she felt a sense of closeness with her mother she hadn’t before. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow over them as they held onto each other in the quiet, both knowing that the conversation had changed things.

Chapter 28 - Sweet Returns

Later that night, the house had settled into its usual calm. The moonlight filtered gently through Sally’s curtains as she lay in bed, the familiar softness of her blanket tucked around her. She had just finished diapering herself—a task that she once resisted, but now it felt different. She was doing it because she had to, because it was part of the plan, a necessity. And yet, there was something about the act that gave her a small thrill. It was strange, but knowing it was an obligation made it feel less like a burden and more like a ritual.

The diaper crinkled softly as she shifted under the covers, and Sally couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort, not just from the familiar padding but from something deeper. The whole evening had been heavy with new revelations—about her father, her mother, and the complicated history that had shaped her life. She felt... connected. Like she had unlocked a part of her past she hadn’t even known she was missing.

She closed her eyes, her mind swirling with images of her mother’s stories—the fast drive down the autobahn, the towering Alps, the fairytale castles. It was hard to picture her parents together in that whirlwind romance, but it made her smile to think of it. Her mother, so practical and grounded, swept up in something spontaneous and exciting. And her father, always so distant and controlled when she saw him, now seemed a little more human. A little more real.

Sally shifted again, the diaper snug around her as she felt a strange but comforting sense of responsibility. She had done what was required of her—diapering herself before bed—and now, lying there in the dark, she felt a small flicker of pride, even contentment. There was something warm about it, knowing she could take care of herself in this way, and that small thrill of following through on what she was supposed to do lingered.

Her thoughts drifted back to her mother, who had opened up more tonight than she ever had before. Sally felt closer to her, like they shared something new, a deeper understanding. It was comforting to know more about where she came from, about the romance that had brought her into the world, even if it hadn’t lasted. And yet, the stories also made her want to know her father better—beyond the occasional visits, beyond the dinners that always felt so formal. She wondered what he was like when he wasn’t playing the role of "the visiting father."

As she lay there, listening to the quiet sounds of the night, Sally felt something shift inside her. She wasn’t sure how everything would unfold, but knowing more about her parents—especially her father—made her hopeful. Hopeful that maybe she could understand him better, that maybe he would let her into his world a little more. The thought of it warmed her, even as the cool night air settled around her room.

Sally snuggled deeper into her blankets, her body relaxed and content. The soft padding of her diaper, once something she’d resisted, now felt like a small, comforting reminder that she was following her own path, even if it was a little different from what she had imagined. And as her eyes grew heavy, she smiled to herself, knowing that tonight, she had taken a step closer to understanding who she was—and who her parents were.

With that warmth in her heart, Sally drifted off to sleep, her mind quiet and peaceful, filled with the hope that there was still more to learn, more to discover about her family, and more to come in the future.

--

Sally woke before dawn, the house still wrapped in the thick quiet of early morning. The silence pressed in, the kind that only existed at 4 a.m., when the world seemed to hold its breath. She blinked her eyes open and stared at the ceiling, the faint glow of the half-moon casting long shadows across her room. Despite the calm stillness around her, a familiar restlessness churned in her chest. Sleep wasn’t going to come back—not tonight.

She pushed the blanket off her legs and sat up slowly, feeling the cool air brush against her skin. Her t-shirt, a regular one that hung just above the waistband of her diaper, left her exposed, but she didn’t mind. The house was empty, dark, and still. The soft crinkle of her diaper followed her as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, feet touching the cold floorboards.

As she stood, the quiet crinkling sound reminded her of her condition. She paused, her hand brushing against the front of the diaper, checking. Dry. A small, satisfied smile played at her lips, but the tension she felt in her body still hadn’t faded. Standing there in the dark, listening to the faint sounds of the house creaking around her, she felt a familiar urge rise. She could let go. The tension, the restlessness—it could all be released.

With deliberate focus, Sally let go, warmth spreading through her diaper. It was a soft, familiar comfort, the release calming her mind as much as her body. The restlessness ebbed as the wetness soaked into the padding. It felt like a small victory, a moment of control in the stillness of the early morning. She took a deep breath, feeling the tension drain away with it.

Sally padded quietly toward her door, the wet diaper crinkling softly with every step. The hallway stretched out before her, the upper floor of the house bathed in darkness except for the faint glow of streetlights filtering in through the tall windows. The house felt expansive at this hour, its high ceilings and wide spaces somehow larger in the stillness. As she reached the bannister, she paused, her hand resting on the smooth wood.

Below her, the living room opened up, its large windows letting in slivers of moonlight that outlined the furniture in soft, silver light. Beyond the living room, she could just make out the open-concept kitchen, the dark countertops barely reflecting the light from the street outside. Everything was still. It felt like she was the only person in the world awake, walking through a place frozen in time.

Sally continued along the upper floor, her bare feet soundless against the floorboards, the quiet crinkle of her diaper the only sound breaking the silence. She moved with purpose now, her destination clear. The studio. She hadn’t been there in days, but now, in the semi-darkness of the house, it was all she could think about. The unfinished canvas, painted black to match her darker feelings, waited for her, and something inside her was telling her it was time to return.

She reached the studio door, her hand hovering over the knob for a moment before she pushed it open. The familiar smell of paint and canvas greeted her, and she stepped inside. The room was dark, but the moonlight streaming through the small window offered just enough light for her to make out the shapes of her supplies—the easel, the jars of paint, and the black canvas looming in the center of the room.

Her eyes scanned the room, landing on her large sippy cup sitting on her worktable. It was the one her mother had given her specifically to use in the studio, oversized and almost comical with its baby motifs, but practical enough to hold plenty of water during her long painting sessions. The sight of it brought a small smile to her lips, a reminder of her mother’s way of showing care, even in little things.

Sally picked it up, feeling the familiar shape in her hands, but noticing it was empty. With a small sigh, she made her way to the adjoining bathroom, her diaper crinkling softly as she walked.

Inside the bathroom, the light from the street filtered in just enough for her to see the faucet. She turned it on, the sound of running water breaking the quiet for a moment as she filled the cup. The water splashed softly against the plastic, and she smiled slightly, feeling the simple satisfaction of the familiar routine. She turned off the faucet and made her way back to the studio, the sippy cup in hand.

As she placed the cup on the table next to her paints, her eyes caught sight of something else—a large pacifier sitting next to her supplies. It had been there for a while, something her mother had gotten her during one of their shopping trips, more as a joke than anything else. Still, Sally had kept it, sometimes using it when she painted, letting the rhythmic sucking calm her nerves.

She smiled ruefully at the sight of it, thinking she might use it later. The thought brought her a strange sense of comfort, a small secret indulgence that only she understood.

Turning her attention back to the black canvas on the easel, Sally felt her mind begin to focus. The darkness of the canvas reflected the uncertainty and confusion she had been feeling, but tonight was different. The conversation with her mother the night before had shifted something inside her. She had learned more about her parents than she ever expected, and though the story was complicated, it had brought her a strange warmth. A sense of understanding.

Sally dipped her fingers into the paint, feeling the cool wetness coat her skin. She was ready to turn the darkness into something brighter, something hopeful. The restlessness that had woken her was fading now, replaced with a sense of purpose. As she lifted her hand to the canvas, the first stroke of color breaking the black surface, she felt a small thrill of excitement.

She was ready. Ready to let the darkness transition into something brighter. Ready to let her fingers bring her emotions to life. And as she glanced back at the sippy cup on the table, and the pacifier sitting nearby, she felt a sense of peace. Everything was just as it should be, and she was exactly where she needed to be.

Sally stood in front of the black canvas, her fingers hovering over the paint jars. The room was still, the only sounds the occasional creak of the house and the soft hum of the early morning. The sippy cup sat beside her on the table, the baby motifs gently lit by the moonlight streaming through the window. She glanced at it for a moment, then back at the canvas, feeling the weight of her emotions pressing in from all sides.

There was a stirring inside her, a restless energy, but unlike earlier in bed, this felt different. There was something purposeful about it now. She could feel the tension bubbling up, ready to be released. Her fingers moved instinctively toward the bright hues of blue on her palette—vibrant, electric shades that called to her. They reminded her of the film she had been thinking about recently, with its intense emotional moments and vivid use of color. The blue hues had always stood out to her, symbols of freedom and the ocean, things she could only reach through imagination.

She dipped her fingers into the first hue, feeling the cool paint glide across her skin. It was a deep blue, almost indigo, rich and intense. Without overthinking it, she pressed her fingers to the canvas, smearing the blue in a sweeping motion that cut through the blackness. The contrast was stark—darkness against vibrant color—but it felt right. The paint smeared easily, and she began to lose herself in the act, her fingers dancing across the canvas in fluid, abstract motions.

She switched to a lighter blue, this one brighter, almost electric. She mixed it with the deeper blue, creating swirls and lines that seemed to ripple across the canvas like waves. It was as though she was releasing her thoughts, her emotions, onto the canvas—transferring the pent-up feelings she hadn’t been able to articulate into the fluidity of the paint. The blues mingled with the black background, creating a dynamic tension between light and dark, chaos and calm.

As she worked, Sally found herself growing thirsty. Without pausing her painting for too long, she grabbed the large sippy cup her mother had given her and took a long drink. The cold water refreshed her, grounding her back in the present moment, its practicality contrasting with the childishness of the cup. But she didn’t mind; it made her feel taken care of, even though it was just a small, personal indulgence. She placed it back down on the table, her fingers already itching to return to the paint.

The strokes became faster, more urgent, as if her emotions were being wrung out through her hands and onto the canvas. The motion felt cathartic, releasing the built-up energy that had been lingering in her since her conversation with her mother the night before. Her thoughts of her father, the revelations, the complexities of their relationship—all of it seemed to seep into the vibrant blues she was using, as if the canvas could absorb her emotional turmoil.

Sally paused for a moment, stepping back to look at what she had done. The blues and blacks swirled together in a way that made the painting feel alive, pulsing with her inner energy. Her body was tense, but it was the kind of tension that felt productive, as though she was releasing more than just paint onto the canvas. She was letting go of her thoughts, her confusions, her frustrations—letting them bleed into the abstract shapes she had created.

As she continued painting, she became aware of the growing warmth in her diaper. It was almost unintentional, the way she allowed herself to wet. There had been a quiet, subtle tension in her body, and as she released it into the padding, she felt the same sense of satisfaction she had earlier. It was like everything was working together—her body, her mind, the paint—all moving in harmony, releasing the things she didn’t need to hold on to anymore. The warmth spread through the diaper, and she smiled slightly, feeling more in control, even though she was letting go.

The familiar crinkle accompanied her every movement as she worked, but it was background noise now. The wet diaper wasn’t a distraction—it was part of the routine, part of the comfort. She didn’t even pause to think about it as she grabbed her sippy cup again, taking another long drink, letting the water cool her from the inside out.

Her eyes flicked to the pacifier lying on the table. She had spotted it earlier, and the thought of using it lingered at the edge of her mind. It had always been a source of comfort during her more intense painting sessions, a calming presence when she needed it most. With a small, rueful smile, she picked it up, rolling it between her fingers for a moment before popping it into her mouth. Instantly, the familiar sensation soothed her, the gentle sucking motion helping her relax further.

With the pacifier in her mouth and the crinkling diaper beneath her, Sally felt completely at ease. She stood there in the studio, the moonlight still casting long shadows across the room, and let herself sink into the rhythm of her painting. The blue hues continued to dominate the canvas, swirls of light and dark, chaos and calm, all coming together in a symphony of color that perfectly matched the swirling emotions inside her.

The pacifier and the diaper added to the sense of security she felt, a cocoon of comfort as she let herself go. The wetness in her diaper was a reminder of the release she had allowed herself, the physical manifestation of letting go of her pent-up emotions. It was all part of the process—part of the balance she had found between her emotions, her body, and the canvas in front of her.

As the session wore on, Sally felt the last bits of tension draining from her. The blues on the canvas glowed softly in the dim light, their vibrancy a stark contrast to the black background she had started with. The painting had transformed, just as she had. What had begun as a reflection of darkness and confusion was now a piece full of life, full of movement and hope.

She stood back from the canvas, sucking gently on the pacifier, and smiled around it. The blues, the crinkle of her diaper, the sippy cup—all of it was part of her world, her space. And in that moment, everything felt exactly as it should. She had released the tension, both mental and physical, and it had found its way into her art. The canvas was alive, just like she felt.

For the first time in days, Sally felt peaceful.

--

The hours had slipped away without Sally noticing. The soft, rhythmic sucking of her pacifier, the feel of the paint beneath her fingers, and the soothing crinkle of her diaper as she moved around the studio had lulled her into a state of focused calm. She had completely lost track of time, the bright studio lights masking the fact that the morning sun was now flooding the rest of the house with warm light. Her painting had become a vivid swirl of blues, purples, and softer hues that now took up the entire canvas.

Sally had barely moved from her spot at the easel, the world outside the studio forgotten. Her diaper, once a source of comfort, was now sagging heavily between her legs, soaked through from hours of absorption. She shifted slightly, feeling the weight of it pull against her hips, but even then, she didn’t mind. She was too absorbed in her work to care.

As she added the final touches to her painting, the sound of the studio door opening behind her went unnoticed. Bridget stepped in quietly, her eyes adjusting to the bright lights of the room. She spotted Sally immediately, her daughter completely engrossed in the canvas, the pacifier still in her mouth. For a moment, Bridget just watched her, a fond smile spreading across her face. There was something so sweet, so pure about the sight. Sally, despite her near-teenager status, looked vulnerable and peaceful in a way that made Bridget’s heart swell.

But then Bridget’s eyes drifted downward, taking in the state of her daughter’s soaked, sagging diaper. It hung low on her hips, the wet padding obvious and heavy, threatening to leak at any moment. Bridget smiled to herself—good thing she had come prepared. She had a spare diaper with her, and even brought along a booster pad for extra protection. Sally clearly needed it after all these hours in the studio.

Bridget stepped closer, her footsteps finally catching Sally’s attention. Sally turned slightly, her pacifier still in her mouth, her fingers stained with paint, blinking as she realized her mother was standing right behind her.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Bridget said with a knowing smile. “You’ve been at it for a while, haven’t you?”

Sally blinked again, the pacifier still bobbing gently in her mouth, before finally pulling it out. “Oh... hi, Mom. I didn’t realize how long I’ve been here,” she said, glancing out the window where the bright morning light streamed in. “Is it already morning?”

Bridget chuckled, her eyes glancing down at the state of Sally’s diaper. “It’s more than just morning, honey. You’re about to float away in that diaper of yours. How long have you been sitting in that?”

Sally glanced down at herself, suddenly more aware of the heavy sag and the squish beneath her. Her cheeks flushed pink, a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “Uh... I guess I didn’t really notice,” she admitted, shifting her legs a bit.

Bridget raised an eyebrow, hands on her hips. “Well, I’d say you’re overdue for a change, young lady. Good thing I brought supplies.” She reached into the bag she had brought with her and pulled out a fresh diaper, along with a booster pad.

Sally gave her mother a sheepish grin. “I guess I got a little too into painting. Time just... disappeared.”

Bridget shook her head, but there was nothing but affection in her voice. “It certainly did. And it looks like that diaper’s about to give up on you completely. Come on, let's get you sorted.”

Sally shifted on her feet awkwardly, knowing her mother was right but still feeling a bit shy about the whole situation. “I didn’t mean to... you know, wait so long,” she mumbled.

Bridget laughed lightly, placing a hand on Sally’s arm. “Sweetheart, it’s fine. You were focused, and I’m glad you’re finding your creative groove again. But this diaper—well, let’s just say it’s seen better days.”

Sally couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Yeah, it’s a little... full,” she admitted.

Bridget knelt down, taking a quick but careful peek at the waistband of the diaper, which was sagging low on Sally’s hips. “A little? Honey, this thing’s ready to burst. Good thing I brought a booster pad. We’ll make sure the next one holds up a little better.”

Sally blushed again but felt the usual comfort that came with her mother’s warm, loving tone. “Thanks, Mom. You’re always so prepared.”

Bridget smiled warmly as she unfolded the fresh diaper. “Well, I know my girl, don’t I? You’re not the only one who loses track of time when you’re focused. I’ve got to be ready for these moments.” She patted the changing mat she had spread out on the floor. “Come on, lie down, and let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sally hesitated for just a moment before obliging, lying back on the mat with a sigh. Her vulnerability was on full display, but the gentle, motherly care in Bridget’s hands made it easier. There was nothing embarrassing about it, just the same warmth and love she had always known.

Bridget knelt beside her, unfastening the tapes of the soaked diaper and lifting it away. “You really did a number on this one,” she teased, wiping her daughter clean with practiced ease.

Sally bit her lip, suppressing a laugh. “Yeah, I guess I didn’t realize how much I had to let go.”

Bridget glanced at her knowingly, finishing the clean-up. “Sometimes that’s exactly what you need to do. Let it all go. That’s what the diapers are for, right? To keep you focused and relaxed, especially when you’re working on something important.” She slid the booster pad into the new diaper and pulled it up, fastening it snugly around Sally’s waist. “There we go. Good as new.”

Sally propped herself up on her elbows, looking down at the fresh, thick diaper now wrapped around her. She felt lighter, cleaner, and more at ease. “Thanks, Mom,” she said softly. “I didn’t even realize how much I needed that.”

Bridget smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair from Sally’s face. “That’s what I’m here for. You get lost in your art, and I’ll make sure you stay taken care of.”

Sally sat up fully, feeling the comforting bulk of the fresh diaper beneath her, and smiled. “You always know what I need, don’t you?”

Bridget laughed. “Of course. It’s a mom thing.”

They both laughed softly, the tension in the room melting away completely. Sally stood up, feeling secure and ready to get back to her work, the pacifier still dangling from her fingers.

“Maybe next time I should set a timer,” Sally joked, as she reached for her sippy cup.

Bridget chuckled. “Or maybe I should just check on you a bit more often. Now, finish up your painting, and I’ll be back with breakfast.”

Sally watched as her mother left the studio, feeling a swell of gratitude. Despite the vulnerability of the moment, she felt safe, understood, and ready to continue her day with a fresh start.

Sally stood up, adjusting herself slightly as the fresh diaper settled into place. The extra bulk of the booster pad was immediately noticeable, pushing her legs apart just a little more than usual and altering her stance. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just different, and she felt a slight shift in how she balanced her weight. She shifted her hips experimentally, feeling the soft crinkle of the new diaper with every movement.

The padding was thicker than before, giving her a sense of added security. It was almost comforting, like a physical reminder that she could let go when she needed to—whether that was emotionally or physically. She stood there for a moment, getting used to the new feeling, and then smiled slightly to herself.

"Guess I won’t be needing a change for a while," she thought with a quiet laugh, running her hand along the waistband to ensure everything felt snug.

Sally glanced over at her sippy cup, now empty again. The bright colors and babyish motifs seemed to stand out in the light of the studio, but instead of feeling embarrassed, she found it endearing. It was part of her routine now, part of the way she found peace in her studio space. With a soft sigh, she picked it up and made her way to the adjoining bathroom to refill it.

The bathroom felt cool compared to the warmth of the studio lights, the tiles smooth beneath her bare feet. She turned on the faucet, the sound of running water filling the small space, and filled the sippy cup to the top. The coolness of the water was refreshing in her hands as she screwed the lid back on tightly. As she stood there, she shifted her weight again, feeling the bulk of the diaper gently press against her thighs. It was a sensation she had grown used to, but today, it felt a little more pronounced with the extra padding. The thickness gave her a strange sense of comfort, grounding her in the present moment.

With the cup refilled, she made her way back to the studio, the sound of her diaper softly crinkling with every step. There was something almost rhythmic about it, like a subtle soundtrack to her movements. The sensation of the extra bulk was no longer something she was self-conscious about—it simply was. It was part of her, part of how she navigated her creative world.

Back at the easel, Sally placed the sippy cup within reach on the table and turned her attention once more to the canvas. The vibrant blues she had been working on earlier were still wet, their hues blending beautifully against the black background she had started with. The contrast between the colors mirrored the contrast of her emotions—darkness and light, confusion and clarity.

She picked up a new shade of blue, this one softer, more like the sky at dawn. Dipping her fingers into the paint, she let herself get lost in the motion again. The paint glided smoothly across the canvas, her fingers moving with a freedom that matched the calm she now felt. The act of painting, combined with the comforting presence of the fresh diaper, the soft sucking of the pacifier earlier, and the cool water from her sippy cup, all created a kind of harmony. It was as if every part of her routine was working together to help her release whatever pent-up feelings she had carried with her.

The thick padding beneath her made her movements feel more deliberate, more grounded, as if the weight was helping to anchor her. Each stroke of her fingers on the canvas felt purposeful, each color added to the painting bringing her closer to a sense of peace. She sipped from her sippy cup occasionally, the cool water refreshing her between bursts of creativity.

As she continued painting, she no longer thought about the bulk of the diaper or the crinkle that accompanied her every movement. Instead, she focused on the colors—how they danced and blended, how they told the story of her emotions. The blue hues had transformed the once-black canvas into something alive, something filled with hope.

Sally’s mind was clear now. The studio, the painting, her diaper—all of it had become part of her way of processing the world, of letting go of whatever tensions she held inside. The thick padding against her thighs, the water in her sippy cup, and the colors on her canvas—they were all tools she used to find her balance.

But a visitor was approaching.

Chapter 29 - Grounded

A visitor was approaching.

Clara had always known how to move quietly, something that never failed to surprise Sally. It’s why, when Clara snuck into the studio that morning, Sally didn’t hear a thing until she felt the presence of someone behind her.

"Well, well," Clara’s voice broke the silence softly, laced with amusement. "Look at the little artist at work."

Sally didn’t jump, didn’t flinch. She was so relaxed in Clara’s company, she just smiled as she continued painting, her fingers working the last bits of blue into the canvas. "Hey, Clara," she said, not turning around. "I didn’t hear you come in."

"That’s the idea," Clara teased, walking further into the studio, taking in the scene in front of her. She noticed the vibrant swirls of blue and the black background that was slowly being overtaken by softer, more hopeful hues. But her eyes lingered on Sally. There was something about her—standing there, in her paint-streaked t-shirt, her diaper softly crinkling as she moved, completely absorbed in her work—that Clara found incredibly endearing. It wasn’t just the sight of Sally so completely relaxed, but the strength she saw in her, too. Sally had her vulnerabilities, sure, but there was a quiet resilience about her, a determination to keep going no matter what.

Clara leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “You know, you look pretty cute when you’re all focused like that. There’s something about an artist in her element.”

Sally smirked, finally turning her head slightly to glance at Clara. “Flirting already? It’s barely ten in the morning.”

Clara shrugged, her smile widening as she stepped closer to the easel. “What can I say? Katrina’s busy with her parents, and someone’s got to give you a little attention.”

Sally laughed softly, dipping her fingers back into the paint. “Lucky me,” she teased, her tone light. But in truth, she enjoyed the banter. Clara’s flirty remarks were always playful, and there was a warmth behind them that Sally appreciated. Being around Clara was easy—there was no need to explain herself or hide anything.

Clara stepped closer, her eyes flicking between the canvas and Sally’s relaxed posture. “I love the blues. They remind me of that film you were telling me about—the one you weren’t supposed to watch.” She shot Sally a mischievous grin. “What was it? Blue is the Warmest Color, right?”

Sally smiled, nodding as she spread another streak of blue across the canvas. “Yeah, it’s kind of where the inspiration came from.” She paused, glancing back at Clara with a small, self-aware smirk. “Though I’m not sure I got all of it.”

Clara laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Don’t worry. You’re probably better off without understanding all of it.” She walked up to Sally’s side now, watching her work from over her shoulder. “But still, I like this,” she added, her voice softer now. “It’s like... hope, you know? It’s bright.”

Sally nodded, still working the paint with her fingers. “That’s the idea. It didn’t start that way, but...” She trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence. Clara understood. They both knew how things sometimes started in one place and ended up somewhere completely different.

Clara’s eyes drifted downward for a moment, noticing the soft crinkle of Sally’s diaper as she shifted her weight, focusing on a new spot on the canvas. There was nothing awkward about it—not between them. Clara had known about Sally’s diapers for a long time, and if anything, she found it another reason to admire her. The fact that Sally was completely herself, even with her vulnerabilities exposed, made her seem stronger. There was a quiet confidence in the way she stood, fully absorbed in her work, not caring what anyone thought.

“You really are something, you know that?” Clara said softly, almost to herself.

Sally paused for a moment, glancing back at Clara, her eyes narrowing with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Clara shrugged, her eyes twinkling. “I mean, you’re here, doing your thing, not letting anything stop you. And on top of it all, you manage to look adorable while doing it.”

Sally rolled her eyes, but there was a smile playing at the corners of her lips. “You’re relentless.”

“Hey, I’m just saying what I see.” Clara gave her a teasing nudge. “Besides, you know you love the attention.”

Sally didn’t respond immediately, but her smile widened. “Maybe,” she admitted quietly, focusing back on her painting. “Maybe a little.”

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, the kind that only existed between people who didn’t need to fill every moment with words. Sally continued to paint, and Clara watched her, content to just be in the same space. Every now and then, Clara would make a quiet comment—about the colors, about how much she liked the swirls of blue, or about how Sally should definitely teach her to finger paint. Sally would laugh softly, enjoying the banter, but keeping most of her focus on the canvas in front of her.

At one point, Sally reached for her sippy cup, taking a long drink of the cool water inside. Clara watched her with a smile, finding the sight of Sally—sipping from a brightly colored cup meant for a toddler—oddly charming.

“You and that sippy cup,” Clara teased, her voice light. “You never change.”

Sally shrugged, unfazed. “It’s practical. And it keeps me from spilling water all over my paints. You should try it sometime.”

Clara laughed softly, shaking her head. “Maybe. But I’d look ridiculous.”

“Please,” Sally shot back. “You’d look ridiculous doing anything.”

Clara gasped in mock offense. “Wow, okay, I see how it is.” But she was grinning, and Sally’s laugh was enough to lighten the moment even more.

They stayed like that for a while, the painting coming to life under Sally’s hands as Clara occasionally offered quiet commentary or playful banter. The morning passed easily, the sound of the paint, their light-hearted conversation, and the soft crinkle of Sally’s diaper blending into the calm rhythm of the day.

Sally didn’t feel the time passing at all. She was so immersed in the process, in the warmth of Clara’s presence, that everything else faded away. The soft hues of blue on the canvas reflected the lightness she felt inside—free, calm, and for once, unburdened by anything but the moment.

Eventually, the spell was broken by the sound of Bridget’s voice drifting through the house.

“Girls, lunch is ready!” Bridget called from downstairs, her voice warm and full of its usual energy.

Clara glanced at Sally, raising an eyebrow. “You ready to eat, Picasso?”

Sally grinned, wiping her hands on a nearby rag. “Yeah, let’s go. I’m starving.”

As they headed out of the studio together, Clara looped her arm through Sally’s with a playful grin. “You’re lucky I’m keeping you company today. Katrina’s gonna be jealous.”

Sally laughed, leaning into the banter. “She’ll survive. She’s got her parents, remember?”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t have you,” Clara replied, squeezing Sally’s arm gently.

Sally smiled softly as they walked down the stairs. She may have started the morning feeling vulnerable and exposed, but now, she felt content—like everything was exactly as it should be. And Clara was right there with her, making the day just a little bit brighter.

As Sally and Clara made their way down the stairs, Bridget was already busy setting the table for lunch. She glanced up at the sound of their footsteps and smiled warmly. “There you two are. I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost in that studio of yours, Sally.”

Sally grinned, shrugging as she plopped herself down at the table. "You know me—once I start painting, I lose track of time."

Clara, sliding into the seat beside Sally, gave her a mischievous grin. “Oh, she’s been more than just painting, Mrs. B. She’s been drinking like a fish.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Is that so?” She shot Sally a mock-serious look. “I hope it was only water, young lady.”

Sally rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh as she took another sip from her sippy cup, proving Clara’s point. “It was all water,” she protested, though the pacifier still sitting on the studio table would suggest otherwise when it came to keeping a straight face.

Clara leaned in, grinning wider. “Oh, trust me, she’s had more than one refill of that sippy cup. I think she’s preparing for a flood.”

Bridget laughed, shaking her head as she walked over. “Well, it certainly explains a few things.” She gestured to Sally’s waistline, her eyes narrowing with playful suspicion. “You’ve only been changed a couple of hours ago, and it already feels like you’ve been through a downpour.”

Sally blushed slightly, biting her lip as she shifted in her chair. She had been pretty focused on her painting and might have lost track of just how much she’d been drinking, and well, letting go. “It’s not that bad,” she muttered under her breath, though even she could feel the weight of her diaper pressing against her.

Bridget raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms with an exaggerated look of disbelief. “Not that bad?” she said, walking over to give Sally a quick, practiced check. “Sally Collins, I’m pretty sure I could wring this diaper out like a sponge.”

Clara burst out laughing, leaning back in her chair. “Told you! She’s been guzzling that sippy cup like there’s no tomorrow.”

Bridget couldn’t help but join in the laughter, giving Sally’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “You’ve really made the most of that booster pad, haven’t you? Good thing I came prepared.”

Sally, though clearly a bit embarrassed, was smiling too. The light-hearted teasing was something she had grown used to, and it was hard not to laugh along when Clara and her mom were in full humor mode. “I was just... staying hydrated!” she said defensively, taking another sip from her sippy cup just to prove her point.

Bridget shook her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, at least you’re hydrated. But I think we’re going to need to get you out of that soggy diaper sooner rather than later.” She gave Sally a mock stern look. “Honestly, what am I going to do with you?”

Clara jumped in, grinning. “Maybe switch her to a hose instead of a sippy cup next time. You know, streamline the process.”

Sally laughed, shoving Clara lightly. “You’re not helping.”

Bridget raised her hands in mock surrender. “Oh, I’m just glad it’s water. I don’t need to find out you’ve been sneaking lemonade in that sippy cup.”

Sally smiled, leaning back in her chair, her cheeks still pink from the teasing. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ve got enough problems with water. I’m not adding sugar into the mix.”

Bridget chuckled and then gave Sally a quick, knowing glance. “Well, speaking of which, we’ll deal with that situation after lunch. I don’t want you waddling around the house with that soggy thing all day.”

Clara grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “She’s already waddling. Trust me.”

Sally let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking her head as she stabbed at the salad Bridget had prepared. “You two are the worst.”

Bridget smiled warmly, leaning over and planting a quick kiss on the top of Sally’s head. “And you love us for it.”

Sally smirked, nodding slightly. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

They all laughed, the playful teasing bouncing between them as the lunch continued. Sally felt completely at ease, the earlier embarrassment fading as she joined in the jokes, knowing she was surrounded by people who cared for her. Even as the weight of her diaper hung between her legs, she couldn’t help but feel the warmth and love that filled the room. And that, above all else, made everything feel right.

After lunch, Bridget wasted no time in ushering Sally back upstairs. Clara followed close behind, clearly eager to watch the playful "punishment" unfold. Sally, already aware of what was coming, walked ahead with mock reluctance, her wet diaper swaying heavily between her legs as she moved. The squish of it made her feel even more aware of how soaked she’d gotten, and with both Clara and her mother in tow, she couldn’t help but feel a little sheepish.

“I’m not sure this is necessary,” Sally grumbled, though there was a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “I mean, I could have just paced myself with the water.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, the amusement clear in her eyes as she carried the fresh diaper and supplies. “Oh, no, no, no. You’ve made it quite clear you need more protection, not less. I think two booster pads should do the trick. Don’t want any more little ‘incidents,’ do we?”

Clara giggled from behind, clearly enjoying every moment of Sally’s playful punishment. “Two boosters, huh? You’ll be waddling for real this time, Sal. I’d pay to see that.”

Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not supposed to be encouraging this!”

Clara just shrugged innocently. “I’m just here for the entertainment.”

They reached Sally’s room, and Bridget immediately set to work. Sally lay back on the changing mat with a resigned grin, her wet diaper crinkling as she settled down. Bridget pulled the soaked diaper away with practiced ease, her eyes widening playfully as she glanced at Clara. “See? I wasn’t exaggerating. It’s like a swimming pool down here.”

Clara, sitting cross-legged on the studio sofa, stifled a laugh. “Well, she did drink, like, three sippy cups of water. You’ve got to stay hydrated, right, Sally?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sally muttered, biting her lip to keep from laughing as her mom wiped her clean. “I’ll take it easy next time.”

“Oh, there’s no ‘next time,’” Bridget said with a mock serious tone. “Not with just one booster, at least.” She pulled out the thick, fresh diaper and laid it underneath Sally, followed by the first booster pad. “You know, you’ll probably have to clear your schedule for the next few hours. This one’s going to keep you very protected.”

Sally snorted, lifting her hips slightly as Bridget adjusted the diaper beneath her. “It’s not that bad, Mom.”

Bridget, however, wasn’t finished. “Oh, but we’re not done yet.” She reached into the bag and pulled out a second booster pad with a grin. “This,” she said, holding it up for effect, “is for extra assurance.”

Sally’s eyes widened. “Two? Seriously?”

Clara burst out laughing from her spot on the sofa. “Oh my God, Sal, you’re gonna be like a balloon! How are you going to walk?”

Sally groaned but couldn’t keep from laughing. “This is getting ridiculous.”

Bridget, unphased by Sally’s protests, slid the second booster pad into place, patting it down snugly before securing the tapes on the thick diaper. “There,” she said with a flourish, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “Now you’ll be protected for anything.”

Sally shifted on the mat, feeling the extra bulk between her legs. The diaper was massive, far bulkier than she was used to, and she had no choice but to waddle slightly as she sat up. She shot her mother an exaggerated glare. “You’ve created a monster.”

Clara was practically doubled over with laughter, her cheeks pink from how hard she was laughing. “I mean... you’re not wrong! That thing is huge!”

Sally stood, feeling the weight of the double-boosted diaper forcing her legs apart more than usual. Every step she took was met with a loud crinkle and a subtle waddle, and she couldn’t help but grin. “Thanks, Mom. I can practically hear myself walking now.”

Bridget chuckled, but she wasn’t done yet. “Oh, we’re not quite finished.” She reached into her bag one last time and pulled out a pair of plastic panties—clear with pastel-colored trim. “These will make sure there are absolutely no leaks.”

Sally’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

Bridget just gave her a knowing smile. “You wanted to drink like a fish, and I’m just making sure you’re ready for it.”

Clara’s eyes sparkled with mischief from the sofa. “I have to say, the plastic panties really complete the look.”

Sally, now wearing an extremely thick diaper and snug plastic panties, felt the familiar crinkle grow louder as she moved. “Oh, don’t worry,” she said with a mock-stern look at Clara. “I’ll make sure to waddle dramatically for you.”

Clara grinned, watching Sally settle herself back into the studio space. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

As Sally resumed her spot near the easel, the extra bulk beneath her made every movement feel exaggerated. She waddled slightly, exaggerating it for Clara’s benefit, making her friend laugh even harder. Clara, now sitting back on the studio sofa with her legs crossed, continued to watch with a gleam in her eyes.

“So, tell me,” Clara began, leaning back and running her fingers through her hair. “How am I supposed to focus on anything when you look so...” She paused, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Adorable? No, that’s not the right word. Resilient. Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Sally grinned as she picked up her brush, dipping it back into the paint. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were so easily distracted.”

Clara shot her a playful look. “Well, it’s hard not to be when you’re standing there in a double-booster diaper and plastic panties, all while finger painting like a pro.”

Sally shook her head, amused. “Is this how you flirt? Because I thought that was Katrina’s job.”

Clara raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly, her tone teasing. “Who says it’s just Katrina’s job?”

Sally turned her head, surprised but also clearly entertained. “Clara, are you flirting with me?”

Clara shrugged with an innocent expression, though the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’m just testing the waters. What are you going to do about it?”

Sally let out a soft laugh, her cheeks turning pink. “You know, I thought you were the sensible one. The responsible one.”

“Oh, I’m very responsible,” Clara said with a grin. “I’m just also aware that you’re cute, and someone’s got to remind you of that.” She winked playfully.

Sally shook her head, though she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “Katrina’s going to be so jealous when she finds out about this.”

Clara laughed softly, leaning back against the sofa. “Maybe she’ll have to step up her game.”

Sally returned to her painting, the extra bulk of the diaper and the gentle flirtation swirling around her in a way that made her feel completely at ease. She had never thought Clara, of all people, would be the one to flirt, but here they were, and it felt surprisingly natural. It added a new layer of fun to the morning, and Sally found herself enjoying it more than she expected.

As she worked, the two of them continued their banter, Clara’s soft teasing and Sally’s amused responses filling the studio with laughter. It was the perfect balance between humor and comfort—exactly what Sally needed. And, even with the extra bulk between her legs, she felt perfectly content, surrounded by the warmth of her best friend’s company and the playful affection that had come with it.

They parted with a hug, and a promise of more Studio time together.

--

Sally was nearing the final strokes of her painting, the vibrant blues blending effortlessly with the blacks as she lost herself in the rhythm of the canvas. The air in the studio was filled with the faint scent of paint and the lingering calm of the morning's creative focus. She didn't even notice when Bridget stepped quietly into the room, holding a simple diaper in one hand and wipes, powder, and oil in the other.

Bridget stood there for a moment, watching her daughter, as the sound of the brush sliding across the canvas filled the room. Sally, absorbed in her work, was completely unaware of her mother's presence until Bridget spoke softly.

“Sally,” her mother said gently, “I think it’s time for a quick break.”

Sally blinked, turning her head to see her mother standing there, diaper in hand. She let out a small sigh, setting her brush down and wiping her fingers on a nearby rag. She knew the routine well enough by now, and there was always something oddly comforting about it. The world paused, and for a moment, she could let everything else fall away.

Without a word, Sally walked over to the changing mat her mother had laid out on the studio floor, feeling the familiar warmth of vulnerability settling over her. Bridget waited, her expression soft but with a certain weight to it, as Sally lay down on the mat, her diaper crinkling slightly as she settled into position.

Bridget began to undo the tapes of Sally’s soaked diaper, the soft ripping sound filling the quiet studio. The cool air hit Sally’s skin, and she shivered slightly as Bridget peeled the diaper away, revealing the dampness underneath. There was no rush in her mother’s movements, just a steady, practiced care as she reached for the wipes and began to clean her gently.

Sally bit her lip, her gaze drifting upwards to the ceiling. The sensation of her mother’s hands moving softly, wiping away the wetness, brought a strange mix of emotions—comfort, vulnerability, and an almost childlike sense of being cared for. The cool wipe against her skin made her inhale sharply, but she stayed silent, biting her lip harder to keep her emotions in check. It wasn’t the first time her mind wandered during these moments, drifting in and out of thoughts she didn’t want to confront.

As Bridget cleaned her, she spoke in a tone that was soft, almost casual, as if the news she was delivering wasn’t earth-shattering. “Sally,” she began, “your dad is coming to visit tomorrow morning.”

Sally’s body tensed, her reaction immediate. “Tomorrow?” she asked, her voice sharp with surprise. Her thoughts swirled in confusion, her stomach tightening. "Why now?" Her voice was small, her vulnerability exposed not just through the diaper change, but in the sudden onslaught of emotions the news brought with it.

Bridget paused for a moment, looking down at her daughter. She pulled out the baby oil and rubbed it gently into Sally’s skin, the soft warmth spreading across Sally’s body, relaxing her despite the storm of thoughts in her head. “I know it’s been a while,” Bridget said, continuing to oil Sally’s skin, “but I reached out to his assistant recently.”

Sally's eyes widened. "You reached out?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bridget nodded, lifting Sally’s legs slightly to reach underneath her with the oil. “I did. I thought it was time. He’s been... distant, and I needed to know why. His assistant said he’s been busy, but that he really wants to see you.”

Sally lay there, feeling the oil being massaged into her skin, her mind buzzing with the revelation. The warmth of her mother’s touch was in stark contrast to the cold rush of emotions she felt. She wanted to say something, to protest, but instead, she bit her lip harder, closing her eyes for a moment. Her father. Tomorrow. It was too much to process.

Bridget reached for the powder next, the sweet smell filling the room as she gently dusted it across Sally’s now-oiled skin. The powder floated in the air like a soft reminder of childhood, of simpler times. Sally's mind, however, was anything but simple. She felt a mix of anger, confusion, and a deep sense of longing, all stirred up by the news of her father’s impending visit.

“He’ll be here in the morning,” Bridget continued as she positioned the fresh diaper beneath Sally, “and he’s excited to spend time with you. I know it’s been hard, but he does care about you, Sally.”

Sally stayed silent, watching as her mother pulled the diaper snug around her waist, the soft tapes sticking firmly in place. The thickness of the diaper, freshly padded and secure, felt heavier than usual, but it wasn’t just the material. It was the weight of everything—her father, her mother’s confession, the reality that was rushing toward her.

Bridget gave her a soft, reassuring smile. “Take your time, sweetheart. I’ll leave you to finish up in here.” She leaned down, brushing a strand of hair from Sally’s face, and planted a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You’ll be okay.”

Sally didn’t respond, her lip trembling slightly as she nodded. Bridget stood, gathering up the used diaper and supplies, leaving the room quietly, allowing her daughter the space she needed to process.

Once alone, Sally lay still, the fresh diaper crinkling as she shifted on the mat. Her mind was racing. Her father’s visit was tomorrow, something she hadn’t been expecting. The news weighed heavy on her, but she didn’t want to confront it, not yet.

Instead of cleaning up or returning to her painting, Sally retreated. Slowly, almost instinctively, she brought her thumb to her lips and began sucking on it softly. The motion was automatic, a return to a place of comfort she hadn’t visited in a long time. It felt safe, like the rest of the world could melt away while she remained cocooned in this small, familiar act of self-soothing.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she curled up slightly on the mat, her body sinking deeper into the diaper’s padding, the sweet smell of powder lingering around her. The studio, with its bright lights and unfinished painting, faded into the background. Sally wasn’t a teenager in that moment. She wasn’t a girl grappling with the sudden reappearance of her father or the complex emotions that came with it. She was small, protected, and cared for. She sucked her thumb gently, her mind retreating further into the warmth of her own childhood memories, where things were simple and safe.

The soft crinkle of the diaper with every small movement became her soundtrack, lulling her further into a place where the adult world and its problems couldn’t reach her. She didn’t want to think about tomorrow, about seeing her father after so long. Instead, she focused on the here and now, letting herself drift into the comfort of her own infantile space, where the only thing that mattered was the softness of her thumb and the familiar security of the diaper around her.

And so, she stayed there, thumb in mouth, eyes closed, retreating from reality as she sought refuge in the safety of her childhood instincts, waiting for the world to pause long enough for her to gather the strength to face what lay ahead.

Chapter 30 - Daddy

Bridget stepped quietly into the studio, her eyes immediately finding Sally curled up on the mat. Her daughter lay there, just in her diaper, with no t-shirt to cover her, as Bridget had expected. The sight of her, stripped down to this vulnerable state, tugged at Bridget’s heart. Sally was gently rocking herself in a fetal position, the soft crinkling of her diaper the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

Tears had clearly been shed—Sally's cheeks were stained, and her eyes looked tired and swollen from crying. Though she had calmed, there was a deep exhaustion in the way she moved, as if she had poured all her emotions into the hours that had passed since Bridget had left her.

The absence of the t-shirt made the scene all the more poignant. Sally, so exposed in just her wet diaper, seemed to have retreated into her own space, trying to find comfort in the rocking motion of her body. It was clear she hadn’t cleaned up or moved from where she had been left, her small movements suggesting that she was still processing the emotional weight of the news about her father’s visit.

Bridget knelt beside her daughter, watching for a moment, her heart breaking at the sight of how tired and worn down Sally looked. The gentle rhythm of Sally’s rocking and the crinkle of her diaper filled the quiet space. There was no resistance in Sally’s body, no energy to protest or even acknowledge her mother just yet. She seemed emotionally drained, a deep fatigue settling over her.

"Sweetheart," Bridget whispered softly, her voice full of warmth and concern. She reached out, resting a gentle hand on Sally’s shoulder, feeling the tension beneath her daughter’s fragile calm. Sally didn’t move much, just a slight shift as if acknowledging her mother’s presence without having the energy to fully respond.

Bridget knelt beside Sally, watching as her daughter rocked gently on the mat, the soft crinkling of her wet diaper the only sound in the quiet studio. Sally hadn’t moved much since Bridget entered the room, but there was a subtle shift in her energy. Slowly, as if summoning what little strength she had left, Sally began to stir. She uncurled herself from her fetal position and, with deliberate slowness, pushed herself up onto all fours. The effort seemed enormous, her body heavy with emotional exhaustion.

Her movements were shaky and tentative, as though the weight of everything she was feeling made even the simplest actions difficult. Bridget stayed still, watching Sally closely, her heart breaking at how exposed her daughter looked. Sally’s vulnerability was laid bare—just in her soaked diaper, thumb still in her mouth, her small body trembling slightly as she tried to rise from the mat.

With slow, labored effort, Sally lifted herself up onto the sofa. She sat there, hunched over slightly, her arms wrapping around her chest as if trying to hold herself together. The sense of exposure, of being seen in such a raw state, was overwhelming. Sally hugged herself tightly, her fingers digging into her skin, trying to protect herself from the flood of emotions that threatened to spill over once again.

Bridget stood beside her, watching carefully, not wanting to overwhelm Sally with words just yet. There was a quiet understanding between them—Bridget knew Sally needed time to come to terms with everything she was feeling. The news of her father’s visit had hit her hard, and now, sitting there in her soaked diaper, Sally was processing the tidal wave of emotions that had consumed her.

“Sally,” Bridget whispered softly, her voice gentle and steady. She knelt down beside her daughter, reaching out to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. Sally’s body stiffened slightly at the touch, but she didn’t pull away. Her arms remained wrapped around herself, hugging tightly, as though trying to shield herself from the world.

Bridget, sensing Sally’s need for comfort but also her desire to maintain some semblance of control, moved slowly. She had brought a clean t-shirt with her, knowing Sally would need something to help her feel more secure. “Let’s get this on, sweetheart,” she said softly, lifting the shirt up and holding it out.

Sally didn’t respond at first, her face still buried in her arms. But after a moment, she nodded slowly, her body relaxing just a fraction. She uncurled slightly, letting her arms drop a little as Bridget carefully helped guide the t-shirt over her head. The soft fabric fell gently around her shoulders, and Bridget pulled it down, covering her exposed torso. The action was simple, but the comfort of being dressed again seemed to help ease some of the tension in Sally’s body.

Once the shirt was on, Sally seemed to let out a small sigh, her body finally settling into the sofa. She looked down at her lap, avoiding her mother’s gaze, still feeling the emotional weight of everything. Bridget sat beside her now, close enough to offer support but giving Sally the space to process what she needed to.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—it was filled with understanding. Sally leaned back slightly into the soft cushions, her arms still wrapped loosely around herself. The crinkle of her wet diaper was a faint reminder of her vulnerability, but with the t-shirt on, she felt a little less exposed, a little more grounded.

Bridget’s hand found Sally’s again, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sally finally looked up, her eyes still red and tired, but the panic and sadness from earlier had softened. She bit her lip, unsure of how to put her emotions into words, but she didn’t need to. The look she gave her mother said enough. Bridget had always been her rock, and in this moment, that steady presence was what she needed most.

“I don’t know what to feel,” Sally admitted quietly, her voice shaky but calm. “I’m… scared, I think. About Dad. I don’t know what it’s going to be like.”

Bridget nodded, her expression gentle and understanding. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s been a long time, and there’s a lot you’re feeling right now. But you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here, and we’ll figure it out together.”

Sally nodded slowly, her arms loosening their grip around her torso. For the first time in hours, she felt the tightness in her chest start to ease. Her body, though still tired, seemed to relax just a little. She leaned into her mother’s side, her head resting gently on Bridget’s shoulder. The familiar warmth of her mother’s presence made her feel safer, more grounded.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard,” Sally murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Because it matters,” Bridget replied softly, stroking Sally’s hair. “And it’s okay to feel like this, Sally. You’re going to be okay.”

Sally stayed like that for a while, letting her mother’s words settle over her like a blanket of reassurance. The fear and uncertainty were still there, but the weight of them didn’t feel as heavy anymore. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and slowly, the overwhelming storm inside her seemed to calm.

For now, she didn’t have to confront everything all at once. She didn’t have to have all the answers. With her mother by her side, Sally felt like she could breathe again, like she could face whatever came next. The wet diaper, the tears, the vulnerability—all of it was part of this moment, but it didn’t define her. She was still strong, still resilient.

As Sally sat there, calm and collected, she realized that even in her most exposed moments, she was never truly alone.

--

Bridget stood slowly, offering a hand to Sally as she did. Sally hesitated for a moment, then reached out and took it, her fingers curling around her mother’s in a soft but firm grip. The room seemed quieter now, the soft hum of the studio lights a distant background noise as Bridget gently pulled Sally up from the sofa.

The walk through the expansive house felt like a journey of its own. The house was big, almost too big sometimes, with long hallways that stretched endlessly, echoing every small sound. Their footsteps were soft, the crinkle of Sally’s wet diaper faint but present with each step. The sunlight from the large windows along the hallway bathed the floors in a golden glow, though it did little to dispel the quiet, almost tender mood between mother and daughter.

Sally leaned slightly into her mother as they walked, her body still feeling heavy with emotional exhaustion. Bridget kept a steady hand on her back, guiding her as they made their way to her bedroom. The house seemed vast, almost like a maze, but with Bridget beside her, Sally felt grounded. Each step was slow, deliberate, as if they were moving through something bigger than just the house itself.

As they passed the bannister overlooking the living room, Sally glanced down at the space below. The open-concept kitchen and large windows revealed the outside world, but it felt distant, as though she and her mother were walking through a separate, quieter reality. The half-empty plates from lunch were still visible on the dining table, but Sally barely registered them. Everything outside of this moment seemed unimportant.

Bridget’s arm stayed around her shoulders as they finally reached Sally’s bedroom, the familiar space offering a small sense of comfort. The soft pastel walls and the bed piled with blankets felt welcoming, like a retreat from the overwhelming emotions of the day.

Bridget guided Sally gently toward the bed, giving her a small smile as she gestured for her to lie down. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable,” she said softly, her voice as tender as ever.

Sally nodded silently and lay back on the bed, feeling the crinkle of her wet diaper as she settled onto the mattress. Bridget moved with quiet efficiency, gathering the fresh diaper, wipes, and powder. There was no rush, no urgency, just the same steady, loving care that Sally had come to rely on.

Bridget began by unfastening the tapes of Sally’s soaked diaper, the sound sharp in the otherwise still room. The cool air hit Sally’s skin, but Bridget was quick to clean her daughter gently, wiping away the wetness with practiced ease. Sally closed her eyes, the sensation of her mother’s hands moving softly over her body making her feel more at ease.

Bridget’s touch was as calming as it was familiar, wiping away the tension of the past hours along with the physical discomfort of the wet diaper. When she finished, she reached for the fresh diaper, lifting Sally’s hips slightly to slide it underneath her, the soft padding settling snugly against her skin.

As Bridget fastened the tapes on the clean diaper, she glanced at her daughter, seeing the exhaustion etched into her face. “Better?” she asked quietly, giving Sally’s leg a gentle pat.

Sally nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah. Thanks, Mom.”

Bridget smiled softly and reached for Sally’s favorite pajamas—a soft, worn-out pair that she knew her daughter loved. She helped Sally into the pajamas, gently guiding her arms through the sleeves, the soft fabric settling comfortably against Sally’s skin.

Once Sally was dressed, Bridget pulled back the blankets on the bed and gestured for her to lie down. Sally didn’t resist, sinking into the comfort of the bed with a sigh. Bridget tucked the blankets around her, the warmth cocooning her as she settled into the soft sheets.

Without a word, Bridget sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Sally gently into her arms. Sally curled up against her, her head resting on her mother’s chest, the soft rise and fall of Bridget’s breathing soothing her. Bridget’s arms wrapped around her daughter, holding her close, her hand stroking Sally’s hair in slow, rhythmic motions.

They stayed like that for a long time, the silence between them filled with quiet understanding. Sally didn’t need to say anything, and neither did Bridget. The warmth of her mother’s embrace, the gentle crinkle of her fresh diaper, and the softness of the bed were enough. In this moment, everything felt simple and safe, as though the world outside the room didn’t exist.

As the minutes passed, Sally’s body began to relax, the tension from earlier draining away. The rhythm of her mother’s heartbeat and the soft comfort of her pajamas lulled her into a peaceful state. Her breathing grew slower, more even, and she felt herself slipping into the gentle pull of sleep.

Bridget stayed with her, holding her until she felt Sally’s breathing deepen, her body growing still in her arms. She pressed a soft kiss to the top of Sally’s head, her heart swelling with love and tenderness.

“You’re going to be okay, sweetheart,” she whispered, though Sally was already fast asleep.

--

Bridget and Sally sat together, a spread of toast, eggs, and fresh fruit between them. It was a peaceful moment, but an undercurrent of tension hung in the air. Adrian’s arrival was looming, and neither of them could entirely relax.

Sally, still in her soft pajamas and feeling the familiar weight of a wet diaper beneath the waistband, poked at her breakfast. Her hair was a bit messy from the morning, and she felt sluggish, not yet fully awake but already preoccupied with her father’s impending visit.

“Do we know exactly when Dad’s going to be here?” Sally asked, pushing a slice of toast around her plate, her voice tinged with nerves.

Bridget sipped her coffee, leaning back slightly in her chair. “His assistant only said his plane is landing at 8. Didn’t mention the airport, but that’s what I know.”

Sally frowned, clearly calculating in her head. “If his plane’s landing at 8, it’s got to be either JFK or Logan. I mean, those are the only airports that get international flights like that.” She paused, thinking harder. “We’re about halfway between both airports. It’ll take him at least a couple of hours to get here. So, if he’s landing at 8, he’ll probably get here around lunch. That gives us time.”

Bridget nodded, following her logic. “I think that’s reasonable. Maybe around noon or a little after.”

Sally relaxed slightly, still fiddling with her food but feeling a bit better. “Yeah, okay. I’ll have time to get ready. I’ll shower, put on something nice...” She trailed off, her mind clearly wandering to what it would be like to see her father after almost a year. The thought still made her stomach churn a little.

They continued their breakfast, making small talk about what they might do once Adrian arrived. Sally, trying to push down her nerves, was just about to say something when she caught a sudden flash of light through the window—a reflection of something outside. Her gaze snapped toward the window, her heart skipping a beat. There, pulling slowly into the driveway, was a long, black SUV. The kind she knew all too well from her father’s previous visits.

Her breath hitched. “Mom,” Sally whispered urgently, eyes wide. “There’s a car. I think it’s him.”

Bridget looked up quickly, following Sally’s gaze out the window. The SUV rolled to a slow stop, and sure enough, the unmistakable figure of Adrian was stepping out of the backseat. He looked as formal and composed as ever, even for an early morning arrival.

Bridget blinked in surprise, her brows furrowing. “That’s... that’s him, alright. He must’ve flown into a smaller airport. I didn’t think he’d get here this fast.”

Sally’s eyes widened, her heart pounding in her chest as the reality hit her. She was still in her pajamas and, worse, still in her wet diaper. The crinkling noise she had gotten so used to was suddenly deafening in her mind. Panic surged through her. “I’m not ready! I— I need to—”

“Sally, go!” Bridget urged, her voice firm but calm. “Run upstairs and get decent. I’ll handle the first few minutes. Don’t worry.”

Without another word, Sally bolted from her chair, her heart racing. The crinkling of her diaper seemed to echo in the hall as she sprinted up the stairs, each step feeling more frantic than the last. Her mind was a whirlwind of panic and self-consciousness. She hadn’t expected him for at least another couple of hours. The idea of facing her father while still in this vulnerable state, dressed like a child, was unbearable.

The crinkling grew louder with every movement, the wet diaper clinging uncomfortably to her as she rushed into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her. She could still hear the muffled sound of the SUV’s engine outside, her father’s distant voice exchanging greetings with Bridget. Her stomach twisted with nerves.

Her hands fumbled as she quickly tugged at the waistband of her pajamas, peeling them down hurriedly. The cool air hit her wet skin as she stripped off the soggy diaper, tossing it into the trash with a sense of urgency. Her face burned with embarrassment at the thought of almost being caught in such a state.

There was no time for hesitation. Sally grabbed her shower cap from the hook and darted into the bathroom. She needed to be quick—just enough to freshen up and feel presentable. The water hit her skin, warm and soothing, but her mind was racing too fast to enjoy it. She couldn’t stop thinking about how suddenly everything had shifted. She was supposed to have time to prepare, to get her mind in the right place before seeing her father. Now, all she could focus on was getting out of the shower as quickly as possible, drying herself, and finding something respectable to wear.

She turned the water off after barely a couple of minutes, her heart still racing. Her thoughts were scattered as she hurriedly dried herself off, every second that passed making her more anxious. Her mind was a tangle of nerves—how would her father react? Would he notice how flustered she was? Would he see through the hurried effort she was making to pull herself together?

Sally practically threw on the first set of clothes she could find—clean underwear, a pair of jeans, and a simple blouse. She pulled on a cardigan, hoping it would give her a little extra polish. Her hands were shaking slightly as she smoothed the fabric down, trying to compose herself.

She glanced in the mirror, seeing her face still slightly flushed from the rush, her hair dry but a little tousled from the quick shower. It would have to do. There wasn’t time for anything more. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her racing heart, staring at her reflection as she gave herself a small nod of encouragement.

“You’ve got this,” she whispered to herself. “Just... breathe.”

But as much as she tried to calm herself, the knot in her stomach remained. She felt small again, like the anxious girl she had been the last time she saw her father. No matter how much she tried to prepare, the sight of him stepping out of the car, that familiar figure from a life she only half-understood, always brought those feelings back.

Sally gave herself one last look in the mirror before heading downstairs, her footsteps softer now, though her heart still thudded in her chest. She could hear the low murmur of voices from the front hall. Her father was inside now, his deep voice unmistakable.

--

Sally's heart raced as she descended the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. Her father, Adrian, was waiting in the foyer, just out of sight, but she could already feel the weight of his presence, as commanding and composed as ever. She hadn’t seen him in almost a year, and the nerves that had been simmering all morning were now in full bloom. The quick shower and change of clothes had done little to calm her.

Bridget’s voice filtered up through the hallway, calm but tinged with surprise. “Adrian, you’re early. We didn’t expect you until closer to noon.”

Sally’s hand tightened on the bannister as she took a deep breath, summoning the courage to step into view. And there he was—her father, standing tall and poised, his dark hair perfectly in place, his eyes sharp as they scanned the house. He looked just as she remembered him—immaculate, every bit the successful businessman she’d always known him to be. Yet there was something almost too perfect about him, something distant, as if he belonged to a different world entirely.

“Hi, Dad,” Sally managed, her voice quiet and tentative as she took a few steps closer.

Adrian turned his gaze toward her, his dark eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, but then his features softened slightly. “Sally,” he said, his voice steady, but with a hint of warmth that hadn’t been there before. “It’s good to see you.”

The formality of his words, coupled with the long silence between them, left Sally feeling more anxious than ever. She hovered by the edge of the room, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, not sure whether to move closer or keep her distance.

Then, almost without thinking, the weight of everything—the time apart, the anticipation, the sheer need for connection—became too much. Sally closed the space between them and wrapped her arms around her father in a sudden, impulsive hug. Her face pressed against his chest, and before she could stop herself, the word slipped out: “Daddy.”

The moment the word left her lips, Sally froze, realizing how childlike it sounded, how out of place it was in the world they lived in now. She hadn’t called him "Daddy" in years, but in that moment, she couldn’t help it. She needed him, needed the reassurance that he was there, even if everything else between them felt so far away.

Adrian stiffened slightly at the unexpected embrace, his hands hovering awkwardly before he slowly placed one hand on her back, a reserved gesture that felt both comforting and distant. He was clearly caught off guard by her calling him "Daddy," but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he let her hold on for a moment longer before gently clearing his throat. “It’s alright, Sally,” he said, his voice quieter now, more tender.

Sally lingered for just another second before stepping back, her cheeks flushed as she avoided his gaze. She felt silly for hugging him so suddenly, for letting that word slip out, but part of her didn’t regret it. She had missed him more than she realized.

Bridget, sensing the need to break the tension, stepped forward with a small smile. “Why don’t we sit down for some coffee? We were just finishing breakfast when you arrived.”

Adrian nodded, his usual composure returning as he followed them into the kitchen. Bridget poured him a cup of coffee, and they all sat down at the table. Sally took her seat across from her father, still feeling a little off-balance from the emotional rush of the hug.

As they settled into their seats, Bridget couldn’t help but comment, her eyes twinkling with a hint of amusement. “You really are early, Adrian. I was sure you’d be flying into New York or Boston.”

Adrian took a sip of his coffee, a small smile playing on his lips. “Well, I told you I’d be landing at 8,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I just didn’t say where.”

Sally furrowed her brow slightly, still confused by the timing. “But how? It’s hours from Boston or New York… unless…”

Adrian chuckled softly, clearly enjoying their confusion. “I didn’t fly commercial. I flew private.”

Bridget’s eyes widened slightly as she looked at him, clearly intrigued. “Flying private?” she repeated, leaning forward slightly. “So, you avoided all the usual customs and waits? You just... land and go?”

Adrian nodded, his posture relaxed, as if this were all quite normal to him. “Exactly. It saves a lot of time when I need to move quickly for business.”

Bridget smiled, intrigued by the efficiency of it all. “I can see why you’d prefer that. It must be nice, avoiding all the hassle of commercial flights.” There was a tone of casual curiosity in her voice, as if she was asking about a particularly convenient service, though she wasn’t unfamiliar with Adrian’s lifestyle.

As they continued discussing it, Sally sat there quietly, her mind spinning. She hadn’t heard much about “flying private” before, and the way they were talking about it made it sound like renting a car or booking a train ticket. But something wasn’t quite clicking.

Finally, after a few more sips of her coffee, Sally couldn’t hold back her curiosity any longer. She looked up at her father, her voice hesitant but genuine. “What... what does flying private mean, exactly?”

Both Adrian and Bridget turned to look at her, and for a moment, there was a pause as they realized she didn’t fully understand the world they were talking about.

Bridget was the first to respond, her voice gentle and explanatory. “It means renting a plane for yourself, honey. No other passengers, no waiting at the airport. Just you and whoever you’re flying with, going directly from one place to another.”

Sally’s eyes widened as she processed that. Renting a plane? For yourself? She had never imagined that was something people could just… do. “So, you rented a plane from Greece?” she asked, still trying to wrap her head around the idea.

Adrian, however, gave a small, sheepish smile and shook his head. “Not quite,” he said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “The Gulfstream is mine.”

Sally blinked, the words not quite registering at first. “Yours?” she repeated slowly. “You mean… you own the plane?”

Adrian nodded, his smile widening slightly as he watched her reaction. “Yes, I do. It’s useful for business, especially when I need to travel internationally.”

Sally stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Owning a plane? The very concept seemed so far removed from anything she’d ever imagined. “So… you just fly wherever you want? Whenever you want?” she asked, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

Adrian nodded again, his tone calm, as if this were the most normal thing in the world. “It does make things easier.”

For a moment, Sally couldn’t find the words. She’d known her father was wealthy, but this was a whole new level. People owned planes? It left her speechless, the reality of his world suddenly feeling even more distant and surreal than ever before.

Bridget watched the exchange with a quiet smile, understanding the gap between Sally’s experiences and Adrian’s. “It’s a different world, isn’t it?” she said softly, glancing at Sally, her voice full of gentle acknowledgment.

Sally nodded slowly, still processing everything. The realization that her father didn’t just rent planes but owned them deepened the sense of awe and confusion she felt about him. He lived in a world she could barely comprehend—a world of wealth and power that felt so far removed from her own life.

And yet, despite the shock, there was a flicker of something else in Sally’s chest. Pride, maybe? Or a strange kind of connection, knowing that she was linked to this world, even if it felt so foreign. She wasn’t sure what to make of it yet, but the conversation left her with a lot to think about.

For now, she stayed quiet, sipping her coffee, trying to wrap her head around this new layer of understanding about her father. There was so much about him she didn’t know, so much she hadn’t understood. But today, in this small, quiet kitchen, some of the pieces were finally starting to fall into place.

Chapter 31 - Business

The breakfast table had long since been cleared, but somehow, the conversation between Sally, Bridget, and Adrian had meandered into the early afternoon. Bridget, still casually dressed in jeans and a light sweater, had suggested they move into the living room for coffee. The mood was light, informal—almost as if they were simply catching up after a long time apart, though a subtle tension lingered in the air.

Adrian had settled into one of the armchairs, exuding a calm authority, his dark hair and sharp features reminding Sally again just how much she resembled him. It was strange, seeing him here, back in their home after nearly a year, but there was a small comfort in the normality of it all. For a brief moment, things felt almost... ordinary.

Bridget passed around cups of coffee, the aroma filling the room, and as she handed one to Adrian, he leaned back slightly, his expression softening.

"So, Sally," he began, his voice warm but with that familiar reserved tone, "how are things going? You know, with school and... life in general?" He paused before adding, "I remember your friends—Clara and... Karina?"

Sally couldn't help but laugh lightly, shaking her head. "Katrina," she corrected. "You always mix up her name."

Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly amused with himself. "Ah, right. Katrina. How are they doing? You three still causing trouble?"

Sally smiled at the playful jab, feeling herself relax slightly. "Yeah, we hang out a lot. Clara and Katrina are still pretty much glued together, and they’ve been busy with their own stuff, but we’re all still close."

Adrian nodded, looking genuinely interested, even though there was a hint of distance, as if he was trying to piece together the details of Sally's life. "And how’s school? I remember you were always good at math. Still your favorite subject?"

Sally shifted a little in her seat, feeling oddly proud that her father remembered. "Yeah, I’m still into math. It’s going well. I’ve been thinking about taking more advanced classes next year." She paused for a moment, then added, "But I also like art. I’ve been spending more time painting lately."

Bridget, listening quietly, smiled softly at this, knowing how much Sally’s art had been helping her express herself lately. She didn’t add anything but simply watched the conversation flow.

Adrian took a sip of his coffee, his eyes flickering with mild surprise. "Art? That’s great. I didn’t know you were into painting." His voice was genuinely curious, as if he was learning something new about his daughter. "What do you like to paint?"

Sally shrugged a little, not quite sure how to explain it. "It depends. Mostly abstract stuff, I guess. Just... whatever comes to mind." She glanced at Bridget, who gave her an encouraging smile, making her feel a little less self-conscious about it.

For a moment, the conversation drifted into lighter topics again, touching on school events, her friends’ latest antics, and small updates about life. The flow felt easy, even if the gap between them all still lingered just below the surface.

Then, Adrian leaned forward slightly, placing his coffee cup down on the table. His tone softened, but there was a seriousness to it. "Speaking of updates, I heard about the car accident. The dealership called when they had to replace the car." He paused, his brow furrowing slightly as he looked at Sally. "You’re okay, right? I mean, it wasn’t too bad, but... that must’ve been a bit scary."

Sally’s smile faltered, her body stiffening slightly at the mention of the accident. She quickly glanced at her mother, feeling a rush of unease. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk about it—well, maybe she didn’t—but the accident had stirred something deeper in her, something she wasn’t ready to unpack in front of her father.

"Yeah," she said quietly, her voice a little flat. "We’re fine. It wasn’t that bad."

Adrian’s gaze lingered on her for a moment, sensing there was more to it than she was letting on, but before he could press further, Bridget smoothly stepped in, her tone light and casual.

"Oh, the car was a total loss," Bridget said, giving a small chuckle, "but we walked away without a scratch. And I must say, we replaced it with a red SUV—Sally’s favorite color." She grinned, gesturing to the large windows that overlooked the driveway where the shiny new vehicle sat. "You should see it. It’s really nice."

Adrian’s eyes flicked to the window, catching a glimpse of the new car, and the shift in conversation was enough to pull him away from the topic of the accident. He smiled, looking mildly impressed. "I see. Well, as long as everyone’s alright."

Sally breathed a quiet sigh of relief, silently thanking her mother for steering the conversation away from the subject. She wasn’t ready to talk about how the accident had triggered something deeper—how it had made her seek out the comfort and security of her diaper therapy, how the whole event had left her feeling vulnerable in ways she didn’t want to share, especially not with Adrian.

The conversation gradually picked back up, meandering through lighter topics again. They talked about the new car for a while, Adrian making a few comments about German engineering and SUVs, and then they returned to more casual banter about school and summer plans.

Bridget stood up to refill their cups, offering more coffee as the conversation settled into a more comfortable rhythm.

The day wore on, the tension of the morning slowly dissipating, but the weight of unsaid things still lingered in the room—at least for Sally. Even as she smiled and responded to her father’s questions, she knew there was more she wasn’t ready to talk about. But for now, the coffee was warm, and the conversation light, and that was enough.

--

As the afternoon sun filtered through the living room windows, casting warm, golden light across the floor, the atmosphere in the room slowly shifted. The informal chatter over coffee had run its course, and there was a lull in the conversation. Sally sat quietly in her usual spot, her hands wrapped around her cup, while Bridget glanced over at Adrian, sensing it was time to address the elephant in the room.

Bridget cleared her throat gently, giving Adrian a soft, yet knowing look. “Your assistant mentioned you’ve had an... intense year,” she began, her tone careful but probing. “She didn’t go into details, but I’ve been meaning to ask. What’s been going on, Adrian? It seems like a lot’s changed.”

Adrian, who had been leaning back in his chair, paused for a moment. He glanced at Sally, then at Bridget, and for a brief moment, his composed exterior faltered. He set his coffee cup down on the table, running a hand through his dark hair, the weight of the past year suddenly catching up with him.

“It has been... a year,” he finally said, his voice quieter than before. There was a heaviness in his words that made both Bridget and Sally sit up a little straighter. “A lot has happened, and I suppose it’s time we talk about it.”

Sally looked between her parents, her brow furrowing slightly in confusion. She hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a serious turn, and though she had sensed something was off earlier, this sudden shift caught her off guard. She had no idea what her father was about to say, but the look on his face made her anxious.

Bridget, sensing Adrian’s hesitation, nodded gently, encouraging him to continue. “Go on, Adrian. It’s time we know what’s been going on.”

Adrian took a deep breath, his gaze falling on Sally for a moment before he spoke. “My father passed away last year,” he said, his voice steady but with an edge of emotion. “I don’t know if you remember much about him, Sally—he wasn’t around much. But he was... a very private man. Very wealthy. And when he died, he left me his entire estate.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly. She had never known much about her grandfather—he was always this distant, mysterious figure in her father’s life. She had only heard bits and pieces about him over the years, but she had never given it much thought. Now, hearing that he had passed away and left everything to her father... it felt surreal.

“His estate?” Bridget asked, leaning forward slightly. “What does that mean, exactly?”

Adrian sighed, leaning his elbows on his knees as he spoke. “It means everything. His properties, businesses, assets... more money than I had ever realized. I knew he was wealthy, but the sheer scale of his estate was beyond anything I could have imagined. The inheritance process has been... complicated, to say the least. And it’s taken up most of my time this past year.”

Sally stared at her father, her mind spinning. The idea that her grandfather had left behind such a vast fortune was difficult enough to grasp, but the fact that her father had been dealing with it for a year without saying anything to her... it felt like a punch to the gut. She wanted to ask why he hadn’t told her, why he had stayed away for so long, but the words got stuck in her throat.

Adrian continued, his tone more serious now. “This isn’t just about me, Sally. You’re a part of this too.”

Sally blinked, her heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

Adrian looked at her, his gaze softening. “The trust fund I set up for you when you were younger—it’s grown significantly. But now, with the inheritance, it’s... well, it’s something else entirely. You’re part of the family estate. When you turn 18, you’ll have access to it.”

Sally’s heart raced, her mind struggling to process what he was saying. She had known about the trust fund, of course, but it had always felt like some distant, abstract thing—something she didn’t have to think about until she was older. Now, it felt like a weight being dropped on her shoulders.

“How much are we talking about?” Bridget asked, her voice calm but clearly wanting to understand the full picture.

Adrian hesitated for a moment, his jaw tightening slightly. “Enough that Sally is probably... the richest teenager in America.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and disorienting. Sally stared at her father, wide-eyed, her breath catching in her throat. The richest teenager in America? That couldn’t be real. It felt like something out of a movie or a dream—completely detached from her reality.

Sally swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “What? That can’t be right.”

Adrian gave her a small, almost sheepish smile. “It’s true. Between the trust fund I set up for you and what’s been added from the inheritance... well, it’s more money than you can probably imagine.”

Sally sat back in her chair, stunned into silence. She didn’t even know how to begin processing that information. Her mind raced, trying to grasp what that actually meant for her life, her future. Did it change anything? Everything? She had always lived comfortably, but this... this was something else entirely.

Bridget glanced at Sally, her expression a mix of concern and understanding. She reached out, placing a comforting hand on Sally’s knee, as if trying to ground her daughter in the midst of this overwhelming news. “That’s... a lot to take in, Adrian,” she said softly.

Adrian nodded. “I know. And I don’t want you to worry about it now, Sally. You don’t have to make any decisions or do anything with it yet. You’re still young, and when the time comes, we’ll help guide you through it.”

Sally finally found her voice, though it was shaky. “So... what does this mean for me? I mean, I don’t know anything about handling that kind of money. I’m just... me.”

Adrian leaned forward, his expression softening even more. “It means that you’ll have opportunities most people don’t. It means you’ll be able to do whatever you want—travel, study, build a business if you want to. But it also means there will be responsibilities. There are expectations that come with this kind of wealth, and I want to make sure you’re prepared when the time comes.”

Sally’s mind was spinning, her thoughts tangled in a mix of excitement, fear, and confusion. The idea of having that kind of freedom was thrilling, but it also terrified her. She didn’t feel ready for that kind of responsibility. She was just a teenager, and now... she was supposed to be one of the wealthiest people her age?

Bridget, sensing Sally’s overwhelm, stepped in again, her voice calm and reassuring. “Sally, nothing has to change right now. You’re still the same person you were this morning. You don’t have to let this define you. It’s just something that’s there, and when you’re ready, we’ll help you figure it out.”

Sally nodded slowly, her mind still buzzing. “Yeah, I guess... I just don’t know what to think.”

Adrian gave her a sympathetic smile. “You don’t have to have it all figured out now. This isn’t something you need to handle alone. I’ve had to deal with this kind of wealth for years, and I’m still learning. The important thing is that you have time to grow into it.”

Sally bit her lip, her thoughts racing. The weight of the inheritance, the trust fund, the implications of being so wealthy—it all felt like too much to carry at once. But as she looked at her father, she could see that he wasn’t just dumping this on her and walking away. For the first time in a long while, he was present, and he was offering to help her navigate this strange new world.

She hesitated for a moment, then asked quietly, “So... does this mean I can buy my own car next year? When I turn 16?”

Adrian blinked, momentarily thrown by the sudden change in topic, but then he laughed—a rare, genuine laugh that caught both Bridget and Sally off guard. “Yes, Sally, you can buy your own car. Any car you want.”

Sally grinned, a spark of excitement cutting through the tension. “I want a Mustang.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly perplexed. “A Mustang? Why a Mustang?”

Without missing a beat, Sally smiled wider and started singing softly, “Mustang Sally, guess you better slow your Mustang down...” She laughed lightly, seeing her father’s confused expression. “It’s not just about the car, Dad. It’s about the feeling. The fun.”

You could have something more... practical. How about a G-Class instead?" He shrugged slightly, his tone casual but clearly leaning toward his own preferences. "It’s comfortable, powerful—German engineering at its finest."

Sally blinked at him, her smile faltering for a moment as she processed the suggestion. "A G-Class?" she asked, clearly unfamiliar with the model. "What’s that?"

Adrian gave a small, amused sigh and gestured with his hand. "Google it. I think you’d like it."

Sally pulled out her phone, quickly typing in "G-Class" into the search bar. As the images popped up on her screen, she stared at the bulky, boxy shape of the car, clearly unimpressed. "This looks... huge," she said, wrinkling her nose. "It’s like something a bodyguard would drive."

Bridget giggled softly from the couch, adding her own playful suggestion. "Or how about a Bentley, darling? If we’re going all out, might as well go for the real luxury."

Sally groaned and laughed at the same time, shaking her head. "Mom, I’m 16, not 60!" she retorted, unable to hold back her amusement.

Adrian leaned back, clearly amused but still processing the idea of his daughter wanting something so different from what he’d envisioned for her. "Well, if a Mustang is what you really want, then a Mustang it is."

The lighthearted exchange had done its job, easing the tension just enough for Sally to relax again. But as the playful banter died down, the weight of the earlier conversation slowly crept back into the room. There was still more to discuss, more to understand about what all of this meant for Sally’s future.

Sally took a deep breath, the lightness fading from her face as her thoughts returned to the overwhelming reality of her situation. She glanced at her mother, then at Adrian, her voice a bit quieter now. "So... what does all of this really mean for me? I mean, I know there’s a trust fund, but what are the expectations? What do I have to do?"

Adrian leaned forward slightly, his expression serious but compassionate. "Sally, you don’t have to do anything right now. The trust fund is there to give you security and opportunities when you’re older. When you turn 18, you’ll have more access to it, but it’s important that you’re prepared for the responsibility that comes with it."

Sally nodded, but her brow was still furrowed with uncertainty. "But what kind of responsibility? I don’t even know how to handle money like that. And... what if I don’t want it to change anything?"

Bridget, sensing her daughter’s anxiety, reached over and gently touched her hand. "Sally, it doesn’t have to change anything about who you are. Money doesn’t define you. It’s just a tool, something that can give you more freedom and options later on. But you’ll still be the same person, and we’ll make sure you’re ready for it when the time comes."

Adrian nodded in agreement, his tone measured but reassuring. "Exactly. You’ll have support. I’ll help guide you through it, and so will your mother. You don’t have to figure it all out on your own."

Sally’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but there was still a hint of apprehension in her voice. "It just feels... like a lot. I mean, I don’t know if I want people to see me differently because of this. I’ve always just been... me."

Bridget gave her a warm, understanding smile. "And you’ll always be you, sweetheart. Money doesn’t change who you are unless you let it. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and we’ll make sure this doesn’t overwhelm you. It’s just something that’s there, and we’ll navigate it together."

Adrian added, his voice a little softer now, "And it’s important to remember that while this wealth gives you opportunities, it also comes with challenges. People may expect things from you, or they might see you differently. But you’ll learn how to manage that. You’ll have control over your own life, and you can choose how to handle this responsibility."

Sally nodded slowly, the weight of their words sinking in. She could feel the enormity of what they were telling her, but she also felt a small sense of relief knowing she wouldn’t have to navigate this alone. She would have support. She wouldn’t be thrust into this world without guidance.

"So... what about all the business stuff?" Sally asked, her curiosity growing. "Is that part of it too? I mean, the inheritance from Grandpa... does that mean I have to get involved with all of that?"

Adrian hesitated for a moment before answering. "Not necessarily. The businesses are being managed by professionals, and they’ll continue to operate as they always have. But if, one day, you’re interested in being more involved, the opportunity will be there for you."

Sally bit her lip, thinking it over. "And what if I don’t want to? What if I don’t want to be involved in any of it?"

Adrian’s gaze softened, and he leaned back again, giving her space to process. "That’s entirely up to you. You’re not obligated to do anything with the family businesses if it’s not what you want. This wealth is about giving you choices, not locking you into a specific path."

Bridget nodded, offering further reassurance. "You’ll have the freedom to decide, Sally. Whether it’s following your own passions, like art or whatever else comes your way, or taking a more active role in the family’s estate—whatever you choose, we’ll support you."

Sally took a deep breath, feeling the overwhelming pressure lift just a little. It was a lot to take in, but at least now she understood the scope of it. She wasn’t being forced into a particular mold. She wasn’t trapped by expectations she hadn’t asked for. Instead, she had choices, options, and time to figure out what she wanted.

"But it still feels like... a lot of responsibility," she said quietly, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability.

Adrian nodded, understanding her concern. "It is. But that’s why we’re here to help you through it. You don’t have to carry that responsibility alone."

Sally sat back in her chair, her mind buzzing with the implications of everything she had just learned. The trust fund, the inheritance, the freedom to choose her path—it all felt so much bigger than anything she had imagined for herself. But for now, she took comfort in knowing that she had her parents’ support, and that she wouldn’t be facing this alone.

As the conversation settled into a quiet lull, Bridget stood up, offering to refill their coffee cups. Sally watched her mother move across the room, feeling a mix of relief and uncertainty. The future was still wide open, and while it was overwhelming, she couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of hope. Whatever came next, at least she knew she wouldn’t have to face it alone.

--

As the evening settled into a calm quiet, Bridget made her way upstairs, her thoughts lingering on the day's events. Adrian had been picked up and taken to his hotel, and she couldn’t help but feel the weight of all that had been said and unsaid. It had been an overwhelming day for Sally, and Bridget wanted to check in on her daughter before bed.

Pushing the door open slightly, Bridget peeked inside. Sally was standing by her dresser, carefully unfolding a fresh diaper, going through the familiar motions of her nighttime routine. Bridget paused, watching for a moment. Despite everything they had talked about today—the trust fund, the responsibilities, the future—here was Sally, still her daughter, still looking for the comfort and security she needed.

Bridget smiled warmly and stepped into the room. “Well, if it isn’t my Pampered Princess,” she said, her voice filled with playful affection.

Sally turned around, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Pampered Princess?” she repeated with mock surprise. “Since when did I get that title?”

Bridget chuckled and crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Since your father informed us that you’re one of the richest teenagers in the country. I figured it suits you now.”

Sally laughed lightly, shaking her head as she finished securing the diaper around her waist. “Great, just what I needed—a nickname that screams ‘spoiled.’”

Bridget’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she looked her daughter up and down. “It’s not about being spoiled. It’s more about how you manage to stay so... grounded, despite everything.”

Sally raised an eyebrow as she tugged her oversized t-shirt down. “Grounded? In a diaper?”

Bridget grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, grounded and pampered, apparently. You’re allowed to have both, you know.”

Sally rolled her eyes with a soft laugh. “Thanks, Mom. I’m sure the business world will really appreciate that perspective.”

Bridget leaned forward, placing a hand on Sally’s knee. “Sweetie, you’re allowed to be you, no matter how big the responsibilities are or what people expect from you. You don’t have to change who you are just because of what’s been handed to you.”

Sally sat down on the bed next to her mother, her tone turning more serious as the weight of the day’s conversations came rushing back. “It just feels weird,” she admitted. “Like, how am I supposed to handle all of this? One minute I’m just... me, and the next minute I’m supposed to be dealing with trust funds and businesses. It’s like there are two versions of me.”

Bridget nodded, her expression softening with understanding. “It is a lot. But you don’t have to figure it all out right away. You’re still you, and nothing changes that. You don’t have to let the money or the responsibilities define who you are. You get to decide that.”

Sally sighed, her hands fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “It’s just hard to wrap my head around. I don’t want it to change everything. I mean, I like my life the way it is.”

Bridget smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind Sally’s ear. “And it doesn’t have to change everything. Sure, there will be decisions to make down the road, but you don’t have to rush into anything. You’re still the same Sally you were yesterday, and you’ll still be the same Sally tomorrow.”

Sally bit her lip, a mix of relief and anxiety swirling inside her. “But what if I’m not ready for all of this? What if I can’t handle it?”

Bridget’s hand gently squeezed her daughter’s knee. “You’re going to learn, Sally. You’ve always been good with math, with problem-solving. If you want to, you can understand the financial side of things. You’re smart and capable, and you’ll have help when the time comes. But remember, none of this defines you. You’re still allowed to be a teenager, to figure things out at your own pace.”

Sally looked down at her hands, still feeling the weight of the unknown. “It’s just... a lot to think about. Dad kept talking about businesses and the estate, and I don’t even know what half of it means.”

Bridget smiled softly. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to know everything right now. Your dad and I will be here to guide you. You’ll learn what you need to when the time is right. For now, it’s enough to know that you have options. You have the ability to choose what you want to do with your future.”

Sally leaned back on her pillows, letting out a long sigh. “So, I can still be a Pampered Princess?”

Bridget chuckled, her eyes full of affection. “Absolutely. You can be a Pampered Princess who takes charge when she’s ready.”

Sally smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing just a little. “It’s just... weird to think about how different things could be. Like, I’m still going to be the same person, right?”

Bridget leaned over and kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Of course, you will be. Money and responsibility might change some things, but they don’t change who you are at your core. You’ll always be my Sally.”

Sally nodded slowly, feeling a sense of comfort in her mother’s words. “Thanks, Mom. I’m just trying to figure out how to balance it all, I guess. The idea of managing all of this one day, but also... still being me.”

Bridget stood up, giving Sally’s knee one last gentle squeeze. “You’ll find that balance, sweetie. You’ll grow into it, and when the time comes, you’ll be ready. But for now, you’re allowed to take things one step at a time. You don’t have to have all the answers today.”

Sally smiled, the weight of the day slowly lifting from her chest. “I guess I’m lucky I’ve got a mom who lets me be a Pampered Princess.”

Bridget grinned, her eyes twinkling with pride. “Always, sweetie. Goodnight, my Pampered Princess.”

Sally snuggled into her blankets, the soft rustle of her diaper comforting her as she settled in for the night. “Goodnight, Mom.”

As Bridget closed the door behind her, Sally lay back in the quiet of her room, feeling a sense of peace she hadn’t expected. The future might still be uncertain, and the responsibilities might still feel overwhelming, but for tonight, she was content. She was allowed to be herself, to embrace the contradictions that made her who she was—a girl who could be both grounded and pampered, both responsible and still figuring things out.

And as she drifted off to sleep, she knew that whatever came next, she didn’t have to face it alone. She had her mother’s support, her own sense of self, and time to grow into whatever her future would hold.

Chapter 32 - Lunch

Sally stood in front of her bedroom mirror, checking her outfit one last time. Her black skirt hugged her waist perfectly, stopping just above her knees, while the silver blouse shimmered subtly in the light. She’d paired it with black tights and ankle boots, the outfit stylish without being too formal. Today’s lunch with her father felt different—more grown-up, more serious. After everything she’d learned yesterday about the trust fund, the businesses, and the weight of the family legacy, she wanted to make sure she looked the part. Satisfied with her reflection, she grabbed her bag and headed downstairs.

Adrian was waiting by the door, as composed as ever in a tailored navy suit. His eyes lit up as he saw her.

“You look lovely, Sally,” he said, his smile warm. “Very grown-up.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Sally replied with a small smile. His compliment gave her a surge of pride, but she couldn’t shake the nerves fluttering in her stomach. There was so much to discuss today, and Sally wasn’t sure how to start.

They stepped into the car, driving through the busy weekend streets. As the city buzzed with life outside, the silence inside the car felt weighty, filled with the unspoken thoughts Sally had been carrying since their conversation the day before. Her father, Adrian, had laid out the foundations—she was one of the wealthiest teenagers in the country, and there was a trust fund waiting for her, filled with assets she had never even considered. But today, she wanted to dig deeper.

The restaurant Adrian chose was elegant and intimate, the kind where conversation felt private despite the gentle hum of patrons around them. Art adorned the walls, and soft, ambient lighting gave the space a calm yet sophisticated atmosphere. A waiter seated them near a large window that overlooked the bustling street outside, the crisp white linens on the table adding to the understated elegance.

After glancing through the menu, Sally settled on the lemon ricotta ravioli. It sounded delicate and comforting, a contrast to the weight of her thoughts.

"I’ll have the seared tuna, rare," Adrian told the waiter as they handed over their menus.

Once the waiter left, Adrian looked across the table at Sally, his expression both warm and curious.

"So, Sally," he began, leaning back slightly. "I imagine you’ve had a lot on your mind since yesterday. How are you feeling about everything we talked about?"

Sally let out a small breath, knowing this was the moment to start asking the questions that had been swirling around her head all night. "Honestly, it’s a lot. I didn’t even realize how much there was involved... I knew there was a trust fund, but I didn’t know about all the other stuff—like the businesses and properties. It’s overwhelming."

Adrian nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "That’s completely understandable. That’s why we’re taking it slow. Tomorrow, we’ll meet with Olivia, and she’ll give you a full breakdown of everything. She’ll be your guide through all of this."

“Olivia?” Sally asked, intrigued. “Who is she?”

Adrian smiled, clearly pleased to explain. “Olivia Lewis. She’s been managing my finances and the family’s investments for years now. She’s not just a financial advisor—she’s a mentor, and she’ll help you understand everything at your own pace. Olivia’s very thorough and patient. She’ll show you how the trust works, how the assets are managed, and she’ll guide you as you grow into this responsibility.”

Sally’s tension eased a bit at the mention of someone like Olivia being involved. It was good to know she wouldn’t have to figure everything out on her own. But there was still so much more to unpack.

"Okay," Sally nodded, taking a breath. "But what exactly do I own? You mentioned real estate yesterday… What kind of places are we talking about?"

Adrian’s eyes lit up slightly as he began to explain. "There’s quite a bit of real estate in your trust. In New York, you own apartments on the Upper East Side, in Chelsea, and in SoHo."

At the mention of SoHo, Sally’s eyes widened, and she sat up straighter. "Wait, SoHo? I own an apartment in SoHo?"

Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by her excitement. "You like SoHo?"

Sally laughed softly, shaking her head. "I love SoHo! It’s my favorite part of the city—the galleries, the shops, the vibe. I always thought if I lived in New York, that’s where I’d want to be."

Adrian smiled, pleased to learn something new about his daughter. "Well, it seems like we made a good investment then. The apartment is currently rented out, but it’s part of your portfolio. Olivia will go over all the details with you tomorrow."

Sally’s mind raced at the thought. Owning an apartment in SoHo—her dream neighborhood—was surreal. But her father wasn’t done yet.

“In addition to the New York properties, you also own real estate in Europe,” Adrian continued. “There’s an apartment in Paris, another in London, and a townhouse in Zurich.”

Sally blinked, trying to process it all. "I own apartments in Paris and London?" she repeated, incredulously. "And Zurich?"

Adrian chuckled softly at her surprise. "Yes, you do. They’re all rented out at the moment, so they’re generating income for the trust. But once you’re older, you can decide how you want to use them—whether you want to keep them as investments or do something else with them."

Sally’s mind reeled at the possibilities. She had been imagining an inheritance of money or perhaps investments, but owning properties in some of the most iconic cities in the world felt far more personal—and exciting. But with all this, a nagging thought gnawed at her, and she finally voiced it.

"So... do you expect me to take over the businesses one day? Is that what this is all leading to?"

Adrian leaned back in his chair, taking a moment before answering. "No, Sally. I don’t expect that from you unless it’s something you want. The businesses are being managed professionally, and they’ll continue to run smoothly without your direct involvement. This is about giving you choices. If you want to be involved one day, you can. But if not, that’s perfectly fine. You’re free to choose your own path, whether it’s in business or something else entirely."

Sally exhaled, relieved that she wasn’t locked into a future she hadn’t chosen. "So, I’m not being groomed to be a businesswoman if I don’t want to be?"

"No," Adrian reassured her. "This is your life, Sally. You get to decide what path you want to take. If business isn’t your passion, that’s okay. There’s room for whatever you choose."

She felt a bit lighter at that, but there was still one question that had been bothering her all night—the one about herself, and how all of this would change her.

"How do I make sure this doesn’t change who I am?" she asked softly. "I don’t want people to think I’m just some rich kid who’s had everything handed to her. And I don’t want to lose myself in all of this wealth and responsibility."

Adrian’s gaze softened, and he reached across the table, gently resting his hand on hers. "Sally, wealth doesn’t have to define you. It’s a tool that gives you options and freedom, but it doesn’t determine who you are. The fact that you’re asking this question shows you’re already grounded. Stay true to your values, your interests, and who you are at heart. The wealth gives you opportunities, but it’s your decisions that will shape the future you want."

Sally nodded, appreciating his words, but she couldn’t ignore the next question that had been sitting at the back of her mind for far too long.

"Why don’t we see each other more often?" she asked, her voice quieter now, more vulnerable. "You’re always so busy... why didn’t you visit more when I was younger?"

Adrian looked down for a moment, his face more serious now. "That’s a fair question, Sally," he said softly. "I know I owe you a real answer. But it’s not something I want to rush through here. How about this—come visit me in Switzerland in a couple of weeks. We can spend more time together, and I’ll explain everything then."

Sally blinked, surprised. "Switzerland? You’ve never invited me before."

Adrian smiled, a little apologetic. "I know. It’s long overdue. Let’s make up for lost time."

Sally considered his invitation, feeling both excited and a little anxious. Switzerland had always felt like this distant, unreachable place—her father’s other life. But now, it seemed like a real possibility, a chance to connect with him in a new way.

As they finished their meal, the conversation lightened. Adrian asked about her friends, her favorite classes, and her love for SoHo. He listened attentively, clearly enjoying learning more about her world. Their coffee arrived, and they continued talking about school, art, and the future.

But as they finished and stood to leave the restaurant, Sally couldn’t help but feel the weight of everything that was yet to come. Tomorrow’s meeting with Olivia would be important, and there was so much more to learn.

As they stepped out into the bustling city streets, Sally glanced up at her father. "Thanks, Dad. For... everything," she said, her voice soft but sincere.

Adrian smiled down at her, his expression warm. "You’re welcome, Sally. We’re in this together."

And as they walked down the busy street, Sally felt a strange mix of excitement and responsibility settling inside her. There was a lot to figure out, but for the first time, she felt like she wasn’t alone in it. There was her father, and soon Olivia, to help her navigate this new world. And she was ready to face whatever came next.

--

Sally's Bedtime Recap - Pampered Princess

The evening had settled into a calm quiet by the time Sally returned home from her lunch with her father. The soft, fading light filtered through the windows as she walked upstairs to her room, her thoughts buzzing from the day’s conversations. It had been a day full of revelations—some exciting, others overwhelming—but Sally felt a strange sense of peace now, almost like she was growing into this new reality.

Bridget was sitting on Sally's bed when she entered, folding laundry, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Well, well,” her mother said, glancing up. “How was lunch with Mr. Zurich himself? Did he spoil you?”

Sally rolled her eyes with a smirk. “We talked about more than just shopping and fancy food, Mom.”

“I’m sure you did, Miss Trust Fund.” Bridget teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “Come on, spill the details. I want to hear everything before you drift off to your pampered dreams.”

Sally laughed as she kicked off her ankle boots and unbuttoned her silver blouse, tossing it onto a chair. Underneath, she was still in her bra and panties, feeling both exposed and comfortable in front of her mother. “Okay, fine. But fair warning, it got pretty serious. Dad gave me this whole overview of my trust fund and... I own real estate.” She paused for dramatic effect, looking over at her mom.

Bridget raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Real estate? Are we talking like a quaint little cottage in the woods?”

Sally shook her head, trying to contain her excitement. “No! I own apartments. In New York, London, Paris... and SoHo!”

Bridget's eyes widened as she pulled out a neatly folded towel. “SoHo? Oh, la-di-da. I see we’ve got ourselves a real city girl on our hands. Soon you’ll be hosting swanky art gallery shows and sipping champagne on the terrace.”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, maybe? Olivia—she’s this financial advisor Dad works with—is supposed to help me understand how everything works. We’re meeting her tomorrow in New York, actually.”

Bridget smiled knowingly, but this time with a softer edge. “Trump Tower, right?”

Sally blinked, surprised. “Wait... how do you know that?”

“Your father and I talked about it last night while you were asleep,” Bridget said casually, folding another piece of laundry. “Of course I should know what’s going on with you. We’re a team, your dad and I.”

Sally paused, processing this. She hadn’t realized her mom had been filled in on everything so quickly, but it made sense. Bridget had always been her rock, the one who knew everything before Sally even had to ask.

“So you’ve been talking to Dad about all this since yesterday?” Sally asked, a note of curiosity in her voice as she unhooked her bra, tossing it onto the chair beside her blouse.

“Yes,” Bridget said with a warm smile. “He called me right after you went to bed. He wanted me to be up to speed on what’s going on with your trust fund, your meeting tomorrow, everything. You’re not facing this alone, Sally. You’ve got both of us.”

Sally felt a warm flush of emotion at her mother’s words. Bridget always knew how to make her feel protected, even when everything around her was changing so fast.

She took off her panties, feeling the cool air for a moment before grabbing a fresh diaper from her dresser. She laid it on the bed, her mind buzzing between thoughts of tomorrow’s meeting and the comfort of her mother’s presence.

“That’s a relief,” Sally said, trying to shake off the overwhelming feeling as she unfolded the diaper. “I was beginning to think you had some kind of psychic power, knowing everything before I did.”

“Mothers have a way of knowing,” Bridget replied with a teasing wink, though the love in her eyes was clear. “And besides, we both want to make sure you’re ready for what’s coming. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

Sally laughed again as she positioned the diaper beneath herself, adjusting it carefully. “Yeah, no kidding. It feels like... a lot. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I own apartments in SoHo and Paris.”

Bridget’s teasing smile softened as she watched Sally go through the familiar motions. “It is a lot. But you’re handling it beautifully. You’ve always been good at navigating big changes. Just take it one step at a time, and don’t worry about knowing everything right away.”

Sally smiled as she fastened the diaper, the soft crinkle making her feel instantly grounded. “Thanks, Mom. Honestly, I’m glad you know about all this. I don’t feel so... overwhelmed, I guess.”

“Of course I know,” Bridget said as she stood and helped Sally adjust the sides more comfortably. “I’m your mother. I’m here for you, no matter how big the changes are. Whether it’s trust funds or life decisions, we’re in this together.”

Sally laughed, the familiar sound of the diaper crinkling around her as she moved. “Yeah, well, at least I’ve got this bedtime routine. After all the serious stuff today, it feels good to just have something that’s... simple.”

Bridget smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind Sally’s ear. “Simple, huh? Even if that something is a diaper?”

Sally groaned, rolling her eyes. “Okay, okay, don’t make it weird. But yeah, it helps me feel grounded.”

“I get it,” Bridget said softly, her smile filled with warmth. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. You’re still my same girl, whether you’re talking about trust funds or getting ready for bed. And hey, ‘Pampered Princess’ suits you.”

Sally groaned, her laughter bubbling up as she pulled down her t-shirt, the crinkling sound of her diaper punctuating the moment. “I can’t believe you’re sticking with that nickname.”

“Well, it’s hard to resist,” Bridget teased, crossing her arms and leaning against the dresser. “I mean, who else gets to have serious conversations about real estate and then go to bed in a diaper? You’ve got quite the unique balance going on.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head as she stood up and stretched. “Yeah, I guess I do. It’s a weird mix, but it’s kind of... nice, too. Like, I can still just be me, even with everything changing.”

Bridget’s smile softened further as she looked at her daughter. “Exactly. And don’t forget, your dad and I are right here with you, helping you figure it out. Tomorrow’s a big day, but you don’t have to face it alone.”

Sally felt a deep warmth settle in her chest as she started brushing her hair. “Thanks, Mom. I needed that.”

Bridget moved toward the door, turning back with a gentle smile. “You’ll do great tomorrow. Sleep well, Pampered Princess.”

Sally chuckled, shaking her head. “Goodnight, Mom.”

As the door clicked shut, Sally sank into the familiar comfort of her bed, pulling the blankets up over her. She lay there for a moment, thinking about her father, Olivia, and Trump Tower. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, reminding her of the love and support surrounding her.

She let out a soft breath as the warmth of her diaper enveloped her, and without much thought, she felt herself relax completely, the familiar sensation of wetting her diaper bringing a quiet sense of comfort. It was the last release of tension she hadn’t even realized she was holding.

With her diaper softly crinkling beneath her, Sally drifted off into sweet, peaceful dreams, her mind at ease knowing that, whatever tomorrow brought, she had her mother’s love and her father’s support to guide her.

Tomorrow was another day—an important one—but for now, she was safe, secure, and loved.

--

Sally woke slowly, the morning light casting a soft glow through her curtains. She stretched lazily under her blankets, feeling the familiar warmth and dampness between her legs. Her diaper was wet, but instead of feeling the urge to change right away, she smiled. There was no need to rush.

She shifted slightly, feeling the soft, heavy padding press against her skin. The sensation was comforting, the weight of it familiar and soothing. Her hand instinctively wandered down to rest on the front of her diaper, and she gave it a gentle press, listening to the faint crinkle in the stillness of her room.

Closing her eyes, Sally let her body relax, a mischievous smile creeping onto her lips. "Why not?" she thought to herself, allowing the warmth to spread through her as she wet her diaper a little more. The sensation was slow and calming, the padding swelling even further as it absorbed the new wetness. She sighed, a wave of comfort washing over her.

After a few moments, Sally lifted the blanket and looked down at herself, her curiosity piqued. Her diaper was full, the wetness indicator having faded entirely, and the bulkiness made it feel even snugger against her body. She ran her fingers over the front, pressing gently, feeling the soft squish beneath her touch. It was strangely satisfying, comforting in a way that grounded her in the moment.

A soft giggle escaped her lips as she continued pressing lightly, enjoying the sensation. And then, almost without thinking, she whispered to herself, “Good girl.”

The words sent a small, unexpected jolt through her body. Her breath caught, and she paused, the feeling leaving her slightly breathless. She pressed a little harder, her heart fluttering as a deeper wave of pleasure surged up through her, the warmth of her wet diaper heightening the sensation. The pressure of her fingers, combined with the gentle crinkling sound, made her body tingle.

“Nice baby,” she murmured under her breath, her voice soft but filled with an edge of excitement. Another shiver of pleasure ran through her, more intense this time, her body responding to the words in a way that surprised her. She bit her lip, her heart beating faster, enjoying the quiet thrill.

Feeling bolder, Sally whispered again, her voice barely audible, “Little princess...” The words, combined with the sensations coursing through her, sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through her entire body. Her muscles tensed, her breath quickened, and for a brief moment, she felt a peak of intense, almost overwhelming satisfaction.

Sally gasped softly, her fingers resting still on her diaper as she let the feeling wash over her. Her body relaxed again, the aftershocks of pleasure fading slowly, leaving her feeling calm and content. She let out a long, slow breath, a smile spreading across her face.

“Pampered Princess,” she whispered with a giggle, recalling her mother’s teasing nickname from the night before. The words felt right, and Sally reveled in the warmth of the moment, the comfort of her wet diaper and the soft crinkling sound surrounding her.

She closed her eyes, snuggling deeper into her blankets, feeling the weight of her diaper as it pressed against her. For a few more moments, she let herself stay there, basking in the warmth and satisfaction. The day could wait. Right now, she was content, safe, and filled with a sense of calm and quiet pleasure.

With a final, contented sigh, Sally allowed herself to drift back into the peaceful comfort of the morning, her mind at ease, her body relaxed. Whatever the day brought, she felt ready to face it—but for now, she was happy right where she was.

--

Sally had drifted back to sleep after her indulgent morning moment, feeling a deep sense of comfort and warmth cocooning her. She didn’t know how long she had been asleep again when she felt a soft nudge on her shoulder.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” her mother’s voice rang out, gentle yet playful. “Time to get up. Breakfast is almost ready.”

Sally blinked her eyes open, her mind still hazy from the cozy dreamlike state. She stretched lazily, feeling the familiar crinkle of her diaper beneath the blankets. Her mother stood by the side of the bed, her hands on her hips, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

“Come on, Pampered Princess,” Bridget teased, pulling back the blankets. “You’ve got a busy day ahead. Olivia and Trump Tower, remember?”

Sally smiled sleepily, the nickname making her chuckle as she slowly sat up. Her diaper was still warm, heavier now from earlier, and she blushed a little, knowing her mother would soon notice. As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, Bridget leaned down, playfully poking her daughter’s diapered waist.

“Seems like you did all your ‘business’ overnight,” Bridget said with a chuckle, clearly poking fun at Sally’s upcoming meeting. “Our little businesswoman making deals in her sleep.”

Sally blushed, feeling both embarrassed and amused. “Mom...” she groaned, though she couldn’t help but laugh.

Bridget winked at her, not missing a beat. “I’ll clean you up after breakfast. For now, you can enjoy your royal status for a little longer, Pampered Princess.” She gave the front of Sally’s diaper a light, playful pat. “Good girl.”

The words, so casually said, sent an unexpected shiver of pleasure through Sally’s body. She froze for a split second, biting her lip as the familiar tingle ran down her spine. Her mother, oblivious to the effect it had on her, turned toward the door, beckoning her to follow.

“Come on, good girl,” Bridget called back, her tone light and teasing. “Let’s get some breakfast in you before we tackle that diaper situation.”

Sally stood, feeling the weight of her wet diaper as she shifted on her feet. The crinkling sound accompanied her as she moved, making her all the more aware of her state. She chuckled softly to herself, still replaying her mother’s playful words. There was something oddly thrilling about being teased like this, even if Bridget had no idea how much her words affected her.

She padded down the hallway after her mother, the warmth of the morning sun filtering in through the windows, casting a soft glow over the house. The smell of breakfast filled the air, making her stomach rumble.

As they entered the kitchen, Bridget was already setting the table, humming to herself. Sally sat down, adjusting her seat as her wet diaper squished slightly beneath her. Her mother glanced at her with a knowing smile, clearly amused by the whole situation.

“You know,” Bridget said as she poured coffee, “I think it’s quite fitting that our little businesswoman still needs a bit of pampering.”

Sally rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Mom, you’re really loving this whole ‘Pampered Princess’ thing, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Bridget grinned, handing Sally a plate. “It suits you. Besides, you’re still my little girl, even if you’re about to start making big decisions with Olivia.”

Sally smiled, her heart warmed by her mother’s playful affection. The teasing was lighthearted, but it made her feel loved, cared for—like no matter how much her life was changing, some things remained the same.

Chapter 33 – Growth Spurt

After breakfast, the energy in the house shifted as Sally and Bridget moved into the living room to prepare for the day ahead. With her upcoming trip into New York looming, Sally felt a bit nervous, knowing she’d be meeting Olivia for the first time. It was a big deal, and she wanted to look the part. But as always, her mother’s presence was a steadying force.

Bridget sat on the couch, sipping her coffee, while Sally flopped down on the floor, stretching out lazily. “So, what are we thinking for the trip?” Bridget asked casually, setting her mug down on the coffee table. “You need to look stylish but also comfortable enough to get through the day. We’ve got a lot to tackle.”

Sally hummed thoughtfully, her fingers brushing through the soft carpet. “Yeah, I want to look good... like I have everything together, you know?” She sat up, glancing at her mother. “I was thinking maybe jeans and a nice top? Something elegant but not too dressy.”

Bridget nodded sagely, but then her expression turned serious as she leaned in slightly. “Well, you’ll also need to consider your, um, other... accessories.”

Sally blinked, confused. “Other accessories? Like jewelry?”

Bridget shook her head, her tone remaining straight-faced. “No, sweetie. I meant your diaper. You’ll want to make sure it’s hidden. Maybe a dress to cover the bulkiness?”

Sally stared at her mother, wide-eyed, her brain trying to process what had just been said. “Wait... what? A dress to... hide the diaper?”

Bridget’s expression remained completely neutral. “Yes, you don’t want people noticing, do you? A dress would be perfect for that, flowy enough to cover everything.”

For a moment, Sally stared at her mother, her mind racing. Was her mom serious? Then, slowly, it dawned on her.

“Wait... you’re kidding, right?” Sally asked, her face breaking into a grin.

Bridget raised an eyebrow, trying to hold back her amusement. “Am I?”

That was all it took. Sally burst out laughing, doubling over and clutching her stomach. “Oh my God, Mom! You had me for a second!” She fell back onto the floor, rolling with laughter. “A dress to hide my diaper? Really?”

Bridget finally broke into a wide grin, laughing with her daughter. “Hey, I’m just thinking about your comfort, Pampered Princess. We’ve got to keep up appearances, after all.”

Sally, still giggling uncontrollably, sat up again and wiped a tear from her eye. “Well, if we’re going all in, I think we should add a few more accessories. I mean, my pacifier would really pull the whole look together, don’t you think? Maybe even my sippy cup—hydration and comfort, all in one.”

Bridget didn’t miss a beat. “You’re absolutely right. And don’t forget the plastic panties. A must for any well-dressed princess on a big day out.”

Sally laughed even harder, practically falling over again. “I can’t! This is too much!”

The two of them shared a long moment of laughter, the joking and teasing lifting the mood and easing any lingering tension Sally had been feeling about the upcoming trip. Finally, as their laughter subsided, Bridget leaned back against the couch, wiping a smile from her face.

“Okay, okay,” she said, catching her breath. “In all seriousness, what are you really thinking about wearing? It’s important you feel good in whatever you choose.”

Sally sat up, her smile softening as the conversation shifted to something more practical. “Yeah, I was thinking... maybe my black tight jeans? They’re really flattering but still comfortable. And a loose white sweater—it’s thin enough to show some shape, but it’s not going to draw too much attention.”

Bridget nodded thoughtfully, her motherly gaze sweeping over Sally’s figure as she considered the outfit. “That sounds perfect. Classy, stylish, but not trying too hard. You’ll look elegant, and most importantly, you’ll feel confident.”

Sally smiled, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. “Exactly. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, but I also don’t want to look like I don’t care.”

Bridget stood up, stretching her arms. “You’ve got this, sweetheart. You’ll look amazing, and more importantly, you’re going to do great with Olivia. Just be yourself.”

Sally nodded, feeling her nerves settle a little more. “Thanks, Mom.” She glanced down at the carpet, still thinking about the pacifier joke and smiled to herself. “No pacifier, though. Not this time.”

Bridget chuckled, walking toward the door. “Maybe next time.”

With the outfit settled and her nerves at ease, Sally felt more ready than ever to take on the day—and maybe even find a way to slip in a bit of that Pampered Princess confidence into her wardrobe.

--

Sally stood in front of her closet, her outfit already picked out in her mind. The black tight jeans hung neatly on the hanger, and the soft, loose white sweater was draped over the back of her chair. It was exactly what she and her mom had agreed on—elegant but not overdone, stylish without drawing too much attention. She would look put together, confident, and more importantly, grown-up.

But as she reached for her jeans, she felt a twinge of uncertainty. Her hand hovered over the fabric, and without even thinking, her gaze drifted to the bottom drawer of her dresser. It was the drawer where she kept her Goodnites—those discreet pull-ups designed for older kids and teens who still needed a bit of protection at night. They weren’t as bulky as diapers, but they had always provided her with a comforting sense of security, especially when she was feeling anxious.

And right now, she was feeling anxious.

Sally chewed her lip as she stared at the drawer, the familiar tug of desire pulling at her. The thought of wearing a Goodnite under her jeans was tempting. She wouldn’t have to worry about finding a bathroom at an awkward time or dealing with the stress of a long meeting. The softness, the slight bulk between her legs—it always made her feel safe, grounded, like she didn’t have to worry about anything. It wasn’t just about the practical side of it, though. There was something deeper, something emotional about the attachment she had to them.

Wearing a diaper or Goodnite had always been more than just protection. It was about comfort. It was about feeling secure in a way that no regular clothing could provide. The snug fit, the way it hugged her body, the crinkling sound when she moved—there was something soothing in all of it. It made her feel like she didn’t have to face the world alone, like there was a small barrier between her and everything else. A soft, quiet protection that only she knew about.

"No one would even notice," she thought to herself. Her black jeans were tight, but not too tight, and the loose sweater would easily hide any sign of the Goodnite underneath. She could slip one on and feel that familiar comfort all day long. No bathroom worries, no awkward moments. Just that gentle, calming pressure she had grown so attached to.

She sighed softly, her fingers brushing against the drawer handle. "It would be so easy..."

Her mind started to wander back to the feelings she associated with wearing them—the slight bulk that made her feel wrapped in a sense of safety, the quiet crinkle that reminded her she was protected, even when things got stressful. It was like having a secret armor, something soft and reassuring that no one else knew about. And right now, with the day ahead filled with unknowns, meetings, and formal conversations, that feeling sounded more tempting than ever.

But then, Sally stopped herself. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her hand dropping back to her side. "No," she thought, shaking her head slightly. "I can’t keep relying on this."

Her mom had helped her pick out an outfit that would make her feel mature and put-together. Wearing a Goodnite, even though it would bring her comfort, felt like a step backward. She was supposed to be growing up, taking on more responsibility, and part of that meant facing her anxiety without leaning on crutches like this. She had to trust that she could handle the day, the meetings, and everything else without needing that extra layer of protection.

"I need to dress like the person I want to be," she reminded herself, thinking about the way her father had spoken to her, the way Olivia would see her. If she was going to step into this new world, she needed to feel like she belonged in it. And while the idea of wearing something soft and padded under her jeans was tempting, it wouldn’t give her the confidence she needed. Not really.

Sally sighed again, glancing back at the black jeans hanging in her closet. "I can do this," she told herself. "I don’t need to hide behind Goodnites or diapers to feel safe. I can be okay without them."

It wasn’t easy, though. The pull was strong. The desire for that comforting, familiar feeling of something snug and bulky beneath her clothes was something she had grown attached to over time. The sense of security they brought her was hard to let go of. But she knew this was part of growing up—learning to manage her anxiety, learning to face the world without needing that extra layer of protection.

With one last glance at the drawer, Sally turned back to her bed and grabbed her jeans. She slipped into them, feeling the snug fit as they hugged her legs. It was different, having nothing between her and the fabric, no padding, no crinkling sound. She felt more exposed, but at the same time, she felt proud of herself. It was a small victory, but it was an important one.

She pulled on her loose white sweater, smoothing it down over her jeans. The soft fabric draped elegantly over her, complimenting her figure without drawing too much attention. She glanced at herself in the mirror, turning slightly to inspect her reflection. It wasn’t the same as the comfort she found in diapers or Goodnites, but it was a different kind of comfort—a comfort in knowing she could handle this day, dressed like the mature young woman she was becoming.

Sally smiled at her reflection, feeling a new sense of confidence settle in. "I don’t need them today," she whispered to herself. "I’m ready."

And with that, she stepped away from the mirror, leaving the drawer unopened, and ready to face whatever the day had in store for her—without the extra padding but with all the strength and resilience she needed.

--

Sally sat on the edge of the living room couch, her knees tucked beneath her as she stared out the large window overlooking the driveway. She was feeling anxious, excited, and curious all at once. Her father was coming to pick her up for their trip to New York, but she noticed something different about the arrival. The black Suburban had just pulled into the driveway, sleek and imposing as always, but this time, it wasn’t just her father inside.

Her eyes narrowed slightly as the passenger-side door opened. A tall, blonde woman stepped out first, her movements swift and deliberate. Sally tilted her head, trying to make sense of who this was. The woman looked sharp—military-sharp, even—with her blonde hair pulled back in a tight, practical bun. She was fit and athletic, her posture radiating confidence and command as she quickly rounded the vehicle to the back door. Sally watched as the woman opened the door for her father with an efficient motion, stepping back just enough to let Adrian out.

Sally’s curiosity piqued. “Who is that?” she muttered to herself, her brow furrowing slightly. The woman clearly wasn’t just a driver. There was something about the way she moved—quick on her feet, almost anticipatory—that made her seem like she was more than just some assistant.

Adrian stepped out, giving the woman a brief nod, and exchanged a few words with her. There was familiarity between them, but nothing overly casual. She opened the back of the Suburban to grab something, her sharp, professional demeanor never faltering.

Sally stood up from the couch, smoothing down her black jeans and adjusting her loose white sweater. She had never heard of this woman before, and her father hadn’t mentioned bringing anyone with him today. Clearly, she was some sort of assistant by her mannerisms, but there was something different about her—something about the way she carried herself, the precision in her movements. Sally felt her curiosity grow as she made her way to the front door.

As soon as she opened it, Adrian and the woman—Theresa, apparently—were already making their way up the steps.

“Hi, Dad,” Sally greeted warmly, her eyes quickly flicking to the woman beside him.

Adrian smiled at his daughter, giving her a quick embrace. “Sally, this is Theresa,” he said, his tone casual. “She’ll be joining us today.”

Sally’s eyes shifted to Theresa, who stood a step behind Adrian with a polite, professional smile. “Hello, Sally,” she said, her voice steady and calm. Her tone was friendly but reserved, giving off an air of confidence without being overly formal.

“Hi,” Sally replied, offering a small smile of her own, though she couldn’t help but feel a bit more reserved. Theresa looked... formidable, in a way. There was something about her that commanded attention, even though she wasn’t trying.

Theresa gave a polite nod and stepped aside slightly as Bridget appeared at the door, greeting Adrian and Theresa with a knowing smile.

“Theresa, so good to finally meet you in person,” Bridget said warmly, her eyes reflecting a sense of familiarity that made it clear she knew more about Theresa’s role than Sally did.

Sally felt a small spark of curiosity flare again. Her mom clearly knew who this woman was, but Adrian hadn’t mentioned her before. Theresa seemed like she was more than just an assistant—there was a sense of purpose behind her presence. But for now, Sally kept her greeting friendly yet reserved, wanting to figure out exactly who this woman was and why she was joining them on the trip.

Theresa glanced back at Sally with a small, almost understanding smile, as if she could sense Sally’s curiosity. “It’ll be nice to get to know you better, Sally,” she said lightly, her voice carrying an undertone of calm reassurance.

Sally nodded, feeling slightly more at ease, though the questions still bubbled up inside her. She wasn’t sure what to make of Theresa just yet, but one thing was clear—there was more to her than met the eye.

As they stepped inside, Sally couldn’t help but sneak another glance at Theresa, wondering what her role really was and why she seemed to have such a commanding presence. Clearly, her father had brought her for more than just company.

Sally sat back in the plush leather seat of the Suburban, letting out a soft sigh of relief. At least the SUV was comfortable, and for the next few hours, she could relax as they drove into New York City. She slipped her AirPods into her ears, already imagining the long stretch of highway, the faint hum of the car, and some music to drown out the tension she felt. The city trip was important, and she knew her father had his own schedule in mind, but at least for the drive, she could unwind a little.

She glanced out the window, watching as familiar streets and houses passed by. Bridget had said her goodbyes with her usual warmth, and now Sally was settling into what she assumed would be a long, peaceful drive. She turned up the volume on her music and closed her eyes, trying to relax.

The soft murmur of conversation between Adrian and Theresa faded into the background, and for a while, she allowed herself to drift. Her thoughts wandered from the meeting at Trump Tower to the plans for the day, wondering how she would handle everything. But just as she was getting comfortable, something strange caught her attention. The familiar route they would normally take out of town—heading toward the highway—wasn't the one the driver was following.

Sally frowned slightly and sat up, pulling out one of her AirPods. She glanced out the window again and quickly realized they weren’t headed toward the city at all. In fact, they seemed to be heading toward the small local airport.

She pulled out her second AirPod and looked over at her father, confused. "Wait... are we going to the airport?" she asked, her voice breaking through the quiet conversation between Adrian and Theresa.

Adrian looked at her with mild surprise, as if it hadn’t occurred to him that she wouldn’t already know. “Oh, yes. We’re taking a helicopter to the city,” he said, his tone casual, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Sally blinked, staring at him in disbelief. “A helicopter?”

Adrian nodded, still not picking up on her surprise. “Of course. Driving into the city would take far too long. We’ll be there in under an hour this way.”

For a moment, Sally just sat there, stunned. He hadn’t said anything about this—he hadn’t even hinted that they wouldn’t be driving. But then again, she realized, her dad never really explained his plans in detail. He just assumed everyone moved at his pace, accustomed to these kinds of arrangements. It never crossed his mind to explain them.

Sally glanced at Theresa, who had turned slightly in her seat to meet Sally’s gaze. Theresa offered her a small smile, clearly amused by the whole situation. “Your dad’s always moving fast. You’ll get used to it,” she said, her tone light, as if this was all part of the job.

Sally shook her head, letting out a soft laugh. “I guess so.” It was still sinking in—helicopters instead of long drives, plans that seemed to materialize out of thin air. She realized this wasn’t just a typical trip. It was a glimpse into the way her father lived, something she still wasn’t fully used to.

The SUV continued toward the airport, the small hangar already coming into view. Sally shifted in her seat, adjusting to the sudden change in plans, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up inside her. It wasn’t what she expected, but maybe she should have known. With her dad, nothing was ever simple or slow.

The Suburban came to a stop in front of the hangar, where a sleek black helicopter sat waiting for them, its blades already spinning slowly. Sally glanced out the window, her heart racing a little as she took in the sight.

Adrian, as calm and composed as ever, opened his door and stepped out without a word. Theresa quickly followed, opening the back door for Sally. As Sally stepped out, she gave Theresa a small, knowing smile. “I guess this is just... how he does things, huh?”

Theresa chuckled softly, glancing at Adrian before looking back at Sally. “You’ll get the hang of it. He likes to keep things moving.”

Sally took a deep breath, feeling the rush of the wind from the helicopter as she stood there. This was just the beginning, and it was already far from anything she had expected. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever fully catch up to the pace her father set, but for now, she was along for the ride. And what a ride it was shaping up to be.

--

Sally couldn’t help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement as the black Suburban pulled up to the small private terminal at the local airport. She had been expecting a long, somewhat boring drive into the city, but now, everything was changing in an instant. Her father hadn’t mentioned they’d be flying, and the fact that a helicopter awaited them had completely caught her off guard.

As soon as the vehicle came to a stop, Sally's gaze locked on the sleek, dark Sikorsky S-76 helicopter parked on the tarmac. Its blades spun slowly, the powerful machine humming like something out of a movie. The imposing, futuristic-looking helicopter felt larger than she had imagined—almost like a small private jet in appearance, with its elegant yet powerful lines.

Theresa, who had already gotten out of the car, walked around and opened the back door for Sally with her usual efficient movements. “That’s a Sikorsky S-76,” she said, her tone calm but informative, sensing Sally’s awe as she gazed at the helicopter. “It’s one of the top luxury helicopters for business travel. Quiet, fast, and comfortable. It’ll get us to Manhattan in under an hour.”

Sally turned to her with wide eyes, grateful for the explanation. She had never even been in a helicopter before, let alone one that looked like this. “It’s... amazing,” she murmured, unable to hide her fascination.

Theresa smiled, her demeanor softening just a bit as she recognized Sally’s excitement. “You’ll be fine. The flight’s smooth, and the interior is built for comfort. Trust me, you’ll enjoy it.”

Sally nodded, feeling a little reassured by Theresa’s calm confidence. As they walked toward the helicopter, the soft whoosh of the blades picked up slightly, the wind tousling Sally’s hair. She couldn’t help but feel a slight thrill as they approached the open door of the helicopter, where a member of the ground crew stood ready to assist.

Adrian climbed in first, moving with the practiced ease of someone used to this kind of travel. He barely glanced at the vehicle, already used to its luxuries. Theresa motioned for Sally to follow, gently guiding her as she climbed up into the cabin.

As soon as Sally stepped inside, she was struck by the interior. It wasn’t at all like the cramped, utilitarian helicopter cabins she had seen in movies. Instead, the cabin was spacious and sleek, with soft leather seats arranged in a VIP configuration, allowing for plenty of legroom. Everything was finished in dark wood and polished chrome, giving it a refined, elegant feel. The windows were large, providing panoramic views of the landscape around them. It was both intimate and luxurious.

Sally slid into her seat, her heart still racing from the excitement. She quickly glanced around, taking in every detail of the cabin. For a brief moment, she was thankful she hadn’t given in to her earlier desire to wear her Goodnite under her jeans. It had been a temptation—something that would have made her feel a bit more secure—but she had resisted, wanting to present herself in a more mature way today. And now, as Theresa leaned over her to help with the seat belt, Sally felt an extra sense of relief.

Theresa, always quick on her feet, leaned down and reached across Sally to attach her seatbelt, her face just inches away as she worked efficiently. “Let me get that for you,” she said softly, the closeness surprising Sally for a moment. She could feel the light touch of Theresa’s fingers as she clicked the belt into place, securing it snugly across her lap.

Sally gave a small smile of appreciation, feeling slightly flustered by the closeness but also grateful for the guidance. “Thanks,” she said, her voice quieter than usual.

Theresa smiled back, standing up straight again. “You’re all set. Just sit back and relax. It’ll be a smooth ride.”

As the ground crew finished their checks, the doors were shut, and the hum of the rotors intensified slightly. The cabin remained relatively quiet, thanks to the helicopter’s advanced soundproofing, and Sally could already tell the flight would be more comfortable than she had expected.

The helicopter slowly lifted off the ground, the transition from sitting still to ascending feeling surprisingly smooth. Sally’s eyes widened as the world outside the window began to shrink, the airport below growing smaller as they rose higher into the air. Her stomach did a little flip, but it wasn’t from fear—more from the exhilaration of doing something entirely new.

Theresa, seated across from Sally, noticed her excitement and leaned in slightly. “You’ll love the view as we get closer to the city,” she said, her voice carrying over the quiet hum of the rotors.

Sally nodded, her eyes glued to the window as the Connecticut countryside rolled out beneath them, the vibrant green trees and winding rivers looking almost like a painting. The helicopter picked up speed, cutting through the sky smoothly and effortlessly. Sally couldn’t help but grin, feeling the thrill of the moment.

As they flew further south, the landscape shifted, the coastline of Long Island Sound coming into view. The water sparkled in the sunlight, and in the distance, she could see the faint outline of New York City beginning to emerge. Theresa had been right—the view was breathtaking. The helicopter’s large windows gave her a perfect vantage point to watch as the scenery below shifted from suburban sprawl to the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan.

Sally sat back in her seat, her nerves easing as the ride became smoother than she had anticipated. The comfort of the helicopter, paired with the stunning views, made her forget about her earlier anxieties. She felt a strange sense of peace as they soared over the Hudson River, the iconic skyline growing closer by the minute.

Soon enough, the helicopter began its descent into Manhattan. The bustling city stretched out beneath them like a grid, with Central Park visible as a massive green rectangle nestled among the towering buildings. Sally leaned closer to the window, unable to tear her eyes away as they flew over the George Washington Bridge and then the heart of the city itself.

Theresa glanced over at Sally, noticing her amazement. “Pretty incredible, right?” she said with a knowing smile.

Sally nodded, unable to find the words for how stunning the view was. “Yeah... it’s amazing.”

The helicopter made its final descent, and the landing at the Air Pegasus Heliport was as smooth as the flight itself. The crew quickly moved into action, opening the doors and helping the passengers disembark. The moment Sally stepped out, she felt the cool breeze of the Hudson River and the rush of excitement that came with being in Manhattan.

A sleek black SUV awaited them at the heliport, ready to take them to their final destination. As Sally climbed into the backseat, her excitement hadn’t faded. The helicopter ride had been a new, thrilling experience, but now, as they made their way through the busy streets of Manhattan, she knew the real day was just beginning.

The drive to Trump Tower was quick but filled with the sights and sounds of the city—yellow taxis honking, pedestrians rushing by, the iconic buildings looming overhead. As they pulled up in front of the gleaming entrance to Trump Tower, Sally took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day ahead. She glanced at her father, who seemed as composed as ever, and then at Theresa, who gave her a reassuring nod.

"Here we go," Sally thought, stepping out of the car and into the next chapter of her adventure.

Chapter 34 – A Lot to Take In

The sleek black SUV came to a gentle stop in front of Trump Tower, its reflective exterior gleaming under the soft morning light. Sally sat quietly in the backseat, nerves and excitement swirling in her stomach. Her father, Adrian, was calm as ever, his presence a steadying force. She knew today was important—their trip into Manhattan, the meeting with Olivia, and everything that followed—but it still felt surreal.

Theresa, always quick and efficient, stepped out of the SUV first, moving to open the door for Adrian. As Sally climbed out after her father, she looked up at the towering structure of Trump Tower. The iconic glass and steel façade seemed even more imposing in person, the golden accents gleaming in the light. It all felt a bit overwhelming.

Inside the lobby, the grandeur was even more palpable. Pink marble floors, tall columns, and an air of quiet luxury filled the space. People moved through with purpose, their hushed conversations barely audible over the soft sound of heels clicking against the polished floor. Sally followed Adrian’s lead, trying not to appear too awestruck by the surroundings.

The private concierge, recognizing Adrian, approached them immediately with a polite nod. “Good morning, Mr. Weiss,” he said smoothly. “Ms. Olivia from Avalon Capital Advisors is expecting you. Please follow me to the elevators.”

Adrian returned the nod and motioned for Sally and Theresa to follow. The concierge guided them toward a private set of elevators, tucked away from the busier parts of the lobby. The atmosphere was quieter here, more exclusive, as they stepped into the spacious elevator.

As the doors closed, Sally felt a flutter of nerves again. This was all so far beyond her normal world—private helicopters, luxury offices, meetings with people who handled vast amounts of wealth. She glanced over at her father, who stood calmly as ever, and then at Theresa, who gave her a subtle nod of encouragement.

The elevator moved quickly and quietly, the ride smooth and almost too fast for Sally to process her thoughts. When the doors opened, they were greeted by a sleek, modern reception area. Cream-colored walls, plush seating, and artfully placed décor gave the space a sophisticated yet understated feel. The large floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the New York skyline, making the room feel expansive and open.

A polished receptionist behind a sleek marble desk greeted them warmly. “Good morning. Welcome to Avalon Capital Advisors. Ms. Olivia is ready for your meeting. Would you like anything to drink before we begin?”

Sally hesitated for a moment, glancing at her father and Theresa. Neither of them seemed interested in a drink, but her throat felt dry, and she realized she was a bit nervous. “Could I have a Coke, please?” she asked, her voice a little quieter than intended.

The receptionist smiled kindly. “Of course. I’ll bring it right in.”

They were then led down a hallway with glass walls on either side, offering breathtaking views of Central Park and the city below. Sally could barely tear her eyes away from the sight, the scale of Manhattan still leaving her awed. She could feel the importance of the moment as they approached the meeting room—this wasn’t just a regular office visit.

The conference room itself was as elegant as the rest of the office. A long polished wooden table sat at the center, surrounded by comfortable leather chairs. The room was minimalist in its design, but in a way that felt purposeful, with large windows that filled the space with natural light and a few pieces of modern art hanging on the walls.

Sally sat down next to her father, carefully placing her hands in her lap as she adjusted to the surroundings. Theresa took her place across from them, her calm demeanor reassuring as always.

Moments later, a server entered the room, setting a chilled glass of Coke with ice in front of Sally. She nodded her thanks, noticing once again that she was the only one with a drink, but she didn’t mind. She took a small sip, the cold liquid providing a bit of relief from her nerves.

The door to the meeting room opened, and in walked Olivia, a tall woman with sharp features and an air of authority. Dressed in a tailored navy suit, Olivia exuded professionalism and poise. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek bun, and her expression was warm but focused.

“Mr. Weiss, Theresa,” Olivia greeted them with a firm handshake, before turning to Sally with a softer smile. “And you must be Sally. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Sally smiled back, sitting up a bit straighter. “Nice to meet you, too,” she replied, trying to sound confident.

Olivia took her seat across the table, setting down a slim portfolio in front of her. There was no condescension in her demeanor—just quiet confidence, like someone who had handled a thousand meetings just like this one. Sally felt slightly more at ease, realizing that Olivia was here to help, not intimidate.

“Before we begin,” Olivia said, folding her hands on the table, “I just want to express how pleased I am to be here today. I’ve worked closely with Mr. Weiss for many years, and today marks the beginning of an important chapter for you, Sally. I’m excited to help guide you through this process and explore the opportunities ahead.”

Sally nodded, taking another sip of her Coke. She felt the weight of the moment, but Olivia’s calm professionalism made her feel a bit more grounded. It was still surreal, sitting here in this elegant meeting room, discussing her future in such serious terms. But as she looked across the table at her father, who appeared relaxed and in control, and Theresa, ever vigilant and prepared, Sally felt a small sense of comfort in knowing she wasn’t facing this alone.

The conversation was just beginning, and Sally knew she had a lot to learn. But with Olivia leading the way and her father beside her, she felt ready to take the first steps.

--

Sally was doing her best to stay focused, nodding along as Olivia spoke about the future of her trust fund and the opportunities ahead. She took another small sip of her Coke, but the sweetness now felt too heavy, sitting uncomfortably in her stomach. The polished, elegant surroundings of the conference room began to blur slightly at the edges, and she could feel her heart starting to race.

Her stomach churned, and a wave of nausea hit her. She swallowed hard, hoping it would pass, but it only seemed to intensify. Her hands started to feel clammy, and she noticed her breathing becoming more shallow and rapid. She felt a sheen of cold sweat forming on her forehead, and she could feel the back of her neck dampening.

Sally tried to take a deep breath, but it wasn’t working. Her head felt light, and the soft hum of conversation between her father and Olivia seemed to fade, becoming distant and muffled. Everything was crashing down on her—the helicopter ride, the imposing grandeur of Trump Tower, the expectations of this meeting. It was all too much. She felt the room spinning, and suddenly, a terrifying realization hit her: she was going to vomit.

Panic surged through her. “Not here. Please, not here,” she thought, glancing quickly around the room. Her eyes darted to her father, Adrian, who was focused on Olivia's words, his expression calm but slightly stern. If he noticed Sally's discomfort, he didn't show it.

Sally felt a lump rising in her throat. She had to get out—now.

She mumbled, her voice shaky, “Excuse me...” and stood abruptly. Adrian shot her a brief, slightly annoyed look. His brows furrowed, clearly not understanding why she was leaving in the middle of such an important conversation. “Sally,” he muttered in a low, reproachful tone, the irritation evident.

But Sally barely heard him. Her focus was on getting to the door, her legs feeling unsteady beneath her. The world around her seemed to shrink, her vision narrowing as she moved toward the exit.

Theresa, sitting across from her, immediately sensed what was happening. She had seen it before—anxiety hitting hard, especially in situations like this. Her calm eyes followed Sally as she moved toward the door. She gave a slight nod, understanding that Sally needed space and time. Her expression remained neutral, but her body language softened. She knew exactly what was happening and would make sure everything was okay when Sally returned.

Olivia, on the other hand, was taken aback for a moment. She stopped mid-sentence, slightly perplexed, her professional demeanor faltering just a touch. Her eyes flicked toward Adrian, then back to Sally as she left the room. But Olivia, ever the composed professional, quickly recovered. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but she understood enough to remain empathetic. She gave Adrian a brief, understanding nod. “It’s alright,” she said softly, her voice reassuring. “Sometimes, the pressure can be overwhelming.”

Adrian, his irritation still visible in his tightly pressed lips, sighed but said nothing further. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but with both Olivia and Theresa remaining calm, he forced himself to remain composed as well, though his eyes flicked to the door that Sally had just rushed through.

Sally practically bolted out of the room, her mind racing as she made a beeline for the hallway. She barely remembered where the bathroom was, but thankfully, the layout had stuck in her mind. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel the cold sweat gathering on her palms as she hurried down the hall. Her stomach twisted, threatening to revolt at any moment.

Sally rushed down the hallway, her mind racing, barely registering the plush carpets and quiet elegance of the office around her. Her stomach twisted painfully, and she could feel the cold sweat prickling her skin. She was on the verge of losing control—her body betraying her at the worst possible moment. The pressure of the meeting, the unfamiliar surroundings, and her father's high expectations all came crashing down, overwhelming her senses.

She barely made it to the bathroom, pushing open the door with trembling hands. Inside, the spacious lavatory was sleek and modern, with marble countertops and large mirrors, but Sally had no time to notice. She darted into the first cubicle she saw, slamming the door behind her and fumbling frantically with her jeans. Her hands shook as she yanked them down and collapsed onto the toilet just as the cramps hit her stomach with full force.

It wasn’t just nausea—her entire body was in revolt. She leaned forward, grabbing the small wastebasket in the stall, clutching it to her chest as she heaved. Her stomach clenched painfully, and before she knew it, she was emptying herself from both ends, her body wracked with overwhelming sickness. Her jeans were bunched around her ankles, and the sheer humiliation of it all—voiding in such a helpless, desperate way—made her want to disappear.

As she bent over, heaving into the basket, she heard a soft knock at the bathroom door.

“Sally? Are you okay?” It was Theresa’s voice, calm but concerned.

Sally froze, her body still trembling, the last thing she wanted was anyone witnessing this. But another cramp hit, forcing her to grip the wastebasket tighter. She couldn’t answer, couldn’t speak. Panic was setting in.

“Sally,” Theresa called again, more firmly this time. “I’m coming in. It’s okay.”

Sally wanted to tell her to stay out, to leave her alone, but she couldn’t find the words. Her chest tightened, and she felt another wave of nausea. Her breathing came in ragged gasps as the room seemed to tilt around her. All she could do was hug the wastebasket as her body betrayed her, again.

Theresa’s footsteps echoed lightly on the bathroom floor, approaching the cubicle. Sally whimpered, her voice barely audible through the door. “I’m... I’m okay,” she croaked, though she knew it was a lie.

Theresa stopped just outside the cubicle, her voice gentle but firm. “Sally, I’m right here if you need me. It’s okay to ask for help.”

Sally hesitated, but her pride and fear of judgment warred with the overwhelming need for comfort. Her body was shaking, and she felt as though she might pass out from the dizziness and nausea. She couldn’t handle this alone.

With a shaky breath, she whispered, “Okay... you can come in.”

The door creaked open, and Theresa stepped in quietly, closing the door behind her for privacy. Her eyes softened as she took in the sight of Sally—pale, trembling, and hunched over the wastebasket, her jeans pooled around her ankles. Sally felt the heat of humiliation flood her cheeks, but she was too sick to care.

Theresa knelt beside her without hesitation, gently placing a hand on Sally’s back. “It’s alright,” she said soothingly. “You’re going to be okay. I’m right here.” She moved with a calm confidence, but there was warmth in her touch that reassured Sally more than words ever could.

Sally gagged again, her stomach rebelling once more. Theresa reached out and held back her hair, keeping it away from her face as she leaned forward and dry-heaved into the basket. The gesture was so simple, so caring, that it brought tears to Sally’s eyes, though she tried to hide them. She was used to handling things on her own, but right now, she was grateful for the help.

“I’ve got you,” Theresa murmured softly, holding her hair gently. “Just take your time.”

The cramps subsided a little, and Sally leaned back against the wall of the cubicle, her whole body weak and shaky. She wiped at her eyes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but Theresa didn’t seem fazed by any of it. She offered Sally a tissue, and Sally took it gratefully, wiping her mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” Sally whispered, her voice trembling.

Theresa shook her head. “No need to apologize. This kind of thing happens, especially with the pressure you’re under.” Her voice was steady, but kind, and it didn’t carry an ounce of judgment.

Sally exhaled shakily, finally starting to calm down as the worst of the nausea passed. She looked at Theresa, who was still kneeling beside her, completely unbothered by the situation. Her calm, collected demeanor made Sally feel less alone, and slowly, the panic began to fade.

“Thank you,” Sally whispered, her voice still weak.

Theresa gave her a soft smile. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s okay to need help sometimes.”

Sally nodded, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes for a moment, grateful that Theresa had been there. Slowly, she started to regain her composure, her breathing evening out. Theresa helped her clean up, handing her some more tissues, and gently guided her back onto her feet when she was ready.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Theresa said, offering her a supportive hand as she stood up. Sally took it, still feeling a bit wobbly, but thankful to have someone there to steady her.

Theresa helped Sally adjust her jeans and straighten her hair, making sure she looked as dignified as possible before they left the cubicle. The moment could have been humiliating, but with Theresa’s help, it became one of quiet understanding. Sally’s embarrassment had started to ease, replaced by a deep sense of gratitude.

As they left the bathroom, Sally glanced at Theresa, offering a small, appreciative smile. She hadn’t expected to bond with her father’s assistant like this, but in that moment, a new level of trust had been forged between them.

--

As soon as Sally emerged from the bathroom, pale and shaken but now composed, Olivia could see the toll the meeting had taken on her. The young girl’s body language screamed exhaustion, anxiety still lingering in her posture. Olivia, though ever the consummate professional, was also deeply empathetic. She knew immediately that the conversation needed to shift—away from the pressures of financial management and into something far more nurturing.

Without hesitation, she made a swift decision.

"Adrian," Olivia said, turning to Sally’s father with a firm but composed tone. "I think it’s best if you wait in the lobby for now. Sally needs some space, and we need to approach this with care."

Adrian blinked, momentarily taken aback by Olivia's directness, but he nodded. His jaw tightened ever so slightly, perhaps feeling dismissed, but he relented. He had always respected Olivia's judgment, even when it was uncomfortable. "Alright," he muttered, glancing at Sally with a mixture of concern and frustration, but he said nothing further as he left the room.

Olivia exhaled softly once Adrian was gone, then turned her full attention to Sally, her expression softening. "Come with me, sweetheart," she said gently, placing a comforting hand on Sally’s shoulder. "Let’s go somewhere a little quieter. You don’t need this pressure right now."

Sally nodded, feeling a wave of relief as Olivia guided her into her private office suite. Theresa walked closely behind, her usual efficiency now replaced with an almost maternal protectiveness. Her eyes never left Sally, clearly ready to step in if needed.

Once inside Olivia’s office, Sally was struck by how different it felt from the formal conference room. The space was large but inviting, with warm lighting, plush chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a stunning view of Central Park. It was a far more intimate setting, meant for private conversations rather than high-powered meetings. A cozy couch sat near a polished desk, and the air smelled faintly of lavender, calming and soothing.

Theresa quickly helped Sally settle onto the couch, sitting beside her, almost like an older sister ready to shield her from anything that might cause harm. She handed Sally a glass of water, which she took gratefully, sipping slowly. The tension in the room seemed to dissipate slightly as the door clicked shut behind them.

"I’m so sorry, Sally," Olivia began, kneeling in front of her to make sure she was on the same level. Her eyes were soft, full of empathy. "I didn’t realize how overwhelming all of this was for you. This should never have happened like this." She paused, glancing at Theresa, who nodded in understanding. "Your father, well… he means well, but this was too much, too fast."

Sally looked down at her hands, her fingers still trembling slightly, but Olivia’s tone reassured her. "It’s just a lot," she whispered. "Everything… the helicopter, the meeting, all of it."

"Of course it is," Olivia said softly, reaching out to take Sally’s hand. "This is your life, your future, and it’s a lot to process. No one should expect you to just understand everything all at once. I’m here to make sure we take things at your pace, not anyone else’s."

Theresa leaned forward, her hand still resting gently on Sally’s back. "You’re not alone in this, Sally. We’re all here for you," she said, her voice steady. "And it’s okay to take it slow."

Olivia sat back slightly, giving Sally space to absorb what was being said. "I should have spoken to you first, away from your father. He loves you, I can see that, but sometimes that love can feel like pressure. You don’t have to please him by taking all of this on at once. We’ll work through it together, step by step."

Sally, feeling the weight lifting from her shoulders, nodded, finally meeting Olivia’s eyes. There was a warmth and gentleness there that made her feel safe. "Thank you," she whispered, feeling the relief wash over her. "I didn’t… I didn’t know how to say anything. It was all so much."

Olivia smiled softly. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now. We’re going to take it one step at a time. And if you ever feel overwhelmed again, you can tell me, okay?"

Sally nodded, feeling a warmth building in her chest. For the first time that day, she felt like she had some control over what was happening. The walls weren’t closing in anymore.

Olivia sat down beside Sally, still within her personal space but not overwhelming her. "Here’s what I’d like to do, if you’re comfortable with it," she began, her tone calm and thoughtful. "I think we should start small. There’s no need to dive into the complex parts of your trust and investments just yet."

Sally listened intently, appreciating that Olivia wasn’t rushing her.

"We’ll break things down," Olivia continued. "Maybe start with just the basics about your trust—what it is, how it works, and how you can take small steps in understanding it. I’ll create a plan that introduces you to things in stages. You don’t have to feel overwhelmed."

Sally nodded slowly, feeling the anxiety that had plagued her earlier begin to ease. "That… that sounds good," she said softly.

Theresa, still beside her, gave Sally a supportive smile. "And if you ever need a break, or if things feel too much, you let us know. We’ll stop whenever you want."

Sally leaned back into the couch, finally feeling some of the tension release from her shoulders. She knew Theresa meant it, and that alone was comforting.

The relief in the room was palpable, and Sally, now more relaxed, felt a small spark of curiosity. "So… what’s the first thing I should know?" she asked tentatively, wanting to understand but also relieved she didn’t have to grasp everything at once.

Olivia’s smile widened, clearly happy that Sally was feeling comfortable enough to ask. "Well, I think we can start with the basics. Your trust fund is set up to ensure you’re taken care of, now and in the future. It’s invested in different ways to grow, but you have access to certain parts when you turn 18 and more as you get older. We can look at those details together."

Sally took a moment to absorb the information, her mind calmer now that she was away from the intensity of the conference room. "And… can I control any of it, or do I have to wait?" she asked, her voice still hesitant but steadier.

Olivia nodded thoughtfully. "You will have more control as you grow older, but for now, certain parts are managed by advisors to make sure everything stays on track. Eventually, you’ll be able to make decisions, and I’ll be here to guide you when that time comes."

Sally gave a small smile, feeling more in control now. The idea of learning slowly, on her own terms, made her feel less like she was being swept away by something too big to handle.

As the conversation continued, the weight on Sally’s chest seemed to ease. She was still nervous about what lay ahead, but with Olivia and Theresa there, she no longer felt trapped. They weren’t expecting her to understand everything all at once, and the pressure to impress her father had lessened without him in the room.

Sally glanced at Theresa, who gave her an encouraging smile, and back at Olivia. "I think… I can do this," Sally whispered, more to herself than to anyone else.

Olivia gave her a warm nod. "I know you can, Sally. And you won’t have to do it alone."

As the conversation started to settle into a more comfortable rhythm, Olivia leaned back slightly, her warm smile never fading. She studied Sally for a moment before asking, “How old are you, Sally?”

Sally hesitated for just a second before replying, “I’ll be 15 next month.”

Olivia’s eyes lit up, and she suddenly clapped her hands together. “Quinceañera!” she exclaimed with genuine excitement. The word rolled off her tongue effortlessly, as if it carried personal significance.

Sally blinked, a little surprised by the sudden outburst. “You’re Latin American?” she asked, curiosity piqued.

Olivia chuckled softly, shaking her head. “No, I’m not, but I’ve traveled to Honduras several times for volunteer work with a charity I support. I’ve gotten to know a lot of the culture there, and let me tell you, 15 is a huge milestone for them.”

Sally’s face brightened at that, a smile tugging at her lips. “I know! My friend Katrina, she’s from Colombia, and she’s been going on about it for months. She says I have to throw a party.”

Theresa, who had been quietly listening, visibly warmed at the mention of Sally’s friend from Colombia. She hadn’t known much about Sally’s social life up until now, but hearing that she had such close ties with Latin Americans made her feel even more connected. Theresa herself, with her Mexican heritage, was beginning to see a bit of herself in Sally.

“Well,” Olivia said with a grin, “if Katrina has her way, you’ll be having the biggest Quinceañera this side of the Atlantic!”

Sally giggled at the thought, her earlier anxiety slowly melting away. “She won’t let me forget it,” she admitted, shaking her head fondly. “She’s already planning it in her head, I think.”

Theresa leaned in a little closer, her voice soft and warm. “It sounds like you have a great group of friends, Sally. That’s really nice to hear.” There was an ease in her tone now, as if the walls between them had finally come down.

Sally nodded, the smile lingering on her face. “Yeah, they’re pretty great. Katrina is always making me laugh, and Clara—well, she’s the level-headed one. They both keep me grounded.”

Olivia and Theresa exchanged a glance, both of them visibly more relaxed now that Sally seemed to be finding her footing again. The earlier tension in the room had lifted, replaced by the shared warmth of conversation and connection.

“Sounds like you have quite the team of friends,” Olivia remarked with a chuckle. “And I bet Katrina’s already thinking of ways to make sure your Quinceañera is unforgettable.”

Sally beamed, feeling a sense of comfort in the moment, the bond between her, Olivia, and Theresa growing stronger with each passing minute. The ice had officially broken, and the heavy weight of the morning’s events had begun to fade away.

As the conversation became more lighthearted, Sally found herself growing more comfortable around Olivia and Theresa. The earlier anxiety was still there, lingering in the background, but now it felt more manageable. She took another sip of water, her eyes flickering to Olivia as a thought crossed her mind—something she’d been wondering about but had felt too nervous to ask.

Chapter 35 - And Now?

Tentatively, Sally shifted in her seat, glancing between Olivia and Theresa. “So… um, do I have… like… an allowance or something?” she asked, her voice a little quieter than before. She felt her cheeks flush as soon as the words were out, immediately feeling awkward for asking such a question, but the curiosity had been gnawing at her. She needed to know.

Theresa, sitting beside her, had to fight to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth. The question was so innocent, so endearing, and it reminded her that despite everything going on, Sally was still just a girl trying to make sense of her new reality.

Olivia, ever the professional but with a touch of warmth in her eyes, didn’t miss a beat. She leaned in slightly, her tone both practical and accommodating. “Well, Sally,” she began with a small smile, “in a way, yes. You do have access to certain funds, though it’s a bit more structured than a typical allowance.”

Sally’s eyes widened a bit, her curiosity clearly piqued.

“Your trust is set up to provide for your needs, now and in the future,” Olivia continued, her voice gentle but informative. “Right now, there are portions of it that can be used for your education, daily expenses, and anything that contributes to your well-being. But as for what you might think of as an ‘allowance,’ yes, you’ll have access to a regular amount to use for personal things as you grow older.”

Sally blinked, processing the information. “So, it’s like… I can use it for stuff I need? Or, like, clothes and school things?”

Olivia nodded, her smile widening. “Exactly. And as you get older, those funds will grow, and you’ll be able to manage them more directly. But for now, think of it as having resources for what you need, with a little bit of freedom for personal choices.”

Theresa, watching the interaction, could see how Olivia’s practical, no-nonsense approach was helping Sally ease into this new world. She admired how Olivia didn’t overwhelm Sally with jargon or make her feel like she was asking a silly question. Theresa, meanwhile, found herself warming even more to Sally, whose genuine curiosity and shy mannerisms were a reminder of just how young and vulnerable she really was beneath the surface.

“That makes sense,” Sally said, her brow furrowed slightly as she thought it over. “I guess I just didn’t know how any of this worked.”

Olivia chuckled softly, leaning back in her chair. “That’s perfectly normal. You’re learning, and that’s what we’re here for—to help guide you through it at your own pace.”

Sally smiled shyly, the warmth in the room settling around her like a comforting blanket. She glanced at Theresa, who gave her an encouraging nod, clearly impressed by how well Sally was handling everything.

“You’re doing great,” Theresa said softly, unable to hold back her smile any longer.

Sally’s face brightened at that, feeling a little more confident. “Thanks,” she replied, feeling like, for the first time, she was starting to understand the pieces of this complicated new life.

With Olivia’s generosity and practical explanations, and Theresa’s protective presence, Sally felt like she was no longer drowning in information. Instead, she was slowly finding her way. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she was excited about the future.

The meeting had grown quieter after Sally’s abrupt rush to the bathroom. When she returned, looking pale and still shaky, Olivia immediately noticed her lingering weakness. Though Sally had done her best to maintain composure, her face was still drained of color, and the dark circles under her eyes revealed how much the anxiety had taken out of her.

Sitting back down, Sally tried to focus, but Olivia saw the strain. She gave Sally a warm, understanding smile before standing from her chair.

“Let’s take a little break,” Olivia said, her voice soft yet decisive. She crossed the room and picked up the phone at her desk. A quick call was made to the receptionist, and within moments, Olivia requested something light for Sally. “Could you bring up a small snack—some crackers, a banana, and sparkling water?”

Sally, sitting quietly, blinked in surprise. “I’m fine,” she murmured, a little embarrassed. “You don’t have to—”

“No arguments,” Olivia said, smiling kindly as she returned to her seat. “You’ve had a rough morning. A little snack will help you feel better.”

Theresa, seated beside Sally, gave her a reassuring nod. “She’s right. A light snack will do wonders. Trust me, you’ll feel a lot better.”

Sally, feeling the gentle support from both women, nodded reluctantly. “Okay, thank you,” she whispered, feeling the tension in her shoulders finally ease.

A few minutes later, the door opened, and a server entered with a small tray. The tray was set down gently in front of Sally: a plate of plain crackers, banana slices, and a chilled glass of sparkling water. The soft fizz of the bubbles sparkled in the glass, and Sally felt a quiet sense of relief as the simplicity of the offering made her feel cared for without being overwhelmed.

“Thank you,” Sally said softly, taking a slow sip of the sparkling water. The bubbles were gentle on her throat, and the coolness of the drink immediately began to calm her system.

Olivia leaned back in her chair, watching Sally with a smile. “Let’s just relax for a bit,” she suggested, her tone now lighthearted, clearly shifting away from the formal business discussions. “No need to rush back into anything.”

As Sally picked up a cracker, nibbling it thoughtfully, Olivia and Theresa began a light conversation, giving her space to enjoy the snack.

“You know,” Olivia said, crossing her legs and settling into a more comfortable position, “I remember the first time I had to step into a big meeting at a young age. It was a charity function, and I was absolutely terrified.” She chuckled softly. “I ended up drinking too much water beforehand, and halfway through, I had to excuse myself to the bathroom about three times.”

Theresa smirked and shook her head. “That sounds like something I’d do. Except I would have probably just held it in and suffered through.”

Sally listened, her shoulders relaxing a little more as the conversation turned casual. She sipped her sparkling water again, feeling the bubbles soothing her, and smiled at Olivia’s story.

“It happens to the best of us,” Theresa added, her tone warm. “Pressure can hit when you least expect it.”

Sally nodded, feeling a little less self-conscious about her earlier exit. The banana slices were surprisingly refreshing, and as she slowly ate, she could feel her strength returning. The heavy sensation in her stomach was beginning to ease, and for the first time since arriving at Trump Tower, she felt a sense of calm.

Olivia’s eyes twinkled as she watched Sally. “See? A little snack, some sparkling water, and a break from all the seriousness… sometimes that’s all we need to feel human again.”

Sally smiled shyly. “I guess I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” she admitted, taking another small bite of her cracker.

“It’s okay,” Olivia replied. “We all need to hit pause sometimes. There’s no rush.”

Theresa leaned back, her eyes softening as she glanced at Sally. “And don’t worry about the business talk, either. You’ve got all the time in the world to learn everything you need to. For now, just focus on feeling better.”

Sally felt a sense of gratitude wash over her. With the gentle conversation swirling around her and the kindness of both women, she no longer felt the weight of expectations pressing down on her. The simplicity of the snack, the bubbles of the sparkling water, and the light banter between Olivia and Theresa were exactly what she needed to ground herself.

As the chatter between Olivia and Theresa continued, shifting to topics like travel and favorite cities, Sally sat back in her chair, finally allowing herself to enjoy the calm. By the time she had finished the last of the banana slices and crackers, her nausea had fully dissipated, and she felt more herself again.

Olivia glanced over at Sally, giving her an encouraging smile. “Feeling better?”

Sally nodded, her face a little brighter. “Yeah, a lot better. Thanks for that.”

“Good,” Olivia said, leaning forward slightly. “There’s no rush to dive back in. We’ll continue when you’re ready.”

Sally smiled softly, feeling more secure than she had since the day began. “I think I’m ready soon,” she said, the warmth of their support giving her the strength she needed.

--

After spending some time recovering with the light snack and the gentle conversation between Olivia and Theresa, Sally finally felt steadier on her feet. The waves of anxiety that had previously overwhelmed her seemed to fade into the background. Her strength was returning, and though she still felt a bit weak, she knew she was ready to face her father again.

Olivia glanced at Sally and gave a warm, encouraging smile. “Ready to go back out there?” she asked softly, noting the slight hesitation on Sally’s face.

Sally nodded, feeling more confident now. “Yeah, I think I’m good.”

Theresa stood beside Sally, her protective presence still strong. She gave Sally a quick pat on the back. “We’ve got you, don’t worry.”

With that, the three women walked together down the hallway, back toward the main lobby where Adrian had been waiting. As they approached, Olivia took the lead, stepping through the doors first, with Sally and Theresa following close behind.

The moment they entered the lobby, Adrian turned toward them. He was standing near the large windows, looking out over the city, but his posture was tense, his shoulders squared. His brow furrowed as his eyes landed on Sally. His expression was a mix of concern and irritation—clearly, the wait had made him anxious, and perhaps a bit peeved that things hadn’t gone according to his meticulously planned schedule.

“Sally,” he said, his voice tight but laced with worry. “Are you alright?”

Sally felt a sudden pang of guilt, but Olivia quickly stepped in, her tone smooth and calming.

“She’s fine, Adrian,” Olivia reassured him. “We took a break, got her something to eat, and gave her some time to settle. She’s handling this as best she can, but let’s be honest—today has been a lot for her.”

Adrian’s eyes softened for a moment as he glanced at his daughter. “I didn’t realize… it would be this overwhelming,” he admitted, though his frustration was still apparent. “But we need to get through this.”

Theresa subtly stepped closer to Sally, sensing the shift in energy, her protective instinct kicking in. Sally appreciated it, knowing Theresa had her back. Still, she didn’t want her father to feel like she wasn’t up to the task, even though part of her still felt fragile.

Sally took a deep breath, her voice quiet but steady. “I’m okay, Daddy,” she said, surprising herself with the use of the affectionate term. “It was just… a lot all at once. But I’m ready to go now.”

Adrian looked at her, his brow softening at the sound of “Daddy.” He exhaled, some of the tension in his shoulders relaxing. “Good. I’m glad you’re alright,” he muttered, though a hint of impatience still lingered.

Olivia, sensing the need to shift the tone, stepped in again, her voice smooth but firm. “Adrian, let’s take things slowly from here. Sally is doing incredibly well given the circumstances, but she’ll need time to fully understand everything. There’s no need to rush. Today was about introductions, not conclusions.”

Adrian looked between Olivia and Sally, his frustration visibly wavering. He nodded slowly, clearly grappling with his own impatience. “Alright, let’s take it slow then,” he agreed, though his tone hinted at how difficult that was for him.

Sally, feeling the support from both Olivia and Theresa, gave her father a small, encouraging smile. “Thanks, Dad. I think… I just needed a minute to breathe.”

Adrian's expression softened further, and for the first time, he seemed to understand the weight of the day on his daughter. He reached out and gave her a brief, awkward pat on the shoulder. “You’re tougher than I give you credit for sometimes, kid,” he said quietly, a rare compliment escaping his usually reserved demeanor.

Sally felt a surge of warmth at his words, her earlier nerves continuing to fade. With Olivia and Theresa by her side, she felt ready to face whatever was next—even if it came with more questions and challenges.

“Shall we?” Olivia asked, her voice light, though her eyes were still watchful, making sure Sally was truly ready.

Sally nodded again, this time more confidently. “Let’s go.”

And with that, they walked back toward the meeting room, ready to pick up where they had left off—this time with a much calmer Sally, and with a father who, for once, seemed to realize that sometimes even the strongest needed a break.

--

Back in the meeting room, the atmosphere was more relaxed, though still professional. Olivia stood confidently at the front of the room, the soft click of the presentation remote the only sound as the lights dimmed slightly. A large screen in front of them lit up, displaying the first slide—a clean, minimalist design, perfectly in line with the sophisticated nature of Avalon Capital Advisors.

Sally settled back into her chair, still sipping on her sparkling water, feeling far more grounded now than she had earlier. Olivia, ever the poised professional, started speaking, her tone light but engaging.

“Alright, Sally, let’s start with the fun stuff,” Olivia began with a playful smile. “No need to overwhelm you with numbers and legal terms just yet. I thought it’d be nice to show you what’s already working for you, even if you haven’t had a chance to see it all in person.”

Adrian leaned back, his eyes focused on the screen, but clearly giving Olivia space to present without interruption. Theresa, ever watchful, sat beside Sally, occasionally glancing at her to make sure she was feeling okay. Sally, meanwhile, was feeling excited, knowing exactly what was coming.

“So, as you might know,” Olivia continued, her voice smooth and witty, “you’re not just a young lady with a hefty savings account. You have assets—real, tangible ones—and a good chunk of that involves some pretty spectacular real estate.”

The next slide transitioned to a sleek, modern apartment building with a prominent address in New York City. The name “Soho” appeared in bold letters at the top, and Olivia smiled knowingly as she clicked to reveal it.

Sally's face brightened. "Ah, there it is!" she said with a gleam in her eyes. “I love Soho. I can’t believe I actually own an apartment there.”

Olivia grinned, clearly enjoying Sally’s enthusiasm. “You have excellent taste. And I have to agree with you—it’s quite the spot.”

Sally leaned forward slightly, her excitement now fully showing. The apartment building, sleek and modern, seemed like a perfect fit for her. "I've always loved the vibe there. The art, the boutiques, the energy of the neighborhood—it’s just… me. I can’t wait to spend more time in that space.”

Theresa noticed Sally’s glowing face and couldn’t help but smile. “It suits you,” she said warmly.

“Yes, it does,” Olivia chimed in. “It’s not just any apartment, either. This is a high-end, two-bedroom loft with gorgeous views of the city and an open floor plan. You’ve been building equity there for a few years now, thanks to some smart investments made on your behalf.”

Sally nodded, still smiling. "It's like a dream come true, really. I’ve been thinking about moving there once everything settles down.”

Olivia chuckled. "I thought you might say that. And when you’re ready, it’s all yours. You could live there, rent it out, or even sell it if you want—though I recommend holding on to it. The market in Soho is only getting hotter, and that place is in a prime location.”

Sally grinned. "Oh, I’m definitely holding on to it. There’s no way I’d let go of a gem like that."

Olivia clicked through a few more slides, showing additional properties that Sally’s trust had invested in. There were vacation homes in the Bahamas and Switzerland, luxurious apartments in other parts of Manhattan, and even a small villa in southern France. Each property seemed more incredible than the last, but Sally’s heart remained with the Soho apartment.

Olivia noticed the way Sally’s face lit up every time Soho was mentioned and decided to have a little fun with it. “I had a feeling the Soho place would be your favorite,” she teased. “It’s got that urban, artsy vibe. And I hear the shopping’s not bad either.”

Sally laughed, finally feeling the tension of the day melt away. “Not bad? The shopping is amazing,” she said, her voice brimming with excitement. “Honestly, I can’t wait to spend more time there.”

“Well, now that you know it’s yours, you can plan your visits as much as you like,” Olivia replied warmly. “And don’t worry, the property manager is top-notch. Everything has been running smoothly, but whenever you’re ready, I’ll walk you through the details.”

Sally felt a rush of excitement but managed to keep her cool. For the first time today, she felt like she was part of something tangible, something she could see herself enjoying in the future.

As Olivia continued the presentation, switching to a more general discussion of financial strategies and future plans, Sally remained engaged, her mind occasionally drifting back to her apartment in Soho. She occasionally glanced at her father, who had been watching quietly, his earlier irritation having softened into a more thoughtful expression. He was clearly satisfied with how things were going, and Sally could tell he was proud of her for handling things so well.

Theresa leaned over and whispered, “Told you there’d be something exciting.”

Sally smiled and nodded, feeling a warm sense of connection with both women. They had helped her through one of the most challenging days of her young life, and now, instead of being overwhelmed, she felt a sense of ownership and excitement about her future.

Olivia wrapped up her presentation with a final slide featuring key financial reports, but it was clear that the real highlight for Sally had been the confirmation of her Soho apartment.

“Alright, Sally,” Olivia said, turning off the projector and leaning back in her chair. “I think that’s enough for today. You’ve been an absolute champ, and I’m excited for what’s ahead for you. We’ll take things one step at a time, and when you’re ready to dive deeper, we’ll be here to guide you.”

Sally nodded, feeling both relieved and excited. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I think I’m starting to understand how this all works.”

Olivia grinned. “You’re going to do great, Sally. You’ve already proven that you can handle more than you think.”

With that, the meeting came to a close, and Sally couldn’t help but smile to herself. She knew her life was about to change in ways she had imagined for so long—and at the center of it all was her very own apartment in Soho, a place she could soon call home.

--

After Olivia’s engaging presentation and the surprising revelation of the Soho apartment, the intensity of the day seemed to dissolve into something lighter. The meeting concluded, and the trio—Sally, her father Adrian, and Theresa—gathered for a quick business lunch at a nearby upscale restaurant. But instead of diving back into the weighty matters discussed earlier, the conversation was refreshingly light.

Sally, still recovering from the anxiety that had overcome her earlier, opted for a simple bowl of soup. She didn’t have much of an appetite, but the warmth of the broth helped settle her nerves. Olivia had joined them briefly, sharing humorous stories about her travels and letting the business talk take a backseat. Theresa had chimed in here and there, her laid-back demeanor helping Sally feel more at ease. Adrian, for his part, remained mostly silent, though his gaze occasionally flicked to Sally, as if reassessing how she was handling everything.

Once lunch was wrapped up, it was time to begin the journey back home. Sally, feeling calmer and more grounded than she had that morning, climbed into the familiar plush seats of the black SUV, flanked by her father and Theresa. They rode in comfortable silence as the car glided through the streets of Manhattan toward the heliport.

--

The helicopter ride back was quieter than the one earlier that morning. The chopper hummed softly, the blades cutting through the air as the city shrank beneath them. Sally stared out of the window, her thoughts swirling but in a calmer rhythm now. She was still processing everything—her trust, the Soho apartment, the future plans laid out by Olivia. But there was also something else on her mind.

The journey back felt faster, or perhaps it was just Sally’s mind wandering, the newness of the day’s events settling into a place she could start to understand.

But as they descended toward the heliport in their home city, something changed. There was an unusual energy in the air as they touched down, and Adrian’s expression grew more focused, more serious.

Once the helicopter landed and the door was opened, Adrian turned to Sally, his voice more formal than it had been all day. “Sally, I need to tell you something.”

Sally looked up, her curiosity piqued. “What is it, Dad?”

“I have to head back to Switzerland for business,” he said, his tone clipped, as if this was routine for him—but for Sally, it felt abrupt. “There are some urgent matters I need to handle. But don’t worry, Theresa will be stationed nearby, and she’ll help with anything you or your mother need while I’m away.”

Sally blinked, the words taking a moment to sink in. She had just started getting used to having him around, and now he was leaving again. The news wasn’t entirely surprising—her father had always traveled for work—but it stung a little more after everything that had happened that day.

Before she could respond, Theresa, ever aware of Sally’s emotional state, stepped forward and gently guided her off the helicopter. As they stepped onto the tarmac, Theresa pointed toward a massive, sleek silver jet parked nearby. “That’s his Gulfstream,” she said quietly, her voice reassuring, as if sensing Sally’s mixed feelings. “It’s how he travels for work.”

Sally stared at the private jet, its size and elegance almost intimidating. She marveled at it—the polished exterior, the subtle luxury of it all. The scale of her father’s world, and by extension, her world, was something she was still trying to comprehend.

A sleek black Suburban was parked next to the helicopter, waiting to whisk Adrian away to his plane. The subtle choreography of private travel was something Sally had never really thought about, but seeing it play out in front of her made it feel more real, more concrete.

Adrian turned to her, his expression softening slightly. He wasn’t one for drawn-out goodbyes, and Sally knew that, but this felt even more rushed than usual.

“Take care, Sally,” he said, offering a brief but genuine smile. “Theresa’s nearby if you need anything, alright? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Sally nodded, still unsure of what to say. She felt a swell of emotion rising in her chest—part disappointment, part relief, part confusion. She stepped forward and hugged him a bit shyly, her arms looping around his waist. It wasn’t a long hug, but it was enough to convey what she couldn’t say with words.

“Bye, Dad,” she said softly.

Adrian gave her one last nod before stepping toward the waiting Suburban. Within moments, the car door closed, and it pulled away, heading toward the jet that would take him back to Switzerland.

As the black Suburban drove off, Sally stood there, feeling the weight of her father’s departure. But before the unease could settle too deeply, Theresa placed a firm, comforting hand on her shoulder.

“It’s going to be okay, Sally,” Theresa said, her voice steady and reassuring. “Things are changing, but for the better. Your father is still part of your life, even if he’s not always physically here. And I’m just a call away if you need anything.”

Sally glanced at her, feeling a bit more grounded by Theresa’s presence. “Thanks,” she said, her voice a little steadier. “It’s just… a lot to take in.”

Theresa nodded. “I know. But you’re handling it well. Better than most people would. Just take it one day at a time.”

Sally smiled weakly at that, grateful for the support. They climbed into their own Suburban, the familiar leather seats providing a sense of comfort as they began the drive back to her house. Theresa sat next to her in the back, giving her space but also letting her know she wasn’t alone.

When they arrived home, the atmosphere shifted again. As soon as they walked through the door, Sally could feel her mother’s energy—a mix of tension, concern, and hovering protectiveness. Bridget was waiting for them, her posture stiff as she stood near the kitchen, clearly having been briefed by Adrian or Olivia on what had happened at Trump Tower.

“Sally,” her mother said, her voice a little too high-pitched as she hurried over. “How are you feeling? What happened today? Are you alright?”

Sally sighed, feeling a surge of exhaustion hit her. The last thing she wanted right now was an interrogation, even though she knew her mother was just worried.

Before Bridget could continue, Theresa stepped in, her calm presence immediately easing the tension in the room. “She’s okay, Bridget,” Theresa said softly but firmly. “It was a long day, but she handled it well. We just need to give her some time to rest.”

Bridget, though still tense, nodded slowly. “I was just so worried,” she muttered, her eyes flicking to Sally, searching for any signs of distress. “I didn’t know what to expect.”

Sally gave her mother a small smile, though it was more out of reassurance than anything else. “I’m fine, Mom,” she said quietly. “Really. It was just a lot, but I’m okay now.”

Bridget sighed, still not entirely convinced, but she relaxed a little. “Alright,” she said softly, brushing a hand through Sally’s hair. “I’m just glad you’re home.”

Theresa, sensing the emotional weight of the moment, stepped back slightly, giving mother and daughter their space. She could tell that Bridget’s hovering was coming from a place of love, but she also knew that Sally needed room to breathe.

As they all settled back into the house, the day’s events started to feel a little further away. The tension was still there, but it had softened, replaced by the quiet comfort of being home.

Sally, though still processing everything, felt a small spark of relief knowing that Theresa would be close by. And though her father was gone again, there was a sense that things were changing—for the better, just as Theresa had said.

Chapter 36 – Home Sweet Home

As soon as Theresa stepped out the front door, leaving mother and daughter alone, the atmosphere inside the house shifted. Bridget, still holding onto the anxiety of the day’s events, could see the weariness in her daughter’s posture, the slight droop of her shoulders, and the dark circles under her eyes. But beneath that, she saw the same need for care that had always been there, especially on difficult days like this.

“How about we get you ready for bed, sweetheart?” Bridget suggested softly, her hand gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind Sally’s ear. “You’ve had a long day, and I think you could use some rest.”

Sally nodded, her emotions drained. There was no resistance, no hesitation—just a quiet willingness to be cared for. The ritual of being diapered by her mother was more than just routine; it was a loving gesture that brought her comfort. It was an act that stripped away the complexities of the day and left only love and trust.

“Come on,” Bridget said, guiding Sally with a light touch on her back toward her room.

Sally followed, her body feeling the heaviness of the day beginning to lift, knowing what was coming—a deep sense of relaxation that always accompanied her mother’s care. She didn’t just want it tonight; she needed it. It wasn’t just the physical comfort of the diapering—it was the love, the attention, the feeling of being cradled by the one person who always knew what she needed.

Once in her room, Sally let out a soft sigh, her body visibly relaxing as she lay back on the bed. Bridget noticed the change in her daughter’s demeanor, the small signals that showed Sally was already beginning to unwind.

“Let’s get you comfortable,” Bridget said softly as she moved with practiced care, retrieving the supplies from the drawer by Sally’s bedside. The thick diaper was placed beside her, and the familiar scent of baby powder filled the air, bringing a sense of calm. Bridget also took out a booster pad, which wasn’t always part of the routine.

Sally noticed the extra padding, her curiosity piqued. Her eyes flicked toward it, and Bridget smiled gently. “I thought this might help you feel extra relaxed tonight,” she said, her voice full of warmth. “It’s been a tough day, and I want you to sleep deeply.”

Sally gave a small nod, her throat tightening with emotion she couldn’t quite express. The booster pad symbolized a little extra care, an added layer of protection that made her feel even more secure. She welcomed it.

Bridget gently helped Sally sit up and slipped her soft sweater over her head, folding it neatly and placing it aside. Sally now sat in her undergarments, feeling the vulnerability of the moment, but knowing she was safe in her mother’s hands. Bridget guided her to lie back down, the comfort of the bed and her mother’s presence wrapping around her like a blanket.

With gentle precision, Bridget unbottoned Sally’s jeans, sliding them down and folding them neatly. She then carefully removed Sally’s underwear, leaving her exposed but entirely comfortable in her mother’s care. There was no shame here, only love and trust.

“There we go,” Bridget murmured softly as she slipped the diaper under Sally’s hips, ensuring it was perfectly positioned.

Next, Bridget unfolded the booster pad and placed it carefully inside the diaper, securing it with practiced ease. “This will help you feel nice and snug,” she said, her voice a balm to Sally’s ears.

Sally’s body relaxed further into the bed, feeling the familiar comfort of her mother’s touch, the soft rustle of the diaper, and the gentle scent of baby powder. The day’s tension slowly melted away.

Bridget fastened the diaper snugly around Sally’s waist, her fingers working with care as she secured each tape. “All done,” she said with a soft smile, smoothing out the edges of the diaper. “How does that feel, love?”

Sally wiggled slightly, feeling the added bulk of the booster pad, and smiled softly. “It feels… really good,” she whispered, her voice filled with contentment.

Bridget leaned down and kissed Sally’s forehead tenderly, her heart swelling with love. “You’ve been such a good girl today,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You’ve handled everything so well. I’m so proud of you.”

The moment the words “good girl” left her mother’s lips, Sally felt a wave of warmth wash over her. A visible reaction crossed her face—her eyes fluttered closed, and her body seemed to relax even further, sinking deeply into the comfort of her bed. The phrase was like a soothing balm, touching a place in Sally that made her feel safe, loved, and completely at ease.

Bridget noticed the subtle shift in her daughter’s features, the way Sally’s lips curved slightly as if she were being cradled in the very words. “There’s my good girl,” Bridget whispered again, her voice filled with tenderness.

With the diaper snugly in place, Bridget gently helped Sally sit up, sliding a soft t-shirt over her head, and smoothing it down as Sally settled back into the bed. The bulk of the diaper and booster pad made her feel cocooned, protected in a way that no other act could replicate.

As Sally lay back, her body completely relaxed, Bridget reached into the bedside drawer once more. She pulled out a pacifier and held it in her hand for a moment before offering it to Sally.

“Here,” Bridget said gently, bringing the pacifier to Sally’s lips. “Just try it, sweetheart. I think it’ll help you relax even more tonight.”

Sally’s lips parted hesitantly, a flicker of resistance crossing her face. But when her mother gently placed the pacifier between her lips, the resistance melted away, replaced by a tentative acceptance. She began to suckle softly, the motion slow and unsure at first, but within moments, it became steady. The rhythm of her sucking grew more relaxed, more natural, and soon, the tension in her features completely faded.

Bridget watched as Sally’s body visibly loosened, the pacifier working its magic. Her daughter’s breathing became slow and even, her face softening into an expression of deep contentment. With the pacifier between her lips and the diaper snug around her waist, Sally looked utterly at peace.

Bridget smiled warmly, leaning down to press one final kiss on Sally’s forehead. “Good night, sweet dreams, my pampered princess,” she whispered lovingly.

Sally’s eyes fluttered closed, the rhythmic sucking on the pacifier lulling her further into a state of relaxation. The words “pampered princess” echoed softly in her mind, filling her with warmth. She didn’t resist the nickname—it made her feel cherished, special, and deeply loved.

As Bridget quietly left the room, closing the door softly behind her, Sally drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep. In that quiet, comforting space, wrapped in her mother’s care, everything felt right.

--

Sally lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Her mind drifted back to the night before—the warmth of her mother's care, the comforting weight of the diaper, the pacifier that had lulled her into such a deep sleep. The memory filled her with a sense of contentment, though she now felt the growing discomfort in her bladder.

She shifted slightly, feeling the bulk of the diaper against her. The booster pad added a noticeable thickness, making her feel secure but also increasing the pressure she felt. With a small sigh, she gave in, relaxing her body as she let her bladder release into the diaper.

The familiar warmth spread through the padding, soothing her in a way she hadn’t realized she needed. The tension that had built up in her stomach melted away, and she exhaled softly, her body finally able to relax fully.

After a few moments of lying there, enjoying the peaceful quiet of the early morning, Sally stretched her arms above her head. The room was still bathed in dim light, and the house was completely still. She glanced toward her door, knowing her mother was still asleep in her own room down the hall.

The idea of lying in bed, cocooned in the warmth of her diaper, was tempting, but the slight rumble in her stomach made her think otherwise. It was still early, but she was hungry. Quietly, Sally swung her legs over the side of the bed, feeling the thick diaper between her thighs as she moved. She stood up slowly, adjusting her balance to accommodate the added bulk.

With her t-shirt barely covering the waistband of her diaper, she padded across her room, feeling the soft crinkle with each step. The sensation of the wet diaper pressing against her skin was both comforting and familiar, though it made her steps slightly wider, forcing her into a bit of a waddle.

Sally quietly opened her door and stepped into the hallway. The house was still dark, save for the faint light creeping through the windows. She made her way carefully down the hallway, the crinkling sound of her diaper accompanying her every step. She paused at the top of the stairs, glancing toward her mother’s closed bedroom door.

“Still asleep,” she thought to herself, relieved that she had some quiet time before her mom woke up.

Her descent down the stairs was slow, her movements deliberate, as the bulk of her diaper made her shift her hips slightly with each step. Once she reached the bottom, the house opened up into the quiet kitchen and living room, the early morning light making everything look softer, more peaceful.

Moving through the kitchen, she grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and some cereal from the pantry. She poured herself a generous portion, reaching for the milk and sitting down at the small breakfast table. As she spooned the cereal into her mouth, the silence of the house felt comforting—just her, in her soft diaper and t-shirt, enjoying a quiet morning before anyone else was awake.

Sally let her mind wander, feeling the weight of the wet diaper still between her legs. She knew she'd need a change soon, but for now, she was content. The morning light filtered in through the kitchen windows, casting a soft glow across the room, and she took her time, savoring the peace and quiet of the early hours.

Sally sat at the breakfast table, the cereal slowly disappearing from her bowl as she chewed thoughtfully. The house was still quiet, and her mother hadn’t yet come down from her room. The soft early morning light painted the kitchen in a peaceful glow, and for a moment, Sally allowed herself to fully sink into the silence.

Her thoughts wandered, and she found herself reflecting on everything that had changed in the past few days. The meeting with Olivia, the overwhelming revelations about her trust, and the apartment in Soho—it was a lot to take in. She had never thought much about her family's wealth before, but now it seemed like everything had shifted.

She leaned back in her chair, absentmindedly shifting in her wet diaper. The contrast of her new reality—the wealth, the trust, the responsibilities—and her current situation made her smile. “Rich girl wets her diaper,” she thought to herself with a soft chuckle. The thought was cheeky and amusing, but it made her feel oddly grounded. Here she was, someone with access to real estate in New York and assets she had barely begun to understand, sitting in her kitchen in a wet diaper.

As she finished the last of her cereal, Sally let herself relax just a bit more, releasing into her diaper again. The warmth spread through the padding, and she couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of it all. “Rich girl wets her diaper,” the phrase repeated in her head, this time with a playful edge. She could be out there, doing anything, buying anything—but here she was, still enjoying the comfort and security of something so simple.

But she knew better. Sally wasn’t about to let her new status change who she was. The thought of all the things she could do—the extravagances she could indulge in—was almost laughable. She could buy cars, throw lavish parties, travel wherever she wanted. Yet, none of that really interested her. She preferred the quiet of her mornings, the warmth of the routine she shared with her mother.

Her mind drifted to school and how the day ahead would go. Today was volleyball, and she looked forward to it. She loved playing with her friends, feeling the rush of competition and the camaraderie on the court. Katrina and Clara would be there, and they’d definitely ask about her father. She was sure of it. Katrina, especially, would tease her about the whole thing, likely throwing in some dramatic exclamations in Spanish for good measure.

Sally smiled at the thought of her friends, but the smile faltered slightly as she wondered what she’d tell them. They knew some things about her life—about her father’s absence and their wealth—but she hadn’t told them everything. Should she mention the meeting with Olivia? The apartment in Soho? What would they think? Would they be impressed, or would it make things awkward?

Her fingers played absently with the spoon in her bowl as she considered her options. “Maybe I should ask Mom what to say,” she thought. Her mother would know how to handle it—how to navigate the questions without giving too much away. Sally trusted her mother’s judgment and felt a bit better knowing she could rely on her for advice.

The clock ticked softly in the background, and still, her mother hadn’t come downstairs. Sally didn’t mind the quiet, but she was curious about what her mother would say once she asked about her father. Bridget had always been calm and measured, even when talking about things as complicated as her relationship with Adrian. Sally knew she could depend on her mom to give her the right words to say.

Her diaper crinkled softly as she shifted in her chair, pulling her thoughts back to the present. She smiled again, shaking her head slightly at the thought of how ridiculous and yet how right it felt to be sitting here like this. “Pampered princess,” her mother had called her. Maybe there was some truth to it after all.

Sally stood up from the table, her diaper sagging slightly from the added wetness. The day ahead was full of possibilities—volleyball, time with friends, figuring out what to say about her father. She’d ask her mom soon enough, but for now, she relished the quiet of the morning, enjoying the stillness before the world woke up.

--

Bridget made her way downstairs, still in her cozy robe, her hair slightly tousled from sleep. The house was quiet, except for the soft murmur of the television playing in the living room. She smiled to herself, knowing exactly where she’d find her daughter.

As she entered the room, Bridget found Sally curled up on the sofa, her legs tucked beneath her and a warm mug of coffee cradled in her hands. The early morning light filtered through the windows, casting a gentle glow over the room. Sally was watching the morning news, her eyes focused on the screen, but there was a serene stillness about her, a calmness that Bridget immediately noticed.

Sally was dressed just as Bridget expected: in her t-shirt and, unmistakably, her diaper beneath it, the soft crinkling sound barely audible as she shifted slightly to sip from her mug. The subtle sag of her diaper wasn’t lost on Bridget, who smiled knowingly.

Bridget crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the armchair nearby, watching her daughter for a moment before speaking. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she said softly, her voice warm with affection.

Sally looked up, startled slightly, but then smiled. “Morning, Mom,” she replied, her voice soft and relaxed.

Bridget raised an eyebrow, glancing at the coffee in her daughter’s hands. “Coffee, huh? Feeling extra grown-up this morning?” she teased gently.

Sally grinned sheepishly, shifting a little in her seat. “I thought I’d start my day like an adult, you know?” she joked, but her eyes twinkled with the shared humor between them.

Bridget chuckled, giving her daughter a knowing look. “Right, because a grown-up definitely starts their day with coffee… in a wet diaper.” She winked, her tone full of warmth and playfulness.

Sally blushed, her cheeks turning a light pink, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, I guess I’m still figuring it out,” she said with a grin, taking another sip of her coffee.

Bridget shook her head fondly and leaned back in the armchair, watching her daughter with a mixture of amusement and tenderness. “You’ve always been my little multitasker, haven’t you? Drinking coffee, watching the news, and being my pampered princess—all at the same time.”

Sally rolled her eyes at the nickname but couldn’t help the smile that crept onto her face. “You’re never going to let that one go, are you?”

Bridget smirked. “Not a chance.”

“How are you feeling?” Bridget asked after a moment, her tone shifting to one of concern.

Sally shrugged, setting her mug down on the coffee table. “I’m okay, just thinking about today.” She hesitated, glancing at her mother. “I was thinking about what I’m going to tell Katrina and Clara about Dad. They’re going to ask, I just know it.”

Bridget nodded thoughtfully, sensing her daughter’s unease. “You don’t have to give them every detail, you know. Just tell them what feels right. They’re your friends—they’ll understand.”

Sally looked down at her hands, fidgeting slightly. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… a lot.”

Bridget leaned forward, reaching out to gently touch Sally’s arm. “It is a lot, but you’ve been handling everything beautifully, sweetheart. And you know I’m always here if you need help with what to say.”

Sally smiled softly at her mother’s reassurance, feeling the weight of her thoughts lift just a little. “Thanks, Mom,” she murmured.

Bridget stood up and ruffled Sally’s hair playfully. “Now, how about we get you changed out of that soggy diaper before you start your day? Even my pampered princess needs to be fresh for school.”

Sally laughed, her cheeks flushing again. “Yeah, probably a good idea,” she admitted, standing up from the sofa.

As she stood, the crinkle of her wet diaper was unmistakable, and Bridget shook her head with a smile. “Come on, let’s get you sorted.”

Together, they made their way upstairs, the bond between them stronger than ever, built on love, humor, and the shared understanding of their unique connection.

--

The smell of fresh toast and eggs filled the kitchen as Bridget and Sally sat down together for breakfast. The sun was climbing higher, casting a warm glow through the window and making the morning feel peaceful. Sally, now dressed in her crisp school uniform—her pleated skirt and neatly pressed blouse—was much more alert than she had been earlier. The familiar routine of breakfast with her mother made her feel grounded, even after the whirlwind events of the past few days.

As Sally took a bite of her toast, she noticed Bridget looking at her thoughtfully, like she had something on her mind. Sally raised an eyebrow, waiting for her mother to speak.

“Sally,” Bridget began, her voice measured but calm. “There’s something I need to tell you about today.”

Sally’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. “What is it, Mom?” she asked, already sensing that this was more than just the usual morning conversation.

Bridget cleared her throat softly. “Theresa will be driving you to school this morning.”

Sally blinked, her fork dropping back onto her plate as she stared at her mother in surprise. “Wait… what?” she said, the words coming out more stunned than she intended. “But I can take the bus.”

Bridget gave her daughter a patient smile, as if she had anticipated this reaction. “I know you can, but things are changing, Sally. Your father doesn’t like the idea of you taking the bus anymore. He feels it’s safer and more appropriate for Theresa to fulfill her role as our assistant—and yes, that includes driving you to school.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of confusion and unease settle in. “Like… a bodyguard?” she asked, her tone uncertain.

Bridget sighed softly, reaching for her coffee. “Not exactly, but kind of. She’s here to help with more than just driving, Sally. Your father wants to make sure we have someone nearby who can handle anything we might need. Theresa is here for us—to assist with day-to-day things and keep an eye out for anything else.”

Sally stared at her plate, trying to process what her mother was saying. She liked Theresa, really—she was capable, friendly, and had proven herself helpful already. The scenes at Trump Tower, especially in the bathroom, had shown Sally how understanding and protective Theresa could be. Theresa had helped her through one of the most vulnerable moments of her life without judgment or awkwardness. That had meant a lot to Sally.

But still, having Theresa take such a central role in her life, and especially in something as mundane as driving her to school, felt… strange. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of suddenly having this much attention, this much protection.

Sally took a breath, trying to find her footing in the conversation. “I mean, Theresa’s nice and everything, but it feels a little… much. Like, I can take care of myself, you know? I don’t need someone hovering over me.”

Bridget smiled sympathetically. “I know, sweetheart. It’s a big change, and it might feel a bit strange at first. But your father’s just trying to make sure you’re safe. He’s worried about you, especially with all the changes happening now. And honestly, I think Theresa will make things easier for us. She’s very capable, and she’ll be around for more than just driving.”

Sally sighed, leaning back in her chair and taking another bite of toast. She mulled over her mother’s words, still feeling a little uncertain. “I guess…” she muttered, her tone softening as she considered it.

Bridget watched her daughter carefully, sensing her discomfort. “I get that it feels like a lot,” she said gently. “But remember what happened at Trump Tower? How Theresa helped you? She’s really good at reading situations and stepping in when she’s needed. I think you’ll get used to having her around. And you’ll always be able to set boundaries if something feels off.”

Sally nodded slowly, her mind flashing back to that moment in the bathroom. Theresa had been there when she needed her most, holding her hair back, offering her support, and not once making her feel weak or embarrassed. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Theresa’s calm presence, Sally wasn’t sure how she would have made it through that overwhelming day.

Still, the idea of having someone hovering around, especially at school, made her feel uncomfortable. “I know she’s great and all,” Sally said, her voice hesitant, “but I don’t want it to feel like I’m being watched all the time. I don’t want people thinking I’m different because I’ve got someone driving me around or looking after me.”

Bridget leaned forward, placing a hand on Sally’s arm. “No one’s going to think that, Sally. And honestly, people probably won’t even notice. Theresa will be there when you need her, but she won’t be hovering. She’s professional. And more than that, she’s there for you, not to monitor you.”

Sally sighed, feeling a bit more at ease but still unsure about the whole thing. “I guess I just need time to get used to it,” she admitted.

Bridget nodded understandingly. “That’s perfectly fine. You’ll see how things go, and we can talk about it whenever you want. But for now, just try to keep an open mind. Your father really believes this is for the best, and I think Theresa will help make things smoother for both of us.”

Sally looked down at her uniform, adjusting her pleated skirt slightly. The day ahead loomed in her mind—volleyball practice, classes, and the inevitable questions from Katrina and Clara about her father. She wasn’t sure what she’d tell them, but maybe after talking with her mother, she could figure out what felt right.

“Okay,” Sally finally said, her voice firmer now. “I’ll try it out. But if it gets weird, I’m telling you.”

Bridget smiled warmly, relief evident in her eyes. “Deal,” she said, squeezing Sally’s arm gently. “Now finish your breakfast. You don’t want to be late, even if you do have a personal chauffeur now.”

Sally rolled her eyes but smiled at her mother’s teasing. “Pampered princess rides again,” she muttered, earning a chuckle from Bridget.

As Sally took another bite of her toast, she felt the tiniest bit of relief. Things were changing, and though it was a lot to take in, maybe having someone like Theresa around wouldn’t be so bad after all.

As Sally mulled over the news of Theresa driving her to school, Bridget sensed her daughter's lingering discomfort. The fork in Sally’s hand moved slowly as she processed the idea, but her furrowed brow and uncertain gaze made it clear that the change wasn’t sitting well with her yet.

Bridget, ever perceptive, leaned forward a little, her voice soft but firm. “You know, Sally, we’re not the only family with an assistant or a driver. Plenty of your classmates probably have something similar.”

Sally glanced up, meeting her mother’s eyes with a hint of acknowledgment. She knew it was true. It wasn’t uncommon in her school for other students to have personal drivers or assistants waiting for them at the end of the day. Some of her friends, like Katrina and Clara, lived in families where personal chauffeurs, nannies, or assistants were just a part of life. It wasn’t strange for them to get dropped off in fancy cars, picked up in SUVs, or have someone on standby to cater to their needs.

Still, the idea of being lumped into that category—the "rich of the rich"—made Sally cringe inwardly. Sure, she had always known that her family had money, but it had never felt like a central part of her identity. She preferred blending in with her friends, being “normal.” But now, with Theresa becoming part of her daily routine, it felt like the line between her and the wealth she had avoided acknowledging was suddenly more visible.

“I know,” Sally admitted, her voice quieter as she set her fork down. “A lot of the kids at school have drivers or assistants... I’ve just never felt like one of them.” Sally sighed, slumping slightly in her chair as she stared down at her plate. She wanted to push back, to insist that she didn’t need all the extra attention.

But Bridget was right. Their circumstances were different now, and things were changing quickly. It wasn’t just about keeping up appearances or flaunting wealth—this was about adapting to a new reality that was unfolding, one that had started with her father's sudden involvement and everything she had learned about their financial situation.

“It just feels weird,” Sally said after a pause, her voice tinged with uncertainty. “I’ve always liked taking the bus. It’s normal. This feels… like a lot all at once.”

Bridget nodded, her eyes soft with understanding. “I know it does. And it’s okay to feel uncomfortable about it at first. But give it some time. Theresa’s here to help, not just for the big stuff, but for the little things too. She’s on our side, Sally, and having her around doesn’t change who you are.”

Sally fidgeted with the hem of her school skirt, biting her lip thoughtfully. She knew her mother was right. Theresa had proven to be reliable and kind during their trip to Trump Tower, and she didn’t feel judged or condescended to. If anything, Theresa had treated her like a capable young woman, not like a child.

But the idea of having someone drive her to school—of being seen as part of that “rich” crowd—still made her feel uncomfortable. She wasn’t ready to embrace the idea that she was different from her friends in such an obvious way.

“I’ll give it a try,” Sally said, her voice hesitant but sincere. “But I don’t want it to feel like I’m showing off or something.”

Bridget smiled gently. “No one’s asking you to show off, honey. You’re still you, no matter who drives you to school. And besides, plenty of other kids are in the same boat. It’s not about being better or different—it’s just what works best for us right now.”

Sally nodded, still processing the shift, but feeling a little better with her mother’s reassurance. She knew Katrina and Clara wouldn’t care who drove her, but the thought of standing out in such an obvious way was still something she’d have to get used to.

“Okay, okay,” Sally finally said, with a small, resigned smile. “But I’m still not calling her a bodyguard.”

Bridget chuckled, relieved to see a bit of humor return to her daughter’s face. “Fair enough,” she said, standing up to clear the dishes. “Just think of her as part of our team.”

Sally finished the last bite of her breakfast, feeling a little more at ease. The day ahead would still be filled with questions, especially from her friends, but at least she knew she wasn’t alone in figuring it all out. And though the idea of having an “assistant” was still strange, Sally had to admit—if she had to have someone, she was glad it was Theresa.

Chapter 37 - Bodyguard

Sally was halfway down the stairs, adjusting the straps of her backpack, when she dectected a car pulling up the driveway. She glanced through the window, pausing for a moment as she spotted the silver Mercedes SUV pulling up to the curb. Her eyebrows raised in mild surprise. It looked similar to her mom's red SUV but was more understated—definitely not flashy, just… normal. It almost blended in, which was surprising considering how everything about the last few days had felt anything but normal.

Sally made her way to the front door and opened it slowly. Theresa gave Sally a friendly nod. The tall, blonde woman moved with her usual efficiency, her posture relaxed yet professional as she waved to Sally.

"Good morning, Sally," Theresa said warmly, her tone casual but inviting. "Ready?"

Sally hesitated for a second, still getting used to this new routine. She had grown to like Theresa in the short time they'd known each other, especially after what had happened at Trump Tower, but it still felt strange to have someone like her—an assistant—now taking such a central role in her day-to-day life. She raised an eyebrow as she glanced at the SUV again.

"Is this yours?" Sally asked, half-joking but genuinely curious as she climbed into the front passenger seat. The soft leather seats were comfortable, and the interior smelled faintly of new car, even though it was clearly meant to be discreet.

Theresa chuckled as she settled back into the driver’s seat, buckling her seatbelt. "Not exactly mine. Your dad arranged it—he wanted something practical but low-key. So, this is what he picked. Nothing flashy, just a functional, everyday car."

Sally nodded, feeling a little better about the car’s understated nature. It wasn’t over the top, and that made her feel a bit more at ease. She adjusted her seatbelt and turned to Theresa, trying to figure out how to break the ice.

"So…," Sally began hesitantly, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her backpack. "What exactly do I tell my friends about all of this? You driving me, I mean. They’re definitely going to ask."

Theresa glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, her expression thoughtful. She took a moment before responding, clearly wanting to say the right thing.

"You don’t have to overthink it," Theresa said gently. "You can just tell them that your dad wants you more involved in some family business stuff, and your mom’s been really busy with her charity work. So, I’m here to help out with whatever’s needed." She paused for a moment, her tone casual but reassuring. "Nothing dramatic, just practical."

Sally nodded slowly, mulling over Theresa’s words. "That sounds simple enough," she admitted. "But it still feels… I don’t know, like people are going to think I’m part of the ‘rich crowd’ now."

Theresa smiled, sensing Sally’s discomfort. "Well, the truth is, a lot of kids at your school probably already have drivers, assistants, and all sorts of things. You wouldn’t be the only one. But I get it—you don’t want to stand out."

Sally shrugged, shifting slightly in her seat. "Yeah, it’s just… I’ve always been able to take care of myself. Now it feels like I’m being watched or something."

Theresa nodded, her gaze still focused on the road. "I hear you, and I don’t want you to feel like I’m hovering. I’m really just here to help when you need it. Think of me as… well, more like an older sister or someone you can rely on. If something comes up, I’ll be there. But I’m not here to get in your way or make things awkward for you."

Sally smirked, appreciating Theresa’s down-to-earth approach. "Older sister, huh? That might take some getting used to."

Theresa laughed softly. "Well, I’m definitely not a bodyguard—let’s clear that up right now. But your dad did ask me to keep an eye on things, so I’ll be around. Nothing too intense. Just another person on your team."

Sally’s tension eased a bit at that. She could handle having Theresa around if it meant she wasn’t going to feel smothered or scrutinized. Plus, after the Trump Tower incident, she trusted Theresa more than she had expected to.

As they drove through the quiet streets, the soft hum of the SUV filling the space between them, Sally found herself more curious about Theresa’s role.

"So, you’re still working for my dad, right?" Sally asked, glancing sideways at her.

Theresa nodded. "Yep, I still manage a lot of his stuff remotely. But I’m also here to help with anything you and your mom might need—whether it’s handling financial things or just being a support. Your dad felt like it was important to have someone close by who could help with both family and business affairs."

Sally raised an eyebrow. "You mean, like... everything?"

Theresa smiled. "Pretty much. I’ve been doing this for a while, so don’t worry. It’s just part of the job." She glanced at Sally, then added in a lighter tone, "And trust me, I won’t be following you around school or anything. I’ll be waiting by the car when you’re ready to go home."

Sally let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. The idea of Theresa following her around school was too much to bear, and she was relieved to know that wasn’t part of the plan.

"Okay," Sally said, feeling a little more comfortable. "That sounds better. I just… don’t want to stand out more than I already do."

Theresa gave her a warm smile. "You won’t, I promise. We’ll keep things low-key. And if you ever need me to back off, just say the word."

Sally nodded, appreciating Theresa’s straightforwardness. She still felt a little awkward about the whole situation, but it wasn’t as bad as she had initially feared. Theresa seemed cool about it all—like she wasn’t taking things too seriously, even though she was clearly there to help.

As they pulled up to the school gates, Sally glanced around, feeling relieved that there wasn’t a crowd watching her get out of the car. Theresa slowed the car down, pulling smoothly into a parking spot close to the entrance.

"Here we are," Theresa said with a smile, shifting the car into park. "I’ll be here to pick you up after school. Same deal, no big fuss."

Sally nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt. "Thanks, Tess," she said, the new nickname slipping out naturally, and she smiled at how easy it felt to say.

Theresa grinned at the nickname, clearly liking it. "No problem, kiddo. Have a great day, and remember—you can always text me if you need anything."

Sally gave her a small wave as she climbed out of the car, feeling surprisingly better about the whole thing. As she walked toward the school entrance, she glanced back at the silver Mercedes, watching as Theresa gave her a thumbs-up before pulling out of the parking lot.

"Not so bad after all," Sally thought to herself as she made her way inside, feeling more at ease. It wasn’t perfect, and there was still a part of her that felt uneasy about all the changes, but at least she had Tess. That made things a little easier to handle.

--

As Sally approached the school courtyard, she spotted Katrina waiting for her, as expected. Katrina, always full of energy, waved enthusiastically, though today her excitement seemed a little more contained than usual.

“Saaally! ¡Por fin!” Katrina called out with a grin, walking over to meet her. “You’re late! What took you so long?”

Sally smiled as she adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “Just had to deal with a few things at home. Nothing too exciting.”

Katrina raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued, but she didn’t launch into her usual barrage of questions right away. “Hmm, sounds mysterious,” she teased, though her tone was softer than usual. “Anything I should know about?”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “Not really. Just some family stuff. You know how it is.”

Katrina nodded, but couldn’t resist a small smirk. “Family stuff, huh? That sounds suspiciously vague.”

Sally sighed, though she couldn’t help but smile at Katrina’s persistence. “It’s just that my dad’s in town for a bit, and my mom’s super busy with work. We’ve got someone helping out around the house while he’s here.”

“Ah, got it,” Katrina replied, leaning in a little closer. “Is this ‘someone’ interesting? Or is it just boring grown-up help?”

Sally chuckled. “No, it’s not like that. Theresa’s just an assistant helping out with stuff while my dad’s away again. That’s it.”

Katrina shrugged, her curiosity now shifting to something else. “Hmm, okay. I was hoping for a juicier story, but I’ll let it slide this time.”

Before Sally could respond, Clara appeared beside them, catching the tail end of their conversation. “Are we all good here? Or is Katrina still digging for secrets?”

Katrina gave an exaggerated sigh. “Ay, Clara, I wasn’t even that bad this time!” she protested, though her eyes twinkled with amusement.

Sally smiled, feeling more at ease now that the conversation had settled into their usual banter. “You’re always digging for secrets, Katrina.”

“Well, someone has to keep things interesting,” Katrina replied, her voice playful but not as over-the-top as usual.

Clara chuckled and nudged Sally. “Ignore her. Let’s head inside before we’re late.”

The three girls walked toward the school building together, chatting lightly as they made their way across the courtyard. Katrina still stole the occasional curious glance at Sally, but for now, the questions seemed to have run their course.

Sally felt a small wave of relief wash over her. The conversation had been much easier than she expected, and she was grateful for the calm, playful mood between them. At least for now, everything felt under control.

--

As the trio made their way toward the school entrance, Katrina wasn’t done with her teasing. Her mischievous grin reappeared, and Sally could sense another comment coming.

“So,” Katrina began, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm, “if this Theresa is here to help with everything, does that mean she’s going to help your mom with the real important stuff? Like changing diapers and taking care of the beautiful baby?”

Sally stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening slightly as her face flushed a deep pink. “Katrina! Seriously?” she exclaimed, though her voice was more shocked than angry. The words hit a little too close to home, and Sally found herself caught between embarrassment and the humor of the situation.

Clara, always one to play along, nodded seriously, though a small smirk tugged at her lips. “Yeah, Sally, you know. Your mom’s going to need all the help she can get with such a precious baby around. Theresa probably has that covered too.”

Sally’s blush deepened, and she let out a nervous laugh, trying to brush off the comment as nothing more than their usual banter. “You two are impossible,” she said, shaking her head, though she couldn’t help but smile.

Inside, though, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder—what would happen if Theresa ever found out about her secret? The thought of her knowing about the diapers, the vulnerability it brought, made Sally’s stomach flip a little. She liked Theresa well enough and had started to trust her, especially after Trump Tower, but there was something so personal, so intimate about this side of her life. It wasn’t something she was ready to share, especially not with someone new.

Katrina, oblivious to Sally’s inner turmoil, pressed on with her teasing. “Hey, if she’s going to be your assistant, she’s got to be prepared for everything, right? I mean, taking care of a princess is hard work!”

Clara chuckled and chimed in. “Exactly. Pampered Princess duties require extra attention.”

Sally, still blushing but trying to keep up with the humor, rolled her eyes. “You two are ridiculous.” She managed to laugh, even though her thoughts were still racing.

The banter, while playful, left a lingering question in Sally’s mind. She had been doing her best to keep her secret contained, and up until now, only her mom knew the full extent of it. But with Theresa around more often and getting involved in their family life, Sally wondered how long she’d be able to keep everything hidden.

She shook her head slightly, trying to push the thoughts aside for now. She wasn’t going to let Katrina’s teasing get to her—not today. There were other things to focus on, like volleyball practice and making it through the school day without too many more questions about her dad.

Still, as they entered the building and Katrina’s jokes faded into the background, the thought lingered: What if Theresa found out?

Katrina, always one to push the teasing a little further, gave Sally a sideways glance and smirked. "Well, at least today is Volleyball practice," she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "And I get to see you naked in the showers."

Sally’s face turned red again, though this time the embarrassment was mixed with amusement. “Katrina!” she exclaimed, though she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible.”

Katrina winked, unashamed. “Hey, it’s not my fault. If the school insists on group showers after practice, who am I to complain?” She raised an eyebrow suggestively, clearly enjoying Sally’s reaction.

Sally shook her head but finally admitted, “Well, showering together won’t be too unpleasant, I guess.” Her tone was light, and though she was still blushing, there was a playfulness in her voice.

At this, Clara whined dramatically, throwing her hands in the air. "Ugh, why do you two get all the fun? I feel so left out. No group showers after chess practice!"

The girls burst into laughter, the tension from earlier completely forgotten as they shared the moment of humor. Katrina and Sally exchanged a quick glance, clearly amused at Clara’s mock-jealousy.

“You’ll just have to take up a real sport, Clara,” Katrina teased, nudging her playfully.

Clara rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at her lips. "Chess is a real sport, thank you very much. But fine, I’ll admit, your post-volleyball showers do sound a bit more exciting than sitting in the library with a bunch of nerds like me."

Sally laughed, feeling lighter with each joke they shared. The earlier awkwardness was gone, and for a moment, she let herself enjoy the banter. “Well, maybe we can petition for a chess shower. I’m sure it would be a big hit.”

"With me, at least," Katrina chimed in, grinning as the girls continued toward their classes.

Katrina suddenly reached out and gently took Clara’s hand, her playful expression softening just a little. With a knowing look in her eyes, she glanced toward Clara and said, “We can take care of your shower after school.” Her voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable affection behind it.

Clara’s face flushed slightly, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she smiled back at Katrina, her gaze softening. “Oh, really?” she replied, her voice laced with mock skepticism. “You think so?”

Without missing a beat, Katrina leaned in and kissed Clara, a quick but tender kiss that seemed to silence any further teasing for the moment. The connection between them was evident, the playful banter fading into something more personal and affectionate.

Sally, standing beside them, smiled warmly at the scene. Though Katrina often flirted with everyone—including her—there was something different when it came to Clara. The teasing always turned into something genuine, something deeper. And despite the constant jokes and the lighthearted nature of their relationship, moments like these reminded Sally of just how much the two cared for each other.

“You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?” Sally teased, breaking the brief silence, though her tone was full of affection for her friends.

Katrina turned to Sally with a smirk, still holding Clara’s hand. “Oh, don’t be jealous, querida. There’s enough love to go around.” She winked dramatically, earning a playful nudge from Clara.

“Yeah, yeah,” Sally laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll leave you two to your post-school shower plans.”

As they headed inside for the start of the school day, the warmth of their friendship carried them forward. Sally couldn’t help but feel grateful for moments like this—where everything felt light, fun, and full of love. No matter what happened with her family or her new routine, she knew she had her friends by her side, and that made all the difference.

Clara, still holding Katrina's hand, turned to Sally with a mischievous glint in her eye. “You know,” she said lightly, “you can join us if you want.”

Sally blinked, taken aback for a second. The suggestion was delivered with Clara’s usual sense of humor, but there was a genuine openness to it. Her blush deepened, though she laughed it off, waving a hand dismissively.

“Oh, sure, right,” Sally replied, her voice teasing but slightly flustered. “I’m sure that wouldn’t be awkward at all.”

Katrina leaned in with a grin, giving Sally a playful nudge. “Hey, the offer’s there! We’re all friends here, right?” Her tone was full of her usual mischievous energy, but Sally knew she was half-serious.

Clara giggled, squeezing Katrina’s hand and adding with a wink, “Besides, you wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun.”

Sally rolled her eyes, laughing despite herself. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on this one. You two can have your shower plans to yourselves.”

Katrina pouted dramatically, though the playful glint never left her eyes. “Your loss,” she said, turning her attention back to Clara and planting a quick kiss on her cheek.

Clara chuckled softly, her eyes still twinkling with amusement. “We’ll hold you to it next time,” she teased.

Sally shook her head, smiling as they walked into school together. As much as they joked, she felt lucky to have friends who were so comfortable with themselves—and with her. Even if they teased her mercilessly, it was all in good fun, and the affection between them was always genuine.

As they headed to class, the playful invitation lingered in the air, a reminder of the bond they shared—one built on trust, laughter, and a little bit of flirting.

As the playful banter faded and the three of them made their way into the school building, Sally found herself trailing just a step behind Katrina and Clara, her mind suddenly swirling with the last thing Clara had said: “You can join us.”

The words replayed in her head, and she could feel her cheeks growing warm again. It was a joke—she knew that. They were always teasing her, always flirting in a lighthearted way that was just part of their dynamic. But something about the invitation lingered in her mind, stirring something deeper.

The idea of the three of them together—showering, laughing, maybe even more—sent a wave of heat through her that she hadn’t expected. She bit her lip, trying to shake the feeling, but the allure of it clung to her thoughts. It was just a silly suggestion, she told herself, but the thought refused to let go.

Katrina and Clara walked ahead, still holding hands, and their easy closeness only made Sally feel more aware of her own body, the heat in her face spreading down to her chest. She’d always admired them—how open they were with each other, how fearless and unapologetic they were in their affection. And now, the playful idea of being included in that intimacy was making her feel hot and bothered in a way she hadn’t anticipated.

"Focus, Sally," she muttered to herself under her breath, trying to snap out of it. But the thought of the three of them together—laughing, touching, being so comfortable—made her stomach twist in a way that was hard to ignore.

Her steps faltered for a moment, and she felt a flush creep up her neck. "It’s just a joke," she reminded herself, trying to shake off the sensation. But as much as she tried to brush it off, the allure of the idea stayed with her, simmering in the background of her thoughts as they made their way to class.

Sally glanced at Katrina and Clara again, watching them exchange a small kiss before they entered the school doors. A part of her wondered what it would feel like to be that carefree, to just let go and enjoy the moment without overthinking it.

As they reached the hallway, Sally took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She knew she needed to focus on the day ahead—on volleyball practice, on everything else that mattered—but the playful invitation from her friends stayed with her, tugging at the edges of her mind, making her wonder what it might feel like to be part of something more.

For now, though, she kept the thought tucked away, smiling as she joined her friends, knowing that even if she was feeling a bit flustered, the bond they shared was something special. And that, for the moment, was enough.

--

The gym was already alive with the sounds of bouncing volleyballs and the chatter of the girls as they stretched and prepared for practice. Sally sat on the floor, tying her sneakers, when she heard the familiar voice of Katrina approaching from behind.

“Ugh, these shorts again,” Katrina groaned, tugging at the waistband of her loose gym shorts. She cast a dramatic look at Sally. “Seriously, when are we going to get the tight ones like every other school? I swear, we’d be so much faster if we didn’t look like we were playing in pajamas.”

Sally chuckled, knowing Katrina was never one to let the uniform debate die. “Right, because tighter shorts are definitely going to make you play better. It’s not about ogling everyone at all, is it?”

Katrina gasped, her hand flying to her chest in mock offense. “How dare you! I am here for the sport, the love of the game, Sally. The shorts are purely for performance!” She winked playfully, her eyes glinting with mischief.

Before Sally could respond, Monica, one of their teammates, joined in, overhearing the conversation. “Yeah, right, Katrina,” she said, rolling her eyes with a grin. “We all know you just want to make practice a little more… interesting.”

Katrina laughed, giving a dramatic shrug. “Hey, I’m just saying. A little eye candy wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Sally shook her head, smiling as she stood up to finish stretching. “You’re hopeless, Katrina.”

As practice started, the banter continued between the girls as they worked through their drills. Katrina’s complaints about the loose shorts only intensified as they ran sprints, the thudding of their sneakers echoing through the gym.

“Why do we have to do this? This isn’t track! We’re supposed to be playing volleyball, not training for the Olympics!” Katrina panted, slowing her pace dramatically.

Sally jogged alongside her, a grin spreading across her face. “Maybe if you weren’t so focused on your fashion complaints, you’d keep up. Can’t chase the ball if you’re this slow.”

Katrina groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “It’s the shorts, I swear! Give me the tight ones and I’ll be unstoppable.”

“Uh-huh,” Sally replied with a smirk. “Keep telling yourself that.”

As they split into teams for a practice game, Sally found herself facing off against Katrina, who was still clearly more interested in teasing than playing. During one particularly clumsy spike attempt, Katrina missed the ball entirely, and Sally couldn’t resist a jab.

“What happened? I thought the shorts weren’t supposed to hold you back?”

Katrina, never short on excuses, pointed to the ceiling dramatically. “The lighting, Sally! The lighting’s all wrong in here. It’s throwing off my game.”

Monica, laughing from her side of the net, called over, “Right, because we definitely have stadium lighting in the gym. Keep trying, Katrina.”

Katrina shrugged with a grin, brushing off the teasing. “I’m just saying, we need more atmosphere. Maybe some mood lighting, a fog machine—make it feel like the real deal.”

“And music!” Anastasia added, giggling as she served the ball. “Can’t forget the music for Katrina’s performance.”

As the game wrapped up, the girls were sweating, panting from the hard work. The joking and lighthearted banter gave way to the feeling of camaraderie that always came after an intense practice. Katrina, ever the drama queen, collapsed onto the gym floor with a groan.

“I can’t feel my legs,” she declared dramatically, splayed out like a starfish. “Someone carry me. I’m done for.”

Sally stood over her, shaking her head as she grabbed her water bottle. **“It’s called exercise, Katrina. You signed up for this, remember?”

Katrina waved a hand in dismissal, still lying on the floor. “Exercise is overrated. I’m here for the aesthetics.” She peeked one eye open. “And maybe the showers.”

Sally grinned, rolling her eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

As the girls headed toward the locker room, Anastasia fell in step with Sally. **“So, how was your dad’s visit? You were gone yesterday, right?”

Sally hesitated for a second, still feeling a little unsure about how much she wanted to share. “Yeah, I spent the day with him. Nothing too crazy, just catching up. He’s been busy.”

Anastasia nodded, accepting the answer easily enough. “That’s nice. Family time’s important.”

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was more relaxed as the girls undressed for the showers. Katrina, never one to miss an opportunity for teasing, caught Sally’s eye as she tugged her shirt over her head.

“Finally, the moment I’ve been waiting for. The showers,” Katrina said with a wink, giving Sally a playful nudge.

Sally blushed, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re impossible.”

The locker room was filled with the sound of clothes being tossed into lockers, the girls chatting and laughing as they peeled off their uniforms. As they walked into the showers, the steam rising from the hot water, there was an unspoken trust between them. Sharing shower heads, passing around shampoo, it was a moment of comfortable routine—something intimate, but never awkward.

Sally stepped under one of the shower heads, feeling the hot water cascade over her tired muscles. Katrina, as usual, ended up next to her, her hands full of suds as she scrubbed shampoo into her curls. She nudged Sally again, a playful grin on her face as she leaned closer.

“You know, I could get used to this,” Katrina said, her voice low and teasing. “Just me, you, and the shower. Not bad, huh?”

Sally blushed again, feeling the warmth of Katrina’s presence. She knew it was all in fun, but there was something about the way Katrina flirted with her that made her heart race a little. She enjoyed the attention, even if she didn’t fully know how to respond.

“Yeah, well, you’d better not make a habit of it,” Sally said with a laugh, flicking a little water at Katrina.

Katrina grinned, flicking some back. “Oh, don’t worry, Sally. I only reserve this kind of attention for special people.”

The showers were filled with the sounds of water splashing, laughter echoing off the tile walls, and the playful teasing that seemed to come naturally to the group. There was something comforting about the ritual, the way they could be vulnerable around each other without a second thought. Sally let herself relax, enjoying the moment, and even the light flirting from Katrina didn’t seem to bother her. In fact, she found herself smiling more, enjoying the connection.

As they finished showering and dried off, the girls filed back into the locker room, still chatting and joking. Sally felt lighter, more at ease, and as she glanced at Katrina out of the corner of her eye, she couldn’t help but feel grateful for the playful, easygoing friendship they shared.

She might not always know how to handle Katrina’s teasing, but one thing was for sure—she wouldn’t trade moments like these for anything.

Chapter 38 - Ninja

As Sally settled into the soft leather seat of the silver Mercedes, she glanced out the window, watching the school fade behind them. Theresa glanced at her briefly, adjusting the GPS for the route home before turning her attention back to the road. They drove in silence for a few moments, the hum of the engine the only sound in the car. Sally fiddled with the strap of her backpack, not entirely sure how to begin a conversation.

Theresa, ever perceptive, sensed the hesitance. “So,” she began softly, breaking the silence without putting pressure on Sally. “How was school today?”

Sally shrugged, still staring out the window. “It was fine. Just… the usual stuff, I guess.”

Theresa waited a beat, giving Sally room to continue, but the teenager remained quiet. Theresa tried again, her tone light. “Any fun volleyball stories? You mentioned practice earlier.”

Sally hesitated, glancing over at Theresa as if testing the waters before she finally spoke. “Well, yeah. We had practice today. Katrina—she’s one of my friends—was going on about the shorts again. She always complains about our uniforms, saying we should wear the tighter ones like other schools. She’s convinced we’d all be faster or something.”

Theresa chuckled softly. “That sounds like something a lot of high schoolers would say. Is she serious, or just trying to stir things up?”

Sally’s lips twitched into a smile. “Definitely stirring things up. That’s just Katrina. She’s always making a fuss about something, but it’s usually just for attention. Today she kept complaining about how the loose shorts make her slower, but everyone knows she’s just being dramatic.”

“Sounds like she likes to keep things lively,” Theresa said, giving Sally a sideways glance.

Sally nodded. “Yeah, that’s Katrina for you. She’s always got something to say. Then there’s Clara. She’s… well, the complete opposite. She’s quiet, serious, and she’s on the chess team, so she’s not even into sports. But somehow, the three of us just… click.”

Theresa smiled, sensing Sally was starting to relax. “That’s nice, having a mix of personalities. Keeps things balanced, I bet. What do you and your friends get up to outside of school?”

Sally thought for a moment, the conversation easing her nerves a bit. “Not much lately. Mostly we just hang out, talk, watch movies. Sometimes we’ll go to the mall or grab something to eat. Nothing too exciting.”

Theresa nodded, steering the car smoothly around a corner. “Sounds like a good group of friends. It’s important to have that, especially when things get a little crazy with school and everything else.”

Sally hummed in agreement but grew quiet again, her thoughts swirling. She wasn’t used to talking about herself like this, but something about Theresa’s calm, non-judgmental presence made her feel like it was okay to share. After a few moments, Sally ventured to ask a question of her own, her curiosity growing.

“So… what about you?” Sally asked tentatively. “I mean, you’re driving me around and helping my mom with stuff. What do you actually do, besides, you know, all of that?”

Theresa glanced at Sally, surprised and moved by the question. It wasn’t often she was asked about herself, especially in this line of work. Most people saw her as the assistant, the one handling logistics and managing tasks in the background.

“Well,” Theresa began, her tone thoughtful. “My day isn’t all driving and organizing, though that’s a big part of it. Today, I spent most of the day prepping for meetings your dad has coming up next week. Some presentations, a few calls. But I also managed to squeeze in a jog this morning before work started.”

Sally’s interest piqued at that. “Jogging? I like jogging, too, but I never seem to have time for it. Between school, volleyball, and… everything else, it’s hard to fit it in.”

Theresa nodded, understanding. “I know what you mean. Life gets busy, and it’s easy to push things like that to the side. But I’ve learned that if you want to fit something in, you have to make time for it. Usually, that means getting up earlier for me. I like to get in at least four miles before the day really starts.”

Sally looked at her, clearly impressed. “Four miles? Wow. I don’t know if I could do that. I’d probably collapse halfway through.”

Theresa chuckled, shaking her head. “You’d be surprised what you can do once you get used to it. Besides, you’re already athletic with volleyball—you’ve got the stamina. It’s just a matter of finding the routine that works for you.”

Sally smiled wistfully, her eyes drifting out the window again. “I should try that sometime. I’ve always wanted to, but I’m terrible at getting up early.”

Theresa shot her a warm smile. “It’s not for everyone, but if you ever want to give it a go, I wouldn’t mind the company. We could go for a jog sometime, see if you like it.”

Sally felt a small flutter of excitement at the idea. It was strange—just a few days ago, she hadn’t even known Theresa that well, and now here they were, talking about jogging together like it was the most normal thing in the world. She liked that.

The conversation flowed more easily now as they drove, the nervous energy Sally had felt earlier dissipating. She was beginning to see Theresa in a different light—not just as her dad’s assistant, but as someone she could genuinely talk to. Someone who cared about more than just logistics.

“What else do you do? I mean, outside of work?” Sally asked, leaning back in her seat a little, feeling more comfortable now. “Do you have any hobbies or anything?”

Theresa smiled, clearly pleased that Sally was taking an interest in her. “Well, besides running, I like to hike when I can, though that’s been harder with all the traveling. I also love to read—mostly non-fiction, biographies, history, that kind of thing. But I try to stay active as much as possible. It helps clear my head.”

Sally nodded, impressed by how much Theresa seemed to juggle. “You sound really busy, but in a good way. I wish I had that much time for everything. It feels like I’m always running around between school, volleyball, and… you know, just trying to keep up with stuff.”

Theresa’s expression softened. “I get that. It’s a lot, but you’re handling it well. And remember, you don’t have to do everything perfectly. It’s okay to take breaks when you need them.”

Sally smiled, feeling more at ease. “Yeah, maybe. I guess I’ll just have to find time for it.”

As they pulled into the driveway of her house, the conversation felt lighter, more relaxed. Sally hopped out of the car, grabbing her backpack.

“I’m going to get changed really quick,” she called over her shoulder as she opened the front door. “Be down in a minute.”

Theresa nodded, standing by the hallway as Sally darted up the stairs to her room. Sally felt lighter as she took the stairs two at a time, feeling good about their conversation. Theresa wasn’t just some assistant handling things behind the scenes. She was interesting, easy to talk to, and Sally found herself appreciating the new connection between them.

--

Sally stood in her room, her mind racing as she stood in just her bra and panties, having shed her school uniform. The soft lighting from her walk-in closet illuminated the rows of clothes, but nothing seemed to catch her eye. Her gaze wandered, searching for inspiration, and then locked onto an unopened package of Ninjamas tucked snugly beside an opened pack of Goodnites. Her heart fluttered unexpectedly.

Her fingers itched to reach for the Ninjamas, curiosity bubbling inside her. It had been a while since she'd even considered wearing pull-ups. Since transitioning to full diapers at night, she hadn’t gotten around to trying them. Without thinking much further, she stepped toward the package and let her fingers graze the smooth, crinkling material. A thrill shot through her as she pulled one out, appreciating the soft texture and colorful designs.

The logical part of her brain told her she should be getting dressed—Theresa was waiting downstairs—but a nagging thought tugged at her. Should she wear one to the mall? It was discreet enough. She had worn Goodnites out before, why not now? The rush of excitement hit her, the thrill of hiding something so personal out in the open.

Resolving to wear one, Sally carefully placed the Ninjama on the bed and shifted through her clothes, trying to figure out what outfit would work best. She wanted something loose, something that would hide the slight bulk without making her uncomfortable. Clad in only her underwear, she picked up a bright blue hoodie, loving how big and loose it felt on her. It was perfect for days when she wanted to feel cozy and a little more protected. Pairing it with a relaxed pair of jeans, she felt satisfied.

With a quick, almost hesitant movement, Sally slid her panties down and pulled up the Ninjamas instead. The soft fabric hugged her in just the right way, and she admired the fit for a moment before stepping in front of the mirror for a quick twirl. She smiled at the reflection—everything looked discreet, and only she would know the secret she was carrying.

Feeling a small rush of adrenaline, Sally tugged on her hoodie and slipped into the loose jeans, finishing her look. She grabbed her bag and headed down the stairs, her heart pounding slightly from the small act of rebellion.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Theresa was still standing in the hallway, waiting patiently. Sally blushed slightly, surprised.

"Sorry for the delay," Sally apologized quickly, her cheeks warming as she approached.

Theresa smiled, shaking her head. "No problem at all. You could've made yourself comfortable, though. You didn’t have to stand there the whole time."

Theresa chuckled, her voice easygoing. "I’m fine. Ready to head out?"

Sally nodded, feeling both excited and slightly nervous about her hidden secret. They made their way outside and climbed into the car, the leather seats cool against Sally’s legs. As Theresa started the engine, Sally settled in, her heart racing with both excitement and nervousness.

She was wearing a Ninjama. And only she knew.

--

As they pulled away from Sally’s house and headed toward the mall, the change in Sally's mood was unmistakable. During the earlier drive home from school, she had been polite but reserved, only engaging when necessary. But now, after a quick change into her clothes—and with her secret Ninjamas snugly in place—Sally seemed to carry a lighter, more carefree energy. She sat comfortably in the passenger seat, feeling as though she could conquer the world, a quiet smile playing on her lips.

Theresa noticed the shift, glancing at her with curiosity. "So, what’s the plan at the mall? You got anything specific you’re shopping for?"

Sally leaned back, already feeling more talkative than before. "I actually need some new jogging clothes. I realized earlier that most of my stuff is either old or too small. Since I’m thinking about starting to jog more, I figured it’s time for an update."

Theresa smiled, clearly approving. "That’s a great idea. It’s always nice to have something fresh for your workouts. Anything in particular you’re looking for?"

Sally tapped her chin thoughtfully. "Well, it’s already spring, and I’m thinking ahead to summer. I want something light but still supportive, you know? Something that’ll make me actually want to get out there."

Theresa nodded. "Smart thinking. You should definitely check out some summer gear. Light, breathable stuff will make a huge difference in the heat."

Sally turned her head to look at Theresa, feeling a little bolder. "What about you? Do you update your gear often, or are you one of those people who wears the same outfit until it’s falling apart?"

Theresa laughed. "I try to stay updated, but I’m guilty of sticking to my favorite pieces for way too long. I have this one pair of running shoes I’ve been holding onto for years—probably should’ve replaced them by now."

Sally grinned. "Sounds like me. I’ve got this old hoodie that I always wear when I run. It’s basically my good luck charm at this point."

Theresa glanced at her, a playful glint in her eyes. "Hoodies are great for cool weather, but summer’s coming. What about a swimsuit? Are you thinking about getting any new swim gear for the season?"

Sally blinked, caught off guard by the suggestion. "Swimsuit? Uh, I hadn’t really thought about it."

Theresa grinned knowingly. "It’s spring, which means summer is right around the corner. You know how the seasons sneak up on us. Besides, aren’t you the bikini type?"

Sally laughed, blushing slightly at the question. "Bikini? I don’t know… I mean, maybe? I usually stick to one-piece suits, but I guess I could try something different this year."

Theresa raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "You should. If you’re updating your jogging gear, why not go all out? A new swimsuit could be fun. I’m sure you’d rock a bikini."

Sally’s blush deepened, but she felt more playful than embarrassed. "Maybe… I’ll think about it. It would be fun to try something new."

"That’s the spirit," Theresa said with a wink. "Plus, if you’re going to start jogging, you’ll need something to cool off in when the summer heat hits. You’ll be ready for the beach or the pool."

Sally smiled, feeling more adventurous than usual. The idea of updating not only her jogging gear but also stepping out of her comfort zone with a new swimsuit was exciting. And the easy banter with Theresa made it even better. She felt freer, more confident, as if nothing could bring her down.

As they continued driving toward the mall, the conversation flowed easily. Sally found herself asking more about Theresa’s jogging routine, curious about how to make the most of her own.

"So, how long have you been jogging regularly?" Sally asked, feeling genuinely interested in hearing more about Theresa’s habits.

"Years now," Theresa said, glancing at her. "I started back when I was in the Navy, and it just stuck. It’s like therapy for me, honestly. Clears my mind, helps me stay focused."

Sally nodded. "That sounds awesome. I need something like that. I think that’s why I want to start jogging more—something to help me clear my head."

Theresa smiled. "You’ll love it once you get into a rhythm. And if you’re ever looking for a jogging buddy, you know where to find me."

Sally grinned, feeling the excitement bubble up again. "I might take you up on that. I need to get better shoes and clothes first, though."

"Well, lucky for you, we’re headed to the right place for that," Theresa said with a chuckle.

Sally nodded, feeling the anticipation of the shopping trip settle in. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time, and it was a welcome change. Wearing her Ninjamas gave her a secret layer of confidence, and it showed in the way she was carrying herself—more open, more willing to embrace new things.

As they pulled into the mall parking lot, Sally was already mentally planning her purchases. New jogging clothes were at the top of her list, but maybe, just maybe, she’d step out of her comfort zone and try on a bikini, too. It was shaping up to be a day of changes, and she was ready to embrace it.

Theresa parked the car, and as they both stepped out, Sally felt an undeniable sense of excitement. The mall awaited, and so did the possibilities. Today, she was ready to try something new.

--

Sally and Theresa strolled into the mall, the sound of footsteps and bustling shoppers filling the air. The bright lights from the stores reflected off the polished floors, and the scent of fresh pretzels and coffee lingered in the air. Theresa walked beside her, arms loosely by her side, glancing over at Sally, who was clearly excited but had a small undercurrent of nervousness brewing inside her.

The mall was alive with energy, and although Sally had been looking forward to this trip to update her jogging gear, something dawned on her as they passed the first few stores. She would need to try on clothes today—jogging outfits, leggings, shorts… and maybe even swimsuits and bikinis. Her heart fluttered slightly, not in the same excited way she’d felt earlier. This time, it was because of her secret.

She had chosen to wear a Ninjama, a decision that had made her feel calm and confident all afternoon, but now the realization hit her—how would she hide it in the dressing rooms? What if Theresa noticed something when they were shopping? Swimsuits and tight athletic gear weren’t exactly forgiving.

Sally took a deep breath, her mind racing as she tried to formulate a strategy. She didn’t want to give up the confidence her Ninjama gave her, but she also didn’t want to be exposed. As they approached the first store, Sally smiled faintly, trying to remain calm on the outside.

"Ready to dive in?" Theresa asked, glancing over at Sally with a bright smile. "Let’s see if we can find you some new jogging clothes first."

Sally nodded. "Yeah, let’s do it," she said, her voice a bit more hesitant than before.

They walked into the store, a mix of bright athletic gear displayed on mannequins and racks lined with leggings, running shorts, tank tops, and sports bras. Sally’s heart rate picked up a little as they moved toward the section with the shorts and tops. As she flipped through a rack of light, summery tank tops, she subtly glanced around, trying to think of how she could manage this shopping trip without revealing her secret.

"How about these?" Theresa said, holding up a pair of light blue running shorts and a matching sports bra. "These look like they’d be great for the summer."

Sally’s eyes widened. Tight-fitting shorts. "Uh, yeah, they look good," she replied, swallowing her nerves. She needed to figure something out—and fast. But she couldn’t back out now, not when they were already in the thick of it.

They continued to browse through the racks, picking up a few more items—some loose-fitting jogging pants, leggings, and a couple of tank tops. As they gathered the clothes, Sally’s mind worked overtime. She needed to try these on, but she couldn’t let Theresa see her Ninjama. That would be way too embarrassing.

"I’ll grab a few things too while you try yours on," Theresa said, casually picking out some items for herself. "We can meet up afterward."

Sally nodded, relieved. This was her opening. She could have a little privacy to strategize without Theresa nearby.

The dressing rooms were located at the back of the store, and as Sally approached them, she quickly slipped into one of the cubicles, locking the door behind her. She dropped the pile of clothes on the bench and took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves. She glanced at the mirror, her reflection showing her casual outfit but hiding her secret beneath it.

"Okay," she whispered to herself. "You’ve got this."

First things first, she needed to try on the joggers and looser items that wouldn’t be a problem with the Ninjama. She quickly slipped out of her jeans and hoodie, standing in front of the mirror in just her Ninjama and tank top. The joggers were easy enough to pull on, and they fit well, not showing any sign of what she was hiding underneath.

She smiled, feeling a bit more at ease as she tried on the loose tank top. This outfit was perfect. She could definitely run in this, and no one would notice anything. She pulled the outfit off and moved to the next—some leggings. These were a little trickier. The material was snug, and she could feel the waistband of the Ninjama pressing slightly underneath the fabric. She inspected herself carefully in the mirror, tugging the waistband of the leggings higher to ensure everything stayed hidden. So far, so good. But she had to be extra careful with the tighter items.

Finally, she reached the dreaded tight running shorts and sports bra that Theresa had picked out. She stared at them for a moment, weighing her options. She knew she couldn’t try these on with the Ninjama without something being visible.

Sally made a quick decision. She slipped off the Ninjama and folded it discreetly in her bag, just for a few minutes while she tried on the shorts. The sensation of not having it on was strange, but she had no choice. She pulled the tight shorts up and looked at herself in the mirror. No telltale signs of anything unusual—just a normal teenager trying on running gear. She sighed in relief.

As she examined herself in the mirror, she had to admit the outfit looked pretty good on her. The bright blue shorts fit well, and the matching sports bra was supportive and stylish. She smiled a little, feeling a small rush of excitement as she twirled in front of the mirror.

Once she was done, she quickly slipped out of the shorts and pulled her Ninjama back on before trying on the looser items again. The plan was working. She had managed to hide her secret without drawing any attention.

After a few minutes, she gathered her chosen clothes and left the dressing room, meeting Theresa near the checkout.

"Find anything you like?" Theresa asked, looking at Sally’s pile of clothes.

"Yeah, these jogging clothes are great," Sally said, her confidence slowly returning. She glanced at the swimsuits nearby and hesitated for a moment before adding, "Actually… I was thinking about getting a swimsuit too. Maybe a bikini."

Theresa grinned. "I was wondering when you’d say that! Let’s check them out."

Sally followed Theresa to the swimsuit section, trying to suppress her nervousness. She picked up a couple of bikini tops and bottoms, glancing around to make sure no one was paying too much attention to her. The swimwear would be tricky to try on, but she had figured it out once; she could do it again.

She grabbed the bikinis and headed back to the dressing room, once again repeating her strategy of slipping off the Ninjama temporarily to try on the bikinis. It took a bit of maneuvering, but she managed to find one she liked without drawing attention to herself.

By the time they finished shopping, Sally felt a mix of relief and pride. She had pulled it off. Her Ninjama had given her the confidence to enjoy the day, and she had navigated the tricky dressing room situation like a pro. As they made their way to the checkout, Sally glanced over at Theresa, who was none the wiser.

Once their purchases were made, they headed out of the store, and Sally’s stomach growled.

"Food now?" Theresa asked, giving Sally a knowing look.

Sally laughed. "Definitely. I think I earned it."

As they walked toward the food court, Sally felt a sense of accomplishment. She had navigated her secret well, and the rest of the day was shaping up to be fun and carefree. With her new clothes in hand and a sense of calm back in place, she knew she could handle whatever the rest of the day threw her way.

--

The drive home from the mall was filled with easy conversation and laughter. Sally and Theresa were riding high on the success of their shopping trip, and Sally felt lighter than she had in a long time. Bags filled with new jogging clothes and a bikini rested in the back seat, and they were recounting funny moments from the fitting rooms.

"You really think I could pull off that neon bikini?" Sally asked, her face flushed with amusement.

Theresa glanced over with a playful smile. "Absolutely! You looked amazing in it. I think you should've gone for it."

Sally laughed, shaking her head. "Maybe next time. I just didn’t think I could handle that much attention. People would need sunglasses just to look at me."

Theresa chuckled. "Hey, confidence is key, right? Besides, I think you’ve got more of that than you give yourself credit for."

Sally grinned, the banter between them feeling natural and fun. She hadn’t felt this carefree in weeks. But the lightness of the moment was shattered in an instant.

Suddenly, without warning, a tractor-trailer veered aggressively into their lane. Theresa reacted immediately, slamming on the brakes, the tires screeching as the car jolted violently. They narrowly avoided crashing into the barrier on the side of the road. Theresa's knuckles turned white as she gripped the steering wheel, swerving skillfully to avoid the other cars. The entire incident happened in a flash.

"Jesus," Theresa muttered under her breath, keeping her voice steady but her eyes sharp. "What an idiot."

Theresa’s heart was still racing, but as she glanced over at Sally, her stomach dropped. Sally was sitting completely still, her face drained of color. Her eyes were wide, staring blankly ahead as if frozen in time. She wasn’t blinking—wasn’t moving—just frozen, almost catatonic.

"Sally?" Theresa said softly, trying to keep her voice calm. "Sally, hey, are you okay?"

No response. The cheerful, animated girl who had been laughing just moments before was gone, replaced by a shell of fear and shock. Sally’s hands gripped the armrests so tightly her knuckles were bone-white. Her breath was shallow, almost nonexistent, as if she were holding it in. Her gaze was fixed, unseeing, and distant, as though she were somewhere else entirely.

Theresa’s eyes flicked between the road and Sally, her concern growing. Flashback. She’d seen it before during her time in the Navy. Some people just froze after trauma, retreating deep within themselves, lost in a memory they couldn’t escape.

Theresa pulled the car off to the side of the road as soon as it was safe, turning to face Sally fully. "Hey, Sally, it’s okay. You’re safe. It was just a close call, nothing happened." She kept her voice low, soothing, hoping to reach through the fog that had descended on Sally.

Sally’s breathing remained shallow, her grip on the armrests unrelenting.

"Sally, look at me," Theresa coaxed, gently placing a hand on Sally’s shoulder. "We’re fine. You’re safe. I’ve got you."

For a few long moments, nothing changed. But then, slowly, a shuddering breath escaped Sally’s lips. Her fingers loosened their death grip on the armrests, and her eyes blinked—just once—before her gaze slowly, hesitantly, turned to Theresa.

"I… I’m fine," Sally whispered, though her voice was shaky, and her face was still pale. She gave a small, forced smile, as if trying to convince herself of her own words. "Everything’s okay."

Theresa didn’t push, but she could tell Sally wasn’t fine. Her posture was still rigid, and her hands trembled slightly as she brushed her hair behind her ear, trying to regain control.

"Do you want to pull over for a bit?" Theresa asked, keeping her tone gentle, non-pressuring.

Sally shook her head quickly. "No, I’m good. Let’s just… let’s just get home."

Theresa frowned but nodded, knowing it was best to let Sally guide this moment. She pulled back onto the road, driving slowly and cautiously the rest of the way. The energy in the car had shifted drastically. The once-lively conversation was gone, replaced by tense silence. Sally didn’t say much, her face still white as a sheet, her eyes fixed straight ahead. She didn’t touch her phone, didn’t glance out the window, just sat there, her mind clearly elsewhere.

Theresa glanced over periodically, watching Sally carefully. She was clearly still in shock, her body language stiff, her hands balled up in her lap. Theresa kept quiet, allowing Sally the space she needed, though her own heart ached to see the girl so visibly shaken.

Chapter 39 - Ninja (Cont.)

By the time they pulled into the driveway, Sally seemed more responsive, but her cheeks were still drained of color. Theresa parked the car and turned off the engine, taking a moment before speaking.

"Sally," she said softly, turning to her again. "If you ever need to talk about what just happened, I’m here."

Sally nodded quickly, but her voice still wavered. "I’m okay, really. I’m sorry for… for being like that. It was just a stupid moment."

"You don’t need to apologize," Theresa said firmly but kindly. "We’ll go inside and take it easy. There’s nothing stupid about what you felt."

As they stepped out of the car, Bridget appeared at the front door, her face filled with concern the moment she saw them. Theresa walked up to her quietly, pulling her aside for a moment to explain what had happened.

"A truck cut us off," Theresa said in a low voice, glancing back at Sally, who was lingering near the car. "Sally froze up. She didn’t say anything for a while, just completely shut down. I got her through it, but I think she’s still a bit shaken."

Bridget's face paled slightly, and she gave a quick, worried glance toward her daughter. "That sounds like what happened after the accident weeks ago. We were in a wreck with a tractor trailer... she’s been on edge ever since."

Theresa nodded, everything starting to make sense now. "She’s still shaken up. Might be good to keep an eye on her tonight."

Bridget sighed, visibly upset. "I’ll talk to her. Thanks for telling me."

They walked toward Sally, who had managed to put on a brave face but was clearly still rattled. Her hands trembled slightly as she crossed her arms, her smile forced.

"I’m sorry," Sally mumbled, her voice weak. "I didn’t mean to freak out like that."

Bridget pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly. "You don’t need to apologize for anything, sweetie. I’m just glad you’re okay."

Sally leaned into the hug, nodding slowly. "I’m fine. It was just… a moment."

Her voice wavered, but she was trying to hold it together. Bridget smiled, stroking her hair gently.

"You’re a tough girl," Bridget said softly. "Take it easy tonight. We’ll talk more if you want, or we can just hang out and do something relaxing."

Sally nodded, her face still pale but her voice regaining some steadiness. "Yeah… that sounds good."

As they walked inside, Sally still felt a lingering sense of unease, but with her mother and Theresa there, she knew she wasn’t alone. It was going to take some time to shake off the shock, but for now, she was safe. And that was enough.

--

Theresa slipped out quietly, leaving Bridget and Sally alone in the dimly lit living room. Sally was still curled up on the sofa, her hands gripping the blanket, her face pale and her eyes distant. Bridget approached her gently, crouching beside her daughter, carefully placing a hand on her arm.

"Sweetheart," she whispered softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Sally’s face. "Let’s get you comfortable, okay?"

Sally blinked, her gaze slowly drifting to meet her mother’s, and nodded slightly. Bridget carefully guided her into a more comfortable position, laying her back on the sofa and covering her with the throw blanket. She left for just a moment to make chamomile tea, the familiar scent filling the air, and soon returned with a steaming mug. She placed it on the table, then settled at the edge of the sofa, lifting Sally’s foot into her lap.

Sally was still trembling, her breath shaky, but Bridget’s touch was soft and reassuring. "You’re going to be okay, Sally. You’ve been so brave today. You’ve gone through a lot, but you’re still here, still strong." She rubbed Sally’s foot gently, offering both warmth and comfort. "You’re my beautiful, strong girl."

Sally’s eyes softened, and she reached for the tea, her hands steadying as she wrapped her fingers around the mug. As she took a sip, Bridget continued, her voice a soothing murmur.

"You don’t have to worry about anything right now," Bridget said, her tone soft and maternal. "You’re safe here, with me. I know today was hard. I know you felt scared, but that’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay to feel shaken. It’s normal after what you’ve been through."

Sally lowered the mug slightly, staring at the steam rising from the tea. She could still feel the echo of fear in her chest, the memory of the truck flashing through her mind, but her mother’s words were like a balm, slowly calming the storm inside her.

Bridget gently squeezed Sally’s foot, her eyes filled with warmth. "You’ve always been a strong girl, even when you don’t feel it. You’ve faced everything life’s thrown at you, and I couldn’t be prouder of how you handle things. But you don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to hide your feelings from me."

Sally blinked back the lingering tears, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just… I froze. I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help it. It was like I wasn’t even there anymore."

Bridget nodded, her expression soft and understanding. "That’s okay, love. That’s what happens sometimes when we’re scared or reminded of something bad. It’s called a flashback—it’s your mind trying to protect you, even though you’re safe now."

Sally’s lips quivered, but she managed a small nod, her body slowly relaxing under her mother’s gentle care. "I hate feeling like that," she admitted, her voice wavering slightly.

"I know, sweetie. But it’s important to remember that you are safe now," Bridget said, her voice still calm and soothing. "When something like that happens, just remind yourself that it’s not happening again. You’re not back there in that moment. You’re right here, with me, safe."

Sally nodded again, taking another sip of the tea, its warmth spreading through her. Bridget continued to rub her foot softly, her fingers brushing lightly over Sally’s skin.

"Today was hard, but you got through it, and that’s what matters. You’re so strong, even when you don’t realize it. You’re growing up to be an incredible young woman, and I know you’ll keep finding ways to be even stronger."

Sally felt a bit shy at her mother’s words, feeling a mix of gratitude and a little embarrassment over what had happened. "I’m sorry," she whispered again, though her voice was stronger now. "I didn’t mean to… freeze like that."

Bridget shook her head gently, smiling softly. "You don’t need to apologize for that, sweetie. It wasn’t your fault. I’m just glad you’re here, and we can talk about it. You don’t have to be embarrassed about how you felt. You’re allowed to feel scared. We all have moments like that."

Sally managed a small smile, her fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the mug. "Thanks, Mom. I just… I didn’t want to freak out like that."

"You didn’t freak out," Bridget reassured her, stroking her hair. "You had a reaction because you’ve been through something hard. And that’s okay. The important thing is that you’re okay now, and we’ll keep working through it together."

There was a pause, the room falling quiet except for the gentle hum of the tea kettle in the background. Sally took another sip of her tea, feeling more grounded now, more in control.

Bridget smiled softly at her daughter, her voice still soothing as she spoke. "You’re my beautiful, brave girl. You’ve come so far, and you’re only going to keep growing, keep getting stronger."

Sally felt the warmth of her mother’s words, a small smile tugging at her lips. Then, as Bridget’s gaze softened even more, she added, "And you’ll always be my Pampered Princess."

That brought a laugh from Sally, the first genuine one in a while. "More like a ninja," she said with a playful smirk, her confidence slowly returning.

Bridget raised an eyebrow, amused. "A ninja?"

Sally hesitated for a second before revealing her secret, lifting her shirt slightly to show the waistband of her Ninjama. "Yeah… I’m a ninja," she said, her cheeks flushing just a little. "And it’s dry," she added proudly.

Bridget smiled fondly, stroking Sally’s hair. "Well, my little ninja, I’m proud of you," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "We’ll take care of everything later, okay? You don’t need to worry about anything tonight."

Sally nodded, feeling lighter as the tension in the room finally began to lift. Her mother’s calm presence, the soft reassurance in her words, had helped her slowly find her footing again. She wasn’t completely back to normal, but she felt stronger—like she could handle things again.

Bridget gently coaxed Sally to finish her tea, her voice still a soothing murmur. "You did really well today, love. And I’m so proud of how strong you are, even when you’re feeling unsure. You’ll get through anything."

Sally blushed again, but the praise helped ease her lingering anxiety. Slowly, she finished her tea and set the mug down, feeling more centered. Bridget smiled, standing and holding out her hand.

"Come on," she said softly. "Let’s get you to bed."

--

Theresa guided the sleek silver Mercedes SUV through the morning traffic, the hum of the engine providing a quiet backdrop to the journey. She stole a glance at Sally, who sat in the passenger seat, gazing out the window with a distant, thoughtful expression. After the scare from the day before, Theresa couldn’t help but feel a twinge of concern for Sally, though the girl was doing her best to appear as calm and collected as ever.

Theresa, however, wasn’t about to let it go without at least trying to get Sally to talk. As they cruised down the road, she shifted in her seat slightly, testing the waters.

“So, how are you feeling after yesterday?” Theresa asked gently, her tone casual but clearly probing.

Sally didn’t turn from the window. She just shrugged, her voice light but deflective. “I’m fine. Really.”

Theresa raised an eyebrow, glancing at her again. Sally’s shoulders were relaxed, her expression neutral, but there was something in her body language that felt a little too controlled, a little too measured.

“I mean, it was a close call,” Theresa continued, trying to keep her tone conversational. “Not something you can just brush off.”

Sally shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “Yeah, I know. But it’s over, right? So, no point dwelling on it.” She paused, then quickly changed the subject. “Anyway, what about jogging? We got all the stuff yesterday, so when do we start?”

Theresa sighed internally, knowing Sally was diverting, but she decided to let it slide for the moment. Pushing too hard would only make her retreat more, and if Sally wanted to talk about jogging instead, maybe that was her way of handling things.

“We definitely did get some great gear,” Theresa said, playing along with the change in topic. “But you sure you’re ready to get into jogging right away? You’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard.”

Sally finally turned her head to look at Theresa, her expression softening into a small smile. “Yeah, I’m ready. Jogging sounds like a great way to clear my head, you know? Just get out there and run. It’s what I need.”

Theresa nodded, but her eyes flicked over to Sally’s hands, which were still nervously playing with her sleeve. “I get that,” she replied. “But we’ll start slow. Maybe two mornings a week, just to ease you into it. Sound good?”

Sally grinned, a bit of her usual confidence creeping back. “Two mornings a week sounds perfect. I’m not trying to break any records.”

Theresa smiled back, relieved to see that spark returning, but she wasn’t entirely convinced that everything was fine. Still, she’d take what she could get.

“We’ll just have to check with your mom, make sure she’s okay with us starting that early in the morning,” Theresa said, keeping the tone light. “But I’m sure she’ll be fine with it. She’d probably be happy to see you out and about, doing something physical.”

Sally nodded, her energy returning a bit more now. “Mom won’t mind. She knows I need something to focus on.”

Theresa chuckled softly. “Alright, then. I’ll start planning our routes. Don’t blame me when I make you run up a hill or two.”

Sally laughed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, things felt almost normal again. Sally leaned back in her seat, her fingers finally still, and Theresa glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. She seemed more relaxed now, but Theresa knew better than to think that one conversation about jogging would solve everything.

Still, jogging could be good for Sally. It could give her a healthy outlet, something to focus on other than the weight of whatever was going on inside her head. Maybe it was exactly what she needed—a way to channel the pent-up energy, the anxiety, and the tension from the past few weeks.

They drove in companionable silence for a few minutes, the soft hum of the Mercedes filling the gaps in conversation. Theresa decided to keep the tone light, not wanting to push Sally too far, too fast.

“So, you thinking about jogging just for fitness, or are we training for something specific?” Theresa asked, glancing at Sally with a playful smile.

Sally smirked, leaning into the banter. “I dunno, maybe I’ll run a marathon someday. But let’s start with not dying after the first mile.”

Theresa laughed, relieved to see Sally joking. “Deal. I’ll be your personal trainer. No promises on going easy, though.”

The school came into view, and Theresa slowed as they approached the drop-off area. She glanced over at Sally one last time before pulling up.

“Just… take it easy today, okay?” Theresa said, her voice softening. “And remember, I’m here if you want to talk. About anything.”

Sally nodded, her smile soft but still guarded. “Thanks, Theresa. I’m good. Really.”

Theresa wasn’t entirely sure she believed her, but she let it go for now. Sally hopped out of the car, adjusting her backpack as she headed toward the entrance. Theresa watched her for a moment, a faint crease of worry settling on her brow. Sally was tough, but everyone had their limits.

As she drove away, Theresa resolved to keep an eye on her. They’d start jogging, sure—but Theresa knew it was about more than just running. It was about building trust and making sure Sally knew she wasn’t alone, no matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise.

--

Sally’s alarm buzzed softly at 5:30 a.m., cutting through the peaceful darkness of her room. Groggily, she reached over to silence it, blinking as she fought to wake up. She stretched lazily beneath the covers, feeling the familiar, heavy weight of her wet diaper between her legs. With a sigh, she pushed herself out of bed, knowing she had to get moving.

She padded to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face to jolt herself awake. As she stared at her reflection, she pulled off her t-shirt and ripped off the heavy diaper, which sagged and dropped with a thud to the floor. Grabbing a couple of baby wipes, she cleaned herself up quickly, tossing the wipes into the trash. The chill of the morning air hit her skin, but she brightened up as she thought about trying on her new jogging outfit for the first time.

Sally headed back to her room, her grogginess replaced with growing excitement. She slipped on a pair of soft panties, followed by the loose jogging shorts she'd picked out with Theresa just the other day. Next came the matching sports bra, which she wiggled into before pulling on a pair of sport socks. Her running shoes sat by the foot of her bed, and she quickly tied them, feeling a sense of satisfaction with how everything came together.

After checking to make sure her Apple Watch was strapped on, Sally jogged down the stairs, eager to meet Theresa, who was waiting for her outside by the car. As she stepped out the door, she saw Theresa leaning against the silver Mercedes, her arms folded, looking calm but alert.

Sally glanced at her watch. One minute before six. She smiled, relieved she was on time.

"Nice timing," Theresa said with a nod of approval. "And you look ready to go."

"Thanks," Sally replied, feeling a bit more awake now. "I’m excited to start."

Theresa smiled, pushing off from the car. "Good, but before we do anything, we need to stretch. You want to make sure you’re properly warmed up before we run, especially if you’re going to be doing this regularly. It’ll keep you from getting hurt later when things get more intense."

Sally nodded, following Theresa’s lead as they stood in front of the car. Theresa guided her through a series of dynamic stretches, carefully explaining each movement.

"First, let’s get those hamstrings stretched out," Theresa said, showing Sally how to bend at the waist and reach for her toes. "It’s important to stretch these muscles out—jogging puts a lot of pressure on them."

Sally mimicked the stretch, feeling the pull in the back of her legs. Theresa watched her closely, offering gentle corrections to her form.

"That’s it," Theresa encouraged. "Make sure you’re bending from your hips, not your back. You want to feel the stretch in your legs, not strain your back."

Sally adjusted her posture, following Theresa’s instructions. They moved on to calf stretches next, with Sally pressing her hands against the car for support as she stretched each leg.

"Good," Theresa said, nodding approvingly. "You’ll thank me for this later when your muscles aren’t screaming at you."

Sally chuckled, appreciating Theresa’s attention to detail. "I hope so. I didn’t realize stretching was such a big deal."

"It’s key," Theresa explained. "Especially when we start pushing a bit harder. If you stretch regularly, you’ll prevent injury and keep your muscles flexible. Plus, it’ll help you recover faster after each jog."

They continued stretching, focusing on Sally’s quads, hips, and lower back, making sure each muscle group was warmed up properly. Theresa made a point to walk Sally through each stretch carefully, teaching her how to hold the positions without straining herself.

"Don’t rush it," Theresa said softly as they did some lunges. "It’s not about how fast you can stretch—it’s about giving your muscles time to loosen up."

By the time they finished stretching, Sally felt looser and more energized. She could already feel the difference in her body, as if it were waking up fully for the first time.

"Alright," Theresa said, standing up straight. "Now that we’re warmed up, let’s get started. We’ll start with a light jog, then alternate between jogging and walking to ease into it."

Sally nodded, feeling ready now. "Sounds good."

They began jogging at a comfortable pace, with Theresa keeping an eye on Sally’s form, ensuring she wasn’t overstriding or slouching. The morning air was cool and crisp, the sun just beginning to rise, casting a soft light over the quiet street.

Sally found herself settling into a rhythm, her feet hitting the pavement in time with her breath. It felt good to be moving, the fresh air filling her lungs and clearing her mind. She glanced over at Theresa, who jogged beside her with an easy grace, her eyes occasionally flicking to Sally to make sure she was doing okay.

After a few minutes, Theresa slowed the pace, signaling for them to walk. Sally welcomed the brief break, catching her breath as they walked side by side.

"You’re doing great," Theresa said, giving her a reassuring smile. "Just remember to breathe deeply. Keep a steady pace, and don’t overdo it."

Sally nodded, her breathing evening out as they walked. "I’m actually feeling pretty good," she said, surprised at how comfortable she felt.

"That’s the goal," Theresa replied. "The more you do it, the better you’ll feel. It’s all about finding a rhythm and getting your body used to it."

They alternated between jogging and walking, with each interval stretching a little longer. Sally could feel her muscles working, her legs burning slightly, but it was the good kind of burn—the kind that told her she was pushing herself, but not too far.

By the time they finished their final jog, Sally’s body felt warm and energized. Theresa led them back to the car, and before they climbed in, she guided Sally through a series of cool-down stretches.

"You always want to cool down after a run," Theresa explained as they stretched out their calves and hamstrings again. "It helps prevent your muscles from tightening up and keeps your body loose."

Sally followed along, appreciating the way her body felt looser after the stretches. It wasn’t until they finished that she realized how much better she felt compared to when they first started.

"That was great," Sally said, standing up straight and feeling a sense of accomplishment.

"You did really well for your first time," Theresa said with a smile. "We’ll gradually increase the intensity as we go, but you’ve got a solid start. You’ll be jogging miles before you know it."

As they climbed back into the car, Sally felt proud of herself. The morning had started out slow and groggy, but now she was energized, ready to take on the day. She glanced at Theresa, who smiled warmly at her.

"Thanks, Theresa," Sally said, her voice genuine. "I really needed this."

"Anytime," Theresa replied, starting the car. "You’ve got this, Sally. One step at a time."

They drove back to the house, the sun now fully up, casting a golden glow over the quiet street. Sally leaned back in her seat, a small smile on her face. She was looking forward to their next run, knowing she had someone there to guide her every step of the way.

--

Sally felt energized and a little proud of herself for making it through their first jog. She glanced over at Theresa, who was barely even sweating, looking composed as ever. Meanwhile, Sally could feel her own shirt clinging to her slightly damp skin.

Theresa smiled at her as she parked the car. "You did great today, Sally. Keep this up, and you’ll be running five miles without even thinking about it."

Sally grinned back, still catching her breath. "Thanks, I feel pretty good. Except for maybe my legs—they’ll remind me tomorrow."

Theresa chuckled, stepping out of the car. "That’s the sign of a good workout."

As they walked toward the house, the smell of breakfast drifted through the air, and Sally’s stomach rumbled. Theresa, who had initially planned to leave after dropping Sally off, caught a whiff of the food and reconsidered. "Smells like we’ve got breakfast waiting. I’ll stick around for a bit if that’s alright, then I’ll take you to school."

"Yeah, definitely!" Sally replied, though she was already thinking about the quick shower she’d need before sitting down at the table.

As soon as they entered the house, Sally darted upstairs, eager to clean up. When she reached the bathroom, she stopped short, a blush creeping onto her cheeks as she spotted the discarded diaper she had hastily dropped on the floor earlier. With a rueful shake of her head, she muttered, "I really need to do better with that."

There wasn’t time to dwell on it, though. She stripped off her clothes and hopped into the shower, letting the hot water rinse away the last remnants of sweat and tiredness. Within minutes, she was clean and refreshed, dressed in her school uniform, and hurrying downstairs, her hair still damp.

As she approached the kitchen, she overheard Theresa and her mother, Bridget, chatting at the table. The smell of eggs, toast, and fresh coffee made her stomach grumble again, and she quickened her pace. She slipped into her seat just as her mother turned to greet her.

"Morning, sweetie," Bridget said warmly, her eyes lingering on Sally’s jogging outfit, now folded neatly on a chair. "That’s a cute jogging outfit you picked out. I’ve got to say, I’m holding my breath until I see the credit card bill for yesterday’s mall trip."

Her tone was light, but there was a touch of humor in her words, a habitual remark Bridget made about any shopping spree. Sally shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip. She glanced toward Theresa, unsure of what to say. After a pause, she mumbled, "I can… I mean, I’ll pay you back. I have… well, I guess I have money now."

Bridget’s expression changed instantly. Her easy smile faltered, and she narrowed her eyes slightly, looking both surprised and a little annoyed. Her brows knit together, and her lips pressed into a thin line. "Sally, I can very well pay for your clothes. There’s no need for you to talk like that."

Sally fidgeted in her seat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and confusion. She hadn’t meant to upset her mother, but she wasn’t sure how all the financial stuff worked now. Wasn’t she supposed to be responsible for some things now that she had access to funds?

Theresa, ever observant, noticed the tension rising between the two. She cleared her throat gently and leaned forward, speaking in a calm, diplomatic tone. "If I may, Bridget," Theresa began, her voice careful and measured. "There is a credit card arriving soon specifically for Sally’s expenses. It’s part of the arrangement Adrian set up. There will actually be two cards—one for you, as her legal guardian," she said, pausing to acknowledge the technical term with an apologetic glance toward Bridget, "and one for Sally, since she’s the beneficiary."

Bridget’s shoulders tensed slightly, her hands resting still on the table. She nodded, her expression shifting from annoyance to a more guarded understanding, though she still seemed uncomfortable with the idea. The room fell quiet for a moment, the only sound being the faint clinking of forks against plates.

Sally, feeling the weight of the silence, shifted awkwardly in her seat. She glanced nervously between her mother and Theresa before blurting out, "So… what’s my allowance going to be?"

The question hung in the air, and for a second, Bridget’s expression tightened again. But before anything could escalate, Theresa smiled warmly, her eyes meeting Sally’s with a hint of humor. "Well, Sally," she said, leaning back slightly in her chair, "if you start spending more than you should, you’ll get two phone calls. One from Trump Tower and another from Switzerland. Only for your own good, of course."

Theresa’s playful yet firm tone helped to ease the tension in the room. Bridget couldn’t help but crack a small smile, though she was still clearly working through the complexities of this new financial situation. Sally let out a small laugh, the tension in her shoulders finally loosening a bit.

Theresa glanced at Bridget with a knowing look, understanding the emotions at play here. She added, "Of course, Bridget, you’ll have full access to monitor all of Sally’s spending. This is just a tool for her to learn how to manage things responsibly. It’s a lot for both of you to take in, I know, but it’s something we can handle together."

Bridget nodded, her face softening as she absorbed Theresa’s words. The tightness around her eyes eased, and she gave a small sigh, leaning back in her chair. "Alright, I suppose that makes sense. I just… don’t want her worrying about money like that."

Sally made a face, feeling a little awkward but grateful for the way Theresa had managed the situation. She gave a small shrug, glancing at her mother. "I’m not worrying, Mom. I just… I don’t really understand how it works, that’s all."

Bridget’s expression softened further as she reached across the table to gently touch Sally’s hand. "I know, honey. It’s just new, that’s all. You’ll learn how to manage it in time."

Theresa, sensing the conversation had reached a comfortable conclusion, took a moment to finish her breakfast. She smiled as she set her fork down and gently nudged Sally’s plate toward her. "Come on, eat up, or your eggs are going to get cold."

Sally picked up her fork, realizing that in all the tension, she’d barely touched her food. She glanced at Theresa, who gave her an encouraging nod. Bridget, too, smiled softly, the tension now gone.

As the clock ticked closer to school time, Theresa checked her watch, finishing the last of her coffee. "Alright, kiddo," she said with a grin. "Let’s get you to school before you’re late."

Sally, feeling more grounded now, nodded, pushing back from the table. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, Theresa."

Theresa stood and grabbed her keys, but not before exchanging a quick, knowing glance with Bridget. Bridget gave her a subtle nod of thanks, understanding the unspoken support Theresa had provided. Sally grabbed her backpack and followed Theresa to the door, the morning’s conversation still swirling in her mind.

As they stepped outside, Sally couldn’t help but feel a little more grown-up—and a little more prepared for whatever was to come.

Chapter 40 - Cranky

As Sally climbed into the passenger seat of the silver Mercedes, she buckled her seatbelt, stealing a glance at Theresa in the driver’s seat. The morning sun bathed everything in a soft glow, and the car felt warm and comfortable, though Sally could still feel the weight of the conversation from breakfast lingering in the back of her mind. Theresa, always perceptive, sensed the quiet tension, but she started the car with a relaxed smile.

"So," Theresa began casually, glancing over as they pulled away from the house, "You survived the credit card talk. Not bad."

Sally gave a small smile, staring out of the window as they drove down the quiet street. "Yeah, I guess I did. Mom wasn’t thrilled though," she said, her voice tinged with a mixture of guilt and confusion.

Theresa glanced at her, her eyes softening with understanding. "She’ll come around. It’s a big change for her too, you know. But it’s normal for her to feel protective, especially since, well, this whole financial thing is kind of new for you."

Sally nodded, still feeling a bit unsure. "It’s just… weird. I don’t even really know what to do with all this. I mean, I have no idea how to handle money like that. I don’t want to mess up."

Theresa chuckled softly, keeping her eyes on the road but clearly invested in the conversation. "You won’t mess up. You’re smart, Sally. But here’s the thing—money doesn’t come with a handbook, and no one expects you to know everything right away. That’s what growing up is all about."

Sally shifted in her seat, her fingers fiddling with the strap of her backpack. "I guess, but it just feels like a lot of responsibility all at once. Like, how do I even know what I’m supposed to spend it on?"

Theresa smiled, sensing the opportunity to offer some "big sister" advice rather than come across like an assistant. "Okay, first things first—you don’t have to figure it all out in one day. You’re not suddenly in charge of everything, and it’s okay to take your time. But think of it like this: your allowance is like your personal budget. You get to decide how to spend it, but you want to be smart about it."

Sally turned to look at her, curious but still a little uncertain. "What do you mean by 'smart about it'?"

Theresa shrugged lightly, as if it was no big deal, even though she knew it could be intimidating. "Well, let’s start simple. You’ve got things you need—like clothes, maybe school supplies, things like that. Then you’ve got things you want—like going out with friends or buying something fun for yourself. The trick is figuring out how to balance the two."

Sally leaned back in her seat, listening intently as they cruised along the road. "So, you’re saying I need to, like, plan it out?"

"Exactly," Theresa nodded. "Think about it this way: if you blow all your allowance on one thing the second you get it, you won’t have anything left when something else comes up. It’s all about pacing yourself."

Sally considered this, biting her lip. "That makes sense. I guess I just feel weird about having that much freedom with money."

Theresa grinned, giving her a sideways glance. "Freedom’s great, but it comes with responsibility. Think of it as a way to start learning now, so when you’re older and dealing with bigger things, you’ll already know how to handle it."

The car fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the road stretching out in front of them as the trees swayed gently in the morning breeze. Sally’s brow furrowed slightly, still processing everything, and after a beat, she asked, "What if I spend too much and… you know, screw it all up?"

Theresa laughed softly, shaking her head. "That’s where your mom and I come in, remember? We’re here to help. And trust me, if you start getting out of hand, you’ll hear from both Switzerland and Trump Tower. But it won’t get to that point."

Sally let out a small laugh, finally relaxing a bit. "I guess that would be pretty bad."

"It wouldn’t be the end of the world," Theresa reassured her, her voice light. "But you’re not going to screw anything up. You’re more responsible than you give yourself credit for. And hey, I’ll keep an eye out too. Not like a bodyguard, though," she added with a playful wink.

Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. "Yeah, no more 'bodyguard' jokes. I get enough of that from Katrina and Clara."

Theresa laughed again, her warmth filling the car. "Fair enough. But seriously, you’re not alone in this. If you need help figuring out how to handle your money, just ask. You don’t have to do it all by yourself."

Sally looked at her, feeling a sense of relief settle in. Theresa’s easygoing attitude made the whole situation seem a little less daunting. "Thanks, Tess. I think I just need to get used to the idea."

"Exactly," Theresa replied, glancing over with a smile. "And we’ll take it step by step. You’ve got time to figure this out, and you’re smart enough to handle it. Just remember, it’s your money to spend—but it’s also your future to think about."

Sally nodded, her mind a little clearer now. "Yeah, I guess it’s not so bad if I think of it like that."

Theresa smiled, satisfied that Sally was starting to grasp the concept without feeling overwhelmed. She shifted gears smoothly as they approached the school entrance. "You’ve got this, kiddo. Just remember, it’s all about balance. Have fun, but don’t blow everything on the first thing that catches your eye. And if you ever feel unsure, you know who to ask."

Sally felt lighter, more at ease as they pulled up to the drop-off area. "Thanks, Tess," she said, unbuckling her seatbelt. "I’ll keep that in mind."

Theresa winked at her. "Anytime. Now go show them how it’s done, girl."

Sally laughed, stepping out of the car and slinging her backpack over her shoulder. As she waved goodbye and headed toward the school doors, she felt more confident. She wasn’t entirely sure how everything would play out, but with Theresa’s support—and maybe a little patience from her mom—she figured she’d be okay.

And maybe, just maybe, managing her new responsibilities wouldn’t be as overwhelming as she’d thought.

--

Sally stepped through the front door of her house, dropping her backpack by the stairs. The day at school had been long, but not unbearable, and she was glad to finally be home. As she ascended the stairs, her thoughts were already on changing into something more comfortable and relaxing for the evening.

When she reached her room, she tossed her jacket onto the chair and went to the bathroom to freshen up. But as she stepped through the doorway, she froze. Dolores, the housekeeper who had worked for the family for years, was standing in the bathroom, staring down at the discarded diaper Sally had hastily left on the floor that morning.

Sally’s heart sank into her stomach. Her face flushed a deep red as she realized what Dolores had seen. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. The embarrassment was paralyzing. Dolores looked up, her face not angry but stern, her eyebrows raised as she regarded Sally.

“Señorita Sally,” Dolores said in her soft, accented voice, shaking her head. "You left this on the floor, mija." She gestured to the diaper. "You can’t do that. It’s not right."

Sally’s cheeks burned even hotter, and she stammered, feeling a wave of mortification. "I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was in a hurry this morning, and I forgot."

Dolores, still holding the diaper, gave her a knowing look, but there was no judgment in her eyes, just the usual care and understanding that Sally had come to know from her. "Hurrying or not, you need to be careful, querida. It’s not good to leave things like this lying around."

Sally's mind was racing. She wanted to explain herself, but how could she without making everything even more embarrassing? Dolores, who had known her since she was small, was always so kind, but Sally felt her whole world tilt at the thought of being called out for something so personal.

“I... I have to wear them sometimes,” Sally admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s because… I wet the bed.”

Dolores softened immediately, her stern expression fading into one of compassion. She placed the diaper in the small trash bin and wiped her hands. "Ay, mija," she said, stepping toward Sally, her voice gentle now. "No te preocupes. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay?"

Sally bit her lip, still mortified. "I’m sorry, Dolores. I didn’t mean to leave it like that. I should’ve been more careful."

Dolores smiled, her warm, familiar presence making the tension in the room disappear. "Es normal, Sally. You don’t need to explain. Lots of people have things they deal with. But, next time, just remember—put it in the trash. No pasa nada."

The Spanish words, spoken in Dolores’s soft tone, calmed Sally. There was something so comforting in the way Dolores spoke, blending English and Spanish so naturally, the way she always did when she wanted to soothe or reassure.

Sally finally let out a breath, her embarrassment subsiding, though she still felt a little sheepish. "Thanks, Dolores," she said, her voice small. "I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again."

Dolores waved her hand, dismissing any further apologies. "It’s nothing, niña. Just part of growing up, right? And look at you, handling everything so well."

Sally managed a small smile, though she still felt the heat in her cheeks. Dolores’s gentle, motherly demeanor was a blessing in moments like these, but Sally still couldn’t shake the embarrassment completely.

"Gracias, Dolores," Sally said quietly, feeling a little more at ease now.

Dolores gave her a wink, picking up the towel she'd been folding. "De nada, Sally. Just don’t leave me any more surprises on the floor, okay?" she said with a teasing smile, her tone playful.

Sally laughed softly, feeling the tension leave her shoulders. "I won’t. I promise."

Dolores nodded approvingly, then added with a gentle pat on Sally’s arm, "Good girl."

As Dolores left the room to continue her work, Sally stood for a moment, processing the interaction. It wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Dolores hadn’t asked for any explanations or made her feel weird about it. In fact, she had handled the situation with the same care she always had, throwing in a few words of Spanish that made everything feel just a little lighter.

Sally sighed, relieved, and began changing into more comfortable clothes. As she pulled on her loose t-shirt and shorts, she couldn't help but smile to herself, grateful for Dolores’s kindness.

But still, she made a mental note: never leave a dirty diaper on the floor again.

--

Sally stood at the top of the stairs, leaning against the bannister as she listened to the familiar murmur of voices from below. Her mother, Bridget, had just arrived home, and Dolores was giving her the usual report on the day’s work. Sally loved how her mom treated Dolores, not as just someone who worked for them but as a part of the family. She smiled softly as she watched them, remembering how her mother would always offer Dolores a cup of tea and sit with her for a moment to catch up.

But then the conversation took a sudden turn.

"Señora Bridget," Dolores said, her voice calm but with that familiar undertone of seriousness, "I had to speak to Sally today. She left a… un pañal sucio, a dirty diaper on the bathroom floor this morning."

Sally’s heart stopped. Mortified, she pressed her back against the bannister, hoping they wouldn’t look up and see her listening. She felt her face flush with embarrassment. She thought she’d taken care of it—she hadn’t expected Dolores to tell her mother about it. Even though she knew Dolores hadn’t meant any harm, the fact that it had been brought up made her want to sink into the floor and disappear.

Bridget, on the other hand, took it in stride. Sally could hear her mother’s calm, measured response. "Oh, Dolores, I’m sure that won’t happen again. Thank you for telling me."

Sally peeked down through the bannister, bracing herself for her mother’s reaction. But Bridget didn’t seem upset, just a little concerned.

Dolores continued, her tone soft and understanding. "No, no, I understand. I told her it’s no problem, but she must be careful. Hygiene is important. I know about these things, Señora Bridget. Micaela, my granddaughter, she wears pull-ups too. She’s eight now, but still needs them at night. So, I understand."

Sally’s embarrassment faded just slightly. Dolores hadn’t said it to shame her—she was genuinely concerned about hygiene and cleanliness. She even sympathized, sharing her own personal experience with Micaela. But still, Sally couldn’t help but feel mortified that her little secret had become a point of conversation.

From below, Sally watched as Dolores fumbled with her English, trying to explain. Bridget smiled warmly, placing a hand on Dolores’s arm. "I’m sure you handled it just fine. Thank you for taking care of everything, as always. And don’t worry—Sally will be more mindful."

Sally’s heart skipped when her mother called her name. "Sally? Are you up there, sweetheart?"

Sally bit her lip, taking a deep breath before she leaned over the bannister. "Yeah, Mom."

Bridget’s eyes softened as she looked up at her daughter. "Come on down, honey. And bring a diaper with you, please."

Sally froze for a second, her face turning red again at the mention of the diaper. But she couldn’t refuse. She nodded, quickly heading to her room and grabbing a fresh diaper from the drawer. Her stomach fluttered with a mix of embarrassment and uncertainty. What was her mother going to say?

As she walked downstairs, holding the diaper discreetly in her hand, she noticed Dolores gathering her things to leave. Dolores caught Sally’s eye, and her usual warm smile spread across her face. There was no malice or judgment—just the same gentle kindness Sally had always known.

Dolores stepped toward her, giving Sally a light pat on the arm. "Don’t worry, mija. It’s all normal, okay? Just be more careful next time. Cleanliness is important, sí?"

Sally managed a small smile. "Yeah, I will. Thanks, Dolores."

With that, Dolores gave her a nod, exchanging goodbyes with Bridget before leaving the house. Once the door clicked shut, Sally turned to her mother, still feeling nervous. Bridget’s gaze was soft, understanding, but she was waiting for an explanation.

Sally sighed, fiddling with the diaper in her hand. "I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to leave it like that this morning. I was just in a rush, and I forgot."

Bridget nodded, crossing her arms but still smiling. "I know, sweetheart. I understand. But Dolores is right—hygiene is important. We just need to make sure everything is cleaned up properly. You can’t be leaving dirty diapers on the floor."

Sally winced slightly, feeling the sting of her mother’s words, even though Bridget wasn’t scolding her harshly. It was more the embarrassment than anything else. "I know," she muttered, glancing down. "It won’t happen again."

Bridget stepped closer, placing a hand on Sally’s shoulder. "I know it won’t. And Dolores isn’t upset—she’s just making sure everything is okay. She even told me about Micaela."

Sally looked up, surprised. "Micaela?"

Bridget nodded. "Yes, her granddaughter. She needs pull-ups too, so Dolores understands better than you might think. There’s no shame in it, honey. We just need to be mindful."

Sally let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. "I guess so. It’s just… embarrassing."

Bridget smiled gently, brushing a lock of hair from Sally’s face. "I know it is. But there’s no need to feel embarrassed here, okay? You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of."

Sally nodded, feeling some of the weight lift off her chest. Her mother always had a way of making things better, of turning awkward moments into ones that felt… okay. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little anxious about the whole ordeal.

Bridget gave her a reassuring smile. "Now, why don’t we get that diaper on you and settle in for the evening? I’ll put on some tea, and we’ll have a nice, quiet night together."

Sally felt the tension in her body ease, and she managed a small, grateful smile. "Yeah, that sounds good." She handed her mother the diaper and allowed herself to relax, knowing that no matter what, her mom would always be there to make things better.

--

Sally stood in front of her mother, still holding the diaper in her hand, her fingers nervously twisting the edges. Bridget gently took it from her with a soft, reassuring smile. There was a moment of quiet between them, and while Sally could feel the embarrassment still lingering in the air, the warmth of her mother’s presence eased the tension slightly.

Bridget placed the diaper on the table and turned back to her daughter, her expression calm but serious. “Sweetheart,” she began, her voice firm yet understanding, “we need to talk about how things are going. You know hygiene is really important, especially when it comes to wearing diapers.”

Sally nodded quickly, already feeling the familiar flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck. “Yeah, I know, Mom. I’ll be more careful, I promise. I won’t leave them on the floor again.”

Bridget smiled, though her eyes held a seriousness that told Sally this conversation wasn’t just about a one-time mistake. “I believe you, Sally. I know you didn’t mean to be careless. But I think we need to focus on helping you get more comfortable with the responsibility. So, for the next week, while you’re at home, you’ll be wearing diapers all the time.”

Sally’s heart sank, and her eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Full-time? But, Mom, I thought I was just supposed to wear them at night!”

Bridget’s expression softened, but her resolve remained. “I know you’re used to only wearing them at night, but this is important, honey. Learning how to manage your hygiene properly is a big part of this. I want you to get used to taking care of everything—the cleaning, the changing—so that when you need it, you’ll feel more confident.”

Sally felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. “But... what about when I go out? I mean, I have school, and other things to do,” she mumbled, trying to process the sudden change.

Her mother nodded, clearly having anticipated the concern. “Outside the house, you’ll be free to wear pull-ups. You can choose when and where, and it’ll be much more discreet. This is just for when you’re home, where you’re comfortable, and we can focus on making sure everything is handled properly.”

Sally shifted her weight, the thought of being in diapers at home feeling overwhelming. She understood the logic—her mother was right about needing to learn proper care—but the idea of being in them full-time, even just at home, made her feel anxious.

Bridget took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on Sally’s arm. “I know this feels like a lot right now, but it’s only for a week. It’ll help you get used to things at your own pace, and I’ll be here every step of the way. You’re growing up, and this is part of learning responsibility.”

Sally bit her lip, feeling the weight of her mother’s words. It wasn’t that she hated wearing diapers—there was something about them that felt secure and comforting—but the thought of being in them so much made her nervous.

Sensing her daughter’s hesitation, Bridget added with a small smile, “And remember, outside the house, it’s up to you. You can wear pull-ups when you’re out, but at home, this is about getting comfortable and making sure you know how to take care of things properly. No pressure, just practice.”

Sally sighed, her mind spinning. She glanced at the diaper on the table, conflicted. Part of her wanted to protest, but another part understood the logic. Her mother was being fair—this wasn’t a punishment, it was about helping her learn.

Bridget squeezed her daughter’s hand lightly. “You’re a smart girl, Sally. I know you can handle this. We’ll get through the week together, okay? And if you need help, I’m right here.”

After a moment of silence, Sally finally nodded. “Okay, Mom. I’ll do it.”

Bridget’s face lit up with a warm smile, and she pulled Sally into a gentle hug. “That’s my girl. I’m proud of you for taking this seriously. Now, let’s get you changed for the evening, and then we can have some tea together. How does that sound?”

Sally let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, feeling both nervous and relieved at the same time. The week ahead felt daunting, but she trusted her mother’s judgment. She would figure this out, just like she had everything else.

As Bridget began to prepare the diaper, Sally lay back on the bed, her thoughts racing. The routine was familiar by now—the rustling of the diaper, the cool touch of baby wipes, and the soft pat of powder on her skin. It was almost comforting in its predictability, the care her mother took with each step making her feel safe.

The diaper’s thickness cradled her as Bridget fastened the tapes securely, making sure everything was snug. Sally felt the padding between her legs and the familiar bulk, and while it was strange to think she’d be in diapers full-time at home, there was also a quiet sense of acceptance growing within her. She could handle this. It was just one week, after all.

Bridget finished securing the diaper and helped her daughter sit up, giving her a soft pat on the back. “There we go. All set.”

Sally smiled faintly, still adjusting to the new situation, but grateful for her mother’s support. “Thanks, Mom.”

They headed downstairs together, the quiet crinkle of the diaper barely noticeable over the warmth of their bond. Sally couldn’t help but think about the week ahead—how she would manage this, how it would feel. It wasn’t just about the diapers. It was about taking responsibility, growing up, and learning to handle things on her own terms.

--

After that long week of wearing diapers at home, Sally thought she would be relieved to return to her normal routine—no more padding under her clothes, no more worrying about managing her hygiene in a special way. She was supposed to be happy, free from the responsibility and the secrecy of it all. But instead of feeling a sense of relief, she found herself irritable and cranky.

At school, she snapped at little things that wouldn’t usually bother her. Katrina’s harmless teasing, Clara’s quiet suggestions, even the usual rhythm of her classes seemed to grate on her nerves. By the time she got home one afternoon after a particularly frustrating day, she was in no mood to deal with anyone.

Sally dropped her backpack by the door and stomped up to her room. Her mom wasn’t home from work yet, and the house felt too quiet. Usually, she would find comfort in that silence, but today it just made her feel more unsettled. She sat at her desk, attempting to focus on her homework, but the words on the page blurred, and her mind wandered. Her frustration mounted, bubbling beneath the surface.

Bridget arrived home a little while later, calling out a gentle greeting as she set her things down. "Sally, honey? I’m home! How was school?"

Sally didn’t bother looking up from her homework. "Fine," she muttered, her voice sharp, her mood still sour.

A moment later, Bridget’s voice called up the stairs again. "Can you come down and help me with something?"

"I’m busy!" Sally snapped, louder than she meant to. She instantly felt a twinge of guilt but didn’t bother softening her tone.

There was a brief pause, and then her mother’s voice, calm but firm, called back, "Sally, come down here and bring a diaper with you."

Sally froze in her chair, her heart skipping a beat. For a moment, she wasn’t sure if she had heard right. A diaper? Her pulse quickened, and an unexpected rush of excitement coursed through her. She hadn't worn one since the week had ended, and though she hadn’t realized it until this moment, a part of her missed it—the comfort, the warmth, the familiarity. The simple command from her mother sent a thrill through her.

Without thinking, she stood up and walked over to the drawer where her diapers were kept. Her hands trembled slightly as she pulled one out, the soft crinkle filling the quiet room. She held the diaper in her hands for a moment, feeling a mix of emotions—anticipation, excitement, and a hint of shame for wanting something she thought she was supposed to leave behind.

With the diaper in hand, Sally made her way downstairs, her heart pounding in her chest. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw her mother standing in the kitchen, setting the table for dinner. Bridget looked up and gave her daughter a knowing smile, her expression soft and understanding.

"Come here, sweetheart," Bridget said, her voice gentle but commanding. "Let’s get you back into this, shall we?"

Sally didn’t protest. She didn’t even speak. She simply walked over, handing her mother the diaper. Bridget took it from her, guiding her toward the living room where the couch offered a comfortable space. Sally lay down as Bridget unfolded the diaper with practiced ease.

As Bridget began to diaper her daughter, Sally felt her earlier frustration melting away. The familiar sensation of the soft padding against her skin was both comforting and thrilling. Her mother worked with tenderness, the routine they had established during the past week coming back to both of them effortlessly.

Bridget said nothing at first, simply securing the diaper with gentle hands, but once she was done, she sat beside Sally on the couch and looked at her daughter with a raised eyebrow. "You’ve been cranky lately," Bridget remarked, her tone more curious than accusing.

Sally, still lying there, sighed and nodded. "I know. I’m sorry, Mom. I just… I don’t know why. Everything’s been bothering me."

Bridget smiled, brushing a lock of hair from Sally’s forehead. "I think I know why."

Sally looked up at her mother, a little confused but waiting for her to explain.

"You miss the diapers, don’t you?" Bridget said softly, her words more a statement than a question.

Sally felt her face flush, but she didn’t deny it. She hadn’t realized it consciously until this moment, but now that her mother had said it out loud, it felt true. She nodded slightly, biting her lip.

"It’s okay," Bridget continued, her voice full of warmth. "You found comfort in them, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I could see it in you. You were more relaxed, more at ease. And now that we’ve taken them away, it’s no wonder you’ve been feeling a little off."

Sally blinked, feeling a mixture of relief and confusion. "But I’m supposed to be done with them, right? I mean, I don’t need them anymore."

Bridget shrugged lightly, stroking her daughter’s arm. "Maybe you don’t need them in the traditional sense, but if they help you feel better, there’s no harm in wearing them at home. We’ll figure it out together, Sally. I want you to feel comfortable and happy."

Sally felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by her mother’s understanding. She hadn’t expected this level of acceptance, but here it was—her mother reassuring her that it was okay to feel the way she did.

"Thanks, Mom," Sally whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn’t realize I missed them so much."

Bridget smiled, giving Sally’s arm a gentle squeeze. "I know. And that’s okay. We’ll take things at your pace. Now, why don’t you come help me finish setting the table, and we’ll have dinner?"

Sally sat up, the diaper crinkling softly as she moved. She felt lighter, more at ease. As she followed her mother into the kitchen, she realized that the excitement she had felt wasn’t just about the diaper—it was about the comfort and security it gave her, and the fact that her mother understood that.

For the first time in days, Sally felt her mood lift, a soft smile forming on her lips. Maybe this was something she wasn’t quite ready to give up after all. And for now, that was perfectly okay.

Chapter 41 - Crinkle

Sally stood in her room the next morning, staring at her school uniform laid out neatly on her bed. She sighed, rubbing her temples as she mentally prepared for the day ahead. The previous evening, after the emotional conversation with her mother and the familiar comfort of her diaper, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. But now, faced with the practicalities of going back to school, she was stuck.

Her mother had suggested she wear a pull-up to school, but Sally couldn’t shake the memory of how cumbersome it had always been. Changing a pull-up in the school bathroom was a laborious process. Tights off, pull-up off, then the reverse to get dressed again. It was awkward, time-consuming, and there was always the fear of someone noticing her absence for too long in the stall.

But last night had given her an idea. Instead of a pull-up, she could wear a diaper under her uniform. It would be easier to change since she wouldn’t need to take her tights off completely. The only downside? The bulk. Could she pull it off without anyone noticing?

Sally stood in front of her closet and pulled out a diaper, hesitating for a moment before unfolding it. She slipped off her pajamas and stepped into the diaper, pulling it snugly around her waist before securing the tapes. The thickness between her legs was noticeable, but not unbearable. She wiggled a little, testing how it felt as she moved.

Next came her tights. She carefully slipped them on over the diaper, smoothing them down over her legs and adjusting the waistband of her skirt so that it sat properly. She gave herself a quick glance in the mirror, turning from side to side. The diaper was bulkier than the pull-up, but under the pleated skirt, it didn’t seem obvious. At least, she hoped it wasn’t.

She decided to test it on her mother.

Sally made her way downstairs, the slight crinkle of her diaper barely audible as she moved. Bridget was busy in the kitchen, making breakfast. Sally felt a surge of nerves but forced herself to stay calm. She sat down at the table, trying to act as normal as possible.

“Morning, Mom,” she said, grabbing a piece of toast.

Bridget glanced over, smiling. “Morning, sweetheart. You look ready for the day.”

Sally nodded, her heart pounding a little. Her mother didn’t seem to notice anything different about her, even as she stood up and moved around the kitchen. Maybe the diaper wasn’t as obvious as she had feared.

"Theresa’s driving you to school, right?" Bridget asked.

“Yeah,” Sally replied, grabbing her bag. “I’ll see you after school.”

She walked out the door, her heart racing. She had passed the first test—her mother hadn’t noticed. Now came the real challenge.

Theresa was waiting by the car as usual, leaning against the hood with her sunglasses on. "Morning, champ," she greeted, opening the passenger door for Sally. "Ready for another day of school?"

Sally smiled, though her nerves were still buzzing. "Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be."

As they drove to school, Sally shifted in her seat, hyper-aware of the diaper underneath her uniform. The bulk pressed against her slightly, but Theresa didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. They chatted casually about Sally’s classes and her plans for the weekend, but in the back of her mind, Sally was rehearsing how she would handle the day ahead.

The drive passed quickly, and soon enough, they pulled up to the school. Sally stepped out of the car, her bag slung over her shoulder, and waved goodbye to Theresa. She felt the familiar crinkle as she walked toward the entrance, but no one seemed to be paying attention. She kept her movements slow and deliberate, hoping that the sound wasn’t as loud to others as it was to her.

At school, Sally met up with Katrina and Clara by their lockers. As usual, Katrina was full of energy, bouncing around and throwing jokes at both of them. Sally tried to focus on the conversation, but her mind kept drifting to the diaper. She felt the thickness between her legs with every step, and the thought of someone noticing made her heart race.

“Earth to Sally!” Katrina waved a hand in front of her face, laughing. “You zoning out on us already?”

Sally blinked and smiled, shaking her head. “Sorry, just thinking about something.”

Katrina raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Must be something juicy. Spill it.”

Sally laughed nervously, quickly changing the subject. “Nah, nothing like that. Just… school stuff.”

They made their way to their first class, and as Sally sat down at her desk, she felt the slight pressure in her bladder start to build. She had been so focused on getting through the morning that she hadn’t thought about needing to pee. She shifted in her seat, trying to focus on the teacher’s voice as the lesson began, but the pressure only increased.

It was then that she made a decision. She relaxed slightly in her seat, letting the pressure go. Warmth spread through the diaper, the familiar feeling making her relax even more. She was careful not to let it flood all at once, knowing that the diaper had its limits. The wetness spread evenly, and she felt a sense of calm wash over her.

No one noticed. Not the teacher, not Katrina or Clara, not anyone. Sally sat there, her heart racing, but also feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. She had wet herself in class, and no one had any idea.

By lunchtime, Sally knew she needed to change. The diaper was starting to feel heavy, and she didn’t want to risk a leak. She excused herself from her friends and made her way to the bathroom. The school lavatory was empty, which was a relief. Sally quickly slipped into a stall and locked the door behind her.

Changing a diaper in a public bathroom wasn’t something she had done before, but she had thought it through. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a fresh diaper, along with a few wipes. As she carefully peeled off the wet diaper, she cringed at the soft crinkle it made. She worked quickly, wiping herself clean and balling up the used diaper before slipping into the fresh one.

The sound of the tapes echoed in the stall, making her nervous that someone might hear. But the bathroom remained empty, and after a few more seconds, she was securely diapered again. Sally adjusted her tights and skirt, making sure everything was in place before stepping out of the stall. She tossed the used diaper into the trash and washed her hands, her heart pounding in her chest.

She repeated this process again after her last class of the day. By then, she was more confident, though still anxious about someone hearing or noticing. Each time, she moved quickly, making as little noise as possible and trying to blend into the background.

By the time the day was over, Sally had successfully navigated her first full day in a diaper at school. As she walked out of the building and saw Theresa waiting by the car, she couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of pride and relief. She had done it. No one had noticed, and she had managed to keep everything under control.

As she climbed into the car, Theresa gave her a quick glance. "How was your day?"

Sally smiled, feeling more confident than she had that morning. "It was good. Really good."

--

Sally sat in the passenger seat of the silver Mercedes, staring out the window as Theresa drove them home. Her mind was spinning, not just with the excitement of getting her first credit card, but also with the increasingly uncomfortable sensation of her wet diaper pressing against her. She had made it through the day, managing to keep her secret hidden beneath her school uniform, but now the wetness was beginning to feel overwhelming.

Theresa broke the silence, glancing over at Sally. “Oh, by the way,” she began, as she checked a notification on her phone, “good news: the credit cards arrived today. Your mom and I were planning to go over everything when we get back—allowances, PINs, and how to use Apple Pay. Everything’s ready.”

Sally’s mind snapped back to the present. “Really?” she asked, trying to sound excited. The news was thrilling, but as she shifted in her seat, the squish of her soaked diaper reminded her of her pressing discomfort. She felt her face warm slightly, but Theresa didn’t notice.

“Yeah, everything’s set,” Theresa said. “We’ll make sure you know how everything works, but it’s pretty straightforward. You’ll be able to manage your expenses easily.”

Sally nodded, trying to keep her cool. She had been hoping to make it through this conversation without drawing any attention to her situation. She could feel the diaper sitting heavily between her legs, the tights she wore over it adding to the snug feeling. She shifted again, hoping it wasn’t too obvious.

They pulled into the driveway, and Sally quickly grabbed her bag, hoping to slip upstairs and change before the meeting. But when they walked through the front door, Bridget was already at the kitchen table, the credit card envelopes and a small stack of papers spread out neatly.

"Come sit down, Sally," Bridget called warmly. "Theresa and I are going to go over everything with you now."

Sally hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether she could make it through the meeting without drawing attention to her wet diaper. The idea of sitting through a conversation about credit cards and finances while wearing a soaked diaper was daunting, but she didn’t want to make a fuss. She sat down at the table, feeling the wet padding press uncomfortably against her as she squirmed slightly in her seat. The tights made it feel even more constricted, but she hoped she could manage for a little while longer.

Theresa sat across from Sally, handing her one of the credit card envelopes. “This is your card,” she explained. “It’s linked to your allowance, and we’ll set it up in your Apple Pay so you can use it with your phone if you want. You’ll just need to set up a PIN, and it’s good to go.”

Sally nodded, her fingers playing with the edge of the envelope. The excitement of holding her own credit card was starting to settle in, but the increasingly uncomfortable wetness was making it hard to concentrate. She shifted again, trying to keep her movements subtle, but the squishing sound of the soaked diaper beneath her tights made her cringe internally.

Bridget smiled, watching Sally closely. “You’ll have full access to your monthly allowance, and I’ll have a card to keep track of everything too, just to make sure everything is managed properly.”

Theresa added, “It’s all straightforward, but don’t worry—we’ll help you figure it out as you go.”

Sally nodded again, but she couldn’t help fidgeting in her seat. The weight of the wet diaper was becoming unbearable, and she shifted awkwardly, hoping they wouldn’t notice how squirmy she was.

After going over the basics of the cards, PINs, and spending, Theresa finally stood up to leave, satisfied that everything was explained. “Alright, I think we’re good for now. You know how to reach me if you have any questions. I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Sally smiled weakly as Theresa left, the door clicking shut behind her. The moment the door was closed, Bridget turned to Sally, her eyes narrowing slightly in concern.

"Sally, you’ve been fidgeting all evening," Bridget said, leaning forward a little. "What’s going on?"

Sally froze, her heart racing. She had hoped to get through the conversation without having to explain, but now there was no way to avoid it. She shifted in her seat one last time before taking a deep breath.

“I… I’m wearing a diaper,” she finally confessed, her voice small.

Bridget blinked, clearly surprised. “You’re wearing a diaper?” she repeated, her tone soft but curious.

Sally nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Yeah. I didn’t want to wear a pull-up today, so I put on a diaper instead. But now it’s really wet, and I didn’t have a chance to change it.”

Bridget’s expression softened immediately, her surprise turning into understanding. “Oh, sweetheart,” she said gently. “Why didn’t you say something sooner? Stand up, let’s take a look.”

Sally stood up reluctantly, feeling her heart pound as her mother came closer. Bridget reached for the hem of her skirt and lifted it, revealing Sally’s tights underneath. The bulge of the wet diaper was visible, pressing against the thin material of the tights.

Bridget sighed softly. “Alright, let’s get you sorted out.” She reached down and slowly began to peel Sally’s tights down to her knees, exposing the soaked diaper beneath.

The diaper was completely saturated, the wetness indicator a deep blue stripe across the front. Bridget examined it briefly before shaking her head with a small smile. “You must have been uncomfortable, honey. I’m surprised you made it through that whole meeting like this.”

Sally bit her lip, feeling both embarrassed and relieved. “I didn’t know how to tell you,” she admitted.

Bridget gave her a warm smile, cupping Sally’s cheek gently. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Let’s get you into something dry, and next time, just let me know, okay?”

Sally nodded, feeling her heart calm as her mother guided her toward the living room. Bridget carefully unfastened the tapes of the wet diaper, pulling it away with practiced ease. She wiped Sally clean with a few baby wipes before grabbing a fresh diaper from the nearby stack.

“This time, we’re going to add a little extra,” Bridget said softly, reaching for a booster pad. “Just to make sure you’re more comfortable for the rest of the evening.”

Sally watched as her mother placed the booster pad inside the diaper, the extra padding making it thicker than usual. She hesitated for a moment, wondering if it would be too bulky, but then nodded, trusting her mother’s judgment.

Bridget smiled as she pulled the fresh diaper up between Sally’s legs, securing it snugly with the tapes. The thickness of the diaper was noticeable, especially with the added booster, but Sally already felt more comfortable as the dry padding settled against her skin.

Sally stood still as her mother finished taping up the diaper, the added bulk of the booster already making her feel a bit off-balance. The padding felt thicker than usual, but after a week of wearing diapers at home, the sensation wasn’t entirely unfamiliar—just different.

“All done,” Bridget said softly, giving her a gentle pat. “Now, go get comfortable. I’ll call you down for dinner soon.”

Sally gave her mom a small smile and turned, her diaper crinkling softly as she skipped up the stairs. The noise was familiar by now, but the bulkiness of the booster pad reminded her of its presence with every step. The feeling of security mixed with the awkward thickness made her both self-conscious and oddly reassured.

Once she reached her room, she quickly shut the door behind her. The first thing she did was strip off her school uniform. Her tights came down first, followed by her skirt and blouse, leaving her in her bra and diaper. The heavy padding between her legs made her shift awkwardly as she moved, the thick diaper amplifying each sensation.

She glanced at herself in the mirror, noting the noticeable bulk of the diaper and the way it pressed against her. Her bra felt tight, uncomfortable, and out of place given the diaper she was wearing. She unclasped it and tossed it onto her bed, immediately feeling more relaxed. The absence of the bra gave her a sense of freedom, letting her fully relax and settle into her evening routine.

She reached for her favorite t-shirt—a soft, worn one that hung loosely around her waist. Pulling it over her head, she adjusted it until it sat comfortably just above the top of her diaper. The t-shirt was just long enough to cover the waistband of the diaper, giving her a sense of casual comfort as she looked at herself in the mirror again.

Now, free of the restrictions of her uniform and feeling more at ease, Sally walked around her room, getting ready for the evening. Each crinkle of the diaper reminded her of its presence, but now that she was dressed more comfortably, the thickness didn’t bother her as much. It was just part of her evening—a routine she was slowly accepting, though the extra padding still made her feel a bit more vulnerable.

--

Sally wandered down the hallway, her bare feet padding softly on the hardwood floors as she made her way to her studio. The familiar crinkling of her diaper accompanied each step, but she barely noticed it now, so accustomed had she become to the sound and the sensation. After slipping into her t-shirt and settling into the comfort of being out of her school uniform, the feeling of the diaper, while bulky from the booster, was just part of her day at home.

She pushed open the door to her studio, a small room with soft natural light filtering through the window. It was a space she cherished, a place where she could let her creativity flow without distractions. Paints and brushes were scattered across the table, a few unfinished canvases leaning against the far wall. But it was the large, unfinished painting in the center of the room that caught her attention. It had been sitting there for days, untouched.

She stepped closer, her eyes tracing the vibrant blues and greens she had started with, though now they seemed dull and incomplete. Sally tilted her head slightly, squinting as if the new angle would reveal how to finish it. The image on the canvas was abstract—large, sweeping strokes of color, but it felt like something was missing. She had been stuck on it for a while, unable to figure out what more to add.

Standing there in the stillness, her mind began to drift. Ideas fluttered in and out of her head: maybe some yellows, or perhaps some intricate linework with finer brushes to contrast the broad strokes. She thought about experimenting with textures, maybe adding a layer of thick paint or trying a new technique with her brushes. As she stood in thought, she felt a familiar warmth spreading through her diaper.

Without even realizing it, she had begun to pee, the sensation of warmth and wetness spreading throughout the thick padding. Sally shifted slightly, her body relaxing into the feeling, her focus on the painting never wavering. The diaper absorbed everything quickly, and the weight of it grew a bit heavier, but it didn’t bother her. If anything, it brought a sense of comfort, grounding her as she continued to think about her artwork.

Maybe it was time to buy new paints, she mused, eyeing the dried-up tubes scattered across the table. She could experiment with a fresh palette, something bold to bring new life to her painting. And brushes—she needed new brushes. The old ones were frayed from overuse, and she’d been thinking about trying some different techniques anyway. A trip to the art store would be fun, especially now that she had the new credit card. The idea of being able to buy her own supplies without needing to ask her mom for money gave her a small thrill.

Just as she was lost in the thought of what brushes she might want to try, her mother’s voice called from downstairs, breaking through her reverie.

“Sally! Dinner’s ready!”

She blinked, snapping out of her thoughts and glancing one last time at the painting. It would have to wait until later. She could always sketch out some new ideas after dinner.

Sally made her way down to the dining room, the warm smell of food greeting her as she walked in. Bridget was setting the table, her usual gentle smile on her face as she placed the last plate down.

“There you are,” Bridget said, looking up at Sally. “I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about dinner.”

Sally chuckled, shaking her head. “No, I was just in the studio, thinking about my painting. I might need to get some new paints and brushes.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow. “Thinking about using that new credit card already, huh?”

Sally smiled sheepishly as she took a seat at the table. The thought of having the freedom to buy her own art supplies was exciting, but there was still a lot to understand about how to manage it all.

“Yeah,” Sally admitted. “It’s weird. I’m excited, but I’m also kind of nervous about spending too much. How does this... all work, exactly?”

Bridget sat down across from her, taking a moment before answering. “Well, it’s all about managing your allowance and making sure you’re not overspending. We’ll be keeping an eye on things, of course, but it’s good practice for when you’ll be handling everything on your own someday.”

Sally nodded slowly, her fork hovering over her plate. “So... I can buy things like paints or clothes or whatever, but you’ll see everything I spend, right?”

Bridget nodded. “Exactly. It’s more about learning how to budget and be responsible with your money. You have a monthly allowance, and that’s what you’ll use for personal expenses. If you need something bigger, like school supplies or something for a project, we’ll talk about it.”

Sally chewed thoughtfully, thinking about how different it would be to manage her own expenses. “But what happens if I... I don’t know, go over the limit or spend too much?”

Bridget smiled warmly, setting her fork down. “If you spend too much, you’ll get a call from either me or your dad. It’s part of learning to be responsible. But don’t worry—we’ll help you figure it out.”

Sally nodded again, feeling a little more confident but still unsure. “What about things like... bigger stuff? Like, say I wanted to save up for something expensive?”

Bridget chuckled softly. “Well, that’s what budgeting is for. You can save part of your allowance each month and put it toward something bigger. It’s a good habit to get into. And remember, if you ever need advice on how to manage it, Theresa and I are here to help.”

Sally looked down at her plate, the reality of having her own credit card sinking in. It was exciting, but it also felt like a lot of responsibility. She could imagine herself buying new paints and art supplies, but the idea of keeping track of it all felt overwhelming.

Bridget must have sensed her uncertainty because she leaned in a little closer, her voice gentle. “You’re going to do great, Sally. This is all part of growing up, and I know it feels like a lot right now, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Sally smiled, feeling reassured by her mother’s words. “Thanks, Mom. I guess it’ll just take some getting used to.”

Bridget nodded. “Exactly. And don’t forget, you’ll also have a card on Apple Pay. So you don’t have to carry the physical card around unless you want to.”

Sally grinned. “That’s kind of cool.”

“It is,” Bridget agreed. “But remember, it’s not about spending just because you can. It’s about being smart with it.”

As they continued eating, Sally couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease. The idea of having her own card still felt strange, but with her mother’s guidance, she knew she wouldn’t be alone in figuring it all out.

As the meal wound down, Bridget leaned back in her chair, a smile playing on her lips. “You know, I never had anything like this when I was your age. It’s a different world now.”

Sally laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess. It’s kind of scary, but also... exciting. I just hope I don’t mess it up.”

Bridget reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You won’t. And if you ever feel unsure, just come to me. We’ll work through it together.”

Sally smiled, feeling the warmth of her mother’s support wash over her. The conversation about finances was a bit daunting, but with her mom’s help, she was starting to feel more confident in managing her own expenses. The thought of buying her own art supplies with her card was thrilling, and she couldn’t wait to start planning her next project.

As dinner wrapped up, Sally cleared her plate and stood to help her mom with the dishes. The crinkle of her diaper was a quiet reminder of the day’s events, but for now, she was content. She had a lot to think about, but with her new responsibilities and the comfort of her routine, she felt ready to take on whatever came next.

Chapter 42 - Masterpiece

As Sally helped clear the table after dinner, Bridget caught a slight shift in her daughter’s posture, the subtle way she fidgeted as she moved. It was nothing overt, but after a week of managing Sally’s diaper routine, Bridget had developed a mother’s keen sense for these things.

She knew. Sally’s diaper was wet.

Bridget glanced at her daughter’s lower half as Sally moved to the sink. The booster pad they had added earlier meant the diaper could hold more than usual, and from what she could see, there was no urgency. Sally would be fine for a while longer. Instead of saying anything, Bridget let it slide, deciding to allow Sally her comfort.

After all, tonight was supposed to be a relaxing one.

"Why don’t we watch some ‘Gilmore Girls’?" Bridget suggested, drying her hands after washing the dishes. "I’m in the mood for a few episodes before bed."

Sally perked up at the suggestion. "Yeah, that sounds good," she said, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. The familiar comfort of their mother-daughter TV nights was exactly what she needed after the emotional rollercoaster of the day.

They moved to the living room, where the soft glow of the television already cast a warm, inviting light across the space. Sally flopped onto the couch, feeling the familiar crinkle of her diaper as she settled in. She stretched out her legs and grabbed one of the plush blankets from the back of the sofa, draping it over herself. Bridget sat beside her, remote in hand, ready to start their binge.

As the opening music of "Gilmore Girls" filled the room, Sally let herself relax completely. The show had always been a favorite of theirs, a comforting escape into the witty banter between Lorelai and Rory. It was a world where everything was cozy, funny, and full of love—just what Sally needed to unwind.

The soft, familiar voices of the characters drifted over her as the episode unfolded, and slowly, Sally began to feel her body relax even further. The tension from earlier, the nerves about the credit cards, and the embarrassment about her diaper, all seemed to melt away. She was home, safe, and with her mom.

As the minutes passed, Sally could feel the slow but steady warmth spreading through her diaper again. She had been holding back, but now, with the show playing and the calm, comfortable atmosphere of the living room surrounding her, she let go completely. The warmth spread, and the weight of her diaper grew a little heavier, but the booster pad absorbed it easily.

It was a strange, conflicting sensation. The thick diaper was heavy and wet, but also reassuring. There was no rush to deal with it—she didn’t have to worry. She could just sit there with her mom, watch TV, and relax. No one would know, and she didn’t have to move or make excuses to change. For now, everything was fine.

Bridget glanced over at Sally halfway through the episode. She noticed how calm her daughter seemed, sinking deeper into the cushions. The gentle rise and fall of Sally’s breathing indicated how at ease she was, and Bridget felt a small sense of pride that they had found a routine that worked. The booster was doing its job, and Sally looked content.

"I love this show," Sally mumbled, her eyes half-closed as she watched Rory navigate yet another quirky situation.

Bridget smiled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. "Me too, honey. It never gets old, does it?"

Sally shook her head lazily, the blanket pulled up to her chin. She felt the weight of her diaper pressing against her, and though it was soaked, she found the sensation more comforting than anything. The extra padding from the booster made it feel fuller, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—not yet. She could wait a little while longer.

As the episode continued, they exchanged the occasional comment or laugh about the show’s witty lines, but mostly, they were content to sit in companionable silence. Bridget leaned back, her eyes flicking to Sally now and then, always aware of her daughter’s comfort, but knowing there was no need to rush anything. The wet diaper could be dealt with later, when the time felt right. For now, they were both enjoying the peaceful evening.

As the credits of the second episode rolled, Sally let out a long, contented sigh. She felt heavy and warm, wrapped in the blanket and secure in her wet diaper, but it was the feeling of being home, of being safe, that made her smile.

Bridget clicked off the TV and turned to her daughter. "Alright, sleepyhead. I think that’s enough for tonight. How are you doing?"

Sally stretched and gave a sleepy smile. "I’m good," she said softly, though she could feel the increasing weight of her diaper as she shifted.

Bridget gave her a knowing look, her voice soft. "Want to go get changed before bed?"

Sally hesitated for a moment but then nodded, feeling another small rush of warmth between her legs. She knew she was pretty soaked by now, but she didn’t mind. "Yeah, probably a good idea," she admitted with a shy grin.

Bridget stood and extended a hand to help her up from the couch. "Come on, then. Let’s get you ready for bed, my pampered princess."

The familiar nickname made Sally’s heart warm. She giggled as she took her mother’s hand, standing up and feeling the bulk of her soaked diaper shift slightly as she did. Together, they made their way upstairs, the evening wrapping up with the same warmth and comfort it had started with.

--

Sally wandered through the brightly lit mall, her arms full of bags of art supplies and new clothes. The day had been a whirlwind of shopping, and Sally couldn’t help but feel a thrill each time she tapped her Apple Watch to make a purchase. Tess, walking beside her with a few bags of her own, had been pleasantly surprised by how much Sally knew about art—something she hadn’t expected when they first set out that morning.

As they entered yet another art supply store, Sally immediately gravitated toward the aisles of brushes and paints, her eyes lighting up. Tess followed, watching as Sally expertly sifted through the rows of supplies, pulling out items with the kind of care only an experienced artist could have.

"So, what’s the deal with all these different brushes?" Tess asked, genuinely curious. "I didn’t realize there were so many types."

Sally grinned, happy to be in her element. “It’s all about the materials. See, this one here—this brush has soft bristles, perfect for blending oil paints. But this one," she said, pulling out a slightly stiffer brush, "is better for acrylics. You need something that can handle the thicker texture and faster drying time.”

Tess nodded, impressed by the level of detail in Sally’s explanation. "Wow, you really know your stuff."

Sally beamed, proud to share her knowledge. “Yeah, I’ve been experimenting with different techniques for a while. It’s fun to figure out what works best for each project.”

After gathering the supplies she needed, they headed to the checkout. Instead of fumbling for her credit card, Sally simply raised her wrist and tapped her Apple Watch against the payment terminal. A soft beep confirmed the transaction, and Sally smiled, satisfied with the ease of the process.

Tess watched, amused. “Apple Pay, huh? You’re really embracing the new tech.”

Sally shrugged with a smile. “It’s way easier than carrying a wallet. Plus, it’s kinda fun.”

With the art supplies in hand, they left the store and made their way to a clothing boutique. Sally immediately began rifling through the racks of summer clothes, picking out a few lightweight shorts and oversized t-shirts.

“I mostly just wear t-shirts to sleep in,” Sally said as she sifted through a rack of sleepwear. “Pajamas are great, but I only really wear them when it’s cold. I like keeping things simple.”

Tess chuckled at this, nodding. “Makes sense. Who needs all that extra stuff when a t-shirt works just as well?”

Sally laughed as she added a couple more items to her growing pile of clothes. After selecting a few more summer pieces, they headed to the register. Once again, Sally simply tapped her Apple Watch to pay, the transaction going through in seconds.

As they exited the store, Tess glanced at the bags Sally was carrying. “You’ve spent quite a bit today,” she remarked, her tone light and casual. There was no criticism in her voice—just an observation.

Sally shrugged, a playful grin on her face. “Yeah, but I needed all this stuff, right? Art supplies, clothes—what’s not to love?”

Tess smiled at her, amused by Sally’s nonchalant attitude. “It’s definitely useful. But yeah, you did manage to rack up quite a bill today.”

Sally smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Maybe I should go even crazier—spend even more, just to see if I can get a phone call from my dad.”

The joke was light, but Tess couldn’t help but feel a twinge of something deeper behind Sally’s words. The idea that the only way Sally could get her father’s attention was by spending money didn’t sit right with her. Tess kept her expression neutral, but she made a mental note to address this with Adrian later.

“Maybe,” Tess said with a chuckle, trying to keep things light. “But I think your dad would appreciate hearing from you even without a crazy spending spree.”

Sally laughed, but Tess could tell that the thought of her father was still weighing on her. It wasn’t the first time Sally had hinted at the distant relationship she had with him, and Tess silently vowed to bring it up the next time she spoke with Adrian. It wasn’t fair for Sally to feel like the only way she could get attention was through her spending.

As they sat down for a quick snack in the food court, Sally seemed to brighten again, excitedly talking about the new art supplies she had bought. Tess smiled and listened, genuinely impressed with Sally’s knowledge and enthusiasm.

“You really are talented,” Tess said, watching as Sally animatedly described her next art project. “It’s cool to see how passionate you are about this.”

Sally blushed slightly at the compliment but smiled. “Thanks, Tess. I just love trying new things and seeing what I can create.”

They finished their food, and as they left the mall, Tess couldn’t help but feel more protective over Sally. She had spent a lot of money today, sure, but the way she had joked about overspending just to get her father’s attention stuck with Tess. Sally deserved more than that—she deserved attention for who she was, not just what she spent. Tess resolved to speak with Adrian and make sure he understood that his daughter needed more than financial support.

“Ready to head home?” Tess asked, checking her phone.

“Yeah,” Sally said with a grin. “Mom’s probably going to freak out when she sees all the stuff I bought.”

Tess laughed. “She might. But hey, you did well today.”

As they headed toward the exit, Sally tapped her Apple Watch again, paying for their parking with the same ease she’d had all day. Tess smiled as she watched Sally, thinking of how confident and independent she was becoming, and hoping that Adrian would see it too.

As they made their way home, Tess mentally planned her next steps, knowing that she needed to have a conversation with Adrian about more than just finances. Sally needed his attention in a real, meaningful way, and Tess was determined to make sure she got it.

--

Sally let out a contented sigh, shifting in her seat as she gathered her bags. The day had been exhausting but exhilarating—she had bought everything she needed, from art supplies to summer clothes. The thrill of using her Apple Watch to pay for her purchases had given her a sense of independence, and she was ready to relax. Tess parked smoothly and turned to Sally with a smile.

“You did some serious damage today, Sally,” Tess teased lightly, her eyes flicking to the bags in the back seat. “Your mom’s going to be surprised when she sees how much art stuff you brought home.”

Sally grinned, shrugging. “I think she’ll be more surprised at the bill.”

Tess chuckled. “Well, you’ve got the supplies for your masterpiece, so it’s all worth it.”

They stepped out of the car, and as Sally reached for her bags, Bridget appeared at the front door. She raised an eyebrow playfully, eyeing the bags Sally was holding.

“Goodness, Sally. Did you buy the whole store?” Bridget asked, smiling but obviously curious about the haul.

Sally groaned in mock exasperation. “I needed art supplies and clothes, Mom. It’s for a good cause.”

Bridget exchanged a knowing look with Tess and winked. “Oh, I’m sure it is. What, are you planning to create your own art gallery with all this?”

“Hey, if I do, you’ll be the first one invited to the opening,” Sally shot back, laughing as she and Tess followed her mother inside.

Once they were in the house, Tess helped Sally carry her bags to the kitchen, where Bridget was already inspecting a few of the items. Tess leaned against the counter, watching the playful back-and-forth between mother and daughter.

“I see the summer wardrobe's sorted, too,” Bridget said, pulling out one of the new t-shirts Sally had bought.

Sally shrugged. “It’s getting warm. Gotta be prepared.”

Tess, smirking, added, “Well, let’s just say she’s definitely prepared. New art supplies, new clothes… you’ll have to keep an eye on that credit card, Bridget.”

Bridget chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ll manage. But she’s spending like a real pro now.”

“Only because I have an allowance,” Sally said, winking as she started to gather her art supplies. “And I needed these for my next project.”

Bridget, still amused, came over to Sally and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Alright, but before you go upstairs, let’s get you into something more comfortable.”

--

As soon as Tess left, the house quieted down, settling into its familiar, cozy stillness. Sally carried her bags upstairs, feeling the exhaustion from a long day of shopping mixed with the lingering excitement of buying new art supplies and clothes. The thrill of using her Apple Watch to pay for everything still buzzed in her mind, but now, all she wanted was to unwind.

She was still dressed in her simple black skirt and a loose t-shirt, her bright orange panties hidden underneath. As she stepped into her room, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and sighed softly. The day had been great, but now, she craved the comfort of her diaper.

Before she could change, her mother appeared at the doorway, smiling warmly.

"How about we get you into something more comfortable before you head to your studio?" Bridget suggested, a familiar, knowing tone in her voice.

Sally glanced down at her skirt and t-shirt, then back at her mom. “Yeah, that sounds good,” she said with a soft smile.

Without hesitation, Bridget walked over and guided Sally to sit on the edge of the bed. Sally lifted her hips, allowing Bridget to slide the black skirt down her legs and set it aside. Her bright orange panties followed shortly after, leaving Sally exposed and feeling a mix of vulnerability and comfort. The cool air brushing against her skin gave her a slight shiver, but that faded as soon as her mother began the familiar diapering process.

Sally lay back, staring at the ceiling, her mind already drifting to the unfinished painting waiting for her in the studio. As she lay there, she listened to the quiet, efficient sounds of her mother preparing the diaper—the soft rustle of plastic, the powder being gently shaken onto her skin, and the crinkle of the diaper as it was unfolded. The process was mechanical, yet always soothing. It was something that calmed her after a long day.

Bridget’s hands worked swiftly but carefully, wiping her daughter down with baby wipes before sliding the fresh diaper under her hips. Sally could feel the thickness of the padding as Bridget pulled it snug around her waist, securing it in place with practiced ease. The added booster pad made it feel heavier than usual, but the bulk brought with it a sense of security that Sally had grown to rely on.

“There we go,” Bridget said softly, smoothing the front of the diaper and giving Sally a reassuring smile. “All set. Go on and finish your painting.”

Sally sat up, the familiar crinkle of her diaper accompanying the motion, and smiled at her mom. “Thanks, Mom.”

With a quick nod, Bridget left Sally to her own devices, and Sally headed straight for her studio.

The studio welcomed her like an old friend, filled with the familiar scent of paint and creativity. She set her shopping bags aside, her attention immediately drawn to the unfinished canvas waiting for her. The black background, streaked with grey, stared back at her, a reminder of the darker emotions she’d been working through when she first started the piece.

But now, after the experiences of the day and the quiet comfort of her fresh diaper, Sally felt ready to bring light and optimism into the painting. The bright yellow paint she had bought earlier felt perfect—a color full of life and promise.

She squeezed the yellow paint onto her palette, mixing it with a hint of white to soften its vibrancy. With her brush dipped in the color, she stood in front of the canvas, her heart pounding slightly in anticipation. The first stroke of yellow felt like a release, a sharp contrast against the dark greys and blacks that dominated the painting. It brought warmth, a brightness that cut through the gloom.

Sally paused, stepping back to admire the contrast. The yellow felt bold, almost daring, but it was what the painting needed. She smiled to herself, feeling more confident as she added more strokes of yellow, letting the color flow across the canvas.

Her body relaxed further, sinking into the familiar rhythm of painting. The diaper, thick and snug, crinkled softly with each movement, but it didn’t distract her. Instead, it added to the comfort, grounding her as she worked. She felt herself becoming more absorbed in the process, each brushstroke bringing more life to the canvas. The grey and black tones, which had once seemed heavy and overwhelming, were now softened by the yellows and blues she layered on top.

As the painting came to life before her, Sally’s thoughts drifted, her focus entirely on the colors blending together. The sensation of warmth spreading through her diaper barely registered at first, the soft wetness adding to the calming sense of security. She didn’t stop working—she didn’t want to. The weight of the diaper, now slightly heavier, only grounded her further as she continued to bring her vision to life.

The strokes of blue and green mixed with the yellow, creating a sense of flow and movement across the canvas. It was as though the painting itself was evolving, transforming into something full of hope and light. The darkness was still there, but it no longer dominated. Now, the colors danced over the black base, creating a sense of renewal, a transition from shadow into light.

Sally lost track of time as she worked, the world around her fading into the background. The crinkling of her diaper was a comforting constant, the wetness adding to the warmth she felt inside as the painting neared completion. It was as though the act of painting, paired with the security of her diaper, allowed her to let go of all her worries and simply create.

She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t hear the studio door creak open behind her. Bridget stood in the doorway, watching quietly as her daughter painted. Bridget had come to call her for dinner, but seeing how immersed Sally was in her work, she hesitated.

The painting was beautiful. Full of life and movement, it was a stark contrast to the dark, conflicted emotions that had once dominated the canvas. Bridget could see the optimism shining through, the sense of hope that had finally taken root in Sally’s work. She smiled softly to herself, proud of her daughter’s progress, both in her art and in her emotional journey.

Not wanting to interrupt, Bridget stepped back, deciding to let Sally finish. Dinner could wait.

It wasn’t until much later, when Sally finally stepped back from the canvas, that she realized how much time had passed. She blinked, her muscles aching slightly from standing in the same position for so long. But the painting—it was done.

She stared at it, her heart swelling with pride. The dark beginnings of the piece had been transformed into something vibrant, full of light and color. The yellows, blues, and greens seemed to dance across the surface, creating a sense of movement and hope. It was a reflection of her own journey—from uncertainty and doubt to a place of optimism.

The weight of her now very wet diaper reminded her just how long she’d been working. The warmth had long since spread, and though the diaper was heavy, it had kept her grounded and focused throughout the process. She smiled to herself, feeling a mix of satisfaction and relief.

As she made her way downstairs, the sound of the microwave reheating dinner greeted her. Bridget turned from the counter, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“Hours, Sally. You’ve been at it for hours,” Bridget said, setting down the reheated plates. “Dinner’s been ready for a while, but I didn’t want to stop you.”

Sally blushed slightly, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry, I just... I couldn’t stop once I got going.”

Bridget smiled warmly. “No need to apologize. You finished the painting, right?”

Sally nodded, her eyes bright with pride. “Yeah. I think it’s my best one yet.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Bridget said as they sat down to eat. “But first—do you need a change?”

Sally hesitated for a moment, feeling the heavy diaper shift slightly as she sat down. “Yeah, I’m pretty wet.”

Bridget chuckled. “Finish dinner first. We’ll take care of it after.”

Dinner passed in companionable conversation, Sally recounting some of her ideas for future art projects. When they were done, Bridget led Sally back upstairs for a much-needed diaper change. The routine was familiar, comforting in its simplicity.

Sally lay back on the bed as Bridget untaped the soaked diaper, working with gentle hands to clean her up and powder her. The new diaper felt warm and fresh as it was taped securely in place, and Sally felt a wave of relaxation wash over her.

“All set,” Bridget said, helping her daughter stand. “Now, let’s go check out that masterpiece of yours.”

Sally grinned, the weight of the new diaper barely registering as they headed back to the studio. She felt lighter, both physically and emotionally, and as they stood together in front of the finished painting, she knew that this was more than just another piece of art. It was a reflection of her journey, a symbol of her growth.

And though she didn’t know it yet, it would become one of her most prized creations.

Chapter 43 - Code 41

The meeting had been going smoothly, with Theresa and Adrian discussing logistics, updates on the estate, and plans for upcoming events. Adrian had been his usual, efficient self, asking questions and giving concise instructions. The rapport between them had grown comfortable over the months they had worked together, with Adrian trusting Theresa’s insights and judgment.

As the meeting neared its end, Theresa felt a familiar nervousness tug at her. There was something personal she had been wanting to bring up, something she felt mattered more than all the numbers and logistics they had just discussed. She hesitated briefly, then decided now was the time.

“Mr. Weiss, if I may... there’s one more thing I’d like to bring up,” she said carefully, softening her tone.

Adrian paused and looked at her through the screen, sitting in his Zurich office, his attention shifting from the business reports they’d been reviewing. “Of course, Theresa. What is it?”

Theresa gathered her thoughts before speaking. “It’s about Sally,” she began, knowing this conversation needed to be handled delicately. “I’ve spent a lot of time with her over the last few weeks, driving her to school, spending time with her during errands... She’s a remarkable young woman, very smart and driven. But... there’s something I think you should know.”

Adrian’s eyes softened slightly, his posture becoming less rigid. He trusted Theresa, especially when it came to Sally. “Go on.”

Theresa took a deep breath, deciding to be direct but gentle. “Sally is incredibly independent, and she’s handling the new situation with the credit card and the allowance quite well. She’s careful, doesn’t overspend, and seems to appreciate the responsibility. But something she said the other day caught my attention.”

She paused, watching Adrian’s reaction. His face remained neutral, but his eyes flickered with curiosity.

“She joked,” Theresa continued, “about needing to overspend on her credit card just to get your attention. She said it almost as an offhand remark, like a joke... but I could tell there was more to it than that. It wasn’t just a casual comment. It made me think she feels like she has to do something drastic to get noticed.”

Adrian’s face grew more serious, his brow furrowing slightly. He remained quiet, processing what Theresa had said.

Theresa, sensing the weight of her words, leaned forward slightly, her tone gentle yet concerned. “She’s trying to navigate this new world of wealth and expectations, but I think deep down, what she really wants is more of a personal connection with you. She’s proud of what you’ve provided for her, but... she needs you, not just in a financial sense. She’s craving your attention and presence, and I think she might not know how to express that.”

Adrian stayed silent for a moment, his gaze distant as he thought. The words struck him more deeply than Theresa had anticipated, though she could see him processing every bit of it. He had always provided for Sally—more than provided, he had ensured she would never have to worry about financial matters. But hearing this, it became clear that money wasn’t what Sally needed most.

“What exactly did she say?” Adrian asked, his voice softer than before, a bit more personal.

Theresa offered a small smile, recalling the moment. “We were at the mall, and Sally had bought some art supplies and clothes. She was careful with her spending, but after paying for everything, she looked at me and said, ‘Maybe I should go even crazier with the spending, just to see if it’ll get my dad’s attention.’”

Theresa let that hang in the air for a moment before continuing. “She said it with a smile, like a joke. But there was a hint of something else in her eyes... like she was testing the idea, seeing how I’d react.”

Adrian leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly tapping the armrest. The silence between them grew heavy as he processed this. His gaze shifted downward, and Theresa could tell he was thinking hard about what she’d said.

“I don’t think she wants to spend money to get your attention,” Theresa added softly. “I think she just wants more of you. She’s a strong girl, Mr. Weiss, but she’s also still a teenager trying to figure out how to relate to all of this... the money, the expectations, the relationship with you.”

Adrian exhaled slowly, his face thoughtful, his brow still furrowed. “I’ve always made sure she’s taken care of, financially,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But maybe I’ve missed... the other part.”

Theresa nodded, her tone still gentle. “She’s proud of you, and she respects what you’ve done. But I think she’s also trying to understand her place in your life beyond the financial side of things. She’s learning about this whole world of wealth, and she’s trying to navigate it while also figuring out who she is.”

Adrian’s face softened, his usual businesslike demeanor giving way to something more personal, more reflective. He nodded slowly, still processing everything Theresa had said.

“Thank you for telling me this, Theresa,” Adrian said, his voice quiet but filled with sincerity. “It’s not easy to hear, but I needed to.”

Theresa smiled gently. “I didn’t want to overstep, but I thought it was important. Sally looks up to you, and I think a little more time with you, a little more attention, would mean the world to her.”

Adrian was silent again, deep in thought, but this time, a hint of resolve entered his expression. He straightened in his chair, his decision made.

“Send me Sally’s phone number,” he said, his tone firm but kind. “I want to call her personally, and I want to start fixing this.”

Theresa’s smile widened, relieved that her words had reached him. “Of course, I’ll send it over right after this call.”

Adrian paused for a moment, then leaned forward again, his next words decisive. “Also, arrange for my Gulfstream to pick her up on Friday afternoon after school. Bring her to Zurich for the weekend. I want her here, with me. She can spend time with me, and I’ll make sure she flies back on Sunday night so she doesn’t miss any school.”

Theresa was slightly taken aback by how swiftly Adrian made his decision, but she wasn’t surprised. He was a man of action, and now that he understood the depth of the issue, he wasn’t going to waste time.

“That’s wonderful, Mr. Weiss,” Theresa said, her voice full of sincerity. “I’m sure Sally will be thrilled to spend the weekend with you.”

Adrian smiled faintly, his usual reserved expression softening. “It’s time I start showing her that I’m present in her life, not just in a financial way. I’ve been caught up in business and... other matters, but I won’t let that come between us any longer.”

Theresa nodded, deeply respecting the man sitting across from her, even if it was through a screen. “I’ll take care of the arrangements right away. And I’m sure this will make a huge difference for Sally.”

Adrian’s expression remained thoughtful but determined. “I hope so. She deserves better from me.”

They concluded the meeting on that note, with Theresa feeling a sense of relief and accomplishment. She had spoken from the heart, and Adrian had listened. More importantly, he was taking action.

As the call ended, Theresa knew that things were about to change for Sally—and for the better.

--

Sally was deeply engrossed in her painting, or at least trying to be. It was Saturday morning, and she had been enjoying the quiet solitude of her studio, wearing only her t-shirt and diaper, which was already slightly damp but comfortable. She loved these moments—just her, the canvas, and the comforting rustle of her diaper. She was in the midst of mixing some colors when her Apple Watch vibrated on her wrist. She glanced down, noticing an unknown number flashing on the screen. Without thinking, she pressed the red circle, cutting the call off.

"Probably spam," she muttered to herself, turning her attention back to the canvas.

Not even two minutes later, the Watch buzzed again. Same number. Same reaction—she hit the red button without hesitation.

But the calls kept coming, interrupting her concentration. After the fourth call, she groaned in frustration, peeling the Apple Watch off her wrist and letting it drop onto the sofa. She stood there, breathing heavily, feeling her annoyance growing. The spell of creativity had been broken, and now she couldn’t get back into her rhythm.

"Stupid spam calls..." she grumbled as she waddled down the stairs, her diaper crinkling with each step.

In the kitchen, the pantry called to her, and she quickly grabbed a bag of chips and a can of Coke. She plopped herself onto one of the stools at the kitchen island, opening her laptop and aimlessly browsing art supply stores. She wanted something to spark her creativity, but even scrolling through galleries of paintbrushes and canvases wasn’t doing much.

Clicking through various websites, she found herself on an art supply store’s page, her eyes lighting up at the possibilities. She scrolled through brushes, canvases, and oils—things she already had but couldn’t help browsing for. The sleek design of a new set of palette knives caught her attention, and she lingered on them, mentally cataloging what she could do with different textures on her next painting.

The thought of splurging on some new supplies was tempting, but then she paused, hovering over the checkout button. “Maybe I’ll wait,” she murmured to herself, knowing she already had plenty of materials lying around her studio.

After that, her browsing took a more creative turn. She found herself on various online galleries, scrolling through pieces from contemporary artists. Some of the work was breathtaking, but nothing quite resonated with her. A few installations were innovative, but Sally wrinkled her nose at them, thinking, I could do something like that, but better. Other works were too abstract for her taste, while some featured bold, vibrant colors that sparked new ideas in her mind for future projects.

Still, nothing really jumped out. “Ugh,” she groaned, rubbing her temples. “Why is inspiration so hard to come by?”

Bridget was working in her study, catching up on some things she hadn’t been able to finish earlier in the week, but soon enough, she entered the kitchen, her eyes falling on Sally, who was distractedly eating chips and sipping her soda.

She smiled and went to pour herself a cup of coffee before sitting down across from Sally.

"How’s “Masterpiece 2” coming along?" Bridget asked, her voice light with curiosity.

Sally groaned, tapping the side of her laptop. "I don’t know. I’ve been browsing art supplies and galleries, but nothing’s really... clicking, you know? After finishing that last piece, I thought I’d be pumped up with ideas, but now I’m just hitting a wall.”

Bridget nodded thoughtfully, sipping her coffee. "That happens sometimes after a big project. It’s like your creativity needs to recharge."

Sally leaned back in her chair, pushing the laptop aside. "Yeah, maybe. I’ve got ideas floating around, but none of them feel good enough to start on."

"You’re being hard on yourself," Bridget said gently. "Sometimes you have to just start, even if it doesn’t feel right. You’ll find your flow."

Sally sighed again, rubbing her face with her hands. "It’s not just that, though. I was actually getting into it earlier, but then I kept getting spam calls. Six in a row. Completely threw me off."

Bridget frowned, setting her cup down. "Six calls? That’s strange. Did you recognize the number?"

Sally shook her head. "No. Just some weird international-looking code. Probably spam."

Bridget’s brow furrowed in concern. "Sally... six calls in a row? That doesn’t sound like spam. It sounds like someone really needed to get in touch with you."

Sally blinked, suddenly feeling a bit uneasy. "You think?"

Bridget hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. "It might’ve been your dad trying to call. He doesn’t usually call, but we talked recently, and he mentioned wanting to speak with you."

Sally’s eyes widened, her heart skipping a beat. "Dad? He never calls me."

"I know," Bridget said, her voice softening. "But things have been changing between you two. He’s making an effort."

Without wasting another moment, Sally shot up from her chair, the crinkling of her diaper loud as she rushed out of the kitchen. Her mother’s voice trailed after her, but she was already focused on finding her phone. She dashed back up to her studio, her heart pounding as she grabbed her phone and checked her missed calls.

+41.

Sally didn’t know much about international codes, but she knew that looked like a number from Switzerland. It was the same number that had called over and over again. She stared at it for a moment, her hands shaking slightly before she pressed the button to return the call.

The phone rang once, twice, then clicked.

"Hallo?" came a voice, hurried and quiet. It sounded familiar but distant, and then quickly corrected in English, "Hello?"

Sally blinked, momentarily thrown by the German greeting. "Uh... hi? Is this Dad?"

There was a brief pause, then a sigh of relief. "Yes, Sally. It’s me." Adrian's voice softened, though it was clear he was still keeping his volume down. "Sorry for the confusion earlier. I was in a meeting."

Sally felt her shoulders relax, her initial tension easing. "Oh, I... didn’t know. I thought it was spam."

Adrian chuckled softly, the sound a bit awkward. "I suppose I don’t call enough for you to recognize the number, do I?"

"No... not really," Sally admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.

She glanced at the door of her studio, where Bridget stood, giving her a reassuring smile before walking in and sitting beside her on the sofa. Bridget took Sally's hand, and the simple gesture gave Sally the confidence to continue the conversation.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Adrian said, his tone still warm but slightly more formal than she was used to. "I’ve been thinking it’s time you spent a little more time with me—here, in Zurich. I want you to visit. You could get to know more about the place, about my life... our life."

Sally’s heart raced, and her mind filled with a hundred questions. "Zurich? Like... next weekend?"

"Yes," Adrian confirmed. "I’ve already spoken to your mother, and we both think it would be good for you to come. Just for the weekend. Theresa will be flying with you, of course."

Sally bit her lip, looking at her mom for reassurance. Bridget nodded gently, squeezing her hand.

"But... why now?" Sally asked hesitantly. "I mean, it’s kind of... sudden."

Adrian’s voice softened, and there was a brief pause before he answered. "I realize I’ve been... distant. It’s time you got to know me more. My home, my city... There’s a lot we’ve never shared, Sally, and I don’t want that to continue. This isn’t about overwhelming you with responsibility or anything like that. I just want to spend some time with you."

Sally felt a lump forming in her throat, unsure of how to respond. The idea of spending the weekend in Zurich with her father—alone—was exciting, but also terrifying. She didn’t know what to expect. But there was something in his voice that sounded sincere, more than just business.

"Okay," she said quietly, then more confidently, "Yeah. I’d like that."

Adrian’s relief was palpable, even over the phone. "Good. I’m looking forward to it."

They spoke a little more, the conversation flowing more easily now. Adrian asked her about her art, how school was going, and even about her friends. He sounded genuinely interested, and Sally found herself smiling despite the nervous energy still buzzing in her chest.

After a while, Adrian cleared his throat, signaling the end of the call. "I’ll see you next Friday then. I’ll make sure everything is arranged."

"Okay, Dad," Sally replied softly, feeling a strange mix of excitement and trepidation. "I’ll be ready."

When the call ended, Sally stared at the phone in her hand, her mind racing. Bridget leaned in, brushing her daughter’s hair back from her face.

"You’ll be fine, sweetheart," Bridget whispered. "He’s trying, you know."

Sally nodded, biting her lip. "Yeah, I know. It’s just... a lot to take in."

"I understand," Bridget said, smiling softly. "But you’ll figure it out, just like you always do."

Sally looked up, her nerves slowly giving way to a small, determined smile. "Yeah. I guess I will."

--

Sally sat in silence for a few moments after the call with her father ended, the phone still resting in her hand. A whirlwind of emotions ran through her—surprise, anxiety, and, most surprisingly of all, a rush of excitement. Her heart was still racing, but something had shifted inside her. She had been hesitant about the trip to Zurich, but hearing her father’s softer tone, his genuine invitation to be a part of his world, ignited something within her. For the first time in a long while, she felt a true connection forming between them, and that meant something.

It was as if a fog had lifted in her mind. She needed to paint. Without thinking, she stood up abruptly, almost like a robot being activated. Bridget, still sitting nearby, watched her with a knowing smile. She recognized the look in Sally’s eyes—the burst of creative energy that had been missing for the past few days. It was back, and it was strong.

Sally barely noticed her mother as she marched across the studio to her easel, her focus entirely on the canvas before her. The blank surface called to her, and she reached for her brush with an almost frantic determination. She felt like everything she had been bottling up—the uncertainty about her father, the pressure of her new reality—was ready to spill out onto the canvas. And this painting, she knew, would be different.

Bridget glanced at Sally’s waist as she crossed the room, noticing how her daughter’s diaper had become slightly saggy. She needed a change, that much was obvious. But Bridget, sensing the urgency in Sally’s movements, decided to leave her be for now. A leaky diaper was the least of her concerns if it meant Sally could finally channel this inspiration. Besides, the studio was a safe place for accidents, and the worst thing that could happen was a small puddle on the floor. She smiled to herself at the thought, knowing Sally would likely be too engrossed in her art to notice if it did happen.

Sally stood in front of the blank canvas for a moment, her fingers trembling slightly as she dipped her brush into a deep, moody blue. The color reminded her of Zurich, of the cold and unfamiliar city she had only visited briefly before. She wanted this painting to capture the complexity of what she was feeling—the anticipation, the fear, the excitement—and she knew it had to start with bold strokes. Without hesitating, she brought the brush to the canvas, sweeping broad, aggressive lines across the surface.

The paint flowed easily, each stroke feeling like a release of tension that had been building inside her for days. She added layers of blues and grays, mixing them on the canvas to create depth and movement, as if the painting itself were alive with the emotions she was trying to express. She worked quickly, almost feverishly, letting the colors swirl and blend, creating something raw and unfinished but deeply personal.

As she continued, her focus sharpened. Every stroke felt deliberate, like a piece of the puzzle she was trying to solve within herself. She added darker hues, almost black, along the edges, giving the painting a sense of weight and gravity, like the uncertainty she felt about her relationship with her father. But then, she lightened it with flashes of white and soft yellows, small but hopeful, symbolizing the connection they were beginning to form. It was messy, chaotic, but that was exactly how she felt—torn between worlds, emotions running in different directions but somehow coming together in a way that made sense only to her.

She was so absorbed in the act of painting that she barely noticed the familiar warmth spreading between her legs as her body relaxed and wet her diaper. The wetness didn’t bother her; in fact, it grounded her, making her feel more present in the moment. She continued painting, the rhythmic crinkle of her diaper blending into the background as her focus remained on the canvas.

Time slipped away, each brushstroke leading to the next, as Sally lost herself completely in her work. The painting was taking shape—something abstract yet deeply meaningful, a representation of her journey, her emotions, and her relationship with both her father and herself. She felt free, liberated in the way only art could make her feel.

But after a while, she began to feel the wetness in her diaper grow heavier. It was uncomfortable now, the warmth having turned into a soggy, saturated weight. She paused for a moment, stepping back from the canvas to admire what she had created so far. Her painting was far from finished, but the foundations were there. The colors, the energy, the emotion—it was all beginning to come together in a way that felt right.

As she stood there, contemplating her next move, she felt a sudden, unwelcome sensation. The wetness in her diaper had reached its limit, and she felt the telltale sign of a leak. A small trickle ran down her inner thigh, and she froze, glancing down in mild shock. Her diaper had finally given out, and she hadn’t even realized how long she had been working. She touched the fabric of her t-shirt absentmindedly, realizing just how engrossed she had been in her painting.

Her heart sank as she looked down, realizing her diaper had leaked. A small, damp spot had formed on the floor of the studio, and she bit her lip in frustration. She’d been so focused on her painting that she hadn’t even noticed how wet she had gotten. Her soggy diaper clung to her skin, sagging heavily between her legs, and she sighed, feeling the weight of it.

Bridget, who had been watching quietly from the doorway, stepped forward. “Sally, I think it’s time for a break,” she said, her tone gentle yet knowing. Her eyes flicked down to the wet spot on the floor, and then back up to Sally’s face. “Looks like you’ve been at it for quite a while.”

Sally glanced at her mother, then at the small puddle on the floor, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Yeah... I think I might’ve gotten a little carried away.”

Bridget chuckled softly, placing a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “It’s okay. You’ve been working hard, but it’s time to take care of yourself now. Let’s get you changed.”

Sally shifted uncomfortably, feeling the soggy weight of her diaper pressing against her. “Yeah, I guess so...”

Bridget took a step back, eyeing the paint stains on Sally’s t-shirt. "And we’ll need to get that off, too. You’re covered in paint, sweetheart."

Sally nodded, the adrenaline of her creative burst fading as she realized just how messy she had gotten. Her mother carefully lifted the t-shirt over her head, exposing her bare torso and the soaked diaper clinging to her waist. Sally shivered slightly, not from the cold but from the vulnerability she felt standing there in just her wet diaper.

Bridget pulled out a fresh diaper from the nearby changing supplies she had stashed in the studio for moments like these. “Let’s take care of this here so you don’t track anything through the house,” she said, laying a soft towel on the floor.

Sally lay down on the towel, her heart still racing a little from the excitement of painting and the awkwardness of needing a change in the middle of her artistic process. Bridget was calm and methodical, as always, undoing the tapes of Sally’s soaked diaper and gently cleaning her up with baby wipes. Sally felt the coolness of the wipes against her skin and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift as her mother worked.

“Your painting is really coming together,” Bridget said as she wiped Sally clean, her tone casual, as if this were just another normal moment between them. “You’ve captured something powerful.”

Sally smiled faintly, her eyes still closed. “Thanks, Mom. I think it’s one of my best so far. I just... felt something today, you know?”

“I can see that,” Bridget replied, applying a bit of powder to Sally’s skin before sliding the fresh diaper under her. “You’ve been in the zone.”

Once the diaper was secured snugly around her waist, Sally sat up, the familiar crinkle of the clean padding under her reminding her of how much better it felt to be dry again. But she still felt a little self-conscious, sitting there in nothing but her diaper. Her t-shirt was ruined, covered in smudges of blue, gray, and white paint, and she realized she’d have to go upstairs to get another one.

“You’re all set,” Bridget said, standing up and offering her hand to help Sally to her feet. “But you’ll need to grab another t-shirt from your room.”

Sally groaned playfully, looking down at her bare chest. “Ugh, I guess I have to.”

Bridget smiled, giving her a playful nudge. “Go on. I’ll wait here, and we’ll head down to lunch after.”

With a nod, Sally padded out of the studio, her bare feet making soft sounds against the hardwood floor. The crinkling of her diaper accompanied her as she walked down the hall, making her way upstairs to her bedroom. She felt a little silly walking through the house in just her diaper, but after everything, she was too hungry to care much. She was more focused on the fact that she had completely lost track of time while painting.

Once in her room, she rummaged through her dresser until she found a clean t-shirt, something simple and comfortable. She quickly slipped it on, smoothing it over her chest, and took a moment to glance at herself in the mirror. The diaper felt thicker than usual, but it didn’t bother her. It just felt... normal now, part of her routine when she was in the zone like this.

Satisfied, she made her way back downstairs, where Bridget was waiting for her in the kitchen. Her mother was already prepping lunch, and Sally’s stomach growled at the sight of it.

“You look much better,” Bridget said with a smile as Sally entered the room.

Sally grinned. “Yeah, I needed that change. I guess I was a bit too focused.”

Bridget chuckled, setting a plate of sandwiches on the counter. “That’s an understatement. I don’t think you even realized it was mid-afternoon.”

Sally blinked, glancing at the clock. “Wait, really? I thought it was still morning.”

Bridget shook her head fondly. “You got lost in your art again. It’s a good thing, but next time, let’s try not to leak all over the studio.”

Sally laughed, feeling a wave of relief as she sat down at the table. The painting would still be there, waiting for her when she was ready to get back to it. But for now, she was content to enjoy lunch with her mom, knowing that her burst of inspiration had been worth the minor mess.

 

Chapter 44 - Hamburgers and Coke

Sally was just finishing lunch when the doorbell rang unexpectedly. Bridget, looking startled, placed her sandwich down and hurried to the door.

“Oh no, I totally forgot! Theresa’s coming by to talk about your trip,” she said over her shoulder, waving Sally’s direction.

Sally’s eyes widened, realizing she was still in her diaper and t-shirt from painting earlier. She glanced down at herself, feeling the panic set in. I can’t meet Theresa like this! Without another word, she bolted upstairs, her diaper crinkling with every hurried step.

Once in her room, Sally rushed to her dresser, fully intending to take off the diaper and change into something more presentable. She paused, though, when her eyes landed on a light blue skirt hanging in her closet. It was loose and comfortable, and best of all, it would easily hide her diaper. She reached for it, holding it up to her yellow t-shirt, and smiled at how well they matched.

Why not? she thought, pulling the skirt on over her diaper. It was still dry, so there was no reason to change out of it. She spun around in front of the mirror briefly, satisfied that the diaper was well concealed.

Feeling a little more confident, she made her way back downstairs to join her mother and Theresa. As she stepped into the living room, Theresa greeted her with a warm smile.

“There she is,” Theresa said. “Good to see you, Sally.”

Sally grinned, slightly self-conscious but also amused by the fact that nobody in the room had any idea she was wearing a diaper under her skirt. It felt like a secret she was keeping to herself.

Theresa and Bridget exchanged pleasantries before Theresa turned her attention back to Sally. “You know, I meant to tell you earlier—I was in a meeting with your dad when he got your call. You should’ve seen the room! Everyone was stunned when he took the call. Apparently, interrupting a meeting like that is unheard of for him.”

Sally’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? He stopped the meeting... for me?”

“Oh, definitely,” Theresa nodded, leaning in slightly. “Everyone was talking about it afterward. You were the most discussed person in the room, even though nobody knew who the call was from. Well, except for me, of course.”

Sally couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and embarrassment at the thought of being the center of attention in such an important meeting. She fidgeted slightly, feeling the familiar crinkle of her diaper as she shifted her weight, but kept her composure.

“Wow, I had no idea,” she said, laughing softly. “It’s weird to think that everyone was talking about me.”

“They were,” Theresa confirmed, smiling. “But only in the best way. Your dad really made it clear how important you are.”

The conversation shifted toward Sally’s upcoming trip, and she found herself growing more excited as they talked about it. Theresa explained the basic details of the itinerary, and for a moment, Sally assumed they’d be flying with a commercial airline, like United or Swiss, just like the last time she had flown to Zurich as a kid.

“Oh, right, so we’ll fly out of JFK or maybe even Newark?” Sally asked casually, not realizing how wrong her assumption was.

Theresa blinked, suddenly understanding the confusion. She chuckled softly and shook her head. “Oh no, Sally. We won’t be flying commercial. Your dad is sending his jet for you.”

Sally’s mouth dropped open in shock, and she felt a sudden flutter of excitement mixed with disbelief. His jet? She had completely forgotten that her father owned a private plane.

“Wait... you mean his jet? Like, we’re flying private?” Sally asked, her voice tinged with both amazement and embarrassment for having forgotten such an important detail.

Theresa smiled knowingly. “Yep. It’s a lot quicker than flying commercial. That’s why I’m picking you up from school on Friday, bringing you home to change, and then we’ll head straight to the airport. We’re expecting to take off around six.”

Sally furrowed her brow, still trying to process everything. “But... how? It takes forever to get to JFK or LaGuardia during rush hour. How can we take off so fast?”

Theresa exchanged a quick look with Bridget, who was smiling softly at her daughter’s confusion. Realization dawned on Theresa, and she chuckled. “Sally, we’re not flying out of JFK. We’ll be leaving from a private airport nearby. No security lines, no crowds. We’ll drive up, walk to the plane, and take off. Simple as that.”

Sally was stunned into silence for a moment. She felt her diaper crinkle again as she shifted in her seat, trying to comprehend the logistics of it all. Flying private seemed so far removed from her normal experience, and she couldn’t help but feel a little bit out of her depth.

“That’s... that’s amazing,” she finally said, her mind racing with questions. “What’s the plane like? I don’t remember it.”

Theresa grinned, clearly enjoying Sally’s curiosity. “It’s a Gulfstream. Very comfortable, lots of space. You’ll get to see it soon enough.”

Sally sat back in her seat, still processing the idea of flying on a private jet, her thoughts swirling. She absentmindedly pressed her hand against her skirt, feeling the soft padding of her diaper underneath. The thought of flying in a private jet while wearing a diaper made her giggle internally. Nobody knows I’m wearing this, she thought to herself, almost feeling like it added to the surreal experience.

Theresa continued explaining how the trip would go, and Sally listened closely, but her mind kept wandering back to the jet, the adventure that awaited her, and the funny little secret she was carrying with her under her skirt.

Theresa was standing by the door, ready to head out, when she turned back to Sally and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure everything is taken care of. I’ll be here to pick you up on Friday, right after school.”

Sally, still trying to process the whole idea of flying in a private jet, bit her lip and asked, “What should I wear? I mean, I’ve never flown in a private jet before... Do I have to dress fancy?”

Theresa’s smile broadened, clearly amused by Sally’s question. “Oh, no, no! You can wear anything you find comfortable, Sally. Even your pajamas if you like! We’ll be flying through the night, so you’ll even have a bed on the plane to sleep in.”

Sally blinked, surprised. “A bed? On the plane?”

Theresa nodded, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm. “Oh, yeah! Flying private is completely different from what you’re used to. No cramped seats, no lines at security, no boarding passes... It’s like stepping into a hotel in the sky. You can sleep, watch movies, and eat whatever you like.”

Sally’s mind spun with the possibilities, and as she sat there listening to Theresa’s description, she felt a soft warmth spreading in her diaper. She had hydrated herself heavily during lunch and, without thinking much about it, she let herself relax, silently wetting her diaper bit by bit. The warmth was comforting, and it added to the sense of relaxation she was feeling in the conversation.

Theresa leaned in slightly, her tone becoming more conspiratorial, as if she were letting Sally in on a secret. “Actually, speaking of food, I wanted to ask—what’s your favorite food? Or drinks? I can make sure we have everything ready for you on the plane.”

Sally’s eyes widened. “Wait, you mean... I can just have whatever I want?”

“Exactly,” Theresa said with a grin. “It’s all part of the experience. If you want burgers, pasta, pizza—anything—you can have it. Drinks too. Whatever makes you feel comfortable during the flight.”

Sally felt a spark of excitement. “Oh! I really like burgers. And... um, maybe some Coke?”

Theresa nodded, making a mental note. “Burgers and Coke, got it. Anything else? Maybe some snacks for the trip? You’ll want to have something to munch on while you’re watching movies.”

Sally thought for a moment, her excitement building. “Maybe... chips? Oh! And gummy bears!”

Theresa laughed softly. “Gummy bears, I love it. Done.”

Bridget, who had been quietly observing the conversation, chuckled and leaned forward. “She’s got a sweet tooth, that’s for sure. But this sounds incredible, Theresa. Sally, you’re really going to love this experience.”

Sally couldn’t help but smile as her mother joined the conversation. She felt so at ease, the warmth in her diaper slowly spreading as she continued wetting herself little by little. She shifted slightly in her seat, feeling the soft bulk of the diaper beneath her, and giggled internally at how nobody knew her little secret. The conversation made her feel more relaxed, more comfortable—something she hadn’t expected from discussing a private jet trip.

Theresa, sensing the growing excitement, continued, “Honestly, Sally, the best part is the freedom. You can walk around, lay down whenever you want, and we’ll have movies, music—anything you need to make the trip enjoyable. Plus, the flight attendants are amazing. They’ll cater to whatever you need.”

“Wow...,” Sally breathed, her mind racing. “I didn’t realize flying private was so... different.”

Bridget smiled warmly, watching her daughter’s face light up with each new detail. “I’m so glad you’re excited, sweetheart. It’s going to be such a special experience.”

Sally nodded, feeling the growing excitement settle in her chest. “Yeah... I guess it’s going to be amazing.”

Theresa leaned back, crossing her arms and nodding with satisfaction. “Trust me, you’re going to love it. It’s a whole different world up there. And hey, if you feel like changing into something more comfortable during the flight, you can always do that too.”

Sally giggled, shifting again in her seat, the squish of her diaper reminding her that she might need to change before the trip. But the idea of lounging in her pajamas or even just relaxing in whatever she wanted on the plane sounded like pure bliss.

As the conversation wound down, Sally couldn’t help but feel more at ease, her earlier anxieties fading away. She had started the conversation with a sense of nervousness, unsure of what to expect, but now she felt fully prepared—and more than a little curious—about her upcoming adventure.

Bridget, noticing how relaxed and comfortable Sally was, felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. “Thank you for explaining all this, Theresa. It’s made such a difference for Sally.”

Theresa smiled, giving Bridget a knowing nod. “Of course. I’m just glad she’s excited now.”

Sally, still feeling the soft warmth of her diaper beneath her skirt, grinned. "I am. I can't wait."

Her mind was already buzzing with thoughts about the plane, the food, the movies... and the little secret she’d be carrying with her the whole time.

As Theresa stood up to leave, she gave Sally a warm smile. "See you Friday, Sally. Get excited—it's going to be a great trip."

Sally grinned back, and on a sudden impulse, she got up from her chair and gave Theresa a quick hug. Theresa seemed slightly surprised but her smile widened, clearly pleased by the gesture.

“Thanks, Tess,” Sally said as she pulled back. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Theresa beamed at her, giving her a small wink. “Me too. See you soon!”

Once Theresa had left, the door clicking softly behind her, Sally turned back to her mother. Bridget was leaning casually against the kitchen counter, watching her daughter with a knowing look. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms.

“I’m guessing,” Bridget began, a sly smile tugging at her lips, “you’re still wearing that diaper, and if I know you, it’s probably wet by now.”

Sally paused, then broke into a crooked smile. She reached down, lifted the hem of her light blue skirt, and revealed the swollen diaper underneath. “Guilty,” she said with a mischievous smirk.

Bridget chuckled softly. “Well, at least you’re consistent. I’m proud of you for being responsible today.”

Sally shrugged nonchalantly. “I need to shower anyway,” she said, her smile widening. “My hair stinks of paint fumes.”

Bridget grinned. “Then go ahead, and make sure to toss that diaper where it belongs—Dolores’s reprimand still ringing in your ears, I hope?”

Sally snorted a laugh and gave her mom a playful roll of her eyes. “I won’t forget, I promise.”

She headed upstairs, feeling the weight of the wet diaper with every step. Once she reached the bathroom, she carefully peeled off her t-shirt, tossing it into the hamper. She then slipped off her light blue skirt, folding it neatly on the counter, before sitting on the toilet lid to remove the diaper. She took a moment to wrap the heavy diaper up tightly, remembering Dolores’s stern but sweet warning from earlier in the week. Satisfied with her handiwork, she dropped the diaper into the garbage pail, making sure it was securely closed.

With a quick glance in the mirror, Sally pulled her hair up into a messy bun and turned on the shower. The water was warm and inviting, and she stepped in, sighing as the hot spray washed away the lingering paint fumes and grime. She stood under the stream for a while, letting the warmth relax her muscles and clear her head. The conversation with Theresa had gone better than she’d expected, and now that the reality of the trip was setting in, she felt a mix of excitement and curiosity bubbling beneath the surface.

Once she was done, Sally shut off the water and reached for her towel, drying herself off with quick, practiced movements. She wrapped the towel around her hair and padded over to her bedroom. Opening her dresser, she pulled out a fresh pair of Ninjamas, the familiar pull-up making her smile. The playful designs on the waistband were strangely comforting, and as she slipped them on, she felt an immediate sense of calm wash over her. She added a pair of lounge pants over the top and threw on a bright blue hoodie—her favorite for lounging around the house.

As she headed back downstairs, still toweling off her damp hair, she found her mother tidying up in the kitchen.

“No diaper?” Bridget teased, glancing up with a raised eyebrow as Sally entered.

Without missing a beat, Sally grinned and lifted her hoodie, showing her mom the waistband of her Ninjama peeking out from under her lounge pants.

“My good little ninja,” Bridget said affectionately, her voice filled with warmth.

Sally’s smile grew wider, her chest filling with a sense of pride and happiness. “Yep,” she said, her eyes twinkling, “ready for whatever stealthy mission you have for me.”

Bridget laughed softly, shaking her head. “Well, you can start with helping me finish cleaning up before dinner. Then we can relax.”

Sally beamed, feeling light and at ease as she moved to help her mom. For once, everything felt perfectly in place, and the weight of her responsibilities seemed far away. Today, she was just a good little ninja, content in her world.

--

Sally’s lazy Sunday started with her stretching out in bed, the sunlight filtering through her curtains. She lay there for a few moments, enjoying the quiet stillness of the house. Finally, she pushed herself out of bed, her diaper crinkling softly as she wandered downstairs in her oversized t-shirt. As she padded into the kitchen, she found her mother sitting at the table, a cup of coffee in hand and the Sunday paper spread out before her.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Bridget greeted with a smile, glancing up as Sally entered.

“Morning,” Sally mumbled, still half-asleep, and she slid into a chair across from her mom.

Bridget chuckled. “You ready for grocery shopping today? We’ve got a lot to pick up, especially if we’re making homemade ravioli later.”

Sally groaned softly but nodded. “Yeah, sure. Let’s get it over with.”

After a light breakfast, they headed out to the supermarket. As they pulled into the parking lot, the place was busy with the usual weekend crowd. Sally grabbed a cart and pushed it through the aisles while Bridget walked beside her, occasionally tossing things into the cart—a loaf of bread, some vegetables, and a couple of packs of pasta.

“So,” Bridget started, glancing at the shelves. “Do you need me to restock your Goodnites? Or maybe we could try the Ninjamas again? I saw they’re on sale.”

Sally froze for a second, her face flushing slightly, and then quickly scanned the aisle to make sure no one was within earshot. “Mom, seriously?” she whispered, rolling her eyes. “Not here. There are people around.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Sally’s reaction. “What? It’s just us. And you need them, don’t you?”

Sally groaned, pushing the cart a little faster down the aisle. “I have enough at home. I don’t need any more. Can we just move on?”

Bridget, realizing how embarrassed Sally was, softened her tone. “Okay, okay. I get it. But you know I’m just looking out for you.”

Sally nodded, relieved that the topic was being dropped. “I know, Mom. Thanks. But seriously, I’d rather not buy them myself in public.”

Bridget smiled, finally understanding. “Fair enough. I’ll be more discreet next time. But you’re good for now?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sally replied with a small smile, feeling the tension in her shoulders relax a little.

They continued shopping, grabbing more essentials—milk, eggs, and a few snacks for the week. The banter between them returned to lighthearted, normal topics, like school and what they were planning to make for dinner.

As they approached the checkout, Sally absentmindedly reached for her phone. “Hey, I could pay for this if you want,” she offered casually.

Bridget turned to her, frowning in surprise. “Pay for it? With what, your allowance?”

Sally shrugged. “I mean, I’ve got money now…”

Bridget’s frown deepened, and she shook her head firmly. “Sally, I’m still your mother. This isn’t how it works. I pay for the groceries, and you let me take care of you. That’s how it’s done.”

Sally’s face flushed with embarrassment as she realized she might’ve overstepped. “Sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean to—”

Bridget softened her expression, putting a hand on Sally’s arm. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. But you’re still my daughter, and I want to take care of you. So let me.”

Sally nodded, feeling a little more subdued as they finished paying and headed home. She was starting to understand a bit more about the complexities of money and what it meant in their lives, but for now, she was still learning. Bridget’s words hung in the air as they drove back, the two of them sinking into a comfortable silence.

When they got home, the afternoon passed lazily as they prepped to make dinner together. The kitchen was soon filled with the smell of flour, herbs, and roasted pumpkin as they began their ravioli-making adventure. Sally was leaning over the countertop, rolling out the dough with a rolling pin, while Bridget handled the filling.

Sally's t-shirt had ridden up slightly as she stretched over the counter, exposing the waistband of her Goodnite, which peeked out from the top of her shorts. Bridget glanced at it but said nothing, a fond smile playing on her lips as she watched her daughter.

“You look like a professional chef covered in all that flour,” Bridget teased, glancing at Sally’s flour-streaked face and hands. “Or maybe more like a snowman.”

Sally grinned, wiping her face with the back of her hand, which only smeared the flour more. “Yeah, well, I think I’ll stick to the artistic side of things.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you can combine the two. Culinary art?”

Sally rolled her eyes. “Sure, Mom. Right after I master making ravioli that doesn’t look like it’s been run over by a car.”

The two shared a laugh as they continued working, Bridget carefully guiding Sally through the process of making the pasta from scratch. By the time they were done, both of them were covered in flour, and the kitchen looked like it had been hit by a snowstorm.

Later that evening, they sat down to dinner, enjoying their hard-earned meal of homemade pumpkin ravioli. The warmth of the food and the coziness of the kitchen made it the perfect lazy Sunday evening, full of light conversation and plenty of laughter.

--

As the week began, Sally’s routine shifted a bit. Instead of Theresa driving her to school, Bridget offered to take her, which Sally found comforting. The extra car rides together gave them time to bond, and Bridget seemed more relaxed now that work wasn’t as hectic.

On Monday, as they drove to school, Sally mentioned her upcoming trip to Zurich in passing. Bridget glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “You’re going to be gone for a few days. Are you ready for it?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Sally said, shrugging. “It’s only for a couple of days. Better to get it over with now than wait for summer.”

At school, her friends were curious about the trip. Katrina, with her usual energy, bombarded Sally with questions during lunch. “So you’re flying out for a couple of days, huh? Must be a quick trip. You’re going to be jet-lagged!”

Sally shrugged, trying to keep things low-key. “Yeah, just a quick visit.”

Katrina raised an eyebrow. “Business class at least, right? You’ll need the legroom to get your homework done.”

Clara, ever practical, added, “Premium economy is decent enough, but business would be way better.”

Sally laughed awkwardly, trying to dodge the question. “Uh, we’ll see. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

In truth, the thought of flying on a private jet still felt surreal to her. She hadn’t mentioned it to her friends, unsure of how they would react. She decided she’d wait until after the trip to tell them—it was just easier that way.

Throughout the week, the excitement for the trip built up. During their car rides, Bridget and Sally would talk about what she might do in Zurich, what her dad’s place was like, and whether or not she’d get any time to sightsee.

By Thursday night, everything was ready. Bridget had helped Sally pack her bag, reminding her to bring comfortable clothes for the plane and a few nicer outfits just in case. “And don’t forget,” Bridget said with a smirk, “you’ll have your Ninjamas for the plane. Just in case.”

Sally rolled her eyes but smiled. “Thanks for the reminder, Mom.”

Finally, Friday morning arrived. Sally woke up in a tangle of sheets, the morning light filtering softly into her room. She felt a familiar sensation—a dry diaper still snug around her waist. She stretched out her legs, and with a sigh of contentment, lazily let herself wet the diaper, feeling the warmth spread slowly. It was a comforting feeling, one that made her smile as she lay there for a few moments longer.

“Sally! Breakfast is ready!” Bridget’s voice floated up the stairs.

With a deep breath, Sally climbed out of bed, the crinkle of her diaper loud in the quiet morning. She padded down the stairs, waddling slightly, ready for her last breakfast before heading off to see her dad. As she stepped into the kitchen, the smell of pancakes filled the air, and Bridget smiled as she saw her daughter.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” she said. “Ready for the big trip?”

Sally grinned and nodded, though the thought of what was to come still made her a little nervous. “Yeah, I think so.”

Bridget gave her an encouraging smile. “Well, let’s eat. You’ll need your energy.”

--

Sally was lingering near the school entrance, laughing with Katrina, Clara, and a few other friends about weekend plans, when she saw it. A sleek, black Suburban, straight out of a movie, pulled up to the curb. It wasn’t the typical Mercedes SUV that Theresa usually drove. This one looked like it belonged to the Secret Service, gleaming under the afternoon sun with tinted windows and a driver in a dark suit.

"Whoa," Katrina whispered, eyes wide. "Is that for you?"

Sally felt her stomach tighten a bit. She hadn’t expected this. As the Suburban came to a halt, the back door opened, and Theresa stepped out, waving warmly in Sally’s direction. The sleek, professional look of the Suburban mixed with the attention it was drawing from the crowd made Sally's cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Yeah... I guess so," Sally muttered, feeling a little uncomfortable under her friends' wide-eyed stares. She quickly mumbled her goodbyes to Katrina and Clara, who were left speechless, and hurried toward Theresa.

"Why the change in car?" Sally asked, a bit irritated as she approached Theresa.

Theresa chuckled, a little apologetic. "Sorry, Sally. This made things a lot easier for today. We’re not parking at the airport, so I figured I’d use this instead." She gestured casually to the Suburban. "No Mercedes in long-term parking."

The driver, a man in a crisp suit and sunglasses, gave Sally a distant but polite nod. "Miss," he said quietly as Sally greeted him with a quick, "Hi, thanks for driving."

Theresa seemed to appreciate Sally’s polite gesture, giving her a small nod of approval as they climbed into the back of the Suburban. Inside, it was as pristine and luxurious as she’d imagined, but Sally felt a small pang of annoyance. The whole Secret Service vibe was a bit much, and she wasn’t entirely thrilled with the showy ride.

They reached home in no time, the Suburban pulling smoothly up the driveway. The driver remained in the car, waiting, but Theresa got out to help Sally with her bags. Sally hoped Theresa wouldn't offer to come up and "help" her pack or get ready, but instead, Theresa waved her off and said, "Take your time. I’ll wait here."

Grateful for the space, Sally hurried inside and up the stairs. The house was quiet, and she exhaled slowly. This was the moment she had been anticipating. Her plane outfit was already laid out on her bed, but there was something she needed first—something that would make the trip more comfortable. She opened her drawer and pulled out a Ninjama.

She undressed completely, tossing her school clothes onto the floor in a pile. She pulled the Ninjama from its packaging, feeling its soft texture, and slipped it on, adjusting it for comfort. The snug fit around her waist made her feel at ease, as though she was wrapping herself in a little bubble of security. She glanced at herself in the mirror, smiling slightly. She reached for her most comfortable bra and put it on, the familiar feel of cotton against her skin calming her nerves.

Next, she grabbed her bright yellow Nike t-shirt and pulled it over her head, the soft material hanging loosely over her frame. Her lounge pants came next, slipping easily over the Ninjama. They were her favorite pair—soft, loose, and perfect for a long trip. Finally, she pulled on her bright blue hoodie, the one that always made her feel safe and warm. It was oversized and a bit worn, but it was hers.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she slipped on her socks, taking her time as she rolled them over her feet. Then came her comfortable trainers, perfectly worn in for the trip ahead. As she stood up and surveyed herself in the mirror, she knew she didn’t look like someone heading off on a private jet to Zurich, but she also knew she didn’t care. She was going for comfort, and that was what mattered.

Satisfied with her outfit, Sally grabbed her carry-on suitcase and backpack, both neatly packed and ready to go. She crinkled softly as she made her way downstairs, lugging her bags behind her.

Halfway down the stairs, Theresa met her with a smile. "Need help?" she asked, reaching for the suitcase.

"Thanks," Sally said, handing it over, relieved to not have to carry it the rest of the way.

Bridget was already waiting near the front door. Sally set her backpack down for a moment and approached her mom, who opened her arms for a warm hug.

"You’ll do great, Sally," Bridget said, her voice full of warmth and pride. "Remember, just relax and enjoy it. Your dad’s really excited to see you."

Sally smiled softly, hugging her mom tighter. "I’ll be fine, Mom. I’ll text you when I get there."

"You better," Bridget teased, ruffling her daughter’s hair. "And don’t forget, you can call anytime. Even if you’re in Zurich."

Sally laughed. "I won’t forget."

With one last hug, Bridget stepped back, and Theresa, standing by the door, grabbed Sally’s backpack. "Ready?" she asked.

"Ready," Sally nodded, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As they stepped outside, the Suburban’s tailgate opened automatically with a smooth, mechanical sound. The driver, still distant but efficient, came around to load Sally’s luggage into the back, placing it carefully next to Theresa’s bags.

Sally gave the house one last glance before turning back to the car, where Theresa was holding the door open for her. She took a deep breath and climbed inside, the door closing behind her with a soft click. As they pulled out of the driveway, she felt the crinkle of her Ninjama, hidden beneath her lounge pants, and smiled to herself. Comfortable and ready for whatever came next.

Chapter 44 - Jetsetter

Sally watched the familiar landscape roll by as they drove toward the airport, but something felt off. As they approached the usual turn to the terminal, the Suburban kept going. She furrowed her brow in confusion. "Aren’t we going to the terminal?" she asked Theresa, glancing over at her.

Theresa gave a small, knowing smile. "Not quite. We’re taking a different route today."

Sally felt her curiosity spike as they drove further around the perimeter of the airport, away from the bustling commercial side and into a quieter, more exclusive area. They passed large hangars and sleek, low-rise buildings. Eventually, the Suburban pulled up in front of a gleaming glass-front building with a sign that read "Sterling Aviation."

As the Suburban came to a stop, a uniformed concierge stepped forward and opened their doors. "Good afternoon, Ms. Weiss," he said with a professional smile, nodding at both Theresa and Sally. "Welcome to Sterling Aviation. Please, follow me."

Sally stepped out of the car, feeling the plushness of the carpet that had been rolled out from the entrance to the curb. She exchanged a quick glance with Theresa, who seemed perfectly at ease, and took a deep breath as they walked inside.

The reception area was nothing like an airport terminal. The floors were polished marble, and the space was sleek and modern, with elegant furniture and warm lighting. A few well-dressed passengers were lounging in armchairs, casually sipping on drinks as they waited for their flights. Everything about the space screamed luxury, and Sally suddenly felt a bit self-conscious in her hoodie and lounge pants.

But then, she straightened her shoulders. After all, this was for her. She was about to board her father’s private jet, and these people worked for people like him—and by extension, for her. She could feel the Ninjama softly crinkling beneath her clothes as a reminder of her secret comfort, but she ignored it and focused on her surroundings.

The concierge led them to a private lounge area, which was even more luxurious than the main lobby. The large glass windows offered a perfect view of the tarmac, and just beyond, Sally saw rows of sleek private jets lined up like cars in a showroom.

"Please make yourselves comfortable," the concierge said, gesturing toward the plush seating. "Your jet is currently being fueled, and we will notify you once everything is ready. Can I get you something to drink while you wait?"

Sally glanced out the window, eyes widening as she spotted a large, silver jet standing out among the smaller, white planes. "Is that...?" she trailed off, turning to Theresa, who nodded.

"That’s your father’s jet," Theresa said, smiling slightly at Sally’s astonishment. "It's painted silver to stand out a bit more. I think he likes to make an impression."

Sally stared at the plane, her heart racing a little. It looked enormous compared to the other jets parked nearby. She couldn’t believe that this was what she’d be flying in.

"Water for me, please," Theresa said, addressing the concierge.

Sally, still watching the plane, spoke up without hesitation, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "I’ll have a Coke, please."

The concierge nodded smoothly and disappeared, leaving Sally to absorb everything. As they settled into the plush leather seats, she turned her attention back to the scene outside, watching the activity around the jet. Workers moved around efficiently, checking equipment and fueling the plane. It felt surreal.

When the server returned with their drinks, Sally smiled and thanked him, making sure to maintain eye contact. She had read somewhere that people in service roles appreciated being treated like they mattered. The server smiled back, clearly appreciating the gesture.

Theresa took a sip of her water and turned to Sally. "You’re handling this well," she said, her tone approving.

Sally shrugged slightly, feeling her confidence grow with every passing moment. "I just... I don’t want to seem clueless. And it’s not like I’m going to do this every day, but still..."

Theresa chuckled. "That’s the spirit. But I wouldn’t be surprised if this becomes a bit more common for you in the future."

Sally let out a small laugh, unsure whether she was ready to fully accept that idea. But there was something exciting about it all—the sleek jet, the attention, the luxury. She had to admit, it didn’t feel half bad.

After a few minutes, the concierge reappeared at the doorway of their lounge, his professional smile still firmly in place. "Ms. Weiss, Ms. Theresa," he said, "your flight is ready for boarding."

Sally took a deep breath, her heart thudding with a mix of nerves and excitement. She glanced at Theresa, who gave her a reassuring nod.

"Here we go," Theresa said softly.

Sally stood up, her legs feeling a bit wobbly as she adjusted her lounge pants and hoodie. As they walked toward the door, the faint crinkle of her Ninjama followed her, but she paid it no mind. There were bigger things ahead.

She was about to board her father’s jet for the first time.

--

As soon as Sally and Theresa stepped out of the sleek aviation lounge, they were greeted by a waiting black Suburban, its polished exterior gleaming in the late afternoon light. Sally was a bit surprised; she knew the Gulfstream wasn’t far from the building, and she hadn't expected another car ride for such a short distance.

Theresa noticed Sally’s quizzical expression and gave her a knowing look. "I know it seems a bit much, but this makes things easier," she said, shrugging slightly as she climbed into the backseat. "Also, we’re not parking at the airport like a regular car. Special treatment and all."

As the Suburban started moving slowly toward the tarmac, Sally saw another group of people huddled onto a golf cart, being driven to a smaller private jet farther out. They glanced over in their direction, and Sally felt a mixture of awe and discomfort bubbling inside her.

“Pampered princess,” she muttered to herself, feeling her cheeks flush.

Theresa, catching the comment, chuckled. “Yup, you’re getting the royal treatment, all right,” she said with a grin.

Sally blushed deeper, realizing she had spoken out loud. Theresa reached over and patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to this. Just take it as it comes.”

Sally took a deep breath, focusing on the view ahead. The Suburban was driving slowly across the runway toward the silver Gulfstream, its sleek body shining against the setting sun. The private jet stood tall next to the smaller, more modest planes around it, with its silver finish making it look even more striking.

As they approached, Sally noticed three figures standing at the base of the jet’s steps: Captain Richard Henderson, First Officer Lars Gruber, and the flight attendant, Nitaya Wattanachai. They were standing in formation, ready to welcome her, with a plush red carpet rolled out from the jet's steps to where the Suburban would stop.

The car came to a halt precisely at the carpet's edge, and Sally noticed the group of people from the golf cart staring her way, some even holding up their phones to take pictures. She shook her head slightly, still trying to absorb the surrealness of it all.

Theresa stepped out of the car first, standing beside the Gulfstream crew, clearly ready to make the introductions. But before she could say anything, Sally gathered her nerves and stepped forward, greeting each one by their rank and name as she'd practiced.

"Captain Henderson, First Officer Gruber, Miss Wattanachai," Sally said with as much confidence as she could muster, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach, shaking each of their hands.

Captain Henderson, a fatherly man in his mid-fifties with a graying beard, smiled warmly and nodded. "Welcome aboard, Miss Weiss. We're honored to have you with us today."

First Officer Gruber, younger and eager-looking with a distinct German accent, added, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Weiss."

And finally, Miss Nitaya, a graceful Thai woman in her thirties, beamed at Sally. "I’m so happy to see you with us, Miss Weiss," she said, her voice soft yet professional. She seemed genuinely touched when Sally had pronounced her name correctly. “I hope this is the first of many flights together.”

Sally felt a small surge of pride at the gracious responses and allowed herself a quiet smile. She nodded at them, feeling like she was already beginning to know them, even if they had just met.

As they climbed the steps of the Gulfstream, Sally glanced back and saw a luxury helicopter taking off from another part of the runway. It looked similar to the one she'd ridden in on her trip to New York, and the sight of it brought back a flood of memories. She admired the smooth, graceful ascent for a moment before turning back to focus on her present adventure.

Captain Henderson led Sally up the steps, his hand gently resting on the rail. "Let me show you around your Gulfstream," he said with a smile, gesturing for her to follow him. Sally still couldn’t believe it was her plane—or at least, her father’s—but she didn’t correct him.

Inside, the Gulfstream was beyond anything she could have imagined. The interior was sleek and modern, with plush leather seating in soft cream and dark wood accents. The wide windows flooded the cabin with natural light, and Sally couldn’t help but admire how spacious it all felt.

Captain Henderson pointed out the main features. "You’ve got Wi-Fi throughout the flight, a private suite in the back for resting, and we’ve also stocked the galley with some of your favorite snacks and drinks. Miss Nitaya will take great care of you. And of course, we’re here to make sure your flight is as comfortable as possible."

Sally nodded, still taking it all in. "Thank you, Captain," she said, her voice sounding distant as she absorbed the luxury surrounding her.

The captain smiled and excused himself, explaining that he needed to see to the final flight preparations. As he walked toward the cockpit, Sally noticed Theresa chatting with Miss Nitaya near the front of the plane. Sally took a few tentative steps toward a plush leather sofa and sat down, sinking into its softness. It was almost too comfortable, making her feel like she could fall asleep right then and there.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sally spotted two of the passengers from the smaller jet still staring at her father’s Gulfstream, snapping pictures with their phones. She couldn’t help but smile to herself. “It is worth the pictures,” she thought.

Her eyes then drifted to a tray of snacks set on a side table, and she immediately spotted a package of gummy bears. A small grin spread across her face as she reached for them, tearing the pack open and popping one into her mouth. The sweet, chewy candy was a welcome comfort in the midst of everything else.

Theresa and Miss Nitaya approached her a moment later, smiling as they saw her enjoying the gummy bears. "You’re already making yourself at home, I see," Theresa teased.

Sally swallowed the candy and smiled. "Thanks for the snacks," she said, feeling more at ease.

Miss Nitaya clasped her hands in front of her and gave a slight bow. "It’s our pleasure, Miss Weiss. I hope this flight will be the first of many comfortable and enjoyable ones for you."

Theresa gestured toward a set of drawers. "She’s got more of your favorites stashed in there. And there’s a fridge stocked with Coke, Orangina, Vichy Catalan, and Evian. Whatever you’re in the mood for."

Sally raised an eyebrow. "Orangina?" she asked, unfamiliar with the brand.

Theresa grinned. "Oh, you’ll love it. You should try everything while you’re up here."

Miss Nitaya leaned in slightly and mentioned to Theresa, "We also have beer, wine, and spirits if either of you would like something later in the flight."

Theresa winked at Sally. "Maybe I’ll wet my lips later on."

Sally laughed, feeling a bit more relaxed, though her mind was still spinning from the day. She got up from the sofa and asked, "Where’s the bathroom?"

Theresa pointed toward the rear of the plane. "Best one’s in the back. Knock your socks off."

Sally walked across the luxurious cabin, her footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. She reached the bathroom and was immediately impressed by the sleekness of it all—polished wood, chrome fixtures, and a large mirror that reflected the soft lighting. She quickly slipped out of her lounge pants, and as she did, she smiled ruefully at the sight of her Ninjamas. It was still dry, but it gave her a sense of comfort. She carefully pulled it back up and freshened up before heading back out.

When she returned, Miss Nitaya was busy with the final flight preparations, and Sally peeked down the aisle toward the cockpit. She caught a glimpse of the numerous screens and controls, along with the soft murmur of voices coming from inside. It felt like another world altogether.

Sally sat back down in her seat near the front of the cabin, getting comfortable just as Captain Henderson appeared again.

"Miss Weiss, Miss Theresa," he began, standing with a relaxed posture but an air of authority. "I just wanted to quickly run through our plan before we head out. We’ve been approved for an early departure. We'll be taking off and heading northeast, and once we're in the air, we’ll climb up to about 41,000 feet. After we pass the U.S. coastline, we’ll head over the Atlantic, following the best route for today’s winds. Eventually, we’ll climb up to 47,000 feet for a smooth, fuel-efficient ride. We’ll cross into Europe over Ireland, and then head over the UK and France, before making our final approach into Zurich about thirty minutes ahead of schedule. Any questions?"

Sally hesitated for a moment, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Um, do we have safety measures like... I mean, like on commercial flights?" she asked, suddenly feeling awkward for asking.

The captain smiled warmly, his tone reassuring. "That’s a great question, Sally, and no need to feel awkward at all. Safety is just as important on private jets as on commercial flights. We have all the same protocols in place—seatbelts, emergency exits, oxygen masks, and so on. Miss Nitaya will walk you through everything before we take off. Your safety and comfort are our top priorities."

Sally’s cheeks flushed slightly, but she felt more at ease with his answer. Theresa squeezed her hand and mouthed, "Great question."

Miss Nitaya soon approached to give Sally a thorough yet amusing safety briefing, explaining the seatbelt, oxygen mask, and emergency procedures with a clever, light-hearted touch. It was far more engaging than any commercial airline briefing Sally had ever sat through, and she couldn’t help but laugh at Nitaya’s witty explanations.

As the engines began to hum, Sally felt a ripple of excitement rush through her. They were taxiing toward the runway, and she was finally ready to experience her first private flight.

--

As the Gulfstream G700 began to taxi down the private runway, Sally leaned back in her seat, feeling a sense of anticipation bubble inside her. Compared to the bumpy, drawn-out taxiing she had experienced on commercial flights, this was smooth and efficient. The engines hummed softly, and the vibrations beneath her were subtle yet comforting. She had only ever flown in economy plus before, and this was already leagues ahead. The plush leather seat she sat in felt more like a throne than a plane seat, and she noticed that even Nitaya had her own plush seat near the galley—quite the upgrade from the narrow jump seats she had seen flight attendants squeeze into on other planes.

Sally was just beginning to settle in when, sooner than she expected, the engines roared to life, pressing her gently but firmly into her seat as the plane accelerated down the runway. The speed was exhilarating, faster than anything she'd felt before, and in no time at all, they were airborne. Her heart raced slightly at the sensation of climbing steeply into the sky, and she glanced out the large round window beside her, marveling at how different this felt compared to her previous flights. The Gulfstream's sleek design made it feel like they were slicing through the air, cutting through clouds with barely a ripple.

She had only flown to places like Orlando, the Bahamas, and Paris before, and even then, it was nothing like this. The cramped seats, cold drafts, and recycled air of economy plus were a distant memory now. Here, the cabin felt spacious, almost like a floating living room. The temperature was just right—no frigid gusts to make her reach for a blanket. As the Gulfstream climbed higher, Sally felt the soft bulk of her Ninjama pressing against her. She hadn’t even realized until now how comfortable it was to wear it in this luxurious chair. Wetting herself proved surprisingly easy, the subtle warmth spreading across her pull-up as she relaxed into her seat. It was a comforting, private secret, hidden beneath her lounge pants.

Before she knew it, they burst through the cloud ceiling, and the setting sun bathed the cabin in a golden glow. Sally couldn’t help but stare out the window, captivated by the endless sea of clouds stretching beneath them, lit by the warm hues of the sun. She had never seen anything like this on her commercial flights. The tiny, fogged-up windows in those cramped seats never allowed for such a view. Here, it was like the sky itself had opened up just for her.

As she adjusted herself in the seat, growing accustomed to the plush leather, movement from the center of the cabin caught her eye. Nitaya had started setting a table in the middle of the plane, her graceful movements deliberate and practiced. Theresa stood up from her seat, stretching her arms above her head. Sally noticed her own hoodie felt a bit too warm now, something she wasn’t used to. On commercial flights, she always kept it on, bracing herself for the inevitable drafts of cold air. But here? She felt downright cozy.

Sally stood up and began pulling off her hoodie, but as she tugged, her t-shirt rode up with it. Theresa, quick on her feet, called out to her. "Hey, hold on," she said with a laugh, reaching over to hold down Sally’s bright yellow Nike t-shirt. "Don't want to give me a show, do you?"

Sally blushed, quickly yanking the hoodie off and fixing her t-shirt. "Thanks," she muttered, glancing down to make sure no trace of her Ninjama had shown.

Theresa winked. "No problem, Pampered Princess."

Sally rolled her eyes at the nickname but couldn’t help the small smile that followed. As she smoothed out her t-shirt, her attention drifted back to the table Nitaya was setting. Sally noticed there were two elegant settings laid out, complete with silverware and a centerpiece that looked straight out of a fancy restaurant.

"And you?" Sally asked, glancing at Nitaya. "Aren't you joining us?"

Nitaya gave a polite bow and smiled. "Thank you for your kindness, Miss Weiss, but I’ll be busy tending to the flight. Please, enjoy."

Theresa, now seated at the table, grinned at Sally. "Come on, let’s dig in."

Sally joined her, settling into the soft chair as Nitaya placed plates in front of them. Sally's eyes widened as she took in the gourmet hamburgers, beautifully plated with crispy French fries on the side. This wasn’t the usual burger-and-fries meal she was used to.

"Wow," Sally said, picking up her burger and examining it. "I kind of expected, like, a McDonald’s burger, not…this."

Theresa laughed. "No fast food on this flight, kiddo. Only the best."

Sally bit into the burger, and the flavors burst onto her tongue—juicy beef, gourmet cheese, and a perfect toasted bun. Even the fries were deliciously seasoned, crispy on the outside and soft on the inside. "This is amazing," she mumbled between bites.

Theresa took a sip of her red wine and smiled knowingly. "Told you. They don't mess around on private jets."

Sally picked up her Orangina and inspected the bottle. "I’ve never had this before," she said, twisting off the cap.

Theresa smiled from across the table. "It’s a classic. A bit tangy, a bit sweet. Give it a try."

Sally took a tentative sip, the citrusy bubbles popping on her tongue. She smiled slightly. "Not bad. It’s different from what I expected."

"You’ve got good taste," Theresa replied, taking a sip of her red wine.

Sally took another sip of Orangina and set the bottle down, her eyes drifting back to the meal. "I thought we were getting, like, McDonald’s or something. This is way too fancy."

Theresa laughed. " Glad you like it. Nitaya’s been working her magic. She makes sure we get the best on board. I told you—flying private has its perks."

Sally took a bite of her burger, the flavors exploding in her mouth. It was juicy and tender, with just the right amount of seasoning. Even the fries were crisped to perfection. "This is so good," she mumbled between bites.

They ate in comfortable silence for a few moments, with Nitaya quietly tidying up around the cabin. The soft lighting, the clink of silverware, and the gentle hum of the engines created a calming atmosphere. Sally found herself feeling more relaxed than she had in days.

"So, what’s the plan when we land?" Sally asked after taking another bite of her burger.

"Well, we’ll land early in the morning, Swiss time," Theresa began, setting her wine glass down. "You’ll have time to settle in, maybe freshen up, and then you’ll meet with your dad later in the day. He’s really looking forward to spending time with you, you know."

Sally nodded, chewing thoughtfully. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but hearing that made her feel… warm. It had been so long since she’d spent any real time with her father.

"And don’t worry," Theresa added, as if reading Sally’s thoughts. "He’s excited, but he’s also trying not to overwhelm you with too much too fast. Just enjoy the trip."

Sally smiled softly, feeling reassured. Theresa had this way of making her feel comfortable, like everything would be okay no matter what.

"So, do you always fly with him?" Sally asked.

"Not always," Theresa replied, leaning back in her chair. "But I’ve been working with your dad for a few years now. He trusts me to handle a lot of things for him, especially when it comes to you and your mom."

Sally paused, looking up from her meal. "Like what?"

Theresa shrugged. "Logistics, mainly. Travel, finances, making sure you and your mom are comfortable. I’m here to help, basically."

Sally took another sip of her Orangina, her mind turning over the idea. "It must be a pretty intense job."

"It has its moments," Theresa admitted, smiling. "But it’s worth it."

As they continued eating, the conversation became lighter. They talked about school, Sally's friends, and even volleyball practice. Theresa shared stories from her own time in the military and how she had traveled the world, which fascinated Sally.

"I think I'd love to travel more," Sally mused. "Maybe once school’s out."

Theresa nodded. "There’s a whole world waiting for you, Sally. You’ll get to see a lot of it, I’m sure."

After finishing the last bite of her gourmet burger, Sally stood up and stretched. "That was so good. But I think I need to hit the washroom."

Theresa smiled knowingly. "Go ahead. It’s right down the back. Knock your socks off."

Sally picked up her small washroom bag and made her way to the back of the plane, feeling the soft bulk of her wet Ninjama as she walked. The bathroom was spacious and pristine, more like a private spa than an airplane lavatory. She took a deep breath, glad for the privacy, and set her bag down on the marble counter.

First, she kicked off her shoes, then quickly slid her pants down, revealing the wet pull-up. The process of changing it was familiar by now. She tore the sides, rolling it up neatly and grabbing a wet wipe from the chrome dispenser to clean herself off. Once she was done, she slipped a fresh Ninjama up her legs and pulled her pants back on, satisfied that everything felt comfortable again.

She carefully wrapped the used Ninjama in a plastic bag, tying it up tightly before stashing it at the bottom of the garbage bin. She covered it with some crumpled tissues to keep it hidden, just in case.

Feeling refreshed, Sally left the bathroom and returned to the main cabin. Theresa was sitting in one of the armchairs, chatting with Nitaya, who was tidying up after dinner. Sally crossed the room and settled back on the comfortable sofa, stretching her legs out in front of her.

Theresa noticed Sally’s relaxed posture and smiled. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah," Sally replied, leaning back. "I needed that."

Theresa reached over to a small panel beside her and pressed a button. To Sally's surprise, a sleek TV screen rose from the cabinet opposite the sofa. "Ready for some entertainment?"

Sally's eyes widened in delight. "Wow. That’s amazing."

Theresa handed her the remote with a grin. "Take your pick."

Sally eagerly scrolled through the entertainment options, eventually settling on a music video playlist. She synced her AirPods, leaning back as the soft tunes filled her ears. The gentle hum of the engines and the warm comfort of her Ninjama lulled her into a relaxed state. Before long, her eyelids grew heavy, and as the playlist neared its end, Sally drifted off to sleep, a small smile playing on her lips.

Chapter 45 – The “F” word.

Sally stirred awake with a groggy sense of confusion as she felt Theresa gently shaking her shoulder. At first, everything seemed fine—the comforting hum of the engines, the soft blanket wrapped around her. But then, as she shifted in her seat, a cold dampness registered under her. She blinked, suddenly wide awake, her heart dropping into her stomach as realization hit.

"Sht," she muttered, throwing the blanket off her lap. Panic began to set in. "Fck!" She shifted again, feeling the wetness spread. “Oh my God.”

Theresa, sensing her distress, leaned over from her seat and frowned, concern in her voice. "Sally, what happened?"

Sally's face flushed as she looked down at the soaked seat and her pants. Her heart was pounding now, embarrassment creeping up her neck. "I—I don’t know," she stammered, her breath shaky. "Sht, I… I fcking leaked everywhere!"

Theresa raised an eyebrow at the repeated expletives but held her tongue for a moment. Sally was visibly upset, and Theresa needed to tread carefully. "Okay, calm down, Sally," she said softly. "It’s alright. But you need to stop with the language, okay?”

Sally looked at her, her eyes flashing with frustration. "I can’t—how did this happen? I didn’t feel anything! I—I’m soaked! I thought the Pull-Up would... I thought it would hold!"

Theresa gently placed a hand on Sally’s arm. "Hey, take a deep breath. It’s just us here, no one else knows, alright? Let’s figure this out together."

Sally gripped the edge of the sofa, her knuckles white. "I’m such an idiot," she whispered, shaking her head. "How did I let this happen?" Her voice cracked as she tried to blink back tears. She looked away from Theresa, staring at the floor as her emotions surged. "I didn’t even feel it… it just... leaked."

Theresa frowned, still not quite understanding the full picture. "Sally, talk to me. What exactly happened?"

Sally hesitated, biting her lip, clearly resisting the urge to explain. She hated talking about this. It made her feel like a little kid, not the almost-15-year-old she wanted to be. After a few long moments of silence, she mumbled, "It’s my Pull-Up. It… it leaked. I didn’t think it would, but now I’m all wet."

Theresa’s expression softened as she finally pieced it together. "Ohhh," she nodded slowly. "Okay, that makes sense now. It didn’t go straight onto the seat because the Pull-Up absorbed most of it, right? It just couldn’t hold everything."

Sally nodded, her face burning with shame. "Yeah…"

Theresa gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "It’s alright, really. We’ll get you sorted out, but you need to calm down first. We’ll be landing in thirty minutes, so let’s move quickly. Do you have clothes in your carry-on?"

Sally nodded but looked away. "Yeah, but it’s in the luggage compartment, isn't it? There’s no way I’m getting to that…"

Theresa smiled slightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Actually, we can access the luggage compartment from the plane. It’s one of the perks of flying in the Gulfstream. I’ll grab your stuff while you freshen up in the bathroom, okay?"

Sally blinked, surprised. "Wait, really? You can get to the luggage from inside?"

"Yup," Theresa said, standing up. "Give me a second, and I’ll get your things. You go clean up."

Sally nodded, feeling a bit less panicked as she quickly made her way to the bathroom. Once inside, she locked the door and let out a long breath, trying to shake off the embarrassment. She looked at herself in the mirror, feeling overwhelmed by the whole situation. Her eyes darted down to her soaked Pull-Up, and she quickly peeled off her wet pants and underwear, balling them up. She grabbed a few wet wipes and cleaned herself off, still replaying the events in her head.

A soft knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Sally, I’ve got your clothes," Theresa said from the other side.

Sally cracked the door open just enough to grab the jeans, panties, and sweater Theresa handed her. "Thanks," she whispered, shutting the door again. She quickly got dressed, pulling on the fresh clothes and trying to shake off the lingering embarrassment. She neatly wrapped the wet Pull-Up in a plastic bag and stuffed it at the bottom of the garbage, covering it with some tissues and paper towels.

When she finally emerged, Theresa was sitting calmly in one of the armchairs, pretending as if nothing had happened. Sally appreciated that, but it didn’t make the situation any less humiliating.

"Feeling better?" Theresa asked with a gentle smile.

Sally shrugged, her mood still sour. "I guess…"

Theresa gestured toward the small table, where Nitaya had set out breakfast—croissants, fruit, and yogurt. "Come on, eat something. You’ll feel better."

Sally sat down quietly, picking at her croissant. The buttery flakiness should have been delicious, but her appetite wasn’t quite there. She glanced over at Theresa, who was eating her yogurt with calm ease, and Nitaya, who was clearing away the dishes with her usual quiet efficiency. Despite the embarrassment, there was something oddly comforting about the normalcy of it all.

"Thanks… for helping me," Sally muttered, glancing at Theresa.

Theresa smiled, sipping her coffee. "Anytime. You know that."

Sally nodded, feeling a little more settled but still embarrassed. She was grateful for how Theresa handled things, but she couldn’t shake the frustration at herself.

As Nitaya cleared the last of the plates, the plane began its descent. Theresa looked out the window, a soft glow of the early morning light illuminating the clouds. "We’re almost there. How are you feeling?"

Sally leaned back in her seat, staring out the window as well. She sighed, feeling the weight of everything from the last few hours pressing down on her. "I don’t know… I guess I’m just tired."

Theresa nodded understandingly. "It’s been a long night. You did great, though. Don’t let this little hiccup bring you down, okay?"

Sally gave a weak smile, her eyes still heavy with fatigue. "Yeah. I’ll try."

As the plane continued its descent, Zurich came into view below, and the city’s early-morning lights twinkled in the soft glow of dawn. Sally leaned her head back against the seat, feeling the gentle hum of the engines beneath her. She was nervous about what awaited her, but for now, she was just glad to be landing.

--

Interlude

Katrina and Clara were nestled together on Katrina’s bed, sharing the warmth of their blanket while the soft hum of a playlist played in the background. It was a lazy Friday evening, and Clara had come over after school to hang out and decompress. The two of them were completely relaxed, Katrina’s head resting on Clara’s shoulder as they scrolled aimlessly through their phones.

Just as Clara started a playful rant about chess practice, Katrina’s phone buzzed in her hand. “Hold on,” she said absently, opening the message. Her eyes scanned the text and the attached images. Immediately, her mouth dropped open in disbelief. “No way…” she murmured, sitting up straighter, her sudden movement pushing the blanket aside.

Clara, noticing the change in her tone, glanced over. "What is it?" she asked, curiosity piqued.

Katrina held up her phone for Clara to see, her hand shaking a little from the shock. On the screen was a message from Patricia, along with a picture of someone walking up the steps to an enormous Gulfstream G700 jet. The message blared in capital letters: "TELL ME THIS ISN’T SALLY FROM YOUR CLASS!!"

Clara squinted, taking in the image before her eyes widened in recognition. “That’s Sally!” she exclaimed. “No way. No way that’s her getting on a private jet. Is this real?”

Katrina didn’t respond at first, staring at the picture in stunned silence. She swiped through the attached photos—more shots of the gleaming silver Gulfstream, a plush black SUV, and the Gulfstream staff standing at attention. And then the last one: a zoomed-in image of Sally turning around just as she admired a helicopter taking off in the distance. Clear as day, it was their best friend Sally. Her hair was unmistakable. The bright blue hoodie, the laid-back stance—there was no denying it.

“Clara!” Katrina gasped, smacking her friend’s arm excitedly. “This is Sally! She’s getting on a private jet! A fking' Gulfstream! And… wait…” Katrina paused, taking in the context. “That’s one of the most expensive fking planes in the world!”

Clara sat up fully, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Holy crap. How? Since when does she—? I mean, who even—?”

Katrina shook her head, still staring at the picture. “I don’t know! This is insane. She never said anything about this.”

Clara leaned closer, grabbing Katrina’s phone to get a better look at the details. "That plane looks huge compared to the other jets on the tarmac... and look at that SUV—this is like, full VIP treatment!"

Katrina chuckled in disbelief. "No kidding. It’s like she's some kind of princess. I mean, the way she's talking to those people, greeting them so… professionally? Like, she's used to this or something!"

Clara whistled low, impressed. "Do you think her dad owns it or something? Who even owns a Gulfstream? That’s like, billionaire status."

Katrina was already typing out a reply to Patricia. “Hold on, let me see what Patricia says,” she muttered, her fingers flying over the keyboard. How did you fking even get this? Did you see her? WHAT THE FKING HELL IS GOING ON??

Seconds later, Patricia responded: We were at the airport waiting for our plane to Florida, and we saw this massive jet. Had to take pictures. Then I realized it was Sally! How does she even have access to something like that??

Katrina shook her head, still dazed. She looked at Clara. “We have to ask her about this. I mean… do you think she’ll tell us?”

Clara shrugged, leaning back on the bed. "I mean, she might. But if she didn't tell us before, maybe she’s keeping it low-key? You know Sally’s not the kind to brag about stuff like this."

Katrina nodded slowly. "True. But still, how do you not mention that you’re flying on a private jet? I mean, it’s insane." She hesitated for a moment, her mind racing through the possibilities. "I should send her a message, but maybe I’ll wait until she's back. I don’t want to make it weird."

Clara smiled, pulling Katrina back down onto the bed with her. “Good idea. Don’t freak her out while she’s up there in first-class billionaire heaven.” She paused for a moment, then added with a grin, “But you’ve got to admit, this makes her like… the coolest person we know.”

Katrina laughed, the shock of the moment giving way to excitement. “Yeah, no kidding. Sally Weiss—pampered princess, jetsetter extraordinaire.”

Clara smirked and wrapped her arm around Katrina. “Guess she’s got a lot to tell us when she gets back, huh?”

Katrina nodded, leaning her head back on Clara’s shoulder, her mind still spinning from the revelation. “Oh yeah,” she said, her voice filled with anticipation. “A lot.”

--

Now dressed in dry panties and her favorite tight jeans, Sally felt more grown up and far more relaxed than she had earlier. The snug fit of the denim made her feel grounded again, pulling her back from the chaos of the accidental wetting. As she sat in the armchair, staring out the window at the landscape below, her mind began to wander.

She was still angry with herself. How had she wet herself without even noticing? The same thing had happened before, but never like this. Not in her father’s Gulfstream, not on such an important trip. The thought of her dad finding out gnawed at her. Would Theresa tell him? Would he be disappointed? The possibility ate at her, but she tried to push it aside. She didn't need to add this to the list of things she was already worrying about.

Gradually, though, the mesmerizing view outside began to distract her. They were descending toward Zurich, the lake shimmering below, framed by rolling hills and the majestic Alps in the distance. The sunrise cast a golden glow over the snow-capped mountains, and for the first time in a while, Sally felt a sense of calm wash over her. She couldn’t help but compare the flight to her past experiences—those economy plus flights to Orlando or Paris, where every movement felt cramped and cold drafts seeped through the cabin. This was so different—so smooth, so luxurious.

Before she knew it, the Gulfstream had landed. She hadn’t even felt the wheels touch the ground. It was the smoothest landing she’d ever experienced, and as they rolled slowly toward the private terminal, she was completely captivated by how effortless it all felt.

Sally’s attention snapped back as she realized they weren’t stopping outside. Instead, they rolled right into a massive hangar. She blinked in surprise. It wasn’t even raining.

Theresa, noticing Sally’s perplexed expression, smiled. “Full VIP treatment,” she said, amused.

Sally blushed, but nodded in understanding. She supposed she should have expected this kind of treatment, but it still felt surreal.

Finally, Nitaya pulled on the door lever, letting it fall open with a soft hiss. The cool Swiss air rushed in, and Sally stood to thank Nitaya for her excellent hospitality.

“I hope you enjoyed your flight,” Nitaya said with a gracious bow, her hands clasped in front of her. “I look forward to hosting you again soon.”

Sally, remembering everyone’s name, replied, “Thank you, Nitaya. Everything was perfect.”

Next, Sally stepped toward the cockpit, feeling a bit shy but determined to show her appreciation. She reached out to shake Captain Richard Henderson’s hand. “Thank you for an excellent flight, Captain. The landing was so smooth, I didn’t even realize we’d touched down.”

Captain Henderson smiled warmly, but gestured toward the First Officer, Lars Gruber. “Ah, the credit goes to him. He handled the landing.”

Sally’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she quickly turned to Lars. “I’m sorry! Thank you, too. It was incredible.”

Lars just grinned. “No problem, Miss Weiss. Glad you enjoyed the flight.”

They wished her a pleasant stay, and Sally offered one more thank you before stepping down the stairs and onto the hangar floor.

Waiting for Theresa to finish with customs, Sally marveled at the efficiency of the Swiss officers. They barely glanced at her passport, gave her the most nonchalant nod she’d ever received, and waved her through without so much as a second glance. It was so different from the U.S. customs officer, who had boarded the plane, looked her over, and asked her name directly. Here, it was as if they already knew everything about her, and couldn’t be bothered to check.

A sleek, black minivan was waiting nearby with its trunk open, their suitcases already inside. Sally followed Theresa, feeling the soft leather seat beneath her as she sat down. The van’s doors shut with a satisfying thud, and soon they were gliding out of the hangar and onto the road.

Sally leaned her head back against the seat, staring out the window at the foreign landscape and trying to shake off the remnants of her earlier embarrassment.

As the black minivan glided smoothly through the streets of Zurich, Sally sat slumped in her seat, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery but not truly seeing it. The weight of everything that had just happened — the wetting, the embarrassment, the guilt — pressed down on her chest, and she could barely hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Her mind raced, filled with images of her father finding out, Nitaya telling someone, and the shame that would inevitably follow.

Theresa, sitting beside her, could sense the tension in the air. She glanced over at Sally, her face a mix of exhaustion and frustration, and decided it was time to say something. She leaned in slightly, her tone soft but concerned.

"Hey, talk to me. How are you holding up?" Theresa asked, her eyes searching Sally’s face.

Sally sighed deeply, shaking her head. “Now everybody knows… I won’t be able to look at my father ever again,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with defeat. Her shoulders slumped even further, and she stared blankly out the window. “It’s so humiliating, Theresa. I can’t believe this happened… on his plane. Of all places.”

Theresa watched her for a moment, her heart going out to the girl. She’d seen this kind of emotional spiral before — where a small problem, when combined with fatigue and stress, grew into something seemingly insurmountable. She took a deep breath, carefully choosing her words.

"Sally, listen to me. I know it feels like the end of the world right now, but it’s not. Trust me. This... this leaking pull-up isn’t going to define your entire trip. And I promise you, your father won’t find out. Nitaya won’t tell a soul. In fact, she’s probably already taken care of everything. Knowing her, there’s not a single trace left on that sofa. She’s incredibly discreet, and anything that happened? Gone. Carted away and already disposed of."

Sally blinked and finally turned her head to look at Theresa, a mix of doubt and disbelief in her eyes. “But… what if she does tell someone? What if… what if my dad asks her?”

Theresa shook her head firmly. "Nitaya? She’ll take this secret to the grave, Sally. That’s not even a concern. You could trust her with far bigger things than this, believe me. And besides, she’s been doing this a long time — she knows how to handle delicate situations. Your father isn’t even on her radar when it comes to this kind of thing."

The streets outside the car began to shift, the clean, organized cityscape giving way to the leafy, expansive beauty of Zurichberg. The homes here were stately, set back from the road, surrounded by lush gardens and framed by the backdrop of the rolling green hills. Sally, distracted by the scenery, let her eyes wander across the grand buildings as they passed.

Still, the anxiety churned inside her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. “I’m just... I don’t know. I’m scared. What if Captain Henderson knows? What if he says something to my dad?”

Theresa smiled kindly and reached over, giving Sally’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “Captain Henderson? You have nothing to worry about. That man is the most loyal person I know. He’s been with your dad for years, and if there’s one person you can trust more than anyone, it’s him. He has a daughter your age, Sally. He gets it. He’s not going to say anything, and even if he knows what happened, he wouldn’t breathe a word of it.”

Sally bit her lip, trying to process everything Theresa was saying. She wanted to believe her — she really did — but the embarrassment still lingered, clawing at her. “And… what about you?” she asked quietly. “What if you slip and tell someone?”

Theresa laughed lightly, her tone warm and sincere. “Me? I’m bound by duty to protect your privacy, and nothing — nothing — will keep me from doing that. You can bet on it. I’m on your side, Sally. Always.”

For the first time since the whole ordeal began, Sally felt a tiny glimmer of relief. Theresa’s words were soothing, like a balm to her raw nerves. Still, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes slightly. "I can’t believe we’re having this serious conversation over a leaking pull-up," she said, her voice laced with frustration and a hint of humor.

Theresa grinned, her eyes twinkling. “Yeah, isn’t it funny? All these extreme realities, all because of a pull-up. Who would’ve thought? But hey, it happens. You’re not the first, and you definitely won’t be the last. And in the grand scheme of things, it’s a tiny blip on the radar. You’ve got so much more ahead of you this weekend.”

Sally felt a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth. Despite everything, Theresa had managed to make her feel better. The weight on her chest was still there, but it was lighter now, manageable. “Thanks, Theresa,” she said softly. “I’m just... I’m so tired of feeling like everything’s out of my control.”

Theresa nodded knowingly. “I get it. But you’re stronger than you think, Sally. You’re smart, resourceful, and honestly? I think you’re doing great. You’ve got this.”

The minivan turned onto a long, tree-lined driveway, revealing the sprawling estate that was her father’s Zurichberg home. It was a stunning building, with a blend of old-world charm and modern luxury. As they neared the house, Sally’s anxiety began to ebb away, replaced with a sense of resolve. She wasn’t going to let this one small incident ruin her weekend. Not if she could help it.

With a deep breath, she prepared herself for whatever lay ahead. After all, if she could handle a leaking pull-up on her dad’s plane, she could handle just about anything.

--

The van rolled to a smooth stop just in front of the imposing stone wall. Sally was leaning back in her seat, tired but curious. Her eyes flicked to the dashboard and caught the familiar Mercedes logo. She blinked, puzzled.

“I didn’t even know Mercedes made vans,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Theresa, seated beside her, chuckled. “Oh, they do. You'll start seeing a lot more things like this now. Trust me, you’ll get used to the luxury out here.”

Sally just shook her head in amazement. She glanced out the window as the van came to a halt by the giant wooden gate embedded in the stone wall. The sheer height of the wall prevented her from seeing much of the house, except for the top floor and the roof peeking over the edge.

"Here we go," Theresa said, gesturing as the gate slowly slid open. The van eased forward, revealing a paved ramp leading up to the house. Sally sat up straighter, her curiosity piqued as they began the climb.

Adrian’s mansion loomed ahead, a three-story structure that looked both timeless and imposing. As the van ascended, Theresa gestured toward the left. “That’s the garage,” she pointed out. “It’s a three-door setup, and behind it, there’s the caretaker's house where Roberto and Mia live. They’ve been with your dad for years, very loyal. Roberto helps drive your dad when needed, and Mia manages the household.”

Sally nodded, processing the information. She felt a flutter of nerves as the van came to a stop in front of the house. The front entrance was elegant, framed by thick wooden doors that seemed centuries old, but the façade of the house had been clearly renovated, blending old-world charm with modern luxury.

Adrian stood at the entrance, his posture straight and composed, but his face revealed a mix of warmth and caution. Next to him were Roberto and Mia, both smiling in welcome. Theresa glanced at Sally, giving her a brief nod of encouragement as the van door slid open.

Sally stepped out, her eyes adjusting to the brightness of the day. She glanced toward her father, offering a tentative smile. “Hi, Dad,” she greeted him softly.

Adrian nodded, his voice measured but welcoming. “Welcome, Sally. Good to see you.”

Sally’s attention shifted to Roberto and Mia, the Filipino couple who managed the estate. She extended her hand, remembering their names from the briefing Theresa had given her on the ride over. “Roberto, Mia, it’s great to finally meet you. Thank you for everything.”

Mia’s face lit up with surprise and gratitude, and Roberto’s eyes glistened with appreciation as they shook Sally’s hand. “Welcome, Miss Sally,” Roberto said warmly, his accent thick but his smile genuine. “We’ve heard so much about you.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by Sally’s poise. He hadn’t expected this level of interaction from her, especially after so much time apart. It was impressive, and slightly disconcerting.

As they exchanged pleasantries, Sally caught Theresa’s eye and gave her a sly smile. Theresa winked back, pleased with how smoothly the introductions had gone.

“Well,” Adrian said, gesturing toward the house. “Shall we go inside? I’ll show you around.”

Sally nodded, and they walked through the large front doors into the spacious foyer. The interior of the house was a blend of classic and modern, with hardwood floors stretching out beneath them and large windows letting in soft natural light. Sally’s eyes roamed over the intricate woodwork on the banisters and the modern lighting fixtures overhead.

“This house was built by my father’s father,” Adrian explained, his tone carrying a hint of nostalgia. “It’s been in the family for a long time, but we’ve made some renovations recently.”

Sally’s gaze shifted toward the living room, with its expansive hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the grounds. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured, admiring the high ceilings and the elegant, though slightly dated, furniture.

Adrian nodded. “We updated the windows and some of the electrical work recently, but a lot of the core structure is the same. We’ll be renovating the kitchen and living areas soon—modernizing the layout a bit, but keeping the character.”

Sally’s eyes moved to the left, where she saw the kitchen through a wide archway. It was separate from the social spaces, as was typical of older homes. “I like how it feels. It’s got history,” Sally said, her voice soft.

Adrian smiled faintly. “I’m glad you think so. There’s still plenty of history here.” He gestured toward a door near the grand oak staircase. “That’s my study. It used to be my father’s office. I keep it mostly the same.”

Sally peeked through the partially open door, catching a glimpse of dark wood shelves lined with books and old family photos. The space felt private, almost sacred.

They continued walking, and Adrian led her to the base of the staircase, where a sleek, modern elevator was nestled discreetly behind the wood-paneled wall. “We’ve added this, too. It goes all the way up to the third floor,” he said, pressing the button to call the elevator.

Sally glanced at the staircase, noting how grand it looked, but the thought of having her own space at the top floor intrigued her more. “The third floor? What’s up there?” she asked.

Adrian smiled as the elevator doors slid open. “Your apartment,” he said simply.

Sally blinked in surprise. “My apartment?”

Adrian nodded, stepping into the elevator. “Yes. It’s the entire top floor. You’ll have your own space—living room, bedroom, kitchenette, even an office. I thought you might like a bit of privacy when you’re here.”

Sally followed him into the elevator, her mind spinning. She had her own apartment? This was more than she had ever expected.

When the elevator doors opened onto the third floor, Sally gasped. The space was vast, with sloping ceilings that gave the apartment a cozy yet expansive feel. The floor was divided into distinct areas—a living room with a large, plush sofa and an armchair facing a sleek flat-screen TV, a kitchenette tucked into the corner with a small refrigerator and freezer, and in the center of the room, a king-sized bed.

“This is all mine?” Sally asked, her voice filled with awe.

Adrian nodded, watching her reaction closely. “It’s all yours. The bed is new, by the way. Everything else might need updating, but we’ll get to that soon enough.”

Sally walked slowly across the room, her fingers trailing over the back of the sofa as she took it all in. “I love it,” she said quietly, her heart swelling with emotion. She turned to the corner, where a small office space was set up, complete with a desk and a view overlooking the city. “I even have an office?”

Adrian smiled. “Yes. I thought you might need somewhere to study, or maybe work on your art.”

Sally’s eyes filled with gratitude. She turned to her father, her emotions bubbling over. Without thinking, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you, Daddy,” she whispered. “This is better than the plane.”

Adrian, taken aback by the sudden affection, hesitated for a moment before hugging her back. He smiled, albeit awkwardly, but there was a warmth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. He was still getting used to this kind of love from his daughter, but he welcomed it.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, his voice soft. “We’ll make it even better.”

Sally pulled back, looking around the apartment once more, her eyes brimming with excitement. “It’s perfect,” she said, her voice steady and full of contentment.

Adrian watched her, his smile growing wider. “Good,” he said. “You deserve it.”

Chapter 46 - Daddy’s Girl

Sally stepped out of the elevator, her shoes barely making a sound on the polished wooden floor. The house felt vast and quiet, save for the faint murmur of her father’s voice drifting from a nearby room. He was speaking in German—something she recognized easily, but without focusing intently, she couldn’t catch the specifics. Her decent German skills weren’t yet strong enough to make sense of the quick pace of his conversation. She glanced down the hallway and made her way toward the kitchen, comforted by the familiarity of its warmth and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

Theresa was already there, leaning casually against the counter, a gentle smile forming as Sally entered the room. "Hey, sleepyhead," Theresa greeted her. You slept a bit longer than I thought," Theresa said, setting the spoon down. "Want some coffee?"

Sally nodded, sliding into a chair at the kitchen table. "Thanks."

"How was the nap?

Sally smiled back, appreciating the lightness in Theresa’s tone. "Not bad. It’s all so different here," she admitted, sitting down at the table and gratefully taking the cup of coffee Theresa offered her.

As she stirred the coffee, Sally’s mind wandered to the issue that had been nagging at her since she arrived. The unfamiliar bed. The fear of waking up to another accident. She hesitated, the words fumbling in her mind before she could bring herself to speak. "Theresa..." she started, her voice small, "I’ve been thinking about... you know, the bedwetting thing. I mean, it could happen again. Have you... uh... told Mia about it? Just in case?"

Theresa looked at her carefully, her expression shifting from casual to thoughtful. She walked over to the table and sat across from Sally, leaning forward slightly, her tone gentle but firm. "No, I haven’t told Mia," she replied calmly. "But I think this is one of those things where you need to take responsibility for it, Sally. It’s your space, your privacy. Mia’s not someone who judges, but she’s someone who will respect your wishes if you communicate them clearly."

Sally’s eyes widened a little. She hadn’t expected Theresa to push this back onto her. "But... I mean... what do I even say?" she asked, slightly stunned. The thought of discussing something so personal with Mia, the housekeeper, felt awkward.

Theresa smiled warmly. "Mia’s discretion is legendary," she reassured Sally. "She’s been with the family for years, and trust me, there’s nothing she hasn’t seen or handled. She’s someone you can rely on, but it’s important you show her that you respect what she does. Step up, Sally. Tell her what you need. Be honest about your insecurities. It’s not about being ashamed—it’s about making sure you're comfortable."

Sally blinked, taking a moment to process Theresa’s words. She was struck by the idea of actually having that conversation. It made sense, but it was so... adult. And somehow, the thought of doing it made her feel empowered. "Wow," she murmured. "I never thought of it like that."

"I mean," Theresa said gently, "that you’re old enough to handle this yourself. Mia’s here to help, but she doesn’t know what you need unless you talk to her. Trust me, she’s discreet. She’s been with your family for a long time, and nothing you say will surprise her. But you need to communicate with her. It's about showing that you're responsible for yourself."

Sally stared at her coffee, unsure. "I don’t even know how to bring it up. It’s so embarrassing."

Theresa gave her a reassuring smile. "Just be honest. Mia’s dealt with way more than you can imagine. She’s not going to judge you. She’s there to help, but you have to take the first step. Trust me, you’ll feel better after you do."

Sally sighed, still uncertain but feeling a bit more prepared. "Okay... I guess I’ll try."

Theresa nodded. "You’ve got this. She’s in her little office by the pantry. Go ahead."

Sally took a deep breath and stood up, feeling her nerves bubbling up again. She made her way to the pantry, where Mia’s small office was tucked away. She knocked gently on the doorframe, heart pounding. Mia looked up from her paperwork, her face lighting up with a warm smile.

"Miss Sally," Mia greeted her in a soft, welcoming tone. "How can I help you?"

Sally stepped inside, fidgeting slightly. "Hi, Mia. Um... I was wondering if we could talk for a minute? It’s kind of personal."

Mia’s smile never wavered, and she stood up, giving Sally her full attention. "Of course, Miss Sally. Please, sit. What would you like to talk about?"

Sally took a seat, her palms a little sweaty. "So... sometimes I have this... issue. I don’t always, but occasionally... I wet the bed." Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "I was wondering if maybe we could put a protective sheet on the mattress, just in case?"

Mia’s expression remained soft and understanding, not a hint of judgment in her eyes. "Ah, I see. That’s no problem at all, Miss Sally. Thank you for telling me. I will make sure we have the best protective sheets for your bed. You don’t need to worry about anything."

Sally exhaled, relieved but still feeling a little awkward. She glanced at her hands, unsure if she should say more. But before she could decide, Mia gently asked, "And Miss Sally, do you only wear pull-ups for this? Or have you ever used diapers for adults? Sometimes pull-ups can leak, especially at night."

Sally’s face flushed, her fingers tightening around her coffee cup. "Um... yeah. I’ve worn diapers before. Sometimes. You know... just in case."

Mia nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Diapers can be more reliable, especially for nighttime. If you would like, I can make sure to get the best ones for you. Very comfortable, and they won’t leak as easily."

Sally blinked, her face heating up again. "You... you’d do that for me?"

Mia smiled warmly, her voice as gentle as ever. "Of course, Miss Sally. It’s no trouble at all. I know buying these things can be difficult sometimes, especially for someone like you. But don’t worry, I will handle it. You look nice when you blush," she added with a soft chuckle. "But with me, there’s no need to worry. I don’t tell anyone—your father, Miss Theresa, no one. Top secret." She put a finger to her lips and winked, adding a playful tone to ease the tension.

Sally couldn’t help but smile at that, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her. "Thanks, Mia. I really appreciate it."

Mia nodded, her expression full of kindness. "It’s my pleasure, Miss Sally. If you need anything else, just let me know. You are part of this family, and I’m here to make sure you’re comfortable."

Sally stood up, feeling lighter than she had in a long time. "I will. Thanks again, Mia."

As Sally walked back toward the kitchen, her head was spinning a little, but in a good way. She had faced something she’d been dreading, and it had gone better than she could have imagined. When she returned to the kitchen, Theresa was still there, her eyebrows raised in question.

"Well?" Theresa asked, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Sally grinned, the weight of her earlier anxiety lifted. "You were right. She’s amazing."

Theresa chuckled, raising her coffee cup in a mock toast. "Told you. You did great, Sally."

Sally beamed, feeling a sense of pride she hadn’t expected. "Yeah. I guess I did."

--

Sally stepped out of the mansion, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. After a quiet conversation with Theresa and Mia about her morning, she was ready to join her father for their day out in Zurich. Adrian’s large black Mercedes S-Class sedan was parked next to the front door, gleaming under the late morning sun. Roberto, the family’s loyal chauffeur, was giving the car final touches with a microfiber cloth, ensuring it looked pristine for the day ahead. The gentle gleam of the car, paired with the crisp air of the city, set the tone for the day.

Adrian stood by the door, glancing at his Tag Heuer watch, dressed in a way that only he could make look effortless. Black jeans, a simple yet luxurious white cashmere sweater—casual, but still exuding a quiet elegance. He noticed Sally approaching, and a brief smile crossed his face. Sally, dressed in black jeans and a light peach-colored sweater, returned the smile, feeling a bit more connected to him than usual after the prior evening's conversation.

“Ready?” Adrian asked in his usual calm tone, gesturing toward the car.

Roberto quickly stepped forward to open the door, offering a polite "Guten Morgen, Miss Weiss" before standing aside. Adrian let Sally climb into the backseat first before sliding in next to her. The interior of the S-Class was opulent yet quiet in its extravagance—plush black leather seats, deep walnut trim, and ambient lighting that softly highlighted the contours of the interior.

As they settled in, Roberto closed the doors with the perfect quiet click only a well-maintained luxury car could offer. Then, in smooth silence, the Mercedes began its journey toward downtown Zurich.

From her window, Sally watched the city come into view. The car glided effortlessly through the scenic, winding roads leading down from the hill. Zurich sprawled out below them, its skyline dotted with spires and modern buildings mingled with centuries-old architecture. They passed rows of stately homes and quiet, tree-lined streets before entering the bustling heart of the city.

Adrian, sensing the contemplative silence from his daughter, broke it softly. "I trust you're settling in well? Zurich can be...a bit overwhelming, but it grows on you."

Sally glanced sideways at him. "Yeah, it's...different. I like it, though." She hesitated before adding, "It’s not as busy as New York."

Adrian gave a small smile, his eyes twinkling. "No, it’s not. Zurich has a certain...charm. It’s quieter, but it moves with its own rhythm. You’ll learn to appreciate it the more you see."

They fell into an easy conversation, mostly light talk about Zurich, the places he enjoyed, and stories about his own childhood in the city. Sally felt a sense of ease as they conversed, her father uncharacteristically relaxed.

When they reached the city center, Roberto expertly maneuvered the car through the narrow streets of downtown Zurich before pulling up to a main square. Adrian gestured to Sally, and they stepped out of the Mercedes. The square was vibrant, with people bustling around, shopping and enjoying the cool Saturday morning.

They walked side by side, window shopping along Bahnhofstrasse, one of the most exclusive shopping streets in the world. Sally's eyes darted from one window to the next, captivated by the beautiful displays. She lingered in front of one store, its window displaying a collection of elegant women’s bags. The craftsmanship was exquisite, the leather gleaming in soft hues of tan and black.

Adrian noticed her hesitation, how her eyes lingered a second too long on the bags. He gently took her by the elbow, guiding her toward the entrance. Sally hesitated, feeling uneasy. The entrance was grand, and the imposing security guard at the door seemed to scowl at anyone who wasn’t inside already. It felt forbidding, the kind of place that whispered "exclusive" just by looking at it.

She nearly resisted, but Adrian nudged her forward with a reassuring glance. The security guard, upon seeing Adrian approach, straightened and nodded, opening the door with a polite greeting in German. Sally, taken aback by the deference shown to her father, found herself stepping inside the store.

Inside, the space was serene and elegant, with soft lighting and plush carpets that muffled the sound of their footsteps. They were immediately greeted by a sales clerk, who smiled warmly, addressing them both in fluent German, before quickly switching to English.

“May I assist you with anything?” the clerk asked, her tone gracious.

Sally hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of one of the bags. Adrian sensed her reluctance. “We’re just having a look,” he said, though his eyes were on Sally, gently encouraging her.

The sales clerk, sensing Sally’s interest, presented several bags for her inspection, describing each one in detail. Sally slowly worked up the courage to engage, responding with a few kind comments and asking thoughtful questions. She felt herself relax as the interaction flowed naturally.

When the offer for refreshments came, Sally was flustered but managed a polite “Thank you,” before declining. Adrian, sensing her unease in making a purchase, diplomatically said, “We’ll be back.”

The sales clerk, ever gracious, nodded and wished them a pleasant day.

Outside, they walked down the street, Adrian casually commenting on the various shops and architecture. Sally felt lighter, more at ease now that they were out of the exclusive shop.

They strolled into a more understated part of the city, entering a quiet, reservation-only restaurant tucked between two old stone buildings. Inside, it was elegant but not ostentatious—exactly the type of place that catered to wealthy locals who preferred discretion over display.

Over lunch, their conversation turned to Zurich again. Adrian asked her if she liked the city, and Sally found herself opening up, telling him about what she’d enjoyed so far, the things that had caught her eye, and even practicing her German with him in a few lighthearted exchanges.

After lunch, Adrian suggested they visit a more "normal" shopping center. Sally agreed, and soon they were mingling with tourists, immigrants, and locals alike. This felt more like her world. Adrian noticed how much more relaxed she was here, how her demeanor softened and her smile became more genuine.

Sally even made a few small purchases—she picked up a bright red t-shirt with the white Swiss cross emblazoned on the front, which made her father smile with pride. She bought some chocolates and magnets as souvenirs for Clara, Katrina, and her mom. She ordered her hot chocolate in German and even managed to have a small conversation with the barista. Adrian watched with a mixture of pride and quiet awe at how naturally she was adjusting.

They sat together at a small café, sipping hot chocolate while watching the rain patter against the windows. People hurried by under their umbrellas, and trams slid gracefully along the slick streets. Sally felt a deep contentment in this simple moment, enjoying the quiet comfort of her father’s company.

When the rain let up, they continued to wander, their route mostly guided by Sally’s curiosity. They ended up in the old part of town, with its narrow, cobbled streets and centuries-old stone buildings. Adrian pointed to a particularly sober-looking building, its stone façade standing out even among the old architecture.

“That’s the bank we do most of our business with,” he said casually.

Sally looked up at the imposing structure. “We?” she asked, the word catching her off guard.

Adrian turned to her, his expression softening. “Yes, Sally. You’re my daughter. Of course, you’re included. You’re my daughter, and this—this world—it’s yours as much as it is mine.” His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper—expectation, perhaps even a hint of pressure.

Sally didn’t say anything, but she felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words.

They continued walking, the streets gradually leading them back to the square where they had started. As if by magic, Roberto appeared, pulling up smoothly in the Mercedes, ready to take them home.

--

That evening, after a long day of getting settled into her new space, Sally stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom, slowly undressing. She pulled off her sweater and carefully folded it, setting it on the vanity. Next, she unclasped her bra and let it fall to the side before slipping off her tight jeans and kicking them into a heap on the floor. She stood for a moment in her underwear, staring at her reflection, feeling the tension slowly melt away.

Her eyes wandered to the shower, where steam was rising from the hot water she had turned on moments before. Eager to relax, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them off, leaving them on the pile with her other clothes. The cool tile of the bathroom floor felt soothing against her bare feet as she padded over to the shower.

Stepping into the warm spray, Sally let out a long sigh. The hot water cascaded over her, washing away the stress of the day. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back under the water, letting it soak into her hair and trail down her shoulders. She reached for the soap, working up a lather, and slowly began massaging it into her skin, focusing on her neck and shoulders where she had been holding most of her tension.

As she showered, her mind drifted back to the conversation she had with Mia earlier. The way Mia had been so understanding, so kind, about the whole bedwetting situation had been a huge relief. She had been worried about it since she’d arrived, but Mia had made her feel... accepted. Safe.

Rinsing off the soap, Sally reached for the shampoo, massaging it into her scalp, and then worked the conditioner through the ends of her hair. The warmth of the water and the soothing smell of the shampoo filled the bathroom, creating a cocoon of comfort.

Once she was thoroughly rinsed, Sally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a fluffy towel and wrapping it around her body. As she dried off, her eyes fell on the package sitting on the bathroom counter. It was a package of medical-grade premium diapers—supplied by Mia. Next to it was a bottle of skin oil and a container of talc powder. Sally paused for a moment, her fingers lingering on the towel.

Mia had been so thoughtful, discreetly placing everything she might need for the night right there. Sally stared at the package for a moment, biting her lip. She hadn’t planned on wearing a diaper tonight. After all, the Pull-ups were supposed to be enough, right?

But then she thought about her flight... about the leak... the embarrassment... and how much worse it would be if it happened again. Slowly, she made up her mind.

She reached for the bottle of skin oil first, squeezing some into her hand and rubbing it gently into her skin. The oil was light and fragrant, leaving her skin feeling soft and smooth. Next, she dusted a bit of talc powder over her lower body, rubbing it in with careful, deliberate strokes. The cool powder felt refreshing against her freshly oiled skin.

Taking a deep breath, Sally reached for the package of diapers. She opened it carefully, pulling one out and holding it in her hands. It felt soft, thick, and much sturdier than the Pull-ups she was used to. She unfolded it and laid it out on the floor before sitting down and sliding it under herself. She pulled it up snugly between her legs, the thick padding pressing gently against her skin. With practiced ease, she taped it into place, making sure the fit was just right.

Once she was diapered, Sally stood up and grabbed her pajamas—a soft cotton set with loose pants and a matching top. She pulled them on, the diaper crinkling slightly beneath the fabric. As she looked at herself in the mirror, she felt a strange mix of emotions—relief, comfort, and just a hint of embarrassment. But mostly, she felt... safe.

Padding out of the bathroom, she wandered over to the sofa in her apartment and collapsed onto it with a satisfied sigh. She reached for her phone, swiping through her notifications. Her mom was active on social media, so she decided to call her on video. They had exchanged a few quick messages earlier, but Sally had been holding back a lot.

The video call connected, and soon, her mother’s face appeared on the screen, smiling warmly. “Hey, sweetie! How’s Zurich?”

Sally smiled softly. “It’s... nice. The house is huge. I have my own apartment, Mom. Like, an actual apartment.”

Bridget chuckled, her eyes lighting up. “Wow, that sounds amazing. And how’s your dad been? How was the plane ride?”

Sally hesitated, biting her lip. “The plane ride was... good. Really good, actually. It was, like, super fancy. I had this whole seat that turned into a bed, and Nitaya—the flight attendant—was really sweet.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, catching the slight hesitation in Sally’s voice. “Sweetheart, you know you can talk to me. How are you really feeling about all this?”

Sally sighed, staring down at her lap. “It’s just... I don’t know, Mom. It’s weird being here. Dad’s trying, but... I don’t know how to act around him. It’s like he’s this whole different person now. And the flight... well, something happened.”

Bridget leaned closer to the camera, her expression softening with concern. “What happened?”

Sally felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment. “I... I had an accident on the plane. My Pull-up leaked. And Theresa and Mia found out.”

Bridget’s expression softened even more, and her voice became gentle. “Oh, sweetie, I’m so sorry. But it sounds like Theresa and Mia handled it well.”

Sally nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah, they were both really cool about it. But it was so embarrassing, Mom. I didn’t even feel it happening, and then it leaked all over. I thought my Pull-up would be enough, but...”

Bridget’s voice was soothing. “It’s okay, honey. I know it’s hard, but it sounds like you’re surrounded by people who care about you and want to help. Did Mia say anything else?”

Sally sighed. “Yeah... she’s going to help me out. She even got me these premium diapers—like, medical-grade ones. They’re... a lot more comfortable than I thought they’d be.”

Bridget chuckled softly. “Well, I’m glad to hear you’re taking care of yourself. And it’s good that Mia is so discreet. You can trust her, Sally.”

Sally nodded. “Yeah, she promised she wouldn’t tell anyone. Not even Theresa.”

Bridget smiled warmly. “That’s good. You’ve got people around you who will support you, sweetie. And you know I’m always here for you too.”

Sally felt a wave of relief wash over her as she smiled back at her mother. “Thanks, Mom. I just... I needed to talk about it.”

Bridget gave her a knowing look. “And I’m glad you did. Now, you get some rest. It sounds like you’ve had a long day.”

Sally nodded, feeling the weight of the day finally catching up with her. “Yeah, I think I will. Thanks for listening, Mom.”

“Always,” Bridget said with a wink. “Goodnight, sweetie.”

“Goodnight, Mom,” Sally whispered as the call ended. She set her phone down and leaned back against the sofa, feeling a little lighter, a little more at ease. Maybe things weren’t perfect, but she wasn’t alone in this. That thought, at least, was comforting.

--

Sally checked her phone again, hoping for a message, a reply—something—from Katrina or Clara. She had sent them pictures of Zurich earlier, trying to share a bit of her excitement, even the small snippets of her day. But as she scrolled through the chat, there was nothing. No activity, no little typing dots to show someone was writing back. Her heart sank just a little, the silence feeling heavier than she had expected.

She sighed, her finger hovering over the screen for a moment before she locked the phone and tossed it onto the cushion beside her. She felt alone, more so than she had in a while. Even with the luxurious surroundings, the lavish apartment her father had provided for her, and the support of people like Theresa and Mia, the absence of her closest friends left a void.

Sally leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling for a moment, lost in thought. They’re probably just busy, she told herself, trying to push away the creeping feelings of loneliness. Katrina’s probably out with Clara... well, she’s probably wrapped up in something. Maybe IN Clara. Sally smiled ruefully, imagining them back home, doing "everything else" while she was here, in this foreign city, alone.

A pang of homesickness hit her unexpectedly. She wasn’t used to being this far away from them. Usually, they’d be texting constantly, exchanging inside jokes, complaining about homework, or planning some spontaneous hangout. But now, with the time difference and the distance, it felt like they were in different worlds.

Sally ran her fingers through her hair, trying to shake off the melancholy. She reminded herself that this was temporary. She’d be back home soon enough, and everything would go back to normal. But for now, it was hard not to feel like she was missing out on something.

She picked up her phone again, tempted to send another message, maybe something funny to nudge them into replying. But then she thought better of it. She didn’t want to seem too desperate. Instead, she scrolled through the photos she had taken earlier—pictures of the picturesque Zurich streets, and the view from her apartment. The city was beautiful, but it was hard to appreciate it fully when there was no one to share it with.

With a sigh, Sally turned off her phone and set it aside. She wrapped the blanket around herself tighter, feeling the soft crinkle of her diaper beneath her pajamas. The comfort it provided was small, but it was something. She closed her eyes, letting the quiet of the night settle in around her.

Chapter 47 - Heiress

The sudden ring of the interphone startled Sally. She hadn’t even known there was one in the apartment. The persistent sound made her heart skip a beat as she scrambled to locate it. Her fingers hesitated over the receiver for a moment before she finally picked it up, her voice tentative. “Hello?”

On the other end, her father’s unmistakable voice, tinged with his German accent, came through. “Sally, may I come up and see you?”

Sally blinked in surprise. “Now?” she stammered, caught off guard.

"Yes. I need to talk to you about some more serious matters,” he said. “I didn’t want to do it during our time together in the city.”

A sudden rush of warmth flooded through her. Her father, who was usually so reserved, was asking to see her, to talk to her about something important. The fondness she felt in that moment was unexpected. “Sure,” she said, almost shyly.

“Good. I’ll be up,” he clipped, and hung up.

Sally stood still, the phone still in her hand, staring at the wall. What could he want to talk about? What was so serious that it couldn’t wait? Her mind raced, her stomach fluttering with nerves. Just as she heard the elevator arriving, a sudden realization hit her like a bolt of lightning.

“Oh my God!” she whispered to herself, her eyes wide in panic. She was still wearing her diaper under her pajamas. Anyone remotely observant would notice the bulge, especially her father. She bolted into the bathroom just in time as she heard the elevator door open.

“Come on in!” she called out from behind the almost-closed bathroom door, her voice strained with urgency. “I’ll be right out!”

She glanced around frantically, trying to figure out what to do. She could take the diaper off, but the noise would surely alert her father. Her eyes fell on the bathrobe hanging conveniently behind the bathroom door. With no other choice, she quickly grabbed it and wrapped it around her body, covering herself as best as she could. She checked herself in the mirror—satisfied that the robe hid everything—before stepping out to face her father.

Adrian was already seated in one of the armchairs, sitting in a way that made him look regal and composed. He was wearing a luxurious robe over his lounge wear, looking effortlessly refined. In his hand, he held a carafe of cognac, which he lifted slightly in a toast-like gesture as she entered the room.

“One day, I will bring you cognac, yes?” he said with a small smile. “And we can drink together.”

Sally laughed, more out of nerves than humor, and headed over to the kitchenette. She reached for a bottle of Vichy Catalan, a sparkling water she’d come to enjoy on the flight. Pouring herself a glass, she mimicked his gesture, lifting it in a faux-toast. “Cheers, Daddy.”

Adrian smiled affectionately, taking a sip of his cognac. His eyes lingered on her for a moment, studying her, as if weighing the words he was about to say.

“You are growing, Sally,” he began, his tone soft but filled with purpose. “I’ve been thinking about your future, about what I want for you. And I believe it’s time we spoke about more serious things.”

Sally’s heartbeat quickened as she sipped her sparkling water, listening intently.

Adrian took another sip of his cognac, swirling it gently in the glass before continuing. “My dream,” he said slowly, “is that you will be my heiress—not just when I am gone, but in life. I want to prepare you for that. I want you to be part of the family business, to understand it, to eventually take over. This is a dedication for life, Sally, with all the privileges and responsibilities you could ever imagine.”

Sally was stunned, her mind whirling as she tried to grasp the enormity of his words. She’d known her father was wealthy, that he had business dealings she didn’t fully understand, but this? This was different. He was talking about her future, about something far bigger than she had ever considered. And he wasn’t asking—it wasn’t a suggestion. He was laying out her path.

Adrian paused, taking a moment to savor the rich aroma of the cognac, his eyes flicking back to Sally. “You are young now, yes. But you have grown so much in these past weeks. I can see it. You are capable of great things, and I want you to have the best guidance, the best training. I will make sure you are surrounded by people who will help you every step of the way.”

Sally’s heart thudded in her chest as she listened, her mind absorbing every word. His tone was tranquil, but there was a passion behind it, a deep-seated belief in her potential. And yet, beneath the weight of his words, Sally couldn’t help but feel the comforting presence of the diaper hidden beneath her robe. It was strange, almost comical—here she was, hearing about the grand responsibilities of her future, and all she could think about was whether or not to wet her diaper in this moment of solemnity.

But she couldn’t. Not now. Not with her father looking at her so intently.

“I want you to think about this, Sally,” Adrian continued. “There is no rush. But I want you to prepare yourself, mentally and emotionally, for what this will mean. This is not just about wealth or power—it is about responsibility. I want you to be ready, and I will make sure you have all the support you need.”

Sally sat in silence, her eyes wide as she tried to process everything. She’d never seen her father like this—so open, so... vulnerable, in a way. He was sharing his dream with her, his vision for her future. And all she could do was nod, absorbing the enormity of it all.

Adrian finished his cognac and looked at her intently. “That is all I had to say,” he said softly, his eyes searching hers for any reaction.

Sally met his gaze, feeling the weight of his words settle over her. She didn’t have the answers yet, but for the first time, she realized that her father saw her as more than just his daughter. He saw her as part of something bigger, something she would one day inherit.

And in that moment, she felt both the burden and the privilege of what lay ahead.

Sally sat quietly on the sofa, the faint scent of her father’s cognac mingling in the air. The weight of his words still hung between them, heavy and thick. She’d heard the word "heiress" before—mostly in the context of rich celebrities or in novels she’d read. But now, hearing her father refer to her as one made it feel strange, almost unreal. She could sense how serious this moment was for him, but she felt lost, like the meaning behind the word didn’t fully connect with her life.

Sally leaned forward slightly, running her fingers along the edge of her glass of sparkling water. She could feel her heartbeat, steady but fast, a rhythm that mirrored the rush of thoughts swirling in her mind. She looked up at her father, who was now seated regally in the armchair across from her, his posture straight but not rigid, one hand casually holding his crystal glass.

"Daddy," she said tentatively, her voice softer than she expected. "What does it mean to be an heiress?"

Adrian paused for a moment, his expression thoughtful. He rested the glass on the arm of the chair, taking a moment to consider his answer. His eyes, sharp and piercing, softened slightly as they met hers. He leaned forward just a bit, a gesture that showed he was trying to bridge the emotional gap that had often been between them.

"Being an heiress," he began slowly, his German accent making each word deliberate, "means more than just inheriting money, Sally. It’s about taking on a legacy, a responsibility that goes beyond yourself."

He straightened his shoulders slightly, not out of pride, but as if to show the weight of what he was saying. "My life... the company, the wealth, the relationships, the trust people have in me... it's not just mine anymore. As my heiress, you would carry on that legacy. But it's not just about material wealth. It’s about understanding what comes with it—the power to make decisions, the expectations others have of you, and the ability to influence things far beyond what you can imagine right now."

Sally swallowed, her fingers tightening around her glass. She noticed how he took his time, each word carefully chosen. It was strange, seeing her father like this—more vulnerable, in a way. He wasn’t the distant figure she’d sometimes felt he was. He was laying something profound at her feet.

Adrian leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving hers. "You’re young, Sally. I know that. But you’ve grown, and I’ve seen it. To be an heiress means preparing yourself to step into something much larger than you are now. It means learning, understanding, and eventually leading. And it also means sacrifice. The life you lead now won’t always be the life you have. Being an heiress means learning to balance freedom and responsibility."

He lifted the glass of cognac to his lips, sipping slowly, allowing Sally to absorb his words. She could feel the gravity of what he was telling her, but there was something in his tone—something she hadn’t heard from him before. Was it... pride? Admiration?

Her father wasn’t one to express emotion freely, and yet, in this moment, she could see it in the small gestures. The way his brow softened as he spoke. The way his eyes seemed to search hers, looking for understanding. The way he carried himself—not as the powerful man she’d grown accustomed to, but as a father hoping his daughter could grasp the magnitude of what he was offering.

"Does that make sense to you?" he asked, leaning forward just a little, resting his elbows on his knees, his face open, waiting for her response.

Sally nodded slowly, her mind still spinning. It was a lot to take in. She felt so far from the polished, poised figure of an "heiress" that she had seen in movies or read about in stories. But there was something about how he spoke to her, something that made her realize he wasn’t just telling her this because of duty or obligation. He genuinely wanted her to understand, to be prepared, to be capable of taking on this role when the time came.

"But what if..." she started, hesitating for a moment before continuing. "What if I don’t know if I can handle it? I mean, I’m not even sure what I’m good at yet, or if I even want this."

Her father smiled—a rare, small smile that softened the lines on his face. "That’s why I’m here, Sally. To help you. You’re not expected to know everything right away. But I believe you’re capable, more than you realize. We’ll take it one step at a time. You won’t be alone."

Sally glanced down at her hands, her thoughts racing. Could she really do this? Be the kind of person her father was talking about? She wasn’t sure. But hearing him say that he believed in her... it stirred something inside, something warm and determined.

Adrian continued, his voice a little softer now. "You don’t have to decide right away. I’m not asking you to take over tomorrow. But I need you to think about it, to understand what this life could offer you. And in time, I hope you’ll see that you have the strength and the intelligence to do it."

Sally looked up at him again, meeting his eyes. She could feel the weight of his words, but also the sense of possibility. For the first time, it didn’t seem like just an obligation. It felt like a challenge, an opportunity. Maybe even... a chance to prove herself.

"I’ll think about it," she said quietly, and for the first time since the conversation started, she felt a small spark of excitement.

Adrian leaned back in the armchair, watching Sally’s reaction carefully. As she spoke, her uncertainty mingling with the beginnings of curiosity, he smiled. It was the kind of smile that was rare from him—genuine, appreciative, maybe even a little relieved.

"I wouldn’t have hoped for anything less," he said, his deep voice carrying a note of approval. He took another measured sip of cognac before continuing, his posture still as regal as ever, but there was something more relaxed now, as though they had crossed a threshold in their conversation.

"This isn’t a ‘ya oder nein’ question, Sally," he said, switching briefly into German before returning to English. "It’s not something you decide overnight. It requires thought—'eine andere Denkweise'—a different mindset. You will need time to understand what it truly means, and that’s why I’m here, to guide you."

Sally listened, her father’s words swirling around her mind. She wasn’t used to hearing him like this, patient and understanding. He wasn’t asking her to rush, to commit immediately. Instead, he wanted her to take her time. He was giving her space to explore this new role, and that alone made her feel more at ease, even if the prospect still felt overwhelming.

"Think about what we talked about," he added, his tone softer now. "This life is complex, and it will demand a lot from you. But it also offers you opportunities beyond what you can imagine. You have the ability, Sally. You just need to trust yourself and take things one step at a time."

Sally nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words, but also feeling more... grounded, somehow. It wasn’t as though she needed to decide everything right now. It was more of a journey—one that she could take at her own pace.

Adrian observed her for a moment longer, then smiled again, this time with a touch of warmth that seemed to break through his usual stoicism. "I’m proud of you already," he said quietly, "for even asking the right questions. That’s where it begins."

Sally blinked, a bit stunned by the compliment. She hadn’t expected that. Her father rarely gave praise so openly, and it hit her harder than she’d thought it would. In that moment, she realized something: maybe she was more capable than she’d given herself credit for. Maybe, just maybe, she could live up to this.

She returned his smile, a small but genuine one, and lifted her glass of sparkling water in a playful gesture, mirroring his earlier toast. "To thinking things over," she said, trying to lighten the mood a little.

Adrian chuckled, raising his glass once more. "To thinking things over," he echoed, and with that, they clinked glasses, a quiet moment of understanding passing between them.

As Adrian stood up to leave, the conversation coming to a natural close, Sally felt a sudden rush of emotion. Without thinking, she jumped to her feet and hugged him impulsively. Her arms wrapped around his strong frame, her head pressed against his chest.

It was then that she heard it—the unmistakable rustling sound of her diaper beneath her pajamas. For a split second, Sally cringed inwardly, the embarrassment hitting her like a wave. But before she could pull back or overthink it, she felt her father’s arms envelop her in return.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, Adrian hugged her back. It wasn’t a brief, awkward pat on the shoulder, but a real hug—warm and solid. He didn’t seem to notice or care about the rustling sound. In that moment, the world felt still, and for the first time, Sally felt a connection that had been missing for years.

She held onto him just a little longer than she might have otherwise, savoring the rare closeness. When they finally broke apart, her father looked at her with an expression she hadn’t seen before—soft, maybe even proud. There were no words, just a lingering understanding that hung in the air between them.

"Good night, Sally," he said, his deep voice softer than usual.

"Good night, Daddy," she replied, her voice catching just a little.

Adrian turned and stepped into the elevator. Sally stood there, watching him as the doors began to slide shut. Just before they closed completely, she caught a glimpse of him looking back at her, a slight smile on his face. And then, the doors were shut, and the soft hum of the elevator whisked him away.

Sally stood frozen for a moment, her eyes burning with the onset of tears. She wiped them quickly with the back of her hand, sniffling quietly as she tried to compose herself. She glanced over at the armchair where her father had sat, the empty carafe of cognac still perched on the armrest. A small smile tugged at her lips, the image both comforting and surreal.

With a heavy sigh, she walked over to the chair, gently placing the carafe back on the table, and then headed toward her bed. She slipped under the covers, her mind still racing with everything they’d talked about. Her body was exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t stop.

She stared at the ceiling, her thoughts swirling. Being an heiress, the weight of the family business, her father’s expectations—it was all too much. And yet, she couldn’t deny the small spark of excitement that came with it.

But despite the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of her bed, sleep wouldn’t come. She tossed and turned, her mind replaying the hug, the conversation, and the rustling of her diaper. She sighed softly, knowing it was going to be a long, sleepless night.

--

Even as Sally lay there, tossing and turning, she thought about the warmth and comfort of her diaper—something that usually helped her relax. She knew how soothing it could feel, how it had always been a small escape from the stresses of the day. But tonight, even that didn’t work.

She shifted in bed, letting herself wet the diaper in a quiet attempt to release the tension. The familiar warmth spread, but instead of bringing her the usual comfort, it only made her more restless. The frustration gnawed at her, as if the weight of her father’s words had settled on her chest, refusing to let her breathe easily.

She sighed, pulling the blankets up higher, but no position felt right. The wet diaper, though familiar, only reminded her of how much was changing in her life. Here she was, in this beautiful new apartment her father had given her, talking about being his heiress, and yet—she felt like a child, caught between the adult responsibilities being thrust on her and the secret vulnerabilities she was still trying to navigate.

The wetting had done nothing to calm her, and the thoughts racing through her head made it impossible to relax. It felt like a storm of emotions—pride in her father’s trust, fear of not being enough, and an overwhelming desire to feel like she belonged in his world. But lying there, still in her diaper, she felt far from ready.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing, willing herself to fall asleep, but it was useless. The night dragged on, and no matter how she tried, the weight of the conversation with her father and the pressure of everything ahead of her wouldn’t let her rest.

--

The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the walls of Sally’s apartment. She stirred slightly in bed, blinking into the light as she slowly woke up. After a restless night of tossing and turning, she had finally drifted off to sleep in the early hours of the morning. The weight of her father’s words from the night before still hung heavily in the air. She felt emotionally drained, her mind replaying their conversation over and over, trying to make sense of the future he had laid out for her.

As she lay there, Sally felt a familiar warmth between her legs. Her diaper was wet—again. It had happened before, but the sting of embarrassment hadn’t lessened. She sighed and shifted under the covers, not quite ready to face the day. Her thoughts were a swirling mix of frustration and confusion. How was she supposed to live up to the expectations her father had for her when she couldn’t even manage this simple aspect of her life?

She lingered in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to muster the energy to get up. The silence in the apartment was comforting but also a reminder of how alone she felt in this grand space. Despite the luxurious surroundings, she felt small, out of place. She wanted to crawl back into her life back home, where things were familiar and less complicated.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sally swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Her diaper, damp and slightly swollen, crinkled as she moved. She winced at the sound, a subtle reminder of the night’s events. She shuffled across the room, still groggy and disoriented, and made her way to the small kitchenette, hoping a glass of water might help wake her up.

Just as she was about to reach for a glass, there was a soft knock at the door. Sally froze. Who could that be? She wasn’t expecting anyone, and Theresa was probably downstairs with her father. Before she could react, the door opened slightly, and Mia’s gentle voice floated into the room.

“Miss Sally?” Mia’s tone was soft, concerned. “Are you alright? Your father asked me to check on you.”

Sally turned slowly, her face flushing with embarrassment. She hadn’t even considered the possibility that someone might come up to check on her. Mia stepped into the room, her eyes immediately drawn to the unmistakable sight of Sally’s wet diaper peeking out from under her oversized pajama bottoms. There was no hiding it now.

Mia’s expression remained calm, kind, as if she had seen it all before. “Oh, Miss Sally,” she said gently, stepping closer. “It’s okay, really. No need to be embarrassed.”

Sally felt her face burn even hotter. “I... I didn’t expect anyone to come up,” she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest, trying to shield herself from the growing embarrassment.

Mia smiled warmly, her demeanor patient and understanding. “It’s completely fine. I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. Your father worries, you know.”

Sally looked down, unsure of how to respond. It was one thing to deal with her bedwetting privately, but having someone else, especially someone as motherly as Mia, see her like this was humiliating.

Mia’s eyes softened, and she approached Sally carefully, her tone gentle and non-judgmental. “Would you like me to help you with a fresh diaper, Miss Sally? Or would you prefer to handle it yourself?”

Sally swallowed hard, not trusting herself to speak without cracking. After a long pause, she shook her head. “I... I’ll do it myself,” she whispered.

Mia nodded, her respect for Sally’s independence clear in her expression. “Of course,” she said softly. “I’ll make sure everything is ready for you. If you ever need anything, just let me know. Your father and I only want you to be comfortable here.”

Sally nodded slowly, appreciating Mia’s kindness but still feeling the weight of her own embarrassment.

Before leaving, Mia added, “You’re doing just fine, Miss Sally. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We all have our challenges, but you’re stronger than you think.”

Sally watched as Mia quietly left the room, leaving her to process everything. She stood there for a moment, trying to regain her composure. It was a strange mix of relief and mortification, knowing that someone else knew but wasn’t judging her for it.

Slowly, she walked to the bathroom to shower and change, reflecting on Mia’s words. Maybe she was stronger than she gave herself credit for.

--

Sally stood under the warm spray of the shower, letting the water wash away the last remnants of her restless night. She closed her eyes and allowed herself to relax, her mind drifting between the weight of her father’s words from the previous evening and the emotions Mia’s visit had stirred in her. As the steam filled the bathroom, she felt a small sense of relief. Maybe today would be easier. She’d be heading home soon, back to her mother and her familiar life. But the weight of what lay ahead in Zurich lingered in the back of her mind.

After drying off, Sally decided to change into something more comfortable for the flight back. She rummaged through her suitcase and settled on a pair of soft black leggings and a cozy cream-colored sweater, perfect for the long flight. She glanced at herself in the mirror and ran a hand through her damp hair, feeling a little more like herself again. The pajamas and the lingering embarrassment of Mia’s visit had been replaced by a sense of quiet determination. She could handle this.

Dressed and ready, she made her way downstairs. The air in the house was calm, peaceful in the late morning light. As she approached the kitchen, she heard her father’s voice call out from the dining room.

“Sally, come join me. We’ll have a late brunch.”

She hesitated for a moment before walking in, unsure of what to expect. Adrian was seated at the head of the table, a spread of fruits, pastries, and a selection of Swiss cheeses laid out neatly before him. He looked up at her with a softer expression than usual, gesturing for her to take the seat across from him.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, his tone lighter than it had been the night before.

Sally sat down and helped herself to a croissant, glancing at her father. “I slept... alright,” she answered, offering a small smile. “I think I was just processing everything from yesterday.”

Adrian nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “I imagine you had a lot to think about. But today, let’s focus on lighter things. How are you feeling about Zurich so far?”

Sally picked at her croissant, feeling the tension from the night before start to ease. “I like it here. It’s different from what I expected, but in a good way. The apartment is amazing. I didn’t realize I’d have so much space.”

Adrian smiled faintly, setting his coffee down. “It’s important for you to have a place that feels like home. Somewhere you can come back to whenever you’re here. I want you to be comfortable.”

They continued to eat in companionable silence for a few moments, the clinking of cutlery the only sound in the room. After a while, Adrian leaned back in his chair and looked at Sally thoughtfully.

“There’s a lot to see in Zurich,” he said, his voice taking on a more conversational tone. “I realize we didn’t have much time for sightseeing this trip, but perhaps next time we can visit some of the galleries or museums. I think you’d like the Kunsthaus.”

Sally’s eyes lit up at the mention of the art museum. “That would be amazing,” she said, suddenly more animated. “I’ve read about some of the exhibitions they’ve had. I’d love to see it.”

Adrian smiled again, pleased to see her excitement. “Then it’s settled. Next time, we’ll make time for it. Zurich has a lot to offer, and I want you to feel connected to the city.”

The conversation flowed easily after that, with Adrian asking her about what she enjoyed most about the city so far. They talked about the weather, the architecture, and even some of the restaurants she hadn’t yet had a chance to try. Adrian seemed more relaxed than Sally had ever seen him, and she found herself appreciating this side of him. It was as if, after last night’s heavy discussion, he was allowing her to simply be his daughter for a while, without the weight of the expectations that came with being his heir.

As they finished brunch, Adrian glanced at his watch. “I’ll have Theresa bring the car around in a couple of hours. We’ll make sure you have everything ready for your flight back.”

Sally nodded, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving so soon. Despite the emotional rollercoaster of the weekend, she had grown to appreciate this time with her father. It had been different from what she’d expected—more personal, more connected.

“Thank you for this weekend,” she said quietly, looking at him. “I didn’t know what to expect, but it’s been... good.”

Adrian met her gaze, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—pride, perhaps, or a quiet acknowledgment of the bond they were starting to build. “You’re always welcome here, Sally. I want you to know that.”

They exchanged a few more words before Sally excused herself to pack and prepare for the flight. As she climbed the stairs back to her apartment, she felt lighter, the earlier tension from the morning easing with every step. It wasn’t perfect, and she still had a lot to figure out, but for now, she was content.

Upstairs, she began to gather her things, preparing for the journey home. She wasn’t quite ready to face the weight of her father’s words from the night before, but for now, she would focus on the present. There would be time for reflection later—when she was back in her own bed, in her own home.

Chapter 48 - Homeward bound

After brunch, Sally retreated back to her apartment. She felt the need to gather her thoughts, to be alone with everything that had happened over the weekend. The emotional intensity of her father’s proposal, the surreal experience of the trip, and the mixed feelings about her future weighed heavily on her mind. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she picked up her phone and lazily scrolled through her messages, half-expecting to see something from Katrina or Clara. But again, there was nothing. No response to the photos she had sent of Zurich, no little notes of excitement or curiosity about her trip.

She frowned, feeling a slight sting of loneliness. Were they too busy with other things to respond? Maybe they just didn’t care as much as she’d hoped. Sally brushed off the feeling, not wanting to dwell on it too long. She tossed her phone to the side and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. Her thoughts drifted to the events of the weekend—the conversation with her father, the new expectations, and her own hesitations about what it all meant for her future.

To distract herself, she decided to pull out her sketchbook. She sat down near the large window that overlooked Zurich, letting the light flood in as she began to sketch, the familiar motion of the pencil against paper soothing her mind. Drawing had always been her way of working through her emotions. Her hand moved almost automatically, creating soft lines that formed shapes, nothing too concrete, just abstract representations of the jumble of thoughts swirling in her head. It wasn’t long before she lost herself in the process, her focus narrowing down to the page in front of her, allowing her worries to slip away, even if just for a moment.

As the afternoon approached, Sally began packing her things. There was a bittersweet feeling that hung in the air as she moved around her apartment, carefully folding her clothes and placing them into her suitcase. Part of her was sad to leave. She had grown attached to the space—this apartment that felt so uniquely hers, in a city that was still foreign but already tugging at her curiosity. But there was also relief. Relief to be heading back home, to the familiar, to the comfort of her mother's house and the routine she had come to depend on.

While packing, her thoughts wandered back to the conversation with her father. The word "heiress" still echoed in her mind, making her feel both excited and apprehensive. She couldn’t help but wonder how much this trip would change things moving forward. Would she really be able to step into the role her father envisioned for her? Could she ever feel fully comfortable in that world?

Just as she zipped up her suitcase, there was a knock on the door. Theresa stepped in, offering her usual warm smile. “Need any help with the last-minute packing?” she asked, glancing around the room.

Sally shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I think I’ve got everything,” she said, motioning to her suitcase. Theresa stepped over and sat down on the sofa, watching Sally for a moment.

“Everything alright?” Theresa asked gently, sensing the weight in Sally’s expression.

Sally sighed and shrugged. “Yeah, just… a lot to process, you know? This trip has been…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish her sentence.

Theresa nodded. “I can imagine. But you’ve handled everything beautifully. You should be proud of yourself.”

Sally gave her a small smile in return, appreciating the reassurance. Theresa stood up, walking over to the suitcase and lifting it with ease. “Well, let’s make sure you’re all set for the flight back,” she said with a wink. “We’ll leave soon.”

--

Sally stepped out of the front door, ready to board the black minivan with Theresa, when she heard an engine growling near the driveway. The deep, throaty sound wasn’t something she associated with the quiet luxury of the family vehicles. She turned her head, her eyes widening as she saw the source of the noise: a sleek, silver sports car. Her father, Adrian, was standing next to it, leaning casually against the gleaming Porsche. He was smiling at her, a rare, genuine smile that reached his eyes.

“Sally,” he called out, gesturing to the car, “I’ll drive you to the airport.”

She was speechless for a moment, the surprise hitting her harder than she expected. Her father, who usually preferred the chauffeur-driven elegance of his Mercedes, was offering to drive her himself? In this? She took in the sight of the Porsche—a 911. This much she knew. Its silver paint gleamed under the afternoon sun, accented by the bold wing on the back that screamed speed. The car was low to the ground, aggressive in its stance, with wide tires and sport bucket seats that looked like they belonged on a racetrack.

Sally felt a thrill course through her. She wasn’t much of a car enthusiast, but even she could appreciate the power and beauty of this machine. The thought of squeezing into that sleek, high-performance seat made her heart race. And her father driving her? It felt oddly... personal.

Adrian gestured to the passenger door. “Come on, let’s not keep the plane waiting.”

Without a word, she walked over, still trying to process the moment. As she opened the door and slid into the seat, she felt the snug embrace of the sport bucket seat wrapping around her. It was firm, built for speed, but surprisingly comfortable. She glanced over at her father, who was effortlessly sliding into the driver’s seat, adjusting himself like he was born to sit there. The interior of the car smelled of rich cloth and precision engineering, a contrast to the casual elegance of their usual rides.

The moment Adrian pressed the gas pedal, the engine roared to life, the Porsche growling under them like a caged animal ready to be unleashed. Sally glanced at him, and for the first time, she saw something different in her father’s demeanor—something more relaxed, but also more focused. His hands rested on the steering wheel with an ease that belied the power he was controlling, and there was a glint of excitement in his eyes that she had never noticed before.

He shifted into gear, the Porsche purring as they glided down the driveway. As they accelerated onto the open road, the car surged forward with a smooth, effortless power. Sally felt her body press back into the seat, the engine’s low hum vibrating through her. It wasn’t reckless, but it was swift—quick in a way that felt controlled, precise. Her father drove like a gentleman driver, each movement deliberate, each acceleration measured. It was clear he was deeply familiar with the car’s capabilities, coaxing it forward with gentle confidence.

Sally watched him as he drove, noticing how his usual stiff posture relaxed slightly, how his eyes focused intently on the road ahead. There was something transformative about him behind the wheel of the Porsche. He was still the composed, reserved man she had known all her life, but there was a hint of something freer, something lighter. He wasn’t showing off, not at all. But there was a quiet pride in the way he handled the car, and it made her see him in a new light.

For a while, they drove in comfortable silence, the sound of the engine filling the space between them. Sally glanced out the window, watching Zurich’s streets pass by in a blur of cityscape and countryside. The Porsche hugged the curves of the road with ease, and though the speed was swift, she felt completely safe. Her father had everything under control.

After a few minutes, Adrian spoke, his voice quiet but steady over the hum of the engine. “I thought we’d have a bit of time, just the two of us, before you head back.”

Sally smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her. "Thanks, Dad. This is... I don’t know, special."

He glanced at her, his expression softening. “You’ve grown a lot, Sally. More than I expected in just a few days. I’m proud of you, for the way you’ve handled things.”

Sally’s heart swelled at his words, even as she struggled to believe them. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

Adrian shifted his focus back to the road. “You don’t need to say anything. Just know that this is the start. Things are changing, and you’re a big part of that.”

The rest of the drive continued in that quiet, reflective tone. Sally found herself appreciating this moment, feeling closer to her father than she had in a long time. His calm voice, the rhythmic purr of the engine, the sleek landscape of Zurich blurring past them—it all felt surreal, like a dream she hadn’t expected to have.

They began to approach the airport, but instead of heading toward the usual terminal, Adrian smoothly veered the Porsche toward a private hangar. Sally blinked in surprise as they drove straight into the hangar, the Porsche’s tires gliding effortlessly over the smooth concrete floor. She turned to her father, her eyes wide with wonder.

As the car came to a stop, her gaze shifted from the gleaming interior of the hangar to the Gulfstream parked just a few feet away. It was sleek, silver, and unmistakably luxurious. As she climbed out of the Porsche, she suddenly realized something that made her stop in her tracks.

“They match,” she said, almost to herself, as she looked from the car to the plane. “Twins.”

Her father gave her a crooked smile, one that carried a hint of amusement. “Painted to match,” he admitted. “Just a small indulgence.”

Sally shook her head, still in awe. “Small?” she teased, unable to hide her admiration.

Adrian chuckled, watching her reaction. "I like things to have a certain... harmony."

Sally nodded, smiling. “Yeah. It’s... amazing.”

Theresa appeared at that moment, having exited the minivan with their luggage. She approached, a knowing smile on her face. “Ready to go, Sally?”

Sally turned to her, feeling a little overwhelmed but grateful. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

She cast one last look at the Porsche and the Gulfstream, feeling the weight of the moment sink in. This wasn’t just a goodbye—it was the end of something familiar, and the beginning of something new. Something she wasn’t quite ready to name yet, but could feel in the air.

With that, they made their way toward the plane, Sally feeling a strange mix of excitement, nerves, and a growing sense of belonging.

--

Sally stepped out of the car and was immediately greeted by Captain Henderson, who stood tall with a welcoming smile. His presence was reassuring, as always.

"Miss Weiss," he began, tipping his head slightly in respect. "You can call me Richard. But, Rick would be better, actually." He gave her a wink, trying to ease into the informality of their growing rapport.

Sally smiled slyly, catching on to his attempt. “Only if you call me Sally.”

Captain Henderson chuckled softly, bowing his head. “Captain Henderson it is, then.”

Sally shook her head with a smirk, the familiar warmth between them growing. She loved the banter. Turning slightly, she greeted First Officer Gruber with a nod, extending her hand in a polite handshake. "First Officer Gruber," she said formally, to which he responded with a firm yet gentle shake, returning her greeting with a polite smile.

As soon as Adrian got absorbed in airplane talk with Captain Henderson—discussing altitude, speed, and weather patterns—Sally stepped back, glancing over at Nitaya who was waiting patiently beside the entrance.

"Good to see you again, Miss Sally," Nitaya said in her usual soft-spoken and soothing tone, her face lighting up with a kind smile. "I hope your stay in Zurich was pleasant?"

"It was... quite a lot," Sally admitted, her voice softening with thought. “But yes, it was good.”

"Good to hear. Let me help you get settled," Nitaya gestured toward the entrance of the plane. But before Sally could move, she stopped, casting a glance at her father. His conversation with Captain Henderson had slowed, and she seized the moment to step toward him.

"Dad," she said softly.

Adrian turned, his eyes meeting hers. He didn't need to say anything. He just looked at her, his usually stern features softening into something more fatherly. Sally leaned in, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, surprising even herself with the intensity of the gesture.

Her father stiffened at first, but after a moment, he hugged her back, albeit a little awkwardly. It was rare, these moments of affection, but they were becoming more natural.

“Thank you, Dad. For everything,” she whispered against his shoulder.

He pulled back and looked at her, nodding. “We’ll talk more next time, Sally.”

She smiled up at him. "Yeah. Next time." They held each other’s gaze for a brief second longer before Adrian, being the man of few words that he was, stepped back, allowing her space to go.

Sally turned toward the stairs leading into the Gulfstream, already feeling the mixture of emotions bubbling inside her as she stepped up, one foot in front of the other, the plush carpet soft beneath her shoes. As she reached the top, she glanced over and noticed Theresa was still finishing up with the customs officer, who was handing back their passports. Theresa caught Sally’s gaze, gave her a reassuring wave, and mouthed, “I’m coming.”

Sally grinned at the sight and entered the jet, with Nitaya following close behind. The interior of the Gulfstream was just as she remembered—luxurious, pristine, but now it felt more familiar. She was no longer in awe of it, but instead, she appreciated it for what it was: her father's plane, her place of respite for the journey home.

Theresa followed soon after, her usual composed demeanor a comfort as she slid into the seat across from Sally.

As the engines hummed to life, the plane began its slow and graceful exit from the hangar. Sally fastened her seatbelt, glancing out the window as the world outside started to move, the hangar becoming a distant memory as the Gulfstream taxied toward the runway. The ground crew moved in sync, like clockwork, guiding them seamlessly.

Within minutes, the plane was hurtling down the runway, the powerful engines roaring beneath them. Sally pressed back into her seat, feeling that familiar pressure as the plane lifted off the ground, the city of Zurich quickly shrinking beneath them. The mountains, still dusted with snow in some places, contrasted with the blue lakes that dotted the landscape below. The view was mesmerizing, and Sally found herself glued to the window, watching as the Swiss Alps grew smaller and smaller.

Soon, the altitude rose too high for her to make out any distinct features. The landscape below transformed into a patchwork of clouds, stretching endlessly beneath them. Sally turned away from the window and glanced across the cabin to Theresa, who was looking back at her with a thoughtful expression.

"Quite a trip, huh?" Theresa said, a warm smile spreading across her face.

Sally chuckled softly, nodding. “Yeah. It’s been... a lot.”

Theresa tilted her head. “But you did great. All of it. Even the hard parts.”

Sally appreciated her words more than she could express, but she still felt the weight of her thoughts. "I guess. I mean... It’s weird, though. I didn’t think all of this would feel so..." She trailed off, trying to find the right word. “Normal, maybe?”

“Normal?” Theresa raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t call a weekend in Zurich normal, Sally.”

“Yeah, I guess not.” Sally leaned back in her seat, her mind still buzzing with everything that had happened over the past few days. "But, you know what I mean. It’s like... I’m supposed to belong here or something. Like it's expected of me."

Theresa nodded, understanding what Sally meant without the need for more words. “That’s what your father wanted, I think. For you to feel like you belong.”

Sally let that sink in for a moment, feeling the weight of it. "Maybe," she said, her voice quieter now. "But... it’s a lot to take in."

Theresa leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. "You don't have to figure it all out right now. Just take it one step at a time. You’ll get there.”

Sally smiled, a small but genuine one. “Thanks, Theresa.”

The plane continued its ascent, and soon Nitaya appeared, offering Sally her usual warm smile. “Would you like something to drink, Miss Sally?”

Sally glanced at the selection and noticed the Orangina she had tried on the way to Zurich. She grinned, pointing to it. “I’ll take another Orangina, please.”

Sally took her Orangina with a small smile, savoring the crisp, refreshing citrus taste that had quickly grown on her since her first sip on the trip over. As she took her seat, Nitaya began setting the table with a mix of small, appetizing dishes. Sally’s eyes lit up as she spotted the first dish—mac and cheese, served in a delicate bowl, but clearly not the kind she was used to.

She almost gasped in surprise. “Mac and cheese?” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. It was a simple dish, but one that held so many memories. She hadn’t had it in years, not since she was younger.

"Yes, Miss Sally," Nitaya smiled warmly. "A special request from the chef. We thought it might bring back some good memories."

Sally stared at the dish for a moment before taking her first bite. It was creamy, rich, and perfectly balanced, far beyond the box-mix version she remembered from her childhood, but the familiar comfort was still there. The flavor made her feel safe, at home. She felt tears prick the corners of her eyes but blinked them away quickly. She didn’t want to seem silly for getting emotional over mac and cheese, but it was hard not to.

Theresa noticed the change in Sally’s demeanor. "Mac and cheese gets everyone," she teased gently, watching as Sally took another spoonful with a nostalgic smile.

"It’s just… perfect," Sally whispered, savoring each bite, feeling like a little girl again but in the best way possible. For a moment, she was back in the kitchen with her mom, sharing bowls of mac and cheese during quiet evenings when it was just the two of them. It wasn’t just food—it was a connection to a simpler, happier time.

As Sally finished her mac and cheese, Nitaya returned with another small dish—this one a colorful assortment of roasted vegetables with a creamy dip on the side. Sally dug in, appreciating the freshness of the ingredients and the unexpected complexity of the flavors. Each bite was a delightful surprise.

“What is this dip?” Sally asked, glancing up at Nitaya as she served it.

"That’s a house specialty, made from tahini and herbs," Nitaya explained, watching Sally’s delighted reaction. "It’s meant to complement the vegetables and give it a little extra richness."

Sally nodded appreciatively, savoring each bite. Next came tiny, beautifully arranged croquettes, crispy on the outside with a tender, melt-in-your-mouth filling that took Sally by surprise. Nitaya clearly had outdone herself with the catering, and Sally found herself genuinely impressed with every dish that was placed before her.

“I didn’t know plane food could be this good,” Sally commented, half to herself and half to Theresa.

Theresa chuckled. “Welcome to the perks of private aviation. Only the best for you, Sally.”

Sally gave a small smile, feeling more at ease as they continued their meal. Each dish was like a small, delicious adventure, each bite reminding her that she was far from her normal life. The disconnect from her usual routine was both thrilling and a little disorienting, but right now, she was content to enjoy the moment.

For dessert, Nitaya brought out a small bowl of ice cream, perfectly chilled and topped with fresh berries. Sally’s eyes lit up at the sight, and she eagerly took a bite, the creamy sweetness melting in her mouth.

“This is amazing,” she murmured, half to herself as she relished the flavors. She hadn’t expected something so simple to be so elegant, yet every dish had been a wonderful surprise.

Meanwhile, Theresa sipped her glass of red wine, watching Sally with a knowing smile. She was glad to see Sally enjoying herself, even if only for a little while.

“You know,” Theresa said, swirling her wine in her glass thoughtfully, “It’s these little moments that really make all the difference. You’ve had quite a weekend, but I think you’re handling everything really well.”

Sally looked up from her ice cream, feeling a warmth spread through her that wasn’t just from the food. “Thanks,” she said softly, giving Theresa a grateful smile.

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Sally finishing her dessert while Theresa sipped her wine. As Nitaya came by to clear the table, Sally leaned back in her seat, feeling a sense of satisfaction she hadn’t expected. The food, the company, and the peaceful atmosphere made her feel grounded, even if only for the moment.

Eventually, Sally stood up and stretched, feeling the need to move around after the filling meal. “I think I’m going to use the washroom real quick,” she said, excusing herself.

Theresa nodded, watching as Sally made her way to the bathroom. Sally’s mind was still racing, but for the first time in a while, she felt a sense of calm. The food, the conversations, and the kindness of those around her had brought her back to herself. And as she prepared for the long flight ahead, she couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be okay.

--

Sally walked into the spacious bathroom of the Gulfstream, looking at herself in the large mirror. She took a deep breath, letting the reality of where she was sink in. The lights were soft, the fixtures elegant, and she had plenty of space to move around—much more than she was used to in any other plane bathroom. She quickly slid off her comfortable leggings, tossing them onto the countertop. For a moment, she hesitated, glancing down at her bag. She knew what she wanted to do: slip into a Ninjama and wear her cozy pajamas for the rest of the flight. It wasn’t about anything more than comfort at this point.

Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a fresh Ninjama, feeling the familiar material in her hands. She carefully stepped into it, pulling it up snugly around her waist. It gave her a sense of ease, a small comfort as she let the waistband settle just right. Sally quickly wiped her face with a cool cloth, shaking off the stress of the past few days. She glanced back at the pajamas she had packed—a baggy set that she knew would easily hide her Ninjamas. Perfect for lounging.

She took off her sweater and pulled on the pajama top, a soft, loose-fitting T-shirt, and then stepped into the matching bottoms. The waistband of her Ninjamas was hidden underneath, giving her a secure feeling. She paused for a moment, looking at herself in the mirror one last time. It felt good. She felt at ease, finally able to relax.

Satisfied, she made her way back to the cabin, feeling the light crinkle of her Ninjamas as she walked. When she returned, she stopped in her tracks, surprised to find the sofa had been transformed into a full bed—complete with sheets, a pillow, and a neatly folded blanket at the foot. She walked over to it and sat down, smiling as she felt the protective sheet under the fitted one. No worries about leaks this time, she thought to herself with a small sigh of relief.

Theresa looked over at her from her armchair, a knowing smile on her face. “You look like you’re ready to sleep,” she commented, nodding approvingly.

Sally smiled back. "Yeah, I just want to be comfortable. The pajamas help."

Theresa stood up and walked over, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You should get some rest,” she said softly. “With the time zones, it’ll feel like an even longer night for you. We left Zurich at 7 p.m., but by the time we get to New York, it’ll still be dark, even though you’ll have had hours of sleep.”

Sally tilted her head, curious. "So how long is the flight, exactly?"

Theresa explained the mechanics of time zones and how their flight path would take them across the Atlantic, elongating the night due to the time difference. “We’ll land around 10 p.m. New York time, but it’ll feel like you’ve had a long night of sleep.”

Sally nodded, trying to wrap her head around it. She felt the jet smoothly gliding through the sky, and the gentle hum of the engines added to the coziness of the moment.

Just then, Nitaya approached with a warm smile. “Miss Weiss, Captain Henderson and First Officer Gruber have extended an invitation for you to visit the cockpit, if you’re inclined.”

Sally blinked in surprise, unsure about going to the cockpit in her pajamas. “Like… now?”

Theresa chuckled softly. “Why not? This is your plane, Sally. You should be enjoying it exactly as you are. And trust me, they won’t mind the pajamas.”

Sally hesitated for a second but then smiled, feeling a small thrill at the idea. She stood up from the bed, smoothing out her pajama top. “Okay,” she said, “I’ll go.”

With a small nod from Theresa, Sally walked across the galley and towards the cockpit. The door was slightly ajar, and as she peeked in, Captain Henderson turned to greet her with a wide grin.

“Miss Weiss, welcome!” he said cheerfully. “Or should I say, Sally?”

First Officer Gruber swiveled around in his seat, a friendly smile on his face. “Good to see you again, Sally. Come on in.”

Sally stepped into the cockpit, her eyes widening as she took in the myriad of screens and controls. It was like stepping into the command center of a spaceship. Everything was glowing softly, and the view out of the windshield was breathtaking—just miles and miles of clouds below, with the dark sky stretching endlessly above them.

“Whoa,” Sally whispered, feeling a little awestruck.

Gruber leaned forward, pointing to some of the features. “Right now, we’re cruising at about 41,000 feet, heading west-northwest across the Atlantic. Speed’s just under Mach 0.90, which is about 600 miles per hour.” He smiled, clearly enjoying the chance to show off a bit.

Sally nodded, impressed. “This is amazing. I can’t believe you get to do this all the time.”

Captain Henderson chuckled. “It never gets old, that’s for sure. And remember, you’re welcome to come up here anytime. This is your plane, after all.”

Just then, Captain Henderson reached behind him and pulled out a sleek black cap with the Gulfstream emblem on the front. He handed it to Sally with a grin. “A little something to remember your first trip on the Gulfstream.”

Sally’s eyes lit up as she took the cap, smiling as she placed it on her head. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for her. “Thanks, Captain Henderson. This is awesome.”

“You’re very welcome,” he replied, giving her a small nod. “It suits you.”

After a few more minutes of chatting and learning about the different instruments and controls, Sally thanked them again and made her way back to the cabin. She found her bed waiting for her, warm and inviting. Theresa was sitting across from it, sipping her wine.

“Have fun?” Theresa asked, a twinkle in her eye.

Sally smiled and nodded, adjusting the cap on her head. “Yeah, it was amazing. The cockpit is insane.”

Theresa chuckled. “Good. Now get some sleep, okay?”

Sally climbed into the bed, pulling the blankets up around her shoulders. She felt the soft rustle of the protective sheet beneath her, and for the first time in a long while, she felt truly relaxed. She lay back, listening to the soft hum of the engines, and slowly drifted off to sleep, the cap still snug on her head.

Chapter 49 - #GulfstreamSally

Sally hadn’t heard from Katrina or Clara since she left for Zurich, and a sinking feeling had settled in her chest, while she lay on the Gulfstream’s bed. Normally, their group chat was buzzing with messages, but lately… nothing.

Taking a deep breath, Sally pressed the call button on her social media app and waited as the phone rang. The hesitation was gnawing at her, but she couldn’t ignore the silence any longer. After a few rings, Katrina picked up, her voice instantly lively but with a strange edge.

“Hey, Sal! How’s the flight?”

Sally’s heart skipped. Katrina sounded cheerful, but there was something off. “Uh… it’s good,” Sally answered, her voice guarded. “So far, so good.”

“Nice, nice,” Katrina said, her voice almost too casual. “Good internet, huh? I mean, you’re on a plane, and your connection is like, flawless.”

Sally’s throat tightened. She shifted slightly in her seat, her fingers brushing against her phone nervously. “Yeah, the internet’s pretty solid.”

There was a long pause, the kind that made Sally’s palms start to sweat. Something was definitely up.

“So…” Katrina began, her tone shifting ever so slightly. “What’s your flight number? We could track you, see where you are and stuff. You know, for fun.”

Sally froze. Her breath hitched as she tried to think of a response. “Uh…” She licked her lips, her mind scrambling. There was no flight number to give. “It’s not a normal flight,” she finally said, her voice quieter now.

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

“Why?” Katrina’s voice was a mix of curiosity and something else, something more intense. “What do you mean, not a normal flight?”

Sally’s heart was racing now. She had hoped to ease into this, but there was no escaping it. She swallowed hard, feeling a lump in her throat. “It’s… it’s my dad’s plane. His jet.”

The silence that followed felt like it would never end. For a moment, Sally wondered if the call had dropped. Then, after what felt like an eternity, Katrina let out a loud, exaggerated gasp.

“Wait. What? Your dad has a jet?!” Katrina’s voice was filled with dramatic disbelief, and Sally winced. “Like, a private jet? That’s insane! How did you not tell us this before?!”

Sally cringed at the reaction, her face flushing hot. “I didn’t think it was that big of a deal,” she muttered, feeling defensive and embarrassed all at once. “It’s just… it’s his jet. I flew to Zurich in it.”

Katrina was silent for a moment, and then Sally heard Clara’s voice in the background, softly urging Katrina to say something. Finally, Katrina spoke again, her voice slightly lower, more serious. “Okay, well… I’m glad you told me, but... We kind of already knew.”

Sally blinked, her stomach flipping. “What?”

Katrina sighed dramatically. “Patricia saw you. At the airport. Getting on your dad’s Gulfstream. She sent us pictures.”

Sally’s breath caught in her throat. “Pictures?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” Katrina continued, her voice speeding up. “Patricia’s family was at the airport, too. They were flying to Florida for the weekend, and her little brother Charlie—he’s obsessed with planes—was taking pictures. And then he realized it was you. She sent us the photos.”

Sally felt the blood drain from her face. She remembered seeing people in the distance, snapping photos, but she hadn’t thought much of it. She hadn’t even recognized Patricia. “I did see people taking pictures,” she said, her voice shaky. “But I didn’t realize it was Patricia’s family.”

Katrina let out a soft giggle, but it wasn’t a mean one—it was filled with amusement. “I guess they didn’t look important enough to stand out. Not compared to your Gulfstream.”

Sally’s face burned. “I wasn’t—”

“Oh, relax,” Katrina said with a breathless laugh. “I’m just teasing you.”

Sally could barely respond, her mind racing. “What… what pictures did she send you?”

There was a rustling on the other end, and Katrina’s voice took on a gentler tone. “I’ll send them to you right now. They’re… well, you’ll see. They’re not bad or anything.”

Sally’s phone buzzed, and she opened the message, her fingers trembling. As she scrolled through the photos, her heart pounded in her chest. There she was, walking up the steps of her father’s gleaming silver jet, the polished SUV behind her, and a red carpet stretched out beneath her feet. The crew stood at attention, Sally greeting them as if she really were a princess, and in one of the pictures, Sally was caught glancing over her shoulder, her hair blowing in the wind as she smiled admiring a nearby Sikorsky helicopter taking off.

The photos were striking—almost too perfect, like something out of a magazine. She looked composed, elegant even, like some kind of royalty boarding her private plane.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” Sally whispered, her voice barely audible. She wasn’t sure whether to feel flattered or horrified.

“Pretty wild, right?” Katrina said, her voice light again. “I mean, Patricia’s brother Charlie thought you looked like some kind of celebrity. He even gave you a hashtag: #GulfstreamSally.”

Sally’s stomach dropped. “A hashtag?” she repeated weakly.

Katrina laughed again, more gently this time. “Yeah, but don’t freak out. He didn’t do it to be mean. He thinks you’re cool. Patricia, too. They were just... impressed.”

The pictures were undeniably flattering, but the whole situation felt surreal. She blushed thinking about what she had been wearing under those loungepants: her Ninjama.

“This is insane,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I had no idea any of this was happening.”

“Well, now you do,” Katrina said, her tone softening. “And listen, we’re not mad. We just didn’t know how to bring it up. You didn’t say anything, and we were all like, ‘Is Sally keeping this from us?’ But we get it. It’s a lot.”

Sally took a shaky breath. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I just didn’t know how to… explain it all. My dad’s suddenly in my life, and it’s so overwhelming. I don’t even know where I fit into all of this.”

Clara’s voice came through, gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to explain everything, Sal. We’re your friends, no matter what.”

Sally blinked back the emotion welling in her chest. “Thanks,” she whispered. “I really didn’t mean to keep you guys in the dark. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Katrina said, her voice back to its usual playful tone. “But now that we know… can we see the jet? Like, come on. Video tour?”

Sally laughed, her nerves starting to ease. “You really want a tour?”

“Duh!” Katrina exclaimed. “We need to see this thing in real-time. Don’t hold out on us.”

Sally grinned, switching the call to video mode and flipping the camera to show the cabin. “Alright, fine. Here’s the main cabin.”

Katrina let out a low whistle. “Wow, fancy. I’ve seen first-class cabins that look worse than this.”

Theresa walked by just then and waved at the camera. “Hi, girls!” she called cheerfully.

“Is that Theresa?” Clara asked, her voice filled with awe.

“Yep,” Sally said, chuckling. “She’s been taking care of everything.”

“She’s awesome!” Katrina declared, laughing. “Okay, now I’m officially jealous.”

Sally smiled, feeling the tension drain away. “Glad you guys like it.”

After the video call ended, Sally sat back, staring at her phone. Her world was changing faster than she could keep up with. And tomorrow… she wasn’t sure what to expect.

--

The SUV came to a soft stop in front of the house, and Sally’s eyes brightened as she saw her mother, Bridget, already standing on the front porch. Bridget waved with a mix of excitement and relief, her bright smile saying everything before she had even opened her mouth.

Sally exhaled, a soft, almost unnoticeable breath of relief, as the car door opened. Theresa exited first, offering a brief nod to Bridget before stepping aside to allow Sally to emerge.

Sally stepped out, looking fresh and relaxed, though there was something different about her. Her almost-15-year-old frame seemed slightly taller, her posture more poised, her demeanor calm yet thoughtful. There was an air about her that spoke of something more—something Bridget immediately noticed.

“Sally!” Bridget called out, her voice warm and full of joy as she rushed forward, enveloping her daughter in a tight, loving hug. “I missed you so much.”

Sally smiled, hugging her mother back, feeling the familiar comfort of Bridget’s presence. “I missed you too, Mom,” she said softly, her voice carrying an ease and confidence that felt new.

“Thanks, Theresa,” Sally said, waving her off as the SUV pulled away, disappearing down the driveway.

With the house to themselves, Bridget looped her arm through Sally’s and they began to walk slowly toward the front door.

“So?” Bridget asked, her voice eager but gentle. “Tell me everything.”

Sally smiled as they stepped inside. The familiar scent of their home washed over her—a mix of lavender and fresh linens. She placed her bag down by the staircase, and together they moved into the living room, where Bridget guided her to the couch.

“Zurich is beautiful,” Sally began, settling into the cushions. “Really clean, and the mountains… oh, Mom, you’d love it. Dad’s house—well, it’s more of a mansion. I had the whole top floor to myself. My own apartment!”

Bridget raised an eyebrow. “The whole top floor? Of course, you did,” she teased, nudging Sally playfully. “Leave it to Adrian to give his heiress a kingdom.”

Sally laughed, though there was a flicker of nervousness behind her eyes. “Yeah, that’s the thing. He wants me to be a part of it. His empire, I mean. He’s already started talking about teaching me how to manage things. It’s… a lot.”

Bridget’s smile softened, though she remained positive. “You’re still so young, Sal. Almost fifteen, but that’s still young. But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

Sally nodded, grateful for her mother’s confidence. “I know, and Dad’s been really patient. He’s not pushing me, but it’s just… overwhelming sometimes.” She paused, her thoughts trailing back to the opulence of her father’s world. “The jet, the house, the butler—Roberto—and his wife Mia, the housekeeper. They were so kind, really. Dad’s made sure I’m comfortable.”

“And how did you feel?” Bridget asked, her tone more serious now. “About all of that?”

“I liked it,” Sally admitted, a small smile tugging at her lips. “It was luxurious, and I felt special, you know? But I also felt a bit out of place. Like it’s not really me, but it’s… my life now.” She hesitated, then added quietly, “I even told Mia about my diapers, and she was really sweet about it. She made sure I had everything I needed.”

Bridget’s expression softened, her eyes filled with empathy. “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell her. I bet it helped having someone there who understood.”

“It did,” Sally said, relaxing. “She even put a mattress protector on the bed for me, and when I opened the closet in the bathroom, there was a whole package of thick diapers—the good ones—waiting for me.”

Bridget nodded with understanding, her warmth radiating as she listened. “I’m really glad she took care of you.”

Sally continued, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “And, Daddy drove me back to the jet in his Porsche—” she said, her voice softening, signaling how much the moment had meant to her.

Bridget’s eyes twinkled, but she didn’t say anything. She had already heard Sally call her father “Daddy” before, and she knew it meant that Sally was feeling especially emotional about this. “It sounds like you two are getting closer,” she said gently.

Sally grinned. “Yeah, it was… nice. I felt closer to him. More than I ever have before.”

Bridget smiled warmly but remained cautious. “I’m glad you’re building a relationship with him, but don’t forget you’re still growing into all of this. Take your time.”

Sally nodded, grateful for her mother’s words. “I know, Mom. Thanks.”

They shared a quiet moment, Bridget watching her daughter with pride and a hint of nostalgia. Sally had changed since she left, but she was still her daughter—the same girl who loved to laugh and joke, but who was also capable of handling whatever life threw at her.

“Well,” Sally finally said, stifling a yawn, “I’m exhausted. I think I’ll head to bed.”

Bridget smiled warmly. “Go on, sweetie. Get some rest.”

Sally stood and gave her mother one last hug before heading upstairs. She felt the weight of her trip and the whirlwind of emotions start to settle as she entered her bedroom. It was late, and the warmth of the Hartford air was a comforting contrast to Zurich’s cool mountain breeze.

In her ensuite bathroom, Sally turned on the shower, letting the steam rise as she peeled off her clothes and stepped under the hot water. The heat eased the tension from her muscles, and for a while, she just stood there, letting the water wash away the stress of the day.

When she was done, she tiptoed out of the bathroom, the soft glow of the nightlight casting long shadows on the floor. Naked and still damp, she made her way to the dresser. From the bottom drawer, she pulled out a fresh diaper, setting it on the bed as she retrieved her skin oil and talc powder.

Her nighttime ritual was something she cherished now, something that made her feel safe and cared for. After applying the oil and dusting herself with powder, she lay down on the bed and fastened the diaper securely. The familiar crinkle and snugness brought a sense of peace she had come to rely on.

She pulled on one of her favorite faded t-shirts, the soft fabric worn and comforting against her skin. She didn’t bother with a blanket, the room too warm for it, and as she lay there, the cool night air from the window slightly brushing her face, she felt content.

With a contented sigh, Sally closed her eyes, the events of the weekend swirling in her mind but slowly fading as sleep pulled her under. She was home. Safe. And ready for whatever came next.

--

Sally stirred on the bed, feeling the soft morning light warm her face. She stretched luxuriously, her body still cocooned in the warmth and comfort of her wet diaper. A smile tugged at her lips as she shifted slightly, savoring the familiar snugness and security it brought her. There was something undeniably soothing about the way it made her feel—protected, grounded, relaxed. She couldn’t quite put it into words, but it was a quiet pleasure she had come to treasure in these peaceful morning moments.

She lay still for a few more minutes, enjoying the softness of the fabric against her skin, the gentle crinkle as she moved. Eventually, she knew it was time to get up. Reluctantly, she pushed back the covers and sat up, feeling the soft bulk of the diaper as she swung her legs over the side of the bed.

As she stood, the familiar crinkling sound accompanied her steps as she padded her way across the room and into the bathroom. The air was cooler against her bare skin, but the sensation was part of her morning ritual. Once inside the bathroom, Sally carefully removed the diaper, folding it up with practiced precision, and set it aside in the small bin she kept hidden under the sink. She didn’t want another run-in with Dolores, the cleaning lady. She cleaned herself thoroughly with a wipe, then used the toilet before finally standing up to wash her hands. The last remnants of her night’s comfort faded as she splashed cool water on her face.

Feeling refreshed, Sally pulled on her crisp school uniform—her white blouse and pleated skirt a perfect fit, her hair neatly brushed as she glanced in the mirror. She looked polished, but beneath the surface, her mind buzzed with thoughts of the day ahead. Everyone's seen the pictures by now, she thought. #GulfstreamSally...

She took a deep breath, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs, where Theresa was already waiting by the Mercedes SUV, as usual. Sally sat in the front seat beside her, feeling like she needed that extra bit of support.

As they pulled out of the driveway, the hum of the engine filled the space between them, a familiar and comforting sound. Theresa glanced over at Sally, sensing the tension in her.

"You okay?" Theresa asked, her voice warm with concern.

Sally let out a long breath, her fingers fidgeting with the strap of her bag. "I don’t know, Theresa. It’s going to be weird today. Everyone at school probably knows about the jet by now. I saw the hashtag last night—#GulfstreamSally." She winced as she said it aloud. "I didn’t ask for all this attention."

Theresa smiled gently, her eyes glancing toward Sally before turning back to the road. "People love to talk, especially when something feels glamorous or out of the ordinary. But that doesn’t mean you have to let it get to you, Sal. You’re still you. The people who matter will see that."

Sally stared out the window, her stomach knotting. "But what if they don’t? What if people I’ve known for years start treating me differently? I’m not used to this kind of attention. People are going to ask questions, and I don’t know how to handle it."

Theresa chuckled softly. "Sally, you’re tougher than you think. You can answer what you’re comfortable with and brush off the rest. Remember, you don’t owe anyone explanations about your life. Stay true to yourself, and people will respect that."

Sally smiled, feeling a bit of the weight lift off her chest. "Thanks, Theresa. I’ll try."

As Sally walked through the gates of her school, she could already feel the eyes on her. Whispers trailed her down the hallway, students glancing in her direction with expressions ranging from curiosity to envy. She kept her head high, her heart racing a little, but she forced herself to maintain her composure. She wasn’t about to let a hashtag change who she was.

Sally spotted Katrina and Clara by their lockers, and a surge of relief washed over her. Katrina was practically bouncing on her feet, her face lit up with excitement. When she saw Sally, her grin widened, and she rushed over, speaking a mile a minute.

"¡Dios mío, Sally! I’ve been dying to talk to you!" Katrina exclaimed, grabbing Sally’s arm as Clara stood beside her, smiling more serenely. "You’ve been all over social media! #GulfstreamSally is like, the thing now! You’re famous, chica!"

Sally rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh at Katrina’s energy. "I know. Believe me, I’m trying to keep it together."

Katrina shook her head in disbelief. "Girl, do you even realize how cool this is? Everyone’s talking about how you own a private jet. I mean, una maldita jet privada, Sally. That’s next-level."

Clara chuckled, placing a hand on Sally’s shoulder. "Katrina’s right. It’s a lot to take in, but you’re handling it well so far."

Sally shrugged, though she felt a little more confident now that her friends were being so supportive. "I guess. I just don’t want to come off like I’m bragging or something."

"Bragging? No way," Katrina scoffed, switching back to English. "You’re handling it perfectly. Besides, people are just curious. It’s not like they’re out to get you or anything."

Before Sally could respond, Patricia walked up to them, looking slightly nervous. Sally had seen her approaching from the corner of her eye, and now the two girls were standing face to face. Patricia, a couple of years older, had always been friendly, but they’d never really spoken much before now.

"Sally," Patricia began hesitantly, biting her lip. "Can we talk? I need to apologize."

Sally nodded, stepping aside with Patricia as Katrina and Clara stayed nearby, watching.

Patricia wrung her hands, clearly feeling guilty. "I just wanted to say I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for everything to get so out of hand with the pictures. Charlie—my little brother—he’s obsessed with planes, and when he realized it was you, he went a little overboard. I didn’t think his post would blow up like it did."

Sally smiled softly, her eyes kind. "It’s okay, Patricia. Honestly, if people were going to find out, I’d rather it be through that than through rumors. It’s not your fault."

Patricia looked relieved, exhaling a breath she’d been holding. "I’m so glad you’re not upset. We just thought your dad’s jet was… incredible. Meanwhile, we were crammed into this tiny little chartered jet that was so small we practically had to crawl inside. No bathroom, either. Poor Charlie was holding it the entire flight." She laughed, her self-deprecating tone easing the tension between them.

Sally laughed, feeling the awkwardness melt away. "That sounds awful!"

"It kind of was," Patricia admitted, grinning now. "We saw your sleek black SUV roll up to that huge Gulfstream, and I swear, we all felt like nobodies in comparison. Charlie was like, ‘Who’s that? She must be royalty!’ And then we saw it was you, and we were like, ‘Well, there goes our claim to fame.’"

Sally couldn’t help but smile. Patricia’s humor made the whole situation seem less overwhelming. "I guess it looked pretty dramatic from the outside."

"It really did," Patricia said with a playful roll of her eyes. "But seriously, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. I’m just glad we could laugh about it now."

"Me too," Sally said warmly. "And hey, if anything, you’ve made the whole thing less terrifying."

Patricia chuckled. "I’m glad to hear that. Maybe next time you can take us for a ride in that jet of yours?"

Sally grinned, shaking her head. "I’ll see what I can do."

As Patricia walked away, Katrina immediately swooped in, clearly still buzzing with excitement. "Okay, seriously, how cool was that? Patricia basically admitted she’s in awe of you. This is like, the most amazing thing ever."

Sally laughed, nudging Katrina playfully. "Calm down, Kat."

"¡No puedo calmarme! You’re practically a celebrity now. This is crazy!" Katrina replied, switching into Spanish in her excitement. "Everyone wants to know about your trip. Like, I just heard Madison talking about how she’s dying to ask you about Switzerland."

"Great," Sally said with a groan, though she couldn’t help but laugh. "I’m so not ready for that."

Clara smiled, her voice soothing as always. "You’ll be fine, Sally. Just be yourself. You’ve already handled this better than anyone else would have."

As the girls walked down the hall together, Sally noticed more students glancing in her direction—people who had never paid her much attention before. Madison Beckett, with her perfect hair and expensive designer clothes, approached Sally, her eyes bright with curiosity.

"Sally!" Madison called, her voice too sweet. "I heard you just got back from Switzerland. How was it? I saw the pictures of your plane. Was it as cool as it looked?"

Sally kept her smile in place, her voice gracious but careful. "It was nice. My dad lives there, so I was visiting him for the weekend."

Madison’s eyes gleamed, clearly eager for more. "And the jet? You flew on a Gulfstream, right? What was it like?"

Sally hesitated for a moment, then shrugged casually. "It was comfortable. Really quiet. I got to sleep a little on the way back."

Madison’s friend, Taylor, chimed in next. "Did you get to sit in the cockpit or anything?"

Sally shook her head, keeping her tone light. "No, I didn’t fly it or anything, but the pilots were really nice."

Madison’s group exchanged impressed glances, but Sally could tell she’d given them just enough without oversharing. After a few more questions, they finally moved on, leaving Sally and her friends to continue their day.

Katrina looked at Sally with wide, dramatic eyes. "Girl, you handled that like a pro. I was half-expecting you to whip out a pair of aviators and be like, ‘Yeah, I fly Gulfstreams all the time.’"

Sally rolled her eyes, laughing. "Please, I’m just trying to survive today."

Clara chuckled softly. "You’re doing more than surviving. You’ve got this, Sal."

As the day went on, Sally felt more at ease. She had navigated the attention with grace, kept her cool, and even found a way to laugh about the whole situation with Patricia. By the time the final bell rang, she realized that while her life might have changed, she was still Sally—strong, grounded, and ready for whatever came next.

And as she stepped back into the SUV with Theresa, she felt lighter. Maybe #GulfstreamSally wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

--

Theresa pulled the SUV into the driveway, and as the engine quieted, Sally gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks for the ride, Theresa. And for everything else."

Theresa grinned back, her eyes warm. "Anytime, Sal. Just remember—tomorrow’s a new day, and you handled today like a champ."

Sally nodded, feeling reassured but still a bit stressed out. She stepped out of the car and made her way to the front door. She noticed the soft glow of the lights inside, a sign that her mother was already home. As she opened the door, she was greeted by the familiar scent of lavender and freshly cleaned linens. It was comforting—home.

Bridget appeared from the hallway, her face lighting up as soon as she saw Sally. She was holding something in her hand, and Sally immediately recognized the telltale shape of a folded diaper. Bridget had a gentle, knowing smile on her face, the kind that spoke of understanding.

"Hey, sweetie," Bridget said softly. "Rough day?"

Sally smiled, though there was a tiredness behind it. "You could say that."

Bridget held up the diaper, her eyes warm. "I thought you might want to get comfortable for the rest of the day."

"Thanks, Mom," Sally said quietly, her voice soft.

Bridget smiled and led her upstairs, where the familiar comfort of her room awaited. Sally slipped out of her school uniform, pulling on an oversized t-shirt that draped over her slim frame. Bridget was fluffing the diaper, and without a word, Sally lay back on the bed, letting Bridget pull it snugly around her waist. The crinkle of the material and the gentle pressure were soothing, bringing her back to that sense of security she had felt that morning.

Once she was settled, Sally sat up, feeling more at ease, the worries of the day melting away. The soft, familiar comfort of the diaper and t-shirt helped ground her, as if everything beyond the walls of her home could fade into the background for a while.

Bridget sat down beside her on the bed, her eyes kind but curious. "So," she began, her tone light but inquisitive. "I’ve seen some interesting pictures on social media today. #GulfstreamSally, huh?"

Sally groaned playfully, pulling her knees up to her chest, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. "Yeah… that happened."

Bridget chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Sally’s face. "I have to admit, you looked pretty impressive stepping onto that plane. But how was today at school? Did anyone give you a hard time?"

Sally shook her head, leaning back against the pillows, now fully relaxed. "No, not really. Everyone was more curious than anything. People asked about the trip, about the plane… Patricia apologized for the pictures. She didn’t mean for it to get out of hand."

Bridget raised an eyebrow. "Patricia? She’s the one who sent the pictures?"

"Yeah, her brother took them. He’s a plane geek, apparently, and when they realized it was me, they posted them on social media. But it wasn’t mean or anything. He thought it was cool."

Bridget nodded, “Charlie”, she said, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Sounds like you handled it pretty well. You’ve always been good at that—staying calm, even when things get crazy."

Sally smiled back, her body sinking deeper into the bed as the comfort of her t-shirt and diaper wrapped around her. "I didn’t feel calm this morning, though. I was freaking out a little. But after talking to Patricia, and seeing how everyone reacted, I realized it’s not as big of a deal as I thought it would be."

Bridget reached over, giving Sally’s hand a gentle squeeze. "I’m proud of you. I know this kind of attention can be overwhelming, but you handled it with grace."

Sally felt a warmth spread through her chest at her mother’s words. The day had been hard, but sitting here now, in the safety of her home, she felt like she could finally breathe again. The crinkle of the diaper beneath her, the softness of her t-shirt, and her mother’s presence—it was everything she needed to unwind after the chaos of the day.

"Thanks, Mom," she said quietly, her voice full of gratitude.

Bridget smiled, leaning over to kiss Sally’s forehead. "Anytime, sweetie."

For a few moments, they sat together in comfortable silence, the day’s events slowly fading into the background. Sally was safe here, in the cocoon of her home, with her mother by her side. And as she lay back against the pillows, her mind finally at ease, she realized that no matter what the world threw at her—whether it was hashtags or whispers or private jets—she had everything she needed right here.

"How about we order takeout and watch a movie tonight?" Bridget suggested, her voice light.

Sally grinned. "That sounds perfect."

And just like that, the rest of the world melted away.

Chapter 50 - Katrina’s Thoughts; Sally’s new friends

Katrina and Clara were wrapped in each other’s arms, nestled on Katrina’s bed. A playlist of soft, ambient music played in the background, adding to the intimate atmosphere.

Clara pressed her lips to Katrina’s, the kiss slow and lingering. Her fingers trailed gently along Katrina’s side, slipping beneath her shirt just enough to graze her warm skin. Katrina responded, her lips moving against Clara’s in perfect sync, her hand reaching up to tangle in Clara’s dark hair. There was a tenderness between them—every touch, every kiss, filled with affection and the kind of unspoken understanding they had built over time.

Clara shifted, leaning closer, her leg sliding between Katrina’s as her hand traveled up Katrina’s back, fingers tracing the curve of her spine. Katrina let out a soft hum, but as Clara deepened the kiss, she felt Katrina’s body stiffen ever so slightly, the subtle shift in energy impossible for Clara to miss. Clara paused, pulling back just enough to search Katrina’s eyes.

“What’s going on?” Clara asked softly, her voice gentle, brushing a stray curl away from Katrina’s face. She knew Katrina too well—knew when something was on her mind. “You’re somewhere else.”

Katrina blinked, as if pulled from a trance. She sighed, her lips curving into a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, babe,” she murmured, adjusting herself slightly as she sat up a little. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about something.”

Clara’s curiosity piqued, her fingers still trailing lightly over Katrina’s arm. “What are you thinking about?”

Katrina ran a hand through her unruly hair, her expression shifting to one of mild frustration. “Sally’s birthday,” she admitted, leaning back against the pillows. “She’s turning fifteen soon, and she doesn’t want to do anything for it. Like, at all.”

Clara raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the shift in conversation. “Really? She mentioned it to me the other day, but I thought she was just keeping it low-key. That’s kind of her style, right?”

Katrina sat up more, her hands gesturing as her frustration spilled out. “Yeah, but that’s the problem! Fifteen isn’t just another birthday. It’s the birthday—her Quinceañera. She doesn’t get how huge this is.”

Clara frowned, sitting up as well, her fingers still idly brushing Katrina’s skin as she tried to understand. “But, Kat… it’s not like Sally’s Colombian. I mean, she’s not really into the big celebrations. Maybe she just doesn’t see it the way you do?”

Katrina huffed, her hands moving animatedly as she tried to express herself. “Exactly! She doesn’t get how important it is. In my culture, turning fifteen is everything. It’s not just a birthday—it’s a transition into adulthood, a huge celebration with family and friends, a whole community coming together to celebrate you becoming a woman. It’s a tradition, and she’s just treating it like another day! And Sally know it, she has known it all her life! We’ve known each other since kindergarten!”

Clara, always the calm to Katrina’s storm, shifted closer, placing a hand on Katrina’s back. “I get that it’s important to you. And yeah, I can see why you’d want her to celebrate it that way, but does it mean the same thing to her? Wouldn’t it be better to let her have the kind of day she wants?”

Katrina groaned, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I know, I know… But I just—Sally deserves more than just a regular birthday. She’s been through so much this year with her dad showing up, and now this whole jet thing at school. She’s growing up, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. And a Quinceañera isn’t just about throwing a big party. It’s about celebrating who she’s becoming—honoring that transition, showing her that she’s ready for what comes next.”

Clara leaned her head against Katrina’s shoulder, her fingers brushing gently through Katrina’s curls. “I know you want to do something special for her. But what if Sally just isn’t into it? Wouldn’t it be more important to give her a day that feels right for her?”

Katrina sighed, her frustration softening as she rested her head against Clara’s. “Yeah… I don’t want to pressure her. But it just feels wrong to let the day pass without something significant. She deserves to feel celebrated. And I’m not talking about a huge, traditional Quinceañera, with the big dress and the church ceremony. That would totally freak her out. But something meaningful—something that shows her how important this day is.”

Clara smiled, tilting her head to look at Katrina. “Something small but special, then? Something that still means a lot but doesn’t overwhelm her?”

Katrina brightened at the suggestion, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “Exactly! Like, we could do a small dinner with close friends, but maybe sneak in a few traditional elements. I don’t know, the tiara, or the changing of shoes. It doesn’t have to be a huge deal—it just has to make her feel seen, you know?”

Clara chuckled, leaning in to kiss Katrina’s shoulder softly. “I think that’s a perfect idea. You’ll make sure it’s something special for her. She’s lucky to have you.”

Katrina grinned, pulling Clara closer so their foreheads touched. “You think?”

“I know,” Clara whispered, kissing Katrina’s lips gently, their earlier affection returning, but now lighter, more relaxed.

As they settled back into the bed, Clara resting against Katrina’s chest, Katrina’s mind was already racing with plans for Sally’s birthday. She knew Sally wasn’t one for big celebrations, but Katrina wasn’t about to let her fifteenth birthday pass without something memorable. Whether Sally realized it or not, this milestone was significant, and Katrina was determined to make sure she felt like the queen she deserved to be.

"Te lo prometo," Katrina whispered to herself, her fingers playing absently with Clara’s hair. "Sally’s going to have a birthday she’ll never forget."

Clara’s lips brushed Katrina’s, the kiss soft at first, then deeper, as the earlier tension between them melted away. They kissed slowly, letting the moment linger as their bodies pressed closer together, Clara’s hand slipping beneath Katrina’s shirt, her touch light and familiar. Katrina responded, her fingers tangling in Clara’s hair as she kissed her back with growing intensity.

Clara shifted, pulling Katrina down against the pillows, their bodies fitting together effortlessly, the warmth between them building. Katrina’s hands roamed over Clara’s skin, her touch slow and deliberate, as if rediscovering every curve and line. Their kisses deepened, lips parting, breaths mingling, as the world outside their small bubble faded into the background.

Clara let out a soft sigh as Katrina kissed her neck, her lips trailing along her collarbone, sending shivers down her spine. She arched her back slightly, pulling Katrina closer, her fingers gripping Katrina’s hips as they moved together, the rhythm of their bodies in perfect sync.

Katrina’s hands slid up Clara’s side, her fingers grazing her bare skin beneath the shirt, each touch igniting a spark between them. Clara’s breath hitched, her lips parting as Katrina kissed her deeply, their bodies pressing closer, their hearts racing in unison.

They moved together slowly, savoring every touch, every kiss, as their bodies melted into each other. The earlier distraction was gone, replaced by the quiet intensity of their love-making, the room filled with the soft sounds of their breathing and the occasional murmur of each other’s names.

Katrina’s hand slid down Clara’s body, her fingers exploring familiar territory, as Clara’s lips found her neck again, kissing her softly. They were wrapped up in each other, completely lost in the moment, the world outside forgotten.

After a while, Katrina pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath, their bodies still intertwined. She smiled, her hand gently brushing Clara’s cheek. “I love you,” Katrina whispered, her voice soft but full of emotion.

Clara smiled back, her fingers tracing Katrina’s jawline. “I love you too,” she whispered, kissing her softly again.

They lay together in the warmth of the bed, their bodies tangled beneath the blankets, the outside world still far away. In that moment, everything felt right—Katrina’s worries about Sally faded, and all that mattered was the love they shared.

--

The room was quiet now, save for the soft music playing in the background and the gentle rise and fall of Katrina and Clara’s breathing. They lay wrapped in each other’s arms, Katrina rested her head on Clara’s chest, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on Clara’s skin, while Clara’s hand gently caressed Katrina’s back.

The afterglow wrapped around them like a cocoon, and for a while, neither of them spoke, content just to be close. But as their breaths slowed and the moment settled, Katrina’s thoughts returned to their friend.

“Sally,” Katrina murmured, breaking the comfortable silence, her voice soft and thoughtful. “Our little pampered princess.”

Clara chuckled lightly, her fingers running through Katrina’s wild curls. “She really has changed, hasn’t she? Since she came back from Switzerland.”

Katrina nodded, her cheek resting against Clara’s chest as she sighed. “Yeah, she’s more… I don’t know. Mature, maybe? It’s like she grew up while she was away, and now she’s handling all this new stuff like it’s no big deal.”

Clara smiled, her eyes gazing up at the ceiling as she thought about Sally. “It’s impressive, really. I mean, everything she’s been through—finding out about her dad’s wealth, all the attention at school, the jet, #GulfstreamSally… I don’t know how I’d deal with it, but she’s handling it with so much grace.”

“Right?” Katrina agreed, her voice picking up a bit. “I mean, don’t get me wrong—Sally’s always been strong. But before, she was a bit more shy, maybe even a little uncertain about herself. Now? She’s got this quiet confidence about her. Even with all the craziness, she’s still herself.”

Clara hummed in agreement, her hand sliding down to rest on Katrina’s arm. “And she hasn’t let it change her. She’s still the Sally we love—our Pampered Princess.”

Katrina smirked, lifting her head slightly to meet Clara’s eyes. “Speaking of pampered,” she said playfully, “she’s still into her diapers, and she’s completely open about, as she explains, wearing diapers at night. I honestly think it’s kind of adorable.”

Clara chuckled softly, a tender smile on her face. “Yeah, it is. I mean, she’s never been embarrassed about it with us. And I think that’s what I admire about her—she doesn’t hide who she is. She’s not afraid to let people know that, yeah, she wears diapers at night, and that’s just part of her.”

Katrina laughed lightly. “Exactly! And she still looks so cute in them, like this little innocent side of her that she keeps, even though she’s dealing with all this adult stuff. It’s kind of funny how she can be so grown up in some ways, but still totally herself in others.”

Clara smiled warmly, thinking of their friend. “It’s not easy for someone to be that confident in who they are, especially when they have something like that going on. But she owns it. It doesn’t bother her. I think that makes her even stronger.”

Katrina sighed contentedly, resting her head back against Clara’s chest. “She really is something. I just hope she knows how proud we are of her.”

Clara kissed the top of Katrina’s head, her fingers still running through her hair. “I’m sure she does. And we’ll make sure her fifteenth birthday reminds her of that, too.”

Katrina smiled, her earlier worries about Sally’s Quinceañera fading as she relaxed in Clara’s arms. “Yeah, we will. Se lo merece.”

They fell into a comfortable silence again, both of them thinking about their friend—the girl they’d watched grow, the girl who faced so many changes and challenges with a quiet strength that only deepened their affection for her. Sally had changed, yes, but in all the best ways. And no matter how much she grew, she’d always be their Pampered Princess.

And as Katrina and Clara lay there, wrapped in each other and the love they shared for Sally and for one another, they knew they’d be there for her—through everything that was still to come.

--

It was early Saturday morning, and the sunlight barely peeked through the blinds as Sally sat on the edge of her bed, phone in hand. She scrolled through her messages, pausing at the one from Patricia the night before, inviting her over to check out the photos from Patricia’s family trip to Florida. Sally was excited to see the pictures, especially since Patricia had promised to show her the ones that Charlie had taken of her with her father’s Gulfstream. But now, there was a slight wrinkle in her plans.

Sally tapped the screen and typed out a quick message:

Sally: Hey, Patricia, is it cool if I come over earlier than we planned? My mom has to run some errands super early, and I can get a ride with her if that’s okay?

The three little dots appeared almost immediately, indicating that Patricia was already awake and typing back.

Patricia: Hey! Sure, no problem. I’m not really a morning person, but just knock when you get here, and I’ll let you in. We can have breakfast later.

Sally smiled, relieved that it wasn’t an issue. Her mom had mentioned leaving early to run some errands across town, and rather than be dropped off much later, it was easier to tag along. She quickly got ready, pulling on her favorite comfortable jeans and a light hoodie, feeling a bit groggy but looking forward to the morning ahead.

As her mother drove her through the quiet streets of the neighborhood, Sally couldn’t shake the slight nervousness that always came with seeing Patricia’s family, particularly Charlie. He was younger, just thirteen, and although she hadn’t spent much time around him, she knew he admired her—especially after all the attention around the jet pictures. It was strange to think that someone might look up to her, and the thought made her feel both flattered and a little awkward.

“Thanks for the ride, Mom,” Sally said as the car pulled up in front of Patricia’s house.

“No problem, sweetie,” her mother replied. “Just text me when you’re ready to be picked up.”

Sally waved as her mom drove away, then turned to face the quiet, familiar house. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and walked up the path, feeling a bit like an early bird showing up before the rest of the world was awake.

--

Sally stood in the entryway of Patricia’s home, feeling the early morning stillness settle around her. Patricia had greeted her in her pajamas, still groggy and half-asleep, before excusing herself to go upstairs and get dressed. Left to her own devices, Sally wandered through the house, feeling slightly out of place, the silence heavy in the air.

She followed the faint light of a TV screen from a nearby room and found herself peeking into the TV room. There, on the couch, was Patricia’s younger brother, Charlie, completely engrossed in his game. His back was to her, and he wore large headphones, clearly unaware of her presence. Sally was about to step back quietly when she noticed something that stopped her in her tracks—Charlie was sitting there in just a t-shirt and a pair of Goodnites.

Sally froze, unsure of how to proceed. Her heart went out to him instantly, but she knew from personal experience that this was an incredibly vulnerable situation. Charlie, still oblivious, was just a boy playing video games, but he looked so relaxed, so comfortable in his own home.

Sally took a step back, her foot landing on a creaky floorboard. Charlie immediately snapped out of his gaming trance, turned his head, and spotted her.

“Hey! You’re Gulfstream Sally!” he blurted out, his voice filled with awe as he processed who had just walked in. But his expression shifted in an instant—from excitement to sheer horror, as his gaze dropped to his own body, and reality came crashing down. His face drained of color, then flushed beet red as he realized he was sitting there in nothing but a t-shirt and his Goodnites.

Charlie yanked the hem of his t-shirt down frantically, trying to cover himself, but it was no use. He stared at Sally in pure mortification, his hands trembling as he fumbled with his controller, clearly wanting to disappear.

“I didn’t… I didn’t know anyone was coming,” Charlie mumbled, his voice barely audible, his face burning with humiliation.

Sally’s heart ached for him. She knew how it felt to be caught off-guard like this, to feel so exposed and vulnerable. She wasn’t going to let him suffer in silence.

“Hey, Charlie, it’s okay,” Sally said gently, taking a step closer but keeping her voice calm and soft. “Really, it’s no big deal. I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

Charlie stared at her, wide-eyed, still frozen in place. He couldn’t bring himself to respond, his face still a deep shade of red.

Sally hesitated for a moment, then made a decision. She walked over to the couch and sat down next to him, keeping a little distance but making sure he knew she wasn’t judging him. She folded her hands in her lap, her heart racing slightly as she tried to find the right words.

“I didn’t mean to walk in on you like that,” she said softly. “And I promise, I’m not here to make things weird. But… I get it.”

Charlie glanced at her, confusion flickering in his eyes. “What do you mean?” he muttered, his voice still strained.

Sally looked down at her hands, feeling the weight of the moment. This wasn’t something she often shared, but seeing Charlie like this, so vulnerable, she knew she had to be honest.

“I mean… you’re not the only one who wears protection,” she said slowly, her cheeks flushing slightly as she admitted it. “I do too. I’m a bedwetter too.”

Charlie’s eyes widened, his gaze snapping to her, his shock momentarily overriding his embarrassment. “Wait… you are?”

Sally nodded, her voice soft but steady. “Yeah. I wear Ninjamas at night. I know it’s not something people talk about much, but… I understand. It can feel really embarrassing sometimes, but it’s just part of life. You shouldn’t feel bad about it.”

Charlie swallowed hard, his face still red but his expression softening slightly. He shifted awkwardly in his seat, tugging at his t-shirt again. “I thought… I don’t know. I thought you’d think I was a baby or something.”

Sally smiled gently, shaking her head. “No way. You’re not a baby, Charlie. Lots of people have to wear protection. It’s just something we deal with. And honestly? I think it’s kind of cool that you’re so comfortable with your family. It shows you trust them, and that’s not something to be ashamed of.”

Charlie blinked, clearly processing her words. The tension in his shoulders eased a little, but the embarrassment still lingered. “Patricia’s cool about it… You really wear them too?” he asked quietly, still sounding like he couldn’t quite believe it.

Sally nodded again. “Yeah, I do. Bedwetting’s a drag, but at least they make good stuff, right? I’ve tried Goodnites before too. They’re really absorbent and comfortable.”

Charlie’s lips twitched into a small, hesitant smile. “Yeah… I guess they’re not so bad. I’ve always worn Goodnites. I didn’t know you could wear… what did you call them? Ninjamas?”

Sally grinned. “Yep, Ninjamas. They’re super comfy. You should try them sometime if you’re curious. But really, whatever works for you is what matters.”

Charlie shifted again, his face still a little red but far less panicked than before. “Thanks, Sally,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I didn’t expect you to say all that.”

Sally gave him a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to worry, Charlie. I’m not here to judge. We’ve all got our stuff, and I think it’s cool that you’re just being yourself.”

Before Charlie could respond, they both heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. Patricia appeared in the doorway, fully dressed, but her expression froze when she saw her brother sitting there, still in his Goodnites. Her eyes went wide, and she looked between Charlie and Sally, utterly stunned.

“Charlie!” Patricia gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “You’re—why didn’t you… I didn’t know you were—”

Charlie’s face flamed with embarrassment again, his hands automatically going to tug his t-shirt down. Patricia stared at him, horrified for him, before turning to Sally, completely unsure of how to handle the situation.

Sally shrugged, offering Patricia the same calm, reassuring smile she had given Charlie. “It’s cool,” she said casually. “He should feel comfortable at home. No big deal.”

Patricia blinked, looking between them, her mouth still open in shock. “You’re okay with this?” she asked, clearly baffled.

Sally grinned. “Yeah. It’s no big deal. Actually…” She glanced at Charlie, then back at Patricia, deciding it was time to share. “I wear protection at night too. It’s not something I usually talk about, but… yeah, I get it.”

Patricia’s eyes widened even more. “You… you do?” She looked genuinely surprised, not knowing what to say next.

Charlie, now fully processing what Sally had just admitted, looked at her with newfound admiration. She had shared something deeply personal in front of him, and it made him feel less alone, less humiliated.

Sally nodded, smiling. “Yep. Ninjamas, actually. I was just telling Charlie about them. So, no need to make this a thing.”

Patricia blinked, then smiled awkwardly, clearly unsure how to respond but grateful that Sally was so relaxed about it. “Well… I guess I’ll go get breakfast started,” she mumbled, still processing everything.

Charlie stood up, his face still a little flushed, but he gave Sally a small, grateful smile before hurrying upstairs to change. Sally watched him go, thinking he looked cute in his Goodnites, and feeling relieved that she had helped him feel a little less embarrassed.

When Charlie came back down, now dressed in baggy jeans and his favorite P-51 Mustang t-shirt, he joined them in the kitchen, his expression far more relaxed. He glanced at Sally, a quiet gratitude in his eyes, and gave her a small smile.

Sally smiled back, knowing they had formed a quiet bond over something they both understood all too well.

--

After a simple breakfast of toast and coffee, Patricia led Sally upstairs to her bedroom. Sally followed behind, her curiosity growing as they climbed the stairs. Patricia’s room was exactly what she expected—full of personality and a reflection of her friend’s effortless cool. There were posters of indie bands on the walls, fairy lights strung along the ceiling, and a cluttered desk with an open journal, books, and makeup scattered around.

Sally, two years younger, looked around in awe, taking in every detail. She felt a little starstruck, not just because of the room, but because she was being invited into Patricia’s private space. It felt like a symbol of trust, and Sally was glad to be part of it.

Patricia plopped down on her bed and patted the spot next to her, motioning for Sally to join. “Come on, let’s check out the pictures,” she said, opening her laptop and waiting for it to boot up. Sally sat beside her, feeling more at ease as she relaxed into the moment.

Once the laptop was on, Patricia clicked through her files and pulled up a folder labeled Florida Trip. “Okay, here we go,” she said, a smile creeping across her face as she clicked through the photos.

Sally leaned in, amused as the pictures of Patricia’s family vacation flicked by. There were shots of beaches, sunsets, and typical tourist moments. But then, as Patricia clicked further, Sally’s breath caught. There, among the family photos, was a picture of her stepping up onto her father’s Gulfstream, with the sleek silver jet behind her.

Sally raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You didn’t waste any time, did you?” she said, her voice teasing.

Patricia giggled, clicking through several more shots of the jet from different angles. “No, no, we had no idea it was you at first. Charlie took the pictures because, you know, he’s obsessed with planes. We were on our jet, and he was snapping away at your Gulfstream like it was some kind of celebrity sighting.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “He is such a plane nerd.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t until later, when we were looking through the photos, that I zoomed in and thought, ‘Wait, that looks a lot like Sally.’” Patricia zoomed in on one of the pictures, the screen showing a close-up of Sally turning to look at the jet, her blue hoodie unmistakable.

Patricia admired the picture for a moment. “You honestly looked so cool, Sal,” she said, a touch of admiration in her voice. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

Sally, however, felt a little self-conscious. She shifted awkwardly beside Patricia, biting her lip. “I dunno… I kind of felt awkward being seen like that. It’s not really me, you know? All the attention and the fancy jet.”

Patricia nodded, sensing Sally’s discomfort. A brief silence passed between them before Patricia spoke again, her tone more thoughtful this time.

“Hey, Sal,” Patricia began carefully, as if weighing her words. “About earlier… when you saw Charlie in the living room… I just wanted to thank you.”

Sally looked at her, curious. “For what?”

“For not making a big deal out of it,” Patricia said, her voice soft and sincere. “I know Charlie was mortified, but you made him feel okay. I didn’t even know you had… well, I didn’t know about your bedwetting.”

Sally exhaled, feeling a bit exposed but knowing Patricia meant well. “Yeah, it’s something I’ve dealt with for a while now,” she said, her voice calm. “It’s not exactly the most fun thing to talk about, but… it’s part of who I am.”

Patricia nodded, her expression gentle. “I had no idea. I really appreciate how you handled things with Charlie. It meant a lot to him.”

Sally smiled softly. “Honestly, I felt bad for him. I know how humiliating it can feel. I mean, I don’t wear Goodnites like he does, though,” she added, her voice quieting a bit. “I wear full-on diapers. The pull-up kinds just leak for me, and it’s easier this way.”

Patricia blinked in surprise, her eyes widening. “Diapers?” she asked, her tone not judgmental, just genuinely curious. “How do you… deal with that? Like, with sleepovers and stuff?”

Sally hesitated for a moment, then decided to be bold. “Some of my friends know. I’m pretty discreet about it, but if it’s too warm for baggy pajamas, I just tell them straight up. I don’t make a big deal out of it. I’ll just say, ‘Hey, I’ve got some special attire for the night.’”

Patricia stared at her, a mixture of admiration and amazement on her face. “You’re seriously brave, Sal. I don’t know if I could do that.”

Sally shrugged, a playful grin spreading across her face. “You’d be surprised. Most people just think I’m cute in diapers, anyway. I’ve heard it more than once.”

Patricia giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. “That’s so adorable,” she said, shaking her head. “I think you’re brave for just owning it.”

Sally laughed too, feeling a little lighter. “Yeah, well, you kind of have to. It’s either that or live in constant fear of being found out.”

Patricia’s expression turned thoughtful again. “You know… maybe you should suggest Charlie try diapers. He’s been having a problem with leaking, and I think it’s stressing him out. Maybe he’d be more comfortable.”

Sally considered it, her gaze softening. “Maybe I will. I’ll see if I can bring it up in a way that doesn’t embarrass him.”

Patricia smiled, clearly relieved by Sally’s response. “I’m sure you’ll find a way. He really looks up to you.”

Sally nodded, feeling more connected to both Patricia and Charlie than she had before. “I’ll do my best.”

The two of them fell into an easy silence, scrolling through more pictures, but the air between them felt different—more open, more trusting. They both knew this morning had brought them closer, not just as friends, but as people who understood each other on a deeper level.

Chapter 51 – Charlie and New Friends

Sally had been wandering around Patricia’s house, feeling more at ease after spending time with her friend that morning. She found herself near Charlie’s bedroom, where she could hear the familiar sounds of YouTube videos playing softly. Planes, no doubt—Charlie’s obsession. The door was slightly ajar, so she knocked lightly on the frame.

“Hey, Charlie,” she called out, her voice casual.

Charlie quickly paused the video and glanced toward the door, a bit startled. His shy demeanor returned as he saw Sally standing there, but he managed a small smile. “Hey,” he mumbled.

“Can I come in?” Sally asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Uh, sure,” Charlie replied, sitting up a little straighter in his chair. He motioned awkwardly toward the room, clearly not used to having someone like Sally in his space.

Sally stepped inside and took a quick look around. His room was what she expected—airplane models lining the shelves, posters of vintage planes covering the walls. Charlie had his headphones around his neck and the video paused on a sleek silver plane that looked vaguely familiar.

“What are you watching?” Sally asked, her curiosity piqued.

Charlie looked back at the screen. “It’s just some videos about old planes,” he said. Then he turned to Sally, a bit more animated. “Hey, do you know what plane this is?” He pointed at the screen, his enthusiasm breaking through his usual shyness.

Sally squinted at the video. “Hmm… looks like the one on your shirt,” she said, nodding toward his P-51 Mustang t-shirt.

Charlie lit up. “Exactly! It’s a P-51 Mustang. One of the best fighter planes ever made.”

Sally grinned. “I thought Mustangs were cars,” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Charlie laughed, shaking his head. “They are! But they’re also horses. Mustangs are wild horses.”

Sally burst out laughing. “Okay, you got me there. I guess I just think of the car because Mustangs are my favorite. That’s why I relate to the name.”

Charlie looked up, his shyness fading as they bantered back and forth. “Yeah, they’re pretty cool cars,” he admitted. “But I still think the planes are better.”

“Planes, cars, horses… Mustangs are everywhere,” Sally said with a grin as she sat on the edge of his bed. “But I’ll give you the plane one. The Mustang plane does look awesome.”

They bantered about the Mustang cars and planes for a while, talking about their favorite models and engines. Eventually, the conversation drifted back to the Gulfstream, and Sally shared her detailed experience from the trip to Zurich. Charlie listened with wide eyes, completely in awe of her adventure.

“You really flew on that Gulfstream?” Charlie asked, his voice full of wonder. “That’s like… one of the coolest jets ever.”

Sally nodded, smiling at his excitement. “Yep. It was pretty amazing. I got to hang out in this super plush cabin, and the crew treated me like royalty. I even got to watch them fuel up before we took off. It was insane.”

Charlie stared at her, speechless for a moment. “That’s… wow.”

Sally chuckled. “Yeah, it was kind of surreal. I didn’t know flying could be that fancy.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Charlie finally glanced at Sally, his expression shifting from awe to something more vulnerable. “Hey, um… I’m really glad you didn’t, you know, make fun of me for the Goodnites. That was… embarrassing.”

Sally smiled softly, her heart going out to him again. “I get it, Charlie. I really do. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re handling it pretty well.”

Charlie gave a small nod, clearly relieved. “Thanks. I’m cool with you wearing them too. It’s nice… not being the only one.”

Sally hesitated for a second, then decided it was the right time to be completely open with him. She shifted on the bed, her tone turning more serious but still kind.

“Charlie, I should tell you something,” she said softly. “I don’t actually wear Ninjamas anymore.”

Charlie looked at her, confused. “You don’t?”

Sally shook her head, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. “No. I had to stop because they started leaking on me. It was just too much of a hassle waking up to a wet bed, you know? So now, I wear full-on diapers at night. They’re way more reliable.”

Charlie blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. He didn’t know what to say.

Sally smiled reassuringly. “I still wear Ninjamas sometimes, like if I’m at a sleepover or something and I’m trying to be discreet. But honestly? Diapers are better. They’re way more comfortable, and I don’t have to worry about leaks.”

Charlie looked down, his face thoughtful. “They leak on me too,” he admitted, almost whispering. “Sometimes… a lot.”

Sally nodded, understanding completely. “So now you know how to fix that,” she said, her tone practical but caring.

Charlie looked up at her, his eyes wide, clearly thinking about what she had said. There was a new understanding between them—shared knowledge of something personal, something that had bonded them in this quiet, simple moment.

Sally stood up, giving him a small, encouraging smile. “You’ll figure it out,” she said, giving him a quick wink. “Just something to think about.”

With that, she turned and headed toward the door, leaving Charlie sitting there, deep in thought. As Sally left the room to meet Patricia downstairs, she smiled to herself, knowing that she had helped him feel a little less alone.

--

Sally and Patricia sat in the front room by the large bay window, waiting for Sally’s mother to arrive. The late morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft, golden light around them. They had already spent the morning catching up, looking at pictures, and talking about planes, but now there was a slight lull in the conversation.

Patricia, fiddling with the edge of a cushion, looked at Sally thoughtfully. “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she began, her voice a little hesitant. “I’m organizing a sleepover soon, and I was wondering if you’d like to come?”

Sally’s eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. “A sleepover?”

Patricia nodded, smiling but looking slightly nervous. “Yeah, I’m inviting some girls from other years too. It’s going to be a mix—some girls you know, and some you don’t. I already invited Katrina and Clara too.”

Sally blinked and then frowned playfully. “You’d better keep those two separate at a sleepover,” she said, shaking her head with a grin. “They are fit to be tied.”

Patricia’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink as she laughed knowingly. “Yeah, don’t worry. Everything’s going to be, uh… appropriate. My parents will be here, and we’ll have the whole basement to ourselves.”

Sally chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “A dozen girls in one basement? Sounds like chaos.”

Patricia smiled, relaxing now that the idea was out in the open. “It might be,” she admitted, “but it’ll be fun. We’ll have music, snacks, movies. It’s supposed to be really warm that weekend though.”

Sally noticed the shift in Patricia’s tone, sensing there was more on her mind. Patricia hesitated for a second before continuing, her voice softening.

“I… I hope your, um, diapers wouldn’t be a problem,” Patricia said delicately. “Since it’s going to be so warm, you know? I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable or anything.”

Sally held her breath for a second, her heart skipping. She appreciated Patricia’s tactfulness, but the idea of spending the night with so many other girls, especially in warm weather, was definitely something she’d have to think about. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her situation—she had long come to terms with wearing diapers at night—but managing it in a sleepover setting was always tricky.

“I’ll… I’ll think about it,” Sally finally said, offering Patricia a small, appreciative smile. “It sounds like fun, but I just need to make sure I’m comfortable, you know?”

Patricia nodded quickly. “Of course! No pressure at all. I just wanted you to know that you’re totally welcome, and no one’s going to judge. I mean, you’ve handled everything so well already, and we’d love to have you there.”

Sally smiled softly, grateful for Patricia’s understanding. “Thanks, Patricia. I’ll definitely keep it in mind.”

Just as they were finishing up the conversation, Sally spotted her mother’s red SUV pulling into the driveway. She stood up, grabbing her bag, and Patricia walked her to the door.

“Let me know when you decide,” Patricia said with a grin, waving as Sally stepped outside. “It’s going to be epic either way.”

Sally nodded, waving back. “Will do. See you soon!”

As Sally climbed into her mom’s SUV, her thoughts lingered on the sleepover invitation. It would take some planning, but with Patricia’s kindness and the friendly group of girls, maybe it could be worth the effort.

--

Katrina was pacing in her room, her mind whirling with plans. Sally’s fifteenth birthday was coming up fast, and Katrina had it in her head that a surprise party was the only way to celebrate such an important milestone. Of course, the problem was keeping it secret from Sally, who was notoriously good at picking up on things. She needed help, and not just any help—she needed someone close to Sally, but not so close that it would tip her off.

Clara, sitting cross-legged on Katrina’s bed, watched her best friend with amusement. “You’re going to wear a hole in the floor at this rate,” Clara said, resting her chin in her hand. “Why don’t we just get Theresa involved? She’s always with Sally and Bridget, so she knows their schedules.”

Katrina stopped mid-step, her eyes lighting up. “That’s actually genius, Clara. Theresa’s perfect! She’s super chill but also knows everything. She’s practically like Sally’s assistant-slash-bodyguard.”

“But how do we talk to her without Sally finding out?” Clara asked, sitting up a little straighter.

Katrina grinned, already formulating a plan. “When Theresa picks up Sally after school, we’ll have to be sneaky. You distract Sally, keep her away from the car, and I’ll get Theresa’s number so we can talk privately.”

Clara raised an eyebrow. “Distract her how?”

Clara grinned, her gears turning. “I have a reason to pull Sally away. The new chess championship schedule came out, and I want to show her who she’s up against. She’s going to be super interested in that.”

“Perfect!” Katrina said, her voice hushed with excitement. “While you distract her, I’ll talk to Theresa. Quick and easy.”

--

The silver SUV pulled up to the curb, and Theresa, sitting behind the wheel, glanced over at the girls waiting by the school steps. As soon as Sally was distracted by Clara’s chess championship schedule—an entirely genuine distraction, given Sally’s interest—Katrina made her move. She darted toward the driver’s window, knocking lightly.

Theresa rolled down the window, her expression neutral but wary. “Yes, Katrina?” she asked, eyebrow raised.

“I need your help,” Katrina began, her voice filled with urgency. “I’m planning a surprise birthday party for Sally, and I need you to be in on it. You know, with schedules and making sure Sally doesn’t suspect anything.”

Theresa frowned, clearly hesitant. She knew Katrina’s energetic style and wasn’t sure she could trust whatever “surprise” Katrina had in mind. “A surprise party? For Sally?” she asked, skepticism lacing her tone. “I don’t know, Katrina. What exactly are you planning?”

Katrina rolled her eyes in exasperation. “It’s just a party! You know, something fun and special for her fifteenth birthday.”

Theresa’s expression didn’t budge, and her reservations were clear. “Sally’s not really into big surprises. And your idea of ‘fun’ might not exactly be what Sally wants.”

Katrina’s frustration grew, but she kept her voice steady. “I get it. But this is more than just a birthday. It’s her Quinceañera.”

At that, Theresa’s face softened. The word Quinceañera changed everything. It wasn’t just any birthday—it was an important cultural milestone, a celebration of a girl becoming a young woman. Theresa, half-Mexican herself, understood the significance.

“Oh,” Theresa said, her tone shifting. “Her Quinceañera? That’s different.”

Katrina nodded eagerly, seeing the change in Theresa’s demeanor. “Exactly! It’s important, and I want to make sure it’s perfect. But I can’t pull it off without you. You’re the only one who can help me keep it a secret from Sally.”

Theresa sighed, her earlier reluctance fading. “Alright, Katrina. I’ll help, but only because it’s for her Quinceañera. Let’s make sure this stays something she’ll love, though—nothing too crazy.”

Katrina grinned, relieved. “I promise, it’ll be amazing. I’ll text you the details later, but thanks, Theresa. You’re the best.”

--

As Clara and Sally returned from their conversation about the chess schedule, Sally climbed into the front seat of the SUV, buckling her seatbelt. She had caught a glimpse of Katrina talking to Theresa and couldn’t help her curiosity.

“What were you and Katrina talking about?” Sally asked, glancing at Theresa as the car pulled away from the curb.

Theresa smirked slightly, switching to Spanish to keep things light and private. “Me estaba preguntando si realmente soy tu guardaespaldas,” she said with a playful tone.

Sally burst out laughing, shaking her head. “Katrina está loca,” she replied, still giggling.

Theresa chuckled as well, the tension easing as they settled into a comfortable silence. After a moment, Theresa shifted gears—literally and figuratively. “So, are we back to our jogging tomorrow? We haven’t been out since your trip.”

Sally nodded. “Yeah, sounds good. Is 5 a.m. okay for you?”

“Perfect,” Theresa replied with a grin.

--

Later that evening, Sally was back home, the day’s excitement behind her as she settled into her usual routine. After a quick shower, she had changed into her favorite lounge clothes—an oversized t-shirt and soft shorts. She had diapered herself without any prompting, the crinkle of the thick padding faint as she moved around the house.

Now, she sat on the couch in the living room, her textbooks spread out in front of her as she worked on her homework. For a change, she wasn’t tucked away in her bedroom. Instead, she had decided to sit near her mom, Bridget, who was at her desk finishing up some last-minute work for the charity she worked with. The two of them worked in comfortable silence, the quiet hum of Bridget’s typing the only sound in the room.

At one point, Bridget glanced over at Sally, her eyes softening as she noticed the slight outline of a diaper peeking out from the back of Sally’s waistband. Sally had slipped into it so naturally, without a word or any sign of self-consciousness, and it warmed Bridget’s heart.

Her daughter was growing up, maturing into a thoughtful, responsible young woman. Yet, in moments like this, Bridget couldn’t help but see the adorable, innocent side of her that still found comfort in small, familiar things. It was a reminder that, no matter how much Sally changed, there would always be parts of her that stayed sweetly the same.

Bridget smiled softly to herself and returned to her work, the warmth of that realization lingering in her chest.

Sally, unaware of her mother’s tender thoughts, continued with her homework, slowly wetting her diaper, feeling the quiet comfort of home settle around her. It was one of those moments where everything felt balanced—homework, family, and the small, comforting rituals that made life feel steady.

--

The dim glow of the early morning light barely filtered through Sally’s window as her alarm buzzed insistently at 4:30 a.m. Groggy and half-asleep, she reached over to silence it, rubbing her eyes before sitting up in bed. The house was still, the world outside not yet awake, and for a moment, Sally considered going back to sleep. But she had made a promise—to herself and to Theresa. It was time to get back into their jogging routine.

With a sigh, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching slightly before reaching down to peel off the diaper she had worn to bed. To her surprise, it was dry. "Huh," she murmured, pleased but not giving it too much thought. She headed to the bathroom, where she relieved herself like a "big girl," as she liked to joke with herself. After a quick wash, she pulled on her running gear—a pair of black leggings, a sports bra, and a light windbreaker—and tied her hair back into a ponytail.

By the time she was ready, the clock showed 4:55 a.m. She stepped outside into the cool, predawn air just as Theresa’s silver SUV pulled up quietly in front of her house. Theresa waved from behind the wheel, a bright smile on her face, as if 5 a.m. was the most natural time in the world to be up and active.

“¡Buenos días, dormilona!” Theresa called out cheerfully as Sally approached, teasing her with good morning, sleepyhead.

Sally groaned, rubbing her eyes again. “How are you this awake already?” she mumbled, still adjusting to the early hour.

Theresa laughed, stepping out of the car and stretching her arms above her head. “You’ll wake up once we get moving. Come on, let’s warm up.”

They both started their stretching routine on the sidewalk, going through a series of gentle movements to loosen their muscles. Theresa was a natural athlete, her body moving fluidly as she stretched out her legs and arms. Sally, on the other hand, was feeling every inch of the week she had skipped from jogging. Her muscles were stiff, and the cool morning air didn’t help much.

“Stretch out your hamstrings more,” Theresa said, motioning toward Sally’s legs. “You don’t want to cramp up halfway through.”

Sally tried, bending down to touch her toes, but the pull in her calves made her wince. “Ugh, I can already tell this is going to hurt,” she muttered.

Theresa grinned, not unkindly. “You’ll survive. Just need to get your body moving again. It’s been a while, huh?”

“Yeah, a week since the last time,” Sally admitted, feeling a pang of guilt. She had gotten used to their three-times-a-week routine, but after her trip to Switzerland, things had fallen by the wayside.

“Don’t worry,” Theresa said, her tone encouraging as always. “We’ll take it easy. Just three miles today.”

Sally gave her a look. “Three miles is ‘easy’?”

“For me,” Theresa quipped with a wink.

--

Once they finished warming up, the two of them set off down the quiet, dark streets of the neighborhood. The world was still cloaked in shadow, with only the occasional streetlamp casting pools of light along their route. The neighborhood was peaceful at this hour—no cars, no people, just the faint sound of their shoes hitting the pavement.

Sally’s legs felt heavy almost immediately, the week of inactivity catching up with her. Her breathing was steady at first, but as they rounded the first corner and started up a slight incline, her chest tightened, and she could feel the burn setting in.

“Keep your pace steady,” Theresa called out, jogging beside her effortlessly. “Don’t try to push too hard, just find a rhythm.”

Sally nodded, but it wasn’t long before her breath started to come in shorter bursts. She could feel the strain in her calves and thighs, her muscles protesting with every step. Theresa jogged ahead slightly, turning back to encourage her.

“Come on, you’ve got this. Just focus on your breathing—long inhales, slow exhales.”

Sally tried, but it wasn’t easy. After the first mile, she could feel the sweat beading on her forehead, her heart thudding in her chest. The cold air made each breath feel sharp in her lungs. The quiet of the neighborhood wasn’t as comforting as she’d hoped—it was just her, Theresa, and the sound of her labored breathing.

“I’m dying,” Sally huffed, slowing her pace as they approached the halfway point. “How do you do this every week?”

Theresa glanced over at her, her smile never faltering. “You’re not dying. You’re just out of practice. Keep going. We’re halfway there.”

Sally groaned but kept moving, her feet dragging a bit more now. Each step felt like a battle against her body’s desire to stop, to give in to the tiredness creeping into her muscles.

They turned another corner, and Theresa, still jogging smoothly, slowed her pace to match Sally’s. “You’re doing great. Once we hit the downhill, you’ll feel better. Just hang in there.”

Sally forced a smile, but her legs were on fire. Her mind was focused solely on putting one foot in front of the other, each stride feeling heavier than the last. The week off had taken more of a toll than she’d realized, and she silently cursed herself for slacking.

By the time they reached the second mile, the ache in her legs had turned into a dull throb, but Theresa was right—once they hit the slight downhill stretch, her pace evened out, and the weight on her legs felt a little lighter.

“We’re almost done,” Theresa said, her tone encouraging as always. “One more mile. You’ve got this.”

Sally nodded, though the exhaustion was starting to seep into her bones. Her breathing was shallow, and she felt like every ounce of energy she had left was going into keeping her legs moving.

Theresa jogged alongside her, coaxing her along with gentle reminders. “Focus on your breathing… keep your posture straight… don’t stop now, you’re so close.”

The last half-mile was a blur of pain and determination. Sally’s legs were screaming, her breath ragged, but she could see the end in sight—the familiar streetlamp near her house, the one that marked the finish line of their usual run.

As they neared the end, Theresa glanced over at Sally, smiling. “See? You didn’t die.”

Sally let out a breathless laugh, more of a wheeze than anything else. “I feel like I did.”

“You’ll feel better in an hour,” Theresa said, slowing to a walk as they finished the run. “Proud of you, though. You stuck with it.”

Sally could only nod, her body too tired to respond with anything more. She bent over, hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. “I can’t believe I made it.”

“You always do,” Theresa said, patting her on the back. “And you’ll be even stronger next time.”

--

After her early morning jog with Theresa, Sally felt like her entire body was aching from head to toe. Every muscle screamed in protest, reminding her of the week she’d skipped her usual runs. By the time she had stepped back inside, all she could think about was the comfort of a hot shower. She made her way upstairs, stripping off her sweaty running clothes as she went, leaving a trail of discarded fabric from the hallway to the bathroom. She would have to pick them up later, or suffer Dolores’ displeasure.

She turned on the shower, letting the steam fill the small room, and sighed deeply as the hot water began to pour from the showerhead. The tension in her legs and back slowly began to melt as the water streamed over her skin. She stepped inside, and immediately, the heat wrapped around her tired muscles, soothing the ache. Sally closed her eyes, tilting her head back, allowing the water to cascade through her hair, washing away the sweat and grime from her run.

She reached for her favorite shampoo, the familiar lavender scent calming her mind as she massaged it into her scalp. The thick lather formed quickly, and she worked it through every inch of her hair, scrubbing away the dirt that clung to her strands. As she rinsed the shampoo out, the warm water continued to work its magic, and she could feel her tension ebb away with every drop.

Next came the body wash, the rich, foamy soap gliding over her skin as she carefully cleaned herself from head to toe. The warmth of the water, combined with the fragrant soap, made her feel as though she was shedding the exhaustion from the morning and, in some way, from the entire past week. It was a small transformation, but an important one. She was slowly beginning to feel like a new person, her body recovering with every passing minute.

When she finished washing, Sally stood under the hot stream for just a little longer, savoring the last bit of relaxation. Her skin tingled from the heat, her hair clean and soft against her shoulders. Finally, she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel from the rack.

She dried herself off slowly, enjoying the softness of the towel against her skin. Once she was dry, Sally walked naked into her bedroom, the cool air of her room brushing against her still-warm skin. It felt refreshing, a stark contrast to the steamy heat of the shower.

As she stood in front of her dresser, her eyes wandered over to the small, unopened package sitting on the floor by her bed. It was a pack of Goodnites—purple and pink, tucked away and forgotten for the past few weeks. She hadn’t worn them in a while, but after seeing Charlie in his Goodnites, something stirred inside her.

Her thoughts drifted to Charlie. The memory of him, sitting there in his Goodnite, a mixture of embarrassment and acceptance on his face, made her smile softly. He was only two years younger than her, and despite the awkwardness of the moment, there was something endearing about how he handled it. Charlie seemed like a great kid—smart, thoughtful, and even comfortable in his own skin, Goodnites and all. There was a quiet confidence in him, and as Sally reflected, she couldn’t help but admit that he looked... cute in them. Just cute, even in jeans and t-shirt. A small smile crept onto her face as a spark of feeling lit in her eyes.

Sally walked over to the package, kneeling down to tear open the plastic. She pulled one out, the soft material familiar against her fingertips. It was like she missed them, and without giving it a second thought, she slid the Goodnite up her legs, pulling it snugly into place around her hips. The moment it settled, a wave of comfort washed over her. The soft, secure feeling of the Goodnite hugged her waist, and she reveled in the sensation.

It was more than just the physical comfort. Wearing them made her feel secure in a way she couldn’t quite explain—almost like a comforting hug that reminded her of a simpler time. Sally smiled to herself as she stood up and admired how it fit perfectly under her skin.

Next, she reached for her bra and slipped it on, adjusting the straps before grabbing her school uniform—a pressed white blouse and a pleated gray skirt. She pulled her tights on over the Goodnite, the thin fabric sliding smoothly over her legs, then tucked in her blouse. It was almost amusing, the contrast between her outer appearance and the secret layer of protection beneath it. Once her skirt was in place, she stepped into her polished Mary-Jane shoes, feeling the final touch of her transformation complete.

With her uniform in place and her hair dried and brushed out, Sally headed downstairs, the faint crinkle of her Goodnite audible only to her ears.

Chapter 52 - Padding and Pictures

As Sally entered the kitchen, the smell of fresh toast and coffee greeted her. Bridget was already sitting at the table, her laptop open and a cup of tea by her side. Theresa stood by the counter, flipping through a magazine while a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon sat waiting.

“Morning, early bird,” Bridget greeted with a warm smile as she glanced up from her work. Sally’s outfit was neat and put-together, her pleated skirt and navy sweater making her look every bit the responsible student. Bridget’s smile held a hint of amusement, though, knowing Sally’s quirks and little routines even without seeing them.

“Morning,” Sally mumbled, still waking up fully. She slid into the chair across from her mom, reaching for a slice of toast.

“Ready for school?” Theresa asked, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, I guess,” Sally said, her voice still a bit sleepy but content. She bit into her toast and glanced out the window, watching the early morning light filter through the trees.

Theresa smirked. “That run was a tough one this morning, huh?”

Sally groaned dramatically. “You have no idea. I’m going to be sore all day.”

Bridget chuckled softly, shaking her head. “That’s what you get for skipping your routine for a whole week.”

“Tell me about it,” Sally muttered, finishing off her toast and reaching for some eggs.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the clinking of cutlery and soft conversation filling the kitchen with a peaceful, familiar rhythm. As Sally finished her breakfast and wiped her hands on a napkin, she stood up, gathering her school bag.

“Alright, I’m off,” she said, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

Bridget looked up from her laptop, her smile warm. “Have a good day, sweetheart.”

Theresa grabbed her keys, ready to take Sally to school. “Come on, we’ll be late if we don’t get moving.”

As Sally waved and headed toward the door, Bridget’s eyes lingered on her daughter with quiet understanding. There was nothing overt, but Bridget had grown attuned to the little signs over the years—the way Sally sat down a touch more carefully, how she adjusted her posture as if to keep something discreet, or the slightly more deliberate way she stood up. It wasn’t visible, but Bridget could tell Sally was wearing a Goodnite under her uniform, the faint crinkle only known to her. It warmed Bridget’s heart to see her daughter growing into such a responsible, mature young woman, yet still holding on to the small comforts that made her feel safe. Sally was navigating that delicate space between childhood and adulthood, and Bridget couldn’t have been prouder of the balance she was finding.

Sally, oblivious to her mother’s thoughts, climbed into the car with Theresa, ready to tackle the school day ahead.

—

Theresa sat in her quiet home office, her laptop open in front of her. The sun was still rising, casting a soft glow through the blinds as she prepared for her online meeting with Adrian Weiss, Sally’s father. She adjusted her headset, pulled up the necessary reports, and took a deep breath. These business meetings were always thorough and precise—Adrian was not a man to waste time.

A few moments later, the familiar ring of the video call echoed through her speakers. Theresa clicked to accept the call, and the screen filled with the image of Adrian, sitting in his impeccably neat office in Zurich. His silver hair was slicked back, his posture commanding yet relaxed. He greeted her with a polite nod.

"Good morning, Theresa," Adrian said, his Swiss-German accent strong but clear. "I hope all is well with you."

"Good morning, Mr. Weiss," Theresa replied, smiling. "Everything’s fine here. I have the reports ready for you."

"Sehr gut," Adrian responded, leaning forward slightly. "Let us begin."

Theresa launched into the reports, updating him on the status of his various business interests in the U.S. She detailed everything—real estate investments, partnerships, and charitable involvements that Adrian supported across the country. As she spoke, Adrian listened intently, occasionally asking a question but otherwise remaining focused. It was the usual routine, business as usual.

When she finished, Theresa shifted her attention slightly, knowing there was a personal update required as well.

"On the personal front," she began, "Sally has been doing well. She’s adjusting back to school after her weekend in Zurich, and her relationship with Bridget remains strong. Both are happy, and Sally seems to be growing more mature by the day."

Adrian’s expression softened slightly at the mention of his daughter, a glimmer of pride in his eyes. "Das ist gut zu hören," he murmured. "Sally’s well-being is always my highest priority."

Theresa nodded, waiting for him to continue. She could sense that there was something else he wanted to discuss.

Adrian paused for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. "There is a special request I would like to make regarding Sally," he said slowly, as if weighing his words. "As you know, I don’t have many recent photographs of her. In fact, I have very few pictures of her at all. This is something I would like to rectify."

Theresa listened attentively, curious about where this was going.

"I have already arranged for a photographer," Adrian continued. "He is based in Los Angeles and has extensive experience working in a similar line of work, photographing individuals involved in charitable trusts and high-profile events. He is willing to travel to Hartford for a session."

Theresa raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A photography session? What would you like me to do?"

Adrian’s tone grew warmer, though still businesslike. "I want Sally to pose for a proper portrait session. I would like photographs of her in both informal and formal wear. The informal shots will be for personal use—for my own memories. The formal wear will be used in certain social presentations, particularly for the charity fundraisers I am involved in. I want Sally to be a part of these presentations, to be seen as part of our family’s involvement."

Theresa considered this, nodding slowly. "I see. So, this would be a mix of private and public-facing photography."

"Exactly," Adrian confirmed. "And I trust you will make all the arrangements on your end. Please make sure Sally and Bridget are informed and comfortable with this. I want Sally to feel at ease during the session, not as though it’s a formal obligation."

Theresa’s mind was already running through the logistics, thinking of how to approach both Sally and Bridget about this. "I’ll make sure they’re briefed and prepared," she said. "Do you have a particular timeline in mind?"

Adrian nodded. "Sooner rather than later, but I do not want to rush the process. I want this done properly, with care. The photographer has a flexible schedule and is willing to travel whenever it’s most convenient for Sally."

Theresa made a quick note of that, already planning how to incorporate this into Sally’s routine without disrupting her school life too much. She knew Bridget would need to be consulted as well, given how much Adrian’s requests affected their day-to-day lives.

"I’ll give them all the support they need," Theresa said, her tone professional but reassuring. "And I’ll ensure that Sally is comfortable with the idea."

Adrian’s expression softened even further, showing a rare moment of vulnerability. "Thank you, Theresa. Sally is growing up so quickly… I want to have something to remember this time, especially as she becomes more involved in my life. These photos are important to me."

Theresa smiled gently. "I understand. I’ll take care of everything."

With that, the formal tone of the meeting began to wind down. Adrian thanked her for the detailed reports, and they exchanged a few more pleasantries before the call came to an end. Theresa closed her laptop, sitting back in her chair as she let the weight of the meeting sink in.

—

As Theresa sat quietly, reflecting on the conversation, she couldn’t help but think about the significance of Adrian’s request. A formal portrait session was a big deal—it wasn’t just about taking some photos; it was about positioning Sally within Adrian’s world, which was steeped in wealth, prestige, and social responsibility.

But beyond that, Theresa had an inkling that this could be an opportunity. She thought back to Katrina’s excitement about planning Sally’s Quinceañera and how difficult it would be to pull off such a surprise. This photography session… it could be the perfect cover. If Bridget and Sally were already expecting a formal event with photographers, it might make the logistics of a Quinceañera easier to manage without Sally getting suspicious.

Theresa smiled to herself, feeling the pieces fall into place. The photo session would give Katrina more time to work out the details of the party, and it would give Theresa a way to align Adrian’s desires with what was being planned for Sally’s birthday.

The task was clear. She needed to handle this delicately, but with precision. Now, all that was left was to brief Bridget and Sally and make sure everything was lined up for what could be a very important—and possibly very surprising—moment in Sally’s life.

—

The sound of students shuffling papers and adjusting in their seats filled the room as Mr. Lockhart, the history teacher, stood at the front of the classroom. The chalkboard behind him had “The Industrial Revolution” scrawled in large, bold letters, signaling the topic for the day’s discussion. Sally sat near the middle of the room, her legs crossed under her desk, feeling the slight crinkle of her Goodnite as she shifted in her seat. She had been trying to focus, but there was a growing discomfort gnawing at the back of her mind—she needed to pee.

Still, she pressed on, her mind half on the topic, half on her body’s signals. To her left, Clara and Katrina sat with their heads together, whispering quietly. Katrina shot her an amused glance, clearly planning something mischievous for later, while Clara simply smiled, ever the calm counter to Katrina’s wild energy.

Mr. Lockhart tapped his pointer on his desk, signaling for attention. “Alright, class, today we’re discussing one of the most pivotal moments in modern history: the Industrial Revolution. Can anyone tell me how this period transformed societies across Europe and America?”

A hand shot up immediately—Amanda, always eager to be at the forefront of any discussion. She was one of those students who lived for debates and public arguments, and Sally braced herself for the energy Amanda was about to bring.

“The Industrial Revolution,” Amanda began confidently, “was a time of incredible innovation, but it also led to the exploitation of workers. Factories became these massive powerhouses, but at the cost of human dignity. We can’t ignore the fact that child labor was rampant and working conditions were terrible.”

Mr. Lockhart nodded, looking impressed. “Good point, Amanda. But does anyone disagree with her take? What about the advancements in technology and society? Surely not everything was negative.”

Terrence, sitting in the back, raised his hand, his face set in a smirk. He was always ready to argue, especially with Amanda. “I think that’s oversimplifying it. Sure, the working conditions were rough, but the Industrial Revolution gave rise to the middle class and led to innovations that are still shaping our world today. I mean, think about it—transportation, communication, manufacturing—it all started there.”

Sally shifted in her seat again, feeling the pressure building in her bladder. She bit her lip, trying to focus, but her body was making it difficult. Just then, Katrina nudged her gently from the side, giving her a knowing look as if she could sense Sally’s internal dilemma.

“Estás bien, princesa?” Katrina whispered in Spanish, grinning.

Sally rolled her eyes, amused despite herself, but didn’t respond immediately. She needed to contribute, and she knew she had something important to say, but her mind was split between the growing discomfort and the debate unfolding in front of her.

Amanda turned to Terrence, her expression fierce. “But you can’t just brush off the exploitation, Terrence. The rise of the middle class didn’t happen overnight, and it wasn’t some magical solution that came out of the Industrial Revolution. People suffered, and those advancements came at a cost.”

Mr. Lockhart stepped in. “Both of you make valid points, but there’s more nuance here. Sally,” he said, turning toward her. “What do you think? You’ve been quiet today, but I know you’ve got something to add.”

Sally blinked, feeling the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her. She needed to say something smart, something that would cut through the argument and add value, but her body wasn’t cooperating. Still, she wasn’t going to let a little discomfort keep her from participating. She cleared her throat, sitting up straighter, her Goodnite still dry for the moment.

“Well,” she began, her voice steady, “Amanda and Terrence are both right to an extent. The Industrial Revolution was transformative, but it’s important to remember that transformation is often a double-edged sword. Yes, it led to innovations that shaped the modern world, but those advancements didn’t come without significant social costs.”

Mr. Lockhart nodded, encouraging her to continue. Sally took a breath, mentally juggling the debate and the pressure in her bladder.

“For example,” she continued, “the mechanization of labor allowed for mass production, which lowered the cost of goods and improved access to resources for the broader population. But at the same time, it also dehumanized the labor force, reducing workers to replaceable parts in a machine. And the conditions in factories, especially for women and children, were appalling.”

As she spoke, Sally felt a growing pressure in her lower abdomen. Her focus momentarily faltered, her voice slowing slightly. She shifted in her seat, squeezing her legs together tightly. The class didn’t notice, but Katrina caught it, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

“¡Princesa aguanta!” Katrina whispered, laughing softly under her breath.

Sally shot her a look but kept going. “And while we talk about child labor and the conditions in factories, we also have to recognize the role that government regulation played—or rather, didn’t play—until much later. The revolution exposed the need for labor rights and laws, and those developments wouldn’t have happened without the initial chaos.”

At that moment, Sally felt herself lose the battle. She went quiet, her eyes dropping slightly as she felt the warm trickle start to fill her Goodnite. It was slow at first, a quiet warmth spreading between her legs, and she tried to remain calm, to stay composed. The conversation around her continued, and she went momentarily silent, her focus completely elsewhere.

Clara, who had been sitting next to Katrina, noticed the shift in Sally’s expression and nudged Katrina. “What’s with her?” she whispered, concerned but also amused.

Katrina grinned knowingly. “She’s just… handling something.”

Sally blinked, steadying her breathing as the flow slowly stopped. She felt the dampness against her skin, but the Goodnite had done its job. No one noticed. She took a deep breath, bringing herself back to the present, determined to finish what she had started.

“And,” she said, rejoining the conversation with renewed vigor, “we can’t ignore the fact that the Industrial Revolution was the catalyst for major social changes, including the push for public education, labor unions, and ultimately, the expansion of democratic ideals. It wasn’t just about machines—it was about people figuring out how to live in a world that was changing faster than they could keep up with.”

Mr. Lockhart raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Excellent point, Sally. That’s the kind of analysis we’re looking for—seeing both the benefits and the costs.”

Amanda and Terrence both looked at Sally, slightly taken aback by her thorough answer, while Clara and Katrina exchanged a glance, amused but also proud of their friend. Katrina leaned over, whispering softly, “Lo hiciste, princesa.”

Sally smiled to herself, feeling a quiet sense of accomplishment despite the earlier distraction. She had weathered the debate, handled her personal situation discreetly, and come out on top.

—

As the debate came to an end, Mr. Lockhart moved on to the next topic, but Katrina couldn’t keep her eyes off Sally. There was a certain look on her face, something Katrina had grown to recognize over the years of their friendship. Sally’s slightly flushed cheeks, the brief pause in her speaking, and the way she had shifted in her seat during the conversation all pointed to one conclusion.

Katrina leaned in toward Sally, her voice a teasing whisper. “Te mojaste el pañal, ¿verdad?”

Sally’s face instantly turned a deep shade of red, her eyes widening. She glanced sideways at Katrina, embarrassed but not surprised by her friend’s intuition. After a second of hesitation, she gave a small nod.

“Lo sabía!” Katrina grinned, looking satisfied as she shot a quick wink over at Clara, who was now watching the interaction with growing amusement.

Sally rolled her eyes, trying to shake off the embarrassment. “I’m fine,” she whispered, but her blush gave her away.

Katrina smirked. “Just saying. You might want to handle that before the next class.”

—

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and students began filing out of the room. Sally grabbed her bag and fished out a fresh Goodnite from one of the hidden pockets, glancing quickly over her shoulder to make sure no one else saw. She flashed the discreet purple-and-pink garment at Katrina with a raised eyebrow before tucking it under her sweater.

Katrina chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re too much, Sally,” she said, still amused. “See you after.”

With the Goodnite tucked securely under her sweater, Sally made her way to the nearest bathroom, walking quickly but trying not to draw attention to herself. Once she reached the bathroom, she stepped inside, checking to make sure it was empty. The stalls were quiet, and the room had a calm stillness to it.

She chose the largest stall in the corner and locked the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, Sally set her bag on the small hook attached to the door and carefully placed the fresh Goodnite on the metal toilet paper holder. It was time to get this over with, and she had a routine for it by now.

—

Sally sat down on the toilet lid for a moment, unlacing her Mary Jane shoes and slipping them off carefully. The shoes clattered softly onto the floor, leaving her in her tights and uniform skirt. She stood back up, tugging the waistband of her tights down over her hips, inching them carefully over her thighs until they pooled at her ankles. The cool air of the bathroom felt odd against her skin, and she shivered slightly as she stepped out of her tights, hanging them neatly on the stall door’s hook to keep them off the floor.

Next, she reached down and pulled off her damp Goodnite. The sensation of the wet material peeling away from her skin made her wince slightly—it wasn’t soaking, but it was definitely wet. She balled it up quickly, trying not to focus too much on the uncomfortable feeling, and tossed it into the small trash bin in the corner of the stall.

Sally reached for the pack of wet wipes she kept in her bag, pulling one out and carefully cleaning herself. The coolness of the wipe felt refreshing as she wiped along her inner thighs and around her hips, taking her time to make sure she was fresh and comfortable before moving on.

Once she was clean, Sally grabbed the new Goodnite from where she had set it aside. The soft material was a welcome relief as she slid it up her legs, pulling it snugly into place around her hips. She gave it a gentle tug to make sure it was sitting properly, the waistband settling just under her skirt. Immediately, the familiar sense of security washed over her—the warmth and softness of the Goodnite providing the comfort she craved.

Satisfied, Sally turned her attention back to her tights. She stepped into them carefully, pulling them back up her legs inch by inch, making sure the waistband of her Goodnite stayed hidden underneath. Once her tights were securely in place, she sat down again to slip her feet back into her Mary Jane shoes, tying them up neatly and giving them a quick adjustment.

After a quick check to make sure everything was in order, Sally stood up, smoothing out her skirt and checking her reflection in the small hand mirror she always carried in her bag. The Goodnite was completely hidden, and she looked as put together as ever.

With a relieved sigh, Sally packed up her things, grabbed her bag, and unlocked the stall door. She felt lighter, more comfortable, and ready to face the rest of the school day. As she left the bathroom, she couldn’t help but think about Katrina’s teasing grin earlier. She was definitely going to have to find a way to get back at her for that.

For now, though, Sally walked back into the hallway, feeling more like herself and ready to tackle whatever came next.

—

Sally slid into her seat just as the next class was about to begin, feeling a lot more comfortable after her quick trip to the bathroom. The fresh Goodnite hugged her waist securely, hidden beneath her tights and skirt, and she breathed a small sigh of relief as she settled in.

Katrina, sitting to her right, leaned in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Cambiaste el pañal, mi bebecita?” she teased in a soft voice, her grin wide and playful.

Sally’s face immediately flushed a deep red, her embarrassment clear despite Katrina’s joking tone. She bit her lip, nodding slightly, knowing it was all in good fun but still feeling a twinge of self-consciousness.

Clara, sitting on the other side, smiled warmly at Sally, her expression gentle and reassuring. “Good girl, Sally,” Clara whispered, always the calm balance to Katrina’s playful jabs. Sally beamed, knowing Clara was looking out for her too, just in a quieter, more supportive way.

Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling at the two of them. "Yeah, I'm good," she mumbled, her face still pink but her spirits lifted by their friendship. Katrina may have been the joker, but she and Clara always had Sally's back, teasing or not.

As the teacher started class, Sally settled in, her earlier worries melting away. She felt lighter and more secure, knowing her friends were there for her—jokes and all.

--

Sally stepped through the front door, her shoulders drooping slightly from the long day, just as her Goodnite. The familiar sensation of her wet Goodnite was a constant reminder of the small discomforts she had pushed aside throughout the school day. Now, at home, she craved the privacy and comfort she could only find in her own space.

Bridget was in the kitchen, stirring something that filled the house with warmth and a rich, savory aroma. She glanced up as Sally walked in, her eyes immediately recognizing the signs—Sally's careful way of moving, her tentative steps as she leaned against the doorway. Bridget could sense it. She knew Sally had worn a Goodnite to school, and she suspected her daughter hadn’t had the chance to change out of it yet.

"Hey, sweetheart," Bridget greeted, her tone light and full of warmth. "How was school?"

Sally shrugged, offering a tired smile. "It was fine. Long, but fine."

Bridget nodded, smiling knowingly. "Glad you're home. Dinner's almost ready, but why don't you head to your studio for a bit? You haven't worked lately on your art. It’ll be good for you to unwind.”

Sally’s eyes flickered with a bit of brightness at the suggestion. Her studio—her sanctuary—where she could focus on Masterpiece 2 without distractions. But she felt the lingering discomfort of her wet Goodnite, and she knew she needed to change before she could focus on anything else. Besides, the Studio came with its own set of rules.

“Yeah, maybe,” Sally said softly, already planning to retreat to her bedroom first.

“Take your time,” Bridget said with a nod. “I'll call you when dinner’s ready.”

Sally smiled in response and made her way upstairs to her bedroom. Once inside, she exhaled deeply, feeling the quiet relief of being in her own space. She tossed her sweater onto her bed and pulled out a clean set of clothes from her dresser. She was just about to start changing when there was a gentle knock on the door.

“Come in,” Sally called, already knowing who it was.

Bridget stepped inside, holding a fresh diaper and a booster pad in her hands. Her expression was gentle, full of quiet understanding. "I thought you might need some help," she said softly, offering the items with a kind smile.

Sally's cheeks warmed slightly, but there was no embarrassment—just a sense of comfort. Her mom had always been there, providing quiet support without making a big deal out of it. Bridget’s offer was filled with care, but Sally, standing on the threshold between childhood and growing independence, felt a need to handle it herself this time.

“Thanks, Mom, but I’ve got it,” Sally said gently, her voice soft but firm.

Bridget paused for a moment, looking at her daughter with a warmth that filled her heart. There it was—Sally was growing up. Slowly, surely, she was finding her own way, learning to take care of herself. It was a bittersweet moment for Bridget, but mostly sweet. She smiled, her heart swelling with pride.

“Alright,” Bridget said, her tone full of quiet understanding. “I’ll leave you to it. When you’re done, go spend some time in your studio. I’ll take care of dinner.”

Sally nodded, feeling the weight of her mom’s support as Bridget turned to leave the room. Once the door closed behind her, Sally stood in the quiet for a moment, absorbing the love and care in that simple exchange. Then, she set to work.

She peeled off her damp Goodnite, tossing it into the trash bin beside her dresser. With a soft sigh of relief, she grabbed the pack of wipes from her nightstand, carefully cleaning herself before reaching for the fresh diaper and booster her mother had left behind. She spread the diaper out on her bed, positioned it, and lay down to fasten the tabs securely, adding the booster for extra comfort.

Once the diaper was snugly in place, she slipped her t-shirt on. It was shorter than what she would normally wear, but it didn’t bother her. She felt comfortable, free. And besides, the short t-shirt would keep her body close to her art while avoiding any messy spills or stains. She smoothed the fabric over her stomach, adjusting it as best she could before making her way toward the studio.

As she entered the cozy space, she felt a wave of calm wash over her. The easel stood waiting for her, and her paints and brushes were scattered across the workbench. It was here, in her studio, that she could forget everything else and simply create.

With a small smile, Sally settled in front of her canvas, her earlier discomfort forgotten. Now, she could focus on her art—her safe haven—while Bridget took care of everything else. The world felt right again, full of quiet comforts and small, reassuring routines.

As Sally worked on her painting, fully immersed in the colors and brushstrokes, she felt herself slipping into a deep state of relaxation. The quiet hum of her studio, the scent of the paints, and the rhythmic movement of her brush against the canvas pulled her into a world of her own. In this trance-like focus, her mind completely absorbed by her art, Sally barely noticed the gentle warmth spreading as she absentmindedly peed in her diaper a couple of times. The wet padding was a quiet comfort, a sensation she had grown used to, and it allowed her to stay present with her work, uninterrupted and at peace.

Chapter 53 – One Step Further

Sally’s eyes blinked open slowly, her mind gradually catching up to the softness and comfort surrounding her. She shifted under the covers and immediately felt the familiar sensation of her soaked diaper pressing against her skin, warm and snug. She sighed to herself, feeling at ease as she moved her legs closer together, squeezing them gently to get that comforting, secure feeling.

The wetness didn’t bother her—it never really did. In fact, there was something soothing about the way the thick padding hugged her, offering a sense of security that had become a part of her morning routine. As she lay there, she ran her hand over the front of the diaper, feeling the smooth texture, pressing it slightly to acknowledge the fullness of it. She had woken up like this countless times before, but today, her thoughts wandered to the sleepover Patricia had invited her to.

The thought of the sleepover made her pause, her hand resting on her diaper as she considered the reality of it. Some of the girls Patricia had invited already knew about her wearing diapers—Katrina, Clara, and Patricia herself—but there were others who didn’t. New girls. Girls who had never seen her in this vulnerable state. The idea of wearing a diaper in front of them, of having it be visible or even just known, sent a flicker of anxiety through her.

Sally pressed her legs together again, feeling the weight of her decision in the soft padding. She liked wearing her diapers, she always had. They brought her comfort, a kind of quiet reassurance that helped her navigate the more stressful parts of her life. But exposing this part of herself to others… that was always the tricky part.

She knew that Katrina and Clara would support her—they always had. Katrina would probably make a light joke about it, as she always did, but it was never in a mean way. Clara would offer her quiet, steady reassurance, just like she always had. And Patricia? Patricia had already shown nothing but kindness about it. But the new girls, the ones from different years who didn’t know her well—what would they think?

Sally exhaled slowly, her fingers gently tracing the outline of her diaper as she thought. She hated the feeling of exposing herself to new people, the stress of it gnawing at her whenever she was faced with the situation. Would they stare? Would they think it was strange? Even though her friends had long accepted it, the fear of judgment never really went away.

Did she want to go through this again?

She squeezed her legs shut once more, feeling the familiar warmth of her diaper, and closed her eyes. The truth was, she did want to go to the sleepover. She wanted to have fun with her friends, to feel normal, and to be included. But she also knew that she couldn’t face this situation alone. She’d need help—support, a plan to make this part of her life less of a shock to the girls who didn’t know.

A strategy.

Patricia was the type who could navigate delicate situations with grace—Sally trusted her to help smooth over any awkwardness.

And maybe, if they approached it the right way, it wouldn’t be such a big deal after all.

Sally gave her diaper one last gentle press, feeling the comfort and security it always gave her. She smiled softly to herself, the decision now clear in her mind. Yes, she would go to the sleepover. She would face this challenge, just like she had before. But she wouldn’t do it alone—she would ask Patricia for help, create a strategy, and trust that her friends would support her like they always had.

She sat up in bed, feeling the soaked diaper shift with her movement, and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. Today, she would talk to Patricia and start figuring out how to make this work. Because in the end, she didn’t want her diapers to stop her from enjoying the night with her friends.

And with a plan, she knew she could handle whatever came her way.

--

As Sally finished her breakfast and stood up from the table, she flashed a small smile at both Bridget and Theresa before turning to head upstairs and change. As she walked toward the staircase, Theresa found herself watching Sally more closely than usual. She noticed the way Sally moved—confident in her own space yet carrying a certain vulnerability. And then, just as Sally reached the middle of the stairs, she paused, her hand moving to the waistband of her slightly sagging diaper, pulling it up absentmindedly. The gesture was so innocent, so purely Sally, that it made Theresa smile.

There was something undeniably endearing about the whole scene. Cute, vulnerable, yet remarkably confident—Sally wasn’t trying to hide anything, even if she hadn’t realized Theresa was there earlier. Theresa felt a warmth bloom in her chest, an understanding of Sally’s spirit deepening in that small moment. She admired Sally’s ability to navigate her world so gracefully, even when it threw awkward situations her way.

As Sally disappeared upstairs, Bridget smiled knowingly at Theresa. “She’s growing up,” Bridget said softly. “But she still needs those little comforts.”

Theresa nodded. “She’s an incredible girl. I can see that she’s strong, even when she doesn’t realize it.”

--

As Sally finished her breakfast and stood up from the table, she flashed a small smile at both Bridget and Theresa before turning to head upstairs and change. As she walked toward the staircase, Theresa found herself watching Sally more closely than usual. She noticed the way Sally moved—confident in her own space yet carrying a certain vulnerability. And then, just as Sally reached the middle of the stairs, she paused, her hand moving to the waistband of her slightly sagging diaper, pulling it up absentmindedly. The gesture was so innocent, so purely Sally, that it made Theresa smile.

There was something undeniably endearing about the whole scene. Cute, vulnerable, yet remarkably confident—Sally wasn’t trying to hide anything, even if she hadn’t realized Theresa was there earlier. Theresa felt a warmth bloom in her chest, an understanding of Sally’s spirit deepening in that small moment. She admired Sally’s ability to navigate her world so gracefully, even when it threw awkward situations her way.

As Sally disappeared upstairs, Bridget smiled knowingly at Theresa. “She’s growing up,” Bridget said softly. “But she still needs those little comforts.”

Theresa nodded. “She’s an incredible girl. I can see that she’s strong, even when she doesn’t realize it.”

--

Later, as Theresa drove Sally to school, the morning’s earlier awkwardness seemed to hang in the air, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Sally sat in the front seat, staring out of the window before finally speaking up.

“Theresa,” she said, her voice soft but clear, “I’m really sorry about earlier. I didn’t know you were there, and I—well, it was kind of embarrassing.”

Theresa chuckled, glancing at her. “Sally, it’s really not a problem. Besides,” she added with a grin, “you look cute in diapers.”

Sally blushed deeply, the words hitting her unexpectedly. “Everyone says that,” she mumbled, more to herself than anything.

Theresa raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Everyone?”

Sally’s blush deepened, but she couldn’t help but laugh at her own casual slip. “I mean, at sleepovers and stuff,” she explained. “When I wear them, some girls wonder why, and they ask, and then they always end up saying I’m cute or something.”

Theresa smiled, relieved to know that Sally’s experience with her condition had been met with understanding, rather than judgment, by her peers. “I’m glad to hear they’re so supportive.”

Sally nodded. “Yeah, it’s not always easy, but… I’ve learned to deal with it. It helps when people are kind about it.”

Theresa took in Sally’s words, her respect for the teenager growing. This was a girl who, despite the potential embarrassment of her situation, carried herself with strength and grace. It was a rare quality. As they continued driving, Theresa’s thoughts drifted back to the time Sally’s pull-up had leaked on the plane during their trip.

“You know,” Theresa said after a pause, “seeing you today made me think back to when your pull-up leaked on the plane. I’m not surprised now,” she teased lightly, “considering how thick your diaper is.”

Sally cringed slightly, laughing softly. “Yeah, those pull-ups definitely didn’t do the job that day.”

Theresa nodded thoughtfully. “You know, it might be a good idea for me to keep a few of your diapers stocked on the Gulfstream, just in case. It could save us from any more mishaps.”

Sally cringed again, this time a bit more playfully. “Ugh, really? Stocking my diapers on the plane?”

Theresa laughed, waving a hand. “Trust me, there are ways to do it discreetly. No one has to know but you and me. You’ll be prepared, and you won’t have to worry next time.”

Sally glanced at Theresa, the playful hesitation in her voice fading. She realized how thoughtful Theresa was being—trying to make her life easier, without any judgment or awkwardness. It wasn’t just about being practical; it was about Theresa genuinely caring for her well-being.

A small smile tugged at Sally’s lips as she leaned back in the seat, feeling lighter. “Okay,” she said, her voice soft but assured. “I trust you.”

Theresa smiled, feeling the quiet satisfaction of knowing she had earned Sally’s trust. It was one of those moments where connection, understanding, and care all blended seamlessly.

And as the car rolled through the streets toward school, both Theresa and Sally shared a comfortable silence, each warmed by the quiet bond that had grown between them.

--

The cafeteria buzzed with the usual noise of trays clattering and students chatting as Sally made her way toward her usual table. Katrina, Clara, and Patricia were already there, huddled together, laughing about something. To her surprise, Amanda was also seated with them. While Sally and Amanda weren’t particularly close outside of Volleyball, they shared enough mutual respect that seeing her there wasn’t completely out of the ordinary—just unexpected.

Sally set her tray down with a small smile, a bit of nervousness creeping into her chest as she took her seat. She knew what the topic of conversation was going to be.

"Hey, Sally," Katrina greeted with a grin, making room for her to sit. "We’ve been brainstorming about your sleepover strategy.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, smirking as she sat down. “Oh, so I’m just part of the plan now?”

Patricia laughed, nudging Sally playfully. “We saved the best parts for you. But yeah, we’ve been thinking about how to make sure you feel comfortable with everything, especially with the other girls coming.”

Sally nodded, her smile fading slightly. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about it too. I’m fine around you guys because you all know about… my situation. But with the new girls… I don’t want it to be weird.”

“We’re going to make sure it’s not weird at all,” Clara said, her voice steady and reassuring. “It’ll be fine, just like always.”

Katrina leaned in, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Besides, I’m going to lighten the mood with a few well-timed jokes. You know I’ve got a talent for that.”

Sally rolled her eyes, trying not to laugh. “You’re impossible.”

Patricia glanced at Sally with a thoughtful expression before grinning. “Honestly, Sally, I think you’re worrying for nothing. If you’re as cute in diapers as these guys make it sound, I can’t wait to see!”

Sally’s eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks turning pink. “Wait—what?”

Before she could say anything else, Amanda cleared her throat, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Actually, she’s right. Sally, you do look cute in diapers. I’ve seen you at the last sleepover, and it was no big deal at all. In fact… you were pretty adorable.”

Sally blinked, completely taken aback by Amanda’s words. Amanda had always been friendly, but this felt different. It felt like she was extending a hand of closer friendship, a bridge between the casual interactions they’d had and something deeper.

“Wait… you think I’m cute?” Sally asked, blushing a bit, but the warmth in Amanda’s expression softened her initial embarrassment.

“Yeah,” Amanda said, her smile widening. “You’re confident, even with something like that, and I admire that about you. You’re just you—diapers or not.”

Patricia leaned forward, smirking. “See? We all think you’re cute. It’s a consensus!”

Sally felt her blush deepen, but she was already smiling despite herself. Before she could respond, Clara chimed in, her voice gentle and warm. “I’ve always thought so too. You’re strong, and you never let this part of your life define you. It’s inspiring, Sally.”

Katrina grinned, nudging Sally playfully. “Yep. You’re our cute, pampered princess.”

Sally’s initial shyness melted away as she looked around the table at her friends, each of them offering their support in different ways. She couldn’t help but beam with happiness, feeling her nerves dissolve under the warmth of their encouragement. It wasn’t just about making the sleepover comfortable—it was about the bond she shared with them, the understanding they all had.

“You guys are the best,” Sally said, her voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you.”

Amanda gave her a gentle nudge. “Don’t sweat it. We’ve got you covered. And trust me, the other girls will be fine once they see how awesome you are.”

Patricia smirked, leaning back in her chair. “And if not, we’ve got jokes and backup plans. But really, it’s going to be fun. We’ll make sure of it.”

Sally laughed, feeling lighter than she had in days. With friends like these, she knew she could face anything—even a sleepover where her most vulnerable side would be on display.

As lunch continued, the girls discussed the details of the sleepover, but Sally couldn’t stop smiling. The support she felt from them—especially from Amanda, who she hadn’t expected to step up like this—made her realize just how lucky she was. And with that, she knew she was ready to face whatever came next, with her friends by her side.

--

The night was buzzing with energy as the sleepover at Patricia’s house was already in full swing. The basement was filled with the sounds of chatter, laughter, and the occasional clatter of snacks being passed around. Most of the girls from the Volleyball and soccer teams were already there, lounging around in their summer pajamas—some in just a t-shirt and shorts, others more casually in panties and t-shirts. This was the kind of crowd that was comfortable with each other. Having spent so much time on the field and court together, they’d long since grown used to being relaxed in each other’s presence.

Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for—Sally’s arrival.

The door to the basement creaked open, and in walked Sally, the last to arrive, greeted by an enthusiastic chorus of cheers and teasing catcalls. “Look who finally made it!” Amanda called out, grinning as she waved Sally over.

Katrina, with her usual mischief, chimed in, “Yeah, did you fly in on a private jet or something, Gulfstream Sally?”

Sally laughed, though her cheeks flushed a little. “No private jet this time,” she joked back. “Just a boring Suburban.”

The room filled with laughter as Sally made her way to the group. Katrina and Clara scooted over on the couch to make room for her, and Patricia greeted her with a warm hug. “Finally! Now we can really get started,” Patricia teased. “You’re not too jetlagged from your fancy travels, are you?”

Sally smiled and shook her head. “Nah, I’m good. Ready for some fun.”

As she sat down, she couldn’t help but notice how relaxed everyone was. Some of the girls were already sprawled out on the couches or the floor in their sleepwear, making the atmosphere feel even more laid-back and comfortable. It was a typical sleepover vibe, but there was an underlying sense of anticipation in the air. Sally knew why.

Patricia, always the thoughtful host, stood up in the middle of the room, clapping her hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, ladies,” she announced with a grin, “before we dive into more snacks and games, let’s lay down some ground rules.”

There were playful groans and giggles from around the room, with Katrina and Clara immediately glancing at each other. Patricia smirked, clearly ready to address them.

“First rule,” Patricia began, pointing directly at Katrina and Clara, “You two are not allowed to sleep next to each other tonight. I repeat—Katrina and Clara are banned from being sleepover snuggle buddies.”

The room erupted in laughter, with a few girls letting out dramatic cat whistles. Katrina threw her hands up in mock exasperation, “What? We’re totally innocent!”

Patricia raised an eyebrow and laughed. “Uh-huh, sure. You two are sleeping on opposite sides of the room for the safety of us all.”

The girls laughed even harder as Clara gave Katrina a playful shove. “I guess we’re doomed,” Clara joked.

Once the laughter had settled, Patricia’s tone became a little more thoughtful. “Okay, but seriously,” she said, looking around the room, “we’re all here to have fun, and I want to make sure everyone’s comfortable. So, I’ve got one more important announcement.”

Sally’s heart skipped a beat. She knew what was coming.

Patricia turned toward Sally, giving her a warm, encouraging smile before addressing the group again. “We have a special pampered princess with us tonight,” she said with a playful tone. The girls leaned in, intrigued by what Patricia was about to say.

Patricia winked at Sally before continuing. “And I don’t mean ‘pampered’ like her private jet,” she teased. “I mean literally pampered.”

There were a few giggles from the girls, and Sally could feel her face heat up, but she trusted Patricia to handle this with grace.

“Yep,” Patricia continued, still keeping the tone light and fun, “Sally here wears diapers to bed, and I just want everyone to know she’s rocking the cutest nighttime gear you’ve ever seen. So if you see her walking around in her ‘special attire,’ don’t get too jealous of how comfy she looks.”

The room filled with laughter, but it was the good-natured kind—exactly what Sally had hoped for. Katrina, always quick to jump in, nudged Sally with a grin. “I mean, if we’re being honest, she is our pampered princess.”

Amanda, sitting nearby, nodded in agreement. “Definitely,” she added with a warm smile. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Sally. We’re all cool.”

Sally blushed but smiled, feeling the tension drain from her body. The girls were being exactly as supportive and kind as she’d hoped they would be.

Patricia gave Sally a quick wink. “Alright, now that that’s out of the way, let’s get back to the fun!”

--

Charlie had been creeping near the basement stairs, trying his best to stay hidden. He wasn’t allowed near the basement while the sleepover was going on, but he couldn’t help himself—his curiosity had gotten the better of him. From his spot on the stairs, he could just make out the sound of the girls laughing and Patricia’s voice carrying through the basement.

Then he heard it: Patricia’s playful announcement about Sally’s diapers.

Charlie froze, his ears perking up as Patricia teased Sally in a friendly way, calling her a “pampered princess.” The girls were laughing, but not in a mean way. It was all lighthearted, and the way Patricia framed it made it seem like no big deal—just part of who Sally was.

Charlie felt a pang of envy stir in his chest. How could Sally be so carefree? How could she let everyone know about something so private and still seem completely at ease? She was being herself, with no shame or fear about the diapers she had to wear at night. The girls accepted it, even laughed with her, not at her.

Charlie, on the other hand, had been avoiding sleepovers with his friends for months. Every time one of his friends invited him, he found an excuse—claiming he wasn’t feeling well, or that his parents wouldn’t let him go. The truth was, he was terrified of what would happen if his friends found out he wore Goodnites. The thought of being exposed, of them finding out and laughing at him, kept him up at night.

Why couldn’t he be like Sally? Confident, unafraid, able to handle something as embarrassing as that with ease. The more he listened, the more he realized how much he wished he could be that brave.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps brought him back to reality. Not wanting to get caught near the basement, Charlie scurried back up the stairs and retreated to his bedroom. He shut the door quietly behind him, his heart still racing. He wished he could be part of the sleepover—laughing, relaxed, like Sally. But instead, here he was, hiding.

Little did he know, Sally would soon come looking for him, ready to offer him a moment of quiet understanding.

--

As the night went on, Sally found herself more and more relaxed, laughing along with her friends, participating in games, and enjoying the snacks spread out across the room. But as the evening started winding down and it became clear that everyone was getting ready for bed, she knew it was time for her to head upstairs to Patricia’s ensuite bedroom to change into her diaper for the night.

Patricia, ever the thoughtful friend, leaned over and whispered, “Now’s a good time if you want to head up and get comfortable”.

Sally nodded gratefully. “Thanks, I’ll be quick.”

She slipped away quietly, making her way up the stairs to the top floor of the house where Patricia’s bedroom and bathroom were located. The room was cozy, with soft lighting and a large bed with a quilted comforter. Sally felt a wave of relief wash over her as she closed the door behind her, thankful for the privacy.

She grabbed the diaper from her bag and quickly changed into it, feeling the familiar security as she fastened the tapes snugly. She glanced at herself in the mirror, adjusting her t-shirt and shorts over the waistband of her diaper, and smiled softly to herself. It was going to be fine. Patricia had made sure of that.

--

After getting changed, Sally was about to head back downstairs when she heard a soft sound coming from a room down the hall—Charlie’s room. Curiosity got the better of her, and she quietly made her way over, knocking gently on the door.

Charlie, Patricia’s younger brother, was sitting on his bed, surrounded by model airplanes and watching airplane videos on his tablet. When he looked up and saw Sally standing in the doorway, his eyes widened.

“Oh, hey,” he said awkwardly, clearly surprised to see her.

“Hey, Charlie,” Sally said, stepping into the room. “What are you up to?”

Charlie shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. “Just… hiding from all the girls downstairs,” he muttered.

Sally smiled softly, understanding his predicament. “I don’t blame you,” she said. “It’s pretty crazy down there.”

There was a brief pause before Sally spoke again. “You know,” she began, glancing at the diaper bag slung over her shoulder, “I brought an extra diaper with me. I thought… maybe you’d like to try it out.”

Charlie blinked, clearly caught off guard. He looked at the folded diaper in Sally’s hand and then back at her, unsure. “Do you think… it’ll even fit me?” he asked, his voice small.

Without hesitation, Sally pulled down the waistband of her shorts slightly, revealing the diaper she was already wearing. Charlie’s eyes went wide in surprise, but Sally stayed calm and casual.

“It’s the same size I wear,” she said with a reassuring smile. “So, yeah, it’ll fit you just fine.”

Charlie hesitated for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Okay… I guess I could try it.”

Sally handed him the diaper and turned to give him some privacy. “I’ll wait outside. Let me know if you need help.”

A few minutes later, Charlie called out softly. “Uh… Sally? I think I need help with the tapes.”

Sally stepped back into the room, finding Charlie standing there awkwardly, holding the diaper in place but unsure of how to fasten the tapes. She smiled, walking over to him. “Here, lay down, I’ll show you.”

With a gentle touch, Sally helped him adjust the diaper, fastening the tapes snugly but comfortably. “There,” she said, stepping back to admire her work. “All set. You’ll get the hang of it.”

Charlie looked down, a mix of embarrassment and relief washing over him. “Thanks… this feels kinda different, but… better.”

Sally smiled and gave him a playful nudge. “It’s no big deal. You’ll get used to it.”

As she turned to leave, Charlie called out softly, “Sally?”

“Yeah?” she asked, turning back.

“Thanks. For, you know, helping me.”

Sally’s smile widened. “Anytime, Charlie. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, watching her leave the room, feeling more comfortable than he had in a long time.

Sally quietly closed the door behind her and made her way back downstairs, ready to rejoin her friends and enjoy the rest of the night, knowing she had just shared a quiet, meaningful moment with Charlie.

--

Sally made her way back downstairs, her heart lighter after her quiet, meaningful encounter with Charlie. As she stepped into the basement, she was greeted by the soft hum of conversation, laughter, and the crinkling of bags of chips. But almost immediately, she noticed a change in the atmosphere. There were curious eyes on her—especially from the girls who hadn’t seen her in her nighttime “attire” yet.

Katrina was lounging on the couch, chatting with Clara, but the second she spotted Sally coming down the stairs, a wide grin spread across her face. Patricia, sitting nearby, gave Sally a reassuring nod, letting her know everything was still totally fine. Yet, Sally could feel the curiosity in the air.

Some of the girls, especially the ones from other years, subtly glanced her way, probably wondering how this whole "diaper thing" actually looked. Sally felt a slight flicker of nerves, but she was determined not to let it bother her. After all, Patricia had set the tone earlier, and Katrina and Clara had her back. There was no point in hiding.

With a sudden surge of boldness, Sally decided to take control of the moment.

Instead of slipping back into the crowd quietly, she stepped forward and, with a playful grin, looked directly at Katrina. “Okay, I know you’re all curious,” she announced, catching the attention of the whole room. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Katrina immediately perked up, her grin widening even more. “¡Eso es, Sally! ¡Dale, mi princesa! Show them how it’s done!” she cheered, slipping into her excited Spanish.

Sally took a deep breath, and then, with a dramatic flair, she pulled off her shorts in one swift motion, revealing her thick, snug diaper beneath her t-shirt. The room erupted in laughter and cheers, not in a mocking way, but in celebration of her boldness.

Katrina was clapping and hollering, “¡Mira! ¡Mírala, mi bebé! ¡Estás perfecta!” She was clearly thrilled, her playful Spanish words ringing through the room as she egged Sally on. Clara joined in, clapping her hands, and even Amanda gave her an approving smile.

Sally, feeling a rush of adrenaline, took it up a notch. She spun around in a full circle, giving the room a playful twirl, showing off her diaper with as much confidence as she could muster. “Yep, this is it, ladies! Gulfstream Sally in her finest evening wear!” she joked, grinning as she turned back toward the group.

The girls roared with laughter and cheers. A few of them clapped, and some whistled. Amanda leaned over and called out, “You rock that look, Sally!”

Katrina, unable to contain her excitement, stood up and pretended to fan herself, shouting, “¡Eres una estrella! ¡Mira a la reina de los pañales!”

The room was electric, the energy high and playful. Any potential awkwardness had been completely shattered, replaced with camaraderie and fun. Sally, feeling more at ease than ever, twirled one last time before plopping herself onto the couch next to Katrina and Clara, still grinning.

Patricia, from across the room, gave her a thumbs-up. “And that, ladies, is how you own it!” she said with a wink.

Sally leaned back, her heart still racing but in the best possible way. The girls had embraced her boldness, just like they’d embraced her. The night was ending on a high note, filled with laughter, friendship, and the kind of carefree fun that only sleepovers could bring.

As the chatter continued around her, Sally couldn’t help but feel proud of herself. She had faced the situation head-on and turned what could’ve been an awkward moment into something fun and memorable. Katrina, still buzzing from the excitement, leaned over and nudged Sally. “I knew you had it in you, chica.”

Sally smiled, her heart full. “Thanks, Katrina,” she said softly. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Clara, always the quiet support, patted Sally’s arm. “You were amazing.”

With that, the night wound down, but the girls’ laughter and jokes carried on well into the early hours, leaving Sally feeling more connected and accepted than ever. It was a night she would remember fondly, knowing that her friends had her back no matter what.

And as the lights dimmed and the girls settled into their sleeping bags, Sally couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace. She had nothing to hide—nothing to be ashamed of—and she had the best friends to remind her of that.

--

Sally stirred in her sleeping bag, feeling the familiar, comforting warmth of her wet diaper. She lay there for a few more minutes, savoring the quiet moment as the early morning light streamed in through the small basement windows. The other girls were starting to wake up, some shifting in their sleeping bags or stretching groggily, but for now, the basement was still quiet.

She ran her hands lightly over the soft material of her diaper under her t-shirt, feeling the slight sag from the wetness. It was warm and familiar—nothing she wasn’t used to. But unlike in the past, she didn’t feel the usual anxiety that used to come with waking up in a wet diaper around others. After the bonding from the night before, she felt more at ease than ever.

With a soft sigh, she finally slid out of her sleeping bag, standing up only in her t-shirt and wet diaper. The room was starting to stir, a few girls already getting up and stretching. Sally grabbed her shorts, pulling them up over her sagging diaper in one smooth, casual motion, not bothering to hide it. She knew some of the girls would notice, but that didn’t bother her anymore.

Sure enough, as she adjusted her shorts, there were a few giggles from across the room. A couple of the newer girls—Darrell and Felicity—glanced her way with curious, slightly amused expressions. But Sally just gave them a small, confident smile, acting as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

As the girls began heading upstairs for breakfast, Sally joined them, walking nonchalantly despite the crinkle of her diaper. She could feel a couple of eyes on her, but that only made her feel more confident. After all, her friends had her back, and that’s what mattered.

--

The kitchen was filled with the smell of pancakes and eggs as the girls gathered around the table, grabbing plates and serving themselves. Some were still in their pajamas, others had thrown on hoodies or shorts. It was the relaxed, cozy vibe of the morning after a fun sleepover.

Sally sat down at the table, plopping herself between Katrina and Clara, her wet diaper still snug under her shorts. She had barely taken a bite of her pancake when she noticed Darrell and Felicity, sitting across from her, exchanging glances before Felicity finally spoke up.

“So, um… you really wear diapers to bed?” Felicity asked, her tone curious but polite.

Darrell nodded, clearly interested too, though trying not to sound too nosy. “Yeah… like, did you actually… wet it?”

Sally looked up from her plate, meeting their eyes without hesitation. The room quieted for a moment, with a few other girls tuning into the conversation. But Sally wasn’t embarrassed. She had already accepted her situation, and after last night, she knew the girls wouldn’t judge her harshly.

“Yep, I did,” Sally said boldly, not missing a beat. “I always do. That’s why I wear them.”

The bluntness of her answer made Darrell and Felicity pause, their curiosity suddenly tinged with slight embarrassment. They hadn’t expected her to be so direct.

“Oh,” Felicity mumbled, glancing down at her plate. “I didn’t mean to—”

Before the awkwardness could settle in, Katrina, ever the joker, piped up with a grin. “Yep, and now our pampered princess is sitting there in her droopy diaper, just waiting for her royal diaper change.”

The table burst into laughter, with Amanda chiming in as well. “Yeah, Sally, better make sure you don’t leak all over Patricia’s fancy chairs.”

Clara, always the supportive one, smiled and added with a wink, “Good thing you’re still sitting on your shorts. Otherwise, we’d be worried.”

Even Patricia, who had been busy serving herself, turned around and gave Sally a playful grin. “Don’t worry, Sally. I’ve got the changing supplies upstairs, just in case you need them.”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh along with them, her cheeks a little pink but her confidence still intact. “Thanks for the offer, Patricia, but I think I’ll skip the diaper change and head straight for my bathing suit. Can’t wait to hit the pool.”

The room erupted into more laughter as the tension broke completely, the girls fully embracing the humor of the situation. Even Darrell and Felicity, still a little wide-eyed, couldn’t help but chuckle at the banter, realizing how easily Sally and her friends handled the situation.

“Okay, okay,” Amanda said, wiping away a tear from laughing. “But seriously, Sally, the pool’s going to be awesome. You better get in there before Katrina starts cannonballing everyone.”

Sally grinned, feeling completely at ease. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be there. Just let me grab my bathing suit, and I’ll be the first one in.”

--

Patricia led Sally upstairs after breakfast, smiling as the rest of the girls downstairs continued talking about the upcoming pool time. Sally, comfortable in her wet diaper under her shorts, felt a sense of relief knowing she’d soon shower and get into her bathing suit. But first, Patricia, always the big sister, decided to check in on her younger brother, Charlie.

As they reached the top floor, Patricia stopped outside Charlie’s room and peeked in through the half-open door. He was sitting at his desk, entirely engrossed in his flight simulator, his headphones on and oblivious to the world around him. His eyes were glued to the screen, and Patricia could hear the faint sounds of plane engines from his computer.

Patricia grinned and knocked on the door lightly, but Charlie didn’t react. She knocked again, a little louder, but still nothing. He was completely lost in his simulation.

Sally leaned against the door frame, smiling softly, her diaper bulge faintly visible beneath her shorts. Patricia, undeterred, walked into the room and gently touched Charlie’s shoulder. He jumped slightly, startled, and quickly paused the simulator, pulling off his headphones.

“Oh, hey!” he said, turning around to face his sister. But as he turned, Patricia noticed something unusual. Instead of his usual Goodnite, Charlie was sitting there in a wet diaper, and she could tell just by looking at it that it wasn’t the pull-up kind.

Patricia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Wait a minute, are you wearing a diaper?” she asked, half-laughing but also genuinely curious.

Charlie blushed deeply, suddenly looking shy. He had always been okay with his sister seeing him in his Goodnites, but this was different. He wasn’t used to wearing a diaper, and the fact that it was wet made him feel even more self-conscious.

Sally, still leaning against the doorframe, watched with a soft smile on her face. She already knew what was going on but enjoyed watching the interaction unfold.

Charlie, trying to gather his composure, glanced over at Sally, then back at his sister. “Uh, yeah... Sally gave it to me last night,” he admitted, nervously avoiding the detail that Sally had actually helped him put it on. “She told me to try it... and I did.”

Patricia, still in mild shock but more intrigued than anything, grinned widely. “Well, look at that! What a good idea, Charlie! Diapers are way better at avoiding leaks than those Goodnites, huh?”

Charlie’s blush deepened, but he nodded shyly, clearly pleased by his sister’s reaction. He had half-expected her to tease him, but Patricia seemed genuinely supportive. “Yeah, I... I wet a lot last night, and it didn’t leak at all,” he said eagerly. “And... they’re super comfortable.” His voice grew quieter, the shyness creeping back in.

Sally’s heart melted at the sight of Charlie’s cuteness overload. The way he was sitting there, both proud of himself and shy at the same time, made her smile even wider.

Patricia, still grinning, leaned down slightly to get a closer look at Charlie’s diaper. “Well, I’m glad it worked! We’ll have to get you a package of these, huh?” she asked.

Charlie’s eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly. “Yeah, that would be great.”

Patricia turned around and glanced at Sally, who was still standing by the door, watching the scene unfold. “Thanks, Sally,” she said warmly. “That was a really good idea. Now I’d better take you away so you can change out of your wet diaper too, huh?”

Sally chuckled softly, nodding as she stepped away from the door frame. But just before she followed Patricia out, she turned back to Charlie, a playful glint in her eye. She lowered her shorts just enough to give him a quick peek at her own wet diaper, the waistband clearly visible for a brief moment.

Charlie’s eyes widened, but then he smiled shyly, feeling a little less alone in his situation. He gave Sally a small, grateful nod, his cheeks still red.

As Patricia led Sally down the hall toward her bedroom, Sally couldn’t help but feel proud of how she had helped Charlie embrace his situation. It was a small moment of connection, but it had made a big difference for him.

Now, it was time for Sally to get ready for the pool, but the warmth of that moment stayed with her, filling her with a sense of satisfaction.

--

Sally stood in Patricia’s bedroom, running her hand over the small leak stain on her pajama pants. She wasn’t surprised, having felt the slight dampness when she woke up, but the spot still caught her attention. She stared at it for a moment, her mind drifting between the comfort she found in wearing diapers and the occasional moments of vulnerability they brought.

Patricia, meanwhile, was across the room, rummaging through her closet, pulling out towels and setting up for their upcoming swim in the pool. She turned around just in time to see Sally frowning slightly at her pajama pants.

Patricia grinned and gestured toward the leak stain. “You want me to toss those in the wash for you?” she asked casually, holding out her hand.

Sally blinked and gave her a small smile. “Yeah, probably a good idea,” she said, slipping off the waistband of her pajama shorts. The wet diaper beneath them crinkled softly, exposed now that the shorts were gone.

Patricia’s eyes widened for just a moment, not from judgment, but from the casualness with which Sally had just stripped down in front of her. “Whoa,” Patricia said, chuckling lightly, “Give me some warning before you go full diaper mode, Sal.”

Sally paused, looking down at her exposed diaper and then back at Patricia. “Oh, sorry,” she said with a playful grin. “Didn’t mean to shock you.”

Patricia smiled, shaking her head. “No worries, you just caught me off guard. Still, I gotta say it—you do look cute in diapers.”

Sally’s grin widened, her confidence showing through. “Cute, huh? Well then, get a good look,” she teased, slipping off her pajama top as well and handing both the top and shorts to Patricia. “Might as well wash the top, too.”

Patricia took the clothes and tried not to stare, still getting used to Sally’s openness. “You’re something else,” she said, laughing softly. She pointed toward the small garbage pail by the dresser. “You can toss your diaper in there. I’ll take care of it later.”

Sally gave a playful nod and expertly peeled off her wet diaper, rolling it up tightly and stuffing it into the small bin. She didn’t feel exposed, not anymore. After everything that had happened at the sleepover and the support from her friends, being in this situation no longer made her feel awkward or embarrassed.

“I’ll be in the shower,” Sally said, walking into the bathroom and closing the door softly behind her.

--

Sally stepped into the bathroom and took a deep breath. The quiet, warm room offered her a moment of peace. She leaned against the counter for a moment, staring at her reflection in the mirror. There was still a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, but it was mixed with something new—confidence.

The tiles were cool under her feet as she turned on the shower, the soft hiss of water filling the space. As the room began to steam up, she slipped out of the rest of her clothes and stepped into the shower. The hot water cascaded over her skin, soothing and relaxing her muscles. She tilted her head back, letting the water run through her hair and down her back.

It was in moments like this, alone and vulnerable, that Sally could truly reflect. She had faced her insecurities head-on during the sleepover, and it had gone better than she ever imagined. The teasing, the banter, even the girls’ playful comments about her diapers—it had all felt... okay. No, more than okay. It had felt empowering.

She lathered the soap between her hands, scrubbing her arms and shoulders as the water continued to pour over her. The vulnerability of being seen in her diaper, of admitting her nighttime needs in front of others, was now something she could own. It was part of her, but it didn’t define her.

Sally washed her hair next, massaging her scalp and feeling the dirt and sweat of the night before disappear under the warm, soapy water. She let the conditioner sit for a moment as she closed her eyes, letting herself just enjoy the sensation. She was no longer rushing through these moments, no longer feeling anxious about what others would think.

After rinsing off, she stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around herself. The steam filled the room, and she wiped a small patch of the mirror to see her reflection again. She looked at herself, her damp hair falling over her shoulders, and smiled. Confident. In control.

Slipping into her one-piece bathing suit, she felt comfortable and secure. The suit hugged her body in all the right ways, and she admired the way it made her look—strong and self-assured.

She opened the bathroom door and stepped back into Patricia’s room, ready for the pool.

--

As Sally walked down the hallway, she nearly bumped into Charlie, who was standing just outside his bedroom door, already dressed in his swimming trunks. He looked up at her, and for a moment, his face flushed pink. He hadn’t expected to see her so soon after what had happened earlier, and the sight of Sally in just her bathing suit made him feel a little self-conscious.

Sally, always one to break the tension, grinned at him and raised an eyebrow. “You like what you see?” she teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Charlie blushed even harder, his eyes darting away as he mumbled, “Uh, I wasn’t— I mean—”

Sally laughed softly, putting him at ease. “Relax, Charlie, I’m just messing with you.”

Charlie smiled shyly, feeling a little more comfortable as they walked together down the hallway toward the pool. Though still young, Sally could see that Charlie was beginning to feel more at ease around her, especially after the quiet bond they had formed the night before.

--

The pool area was buzzing with energy as Sally and Charlie stepped outside. The six girls who had stayed after breakfast were already gathered by the pool, some lounging on towels, others standing at the edge, dipping their toes into the cool water.

Katrina, true to form, was already in full swing, her wild personality on full display. She was halfway through a cannonball, yelling something in rapid Spanish as she splashed into the water. “¡Miren esto, chicas! ¡Soy la reina del agua!”

Clara stood near the edge, watching Katrina with an amused smile. “She’s been like this all morning,” she said as Sally approached. “I think she’s on her fourth cannonball.”

Charlie, lingering by the side, looked around at the group of girls, most of them in bikinis and bathing suits, chatting and splashing each other. He was clearly a little shy, being the only boy and the youngest one there.

Patricia, noticing her brother’s hesitation, swam over to the edge and called out, “Come on, Charlie! The water’s great!”

Charlie hesitated for a moment, but seeing Patricia’s encouraging smile and Sally giving him a small nod, he finally stepped forward, dipping his foot into the water. The coolness sent a shiver up his spine, but he took a breath and eased himself in.

The girls, noticing him enter the pool, gave him a warm welcome. “About time, Charlie!” Amanda called out from across the pool. “We thought you were gonna hide all day.”

Charlie smiled shyly, but he couldn’t help but feel more comfortable as the girls treated him like one of the group. They didn’t tease him for being the only boy, nor did they act awkwardly around him. Instead, they pulled him into their games and splashes, treating him with the same camaraderie they shared with each other.

Katrina, always the playful one, swam up to Charlie and splashed him lightly. “¡Cuidado, chico! You’re in my pool now!” she joked, splashing him again before swimming away.

Charlie laughed, a little less shy now, and splashed her back. The girls continued their lighthearted fun, swimming and laughing as the morning sun warmed the water.

Sally watched with a content smile, feeling proud of how far Charlie had come in just a day. The boy who had once been hesitant about his bedwetting and shy around the girls was now splashing around in the pool, fitting in perfectly. And Sally herself felt a new sense of freedom, knowing that no matter the vulnerabilities she carried, she had friends—and even Patricia and Charlie—who accepted her exactly as she was.

The morning went on with laughter and fun, the perfect end to a sleepover full of bonding, growth, and shared moments of vulnerability and strength.

--

Sally climbed into the sleek Mercedes S-class convertible, still slightly damp from the pool but feeling refreshed. As she fastened her seatbelt, she couldn’t help but admire the car’s interior—the leather seats, the polished dashboard, the feeling of freedom that came with driving in a convertible. The sun was shining brightly overhead, and Patricia was already lowering the top as she started the engine.

“You get to drive this?” Sally asked, a bit of awe in her voice as she glanced over at Patricia, who was adjusting her sunglasses with casual confidence.

“Yeah, crazy, right?” Patricia replied, grinning. “It’s technically my mom’s, but she never uses it. She prefers her SUV. My dad bought it for her after winning some huge case a few years back, but she’s always been more practical. So now, with me having my license, I get to drive it.”

Sally shook her head, impressed. “You’re really lucky. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drive it before.”

“I usually don’t, I feel kind of exposed with the top down” Patricia admitted, pulling out of the driveway smoothly. “I prefer the SUV too, so I have to fight for it with my mom. But sometimes you just have to enjoy life. I figured today was a convertible kind of day.”

As they cruised through town, the wind whipping through their hair, Sally couldn’t help but admire how easily Patricia handled the car. There was something effortless about the way she drove, like she’d been doing it for years. Sally envied that confidence, but she also enjoyed sitting back and letting someone else take the wheel.

--

Patricia parked the Mercedes in front of the small pharmacy and turned to Sally with a grin. “So, think you can help me with this? I mean, I know you’re kind of the expert.”

Sally gave a small smile, feeling a bit more comfortable with the idea of shopping for Charlie now that she’d had some time to think about it. “Yeah, I can help. We’ll need to find something absorbent enough for overnight. He’s going to need a diaper that fits well and won’t leak.”

Patricia led the way inside, and soon enough, they found themselves standing in the diaper aisle. The shelves were lined with all sorts of options, and Sally quickly scanned the products, assessing them with a practiced eye. This was something she knew well—better than most, in fact.

“So,” Sally started, glancing over at Patricia, “we’re looking for disposable briefs, medium size, right? Charlie and I are about the same size, though I’m a bit taller, so a medium should work for him.”

Patricia nodded. “Yeah, something that’ll keep him dry overnight. He said the one he wore last night was fine, but it’s better to be safe.”

Sally reached for a pack of medium-sized briefs on the shelf, holding it up. “These should be good. These are your basic disposable briefs, thick enough for overnight use. They have decent absorbency, but they’re not too bulky. You’ll want to make sure the leg cuffs fit well though—that’s where leaks usually happen.”

Patricia looked at the pack thoughtfully, nodding. “Leg cuffs. Right, good to know. And these tapes, are they adjustable?”

Sally smiled, more confident now as she explained. “Yeah, adjustable tapes are important. If the fit isn’t perfect on the first try, you’ll want to be able to readjust without them losing stickiness. These ones are pretty good for that.”

Patricia tilted her head. “Makes sense. But what about the size? Are you sure medium is right?”

Sally hesitated for a moment, thinking about her own experience. “I could wear a small, honestly, but I prefer medium. It’s more comfortable, especially if you want to add a booster.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A booster? What’s that?”

Sally blushed slightly, feeling a little shy but knowing it was important to explain. “It’s, um, an extra pad you can add inside the diaper to make it more absorbent. It helps keep things dry longer. I use one at night sometimes when I know it’s going to be a long night.”

Patricia looked at Sally, a bit surprised but also impressed. “Wow. I didn’t know that was a thing. So you use boosters in your diapers?”

Sally nodded, feeling a little exposed but also glad to be helping. “Yeah, they’re really helpful, especially if you’re worried about leaks.”

Patricia grinned, trying to imagine Sally with a diaper and a booster. “That’s smart. So maybe we should grab a pack of those too?”

Sally pointed toward a pack of high-absorbency briefs. “These ones are a bit thicker, and they have more padding in the front and back. They’re designed for heavier wetting, so they’re super comfortable for sleeping.”

Patricia picked up the pack and gave it a thoughtful look. “Thicker, huh? And they’re comfortable?”

Sally nodded. “Yeah, they’re really soft. But, just a warning—pajama pants might not fit over them easily. They’re pretty bulky.”

Patricia winked at Sally, clearly amused. “All the better. Let’s grab them.”

Sally laughed, feeling more at ease. “Yeah, these are definitely better for nighttime. Plus, they hold a lot, so you won’t have to worry about him waking up wet.”

They continued browsing, Sally explaining the different levels of absorbency, comfort, and practicality. She pointed out the difference between the thin daytime diapers and the thicker ones they were considering for Charlie’s nights.

“Last night, the one I wore—the one Charlie had on—was one of the thinner ones,” Sally said, picking up a package. “They’re okay for during the day or for lighter wetting, but for overnight, these thicker ones are way more reliable.”

Patricia held up the two packs side by side, clearly impressed with Sally’s expertise. “I see what you mean. It’s kind of amazing how much thought goes into all this. I think Charlie’s going to like the thicker ones better.”

Sally nodded, feeling a sense of satisfaction. “Yeah, it’ll make him feel more comfortable, and he won’t have to worry about leaks.”

They grabbed a pack of wipes as well, and Patricia smiled warmly at Sally. “You’ve been a big help with this. I had no idea there was so much to consider.”

Sally shrugged modestly. “It’s easier when it’s for someone else. I’m glad I could help.”

As they made their way to the checkout, Patricia turned to Sally with a grin. “Thanks for walking me through this. I’m sure Charlie’s going to be a lot more comfortable now.”

Sally smiled, feeling good about being able to help, even if it was a little awkward. “Yeah, I think he will be. Plus, it’ll give him some peace of mind.”

They paid for the diapers, wipes, and boosters, and as they left the store, Sally felt a sense of accomplishment. It wasn’t often that she got to help someone like this, and it felt nice—like she was using her experience in a positive way. As they got back into the car, Patricia gave her a knowing smile.

“Charlie’s going to be lucky to have someone like you looking out for him,” Patricia said as she started the car.

Sally laughed softly. “Well, he’s not the only one.”

As they drove off, Sally realized that, despite the unusual nature of the task, she felt a sense of pride. She was helping someone feel comfortable and safe, and in a way, it made her feel the same.

As Patricia drove them back to Sally’s house, the wind from the open roof of the convertible whipped through their hair. Patricia glanced over at Sally, smiling. “Thanks again for helping out today. I think Charlie’s going to feel a lot better knowing we got him the best option.”

Sally nodded, feeling good about the whole experience. “Yeah, I hope so. It’s nice to be able to help.”

When they finally reached Sally’s house, Patricia pulled into the driveway, the car idling for a moment as they finished their conversation.

“Thanks again for the ride—and for, well, everything,” Sally said as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “You’re pretty awesome, you know that?”

Patricia winked. “Hey, what are friends for? Besides, I owe you for helping with Charlie. He’s going to be thrilled when he finds out we got him the good stuff.”

Sally laughed. “I’m sure he will be. And hey, if you need more diaper advice, you know where to find me.”

Patricia waved as Sally climbed out of the car, the sun shining on the driveway as she grabbed her bag from the backseat.

“Catch you later, Gulfstream Sally!” Patricia called out playfully as she pulled away.

Sally grinned as she waved goodbye, watching the convertible disappear down the street. She felt a sense of satisfaction—she had helped a friend, shared a moment of vulnerability, and come out the other side feeling more confident than ever.

As she turned to head into the house, Sally couldn’t help but smile. It had been a day of unexpected connections, and she was ready for whatever came next.

Chapter 55 - Click

The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the windows as Sally sat on the couch, nervously tapping her foot. Bridget and Theresa were chatting quietly in the kitchen, and the house was filled with a buzz of anticipation. The photographer Adrian had hired was supposed to arrive soon, and Sally had no idea what to expect. She imagined someone sleek, polished, maybe wearing a blazer or high-end fashion clothes, someone who looked like they belonged behind the camera at a major fashion shoot.

When the doorbell rang, Theresa walked over to answer it. Sally straightened in her seat, expecting to see a typical high-end photographer. Instead, when the door opened, her jaw nearly dropped.

A heavyset man, with a scruffy beard and a baseball cap, lumbered into the house. He wore a faded Metallica T-shirt that stretched over his belly, black jeans, and a pair of scuffed sneakers. His unkempt appearance clashed sharply with Sally’s mental image of a professional photographer.

Is this the guy? Sally thought. She stared at him, unsure what to make of him. He looked like he could be a roadie for a band, not someone who flew all the way from L.A. to take her photos.

Theresa stifled a grin, stepping aside. “Sally, Bridget—this is Jeffrey, the photographer.”

Jeffrey glanced around the room, then focused on Sally with a raised eyebrow. “So, you’re the subject, huh?” he said with a grin. “How old are you?”

Sally, still processing his appearance, blinked. “Almost fifteen,” she answered.

Jeffrey leaned back slightly and gave her a sly grin. “No way. I would’ve pegged you for at least seventeen.”

Sally’s face lit up with a surprised smile. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” Jeffrey replied, his tone dead serious, even though there was a playful gleam in his eye. “You’ve got that... mature vibe. Seventeen at least.” His delivery was so smooth and convincing that Sally couldn’t help but beam at the compliment.

Bridget chuckled from the kitchen. “Well, you’ve definitely made her day with that.”

Sally grinned even wider and, eyeing his T-shirt, said, “You’re wearing Metallica. I didn’t expect that from a photographer.”

Jeffrey glanced down at his shirt and then back at her, surprised. “You know Metallica? A kid your age?”

Sally rolled her eyes playfully. “Come on, I love Metallica. ‘Master of Puppets’ is legendary.”

Jeffrey grinned widely. “I like you already, kid. Most people your age don’t know good music when they hear it.”

Sally laughed, feeling the initial tension start to melt. Jeffrey wasn’t what she expected at all, but he had a way of making her feel at ease.

“So, what’s the plan?” Bridget asked, joining the conversation as she stepped into the living room.

Jeffrey scratched his scruffy beard and looked around the room. “Well, I met your husband at a fundraiser,” he said. “I was taking photographs for SILVIA.”

Sally and Bridget exchanged surprised looks. SILVIA was a high-end fashion magazine, practically the equivalent of Vogue.

“You shoot for SILVIA?” Sally asked, now thoroughly impressed.

“Sometimes. Depends on who calls,” Jeffrey said, as if photographing for one of the top magazines in the world was no big deal. “Your dad liked my work, so he flew me out here. Now, I’m renting some space at a local hotel to set up a temporary studio. Couldn’t fit all my gear in a suitcase, you know? But we’ll make it work.”

Theresa, watching from the doorway with her arms crossed, gave a subtle nod. She could tell that Jeffrey’s casual, gruff demeanor was already starting to disarm the family.

Bridget, smiling politely, asked, “What do you need from us?”

Jeffrey looked over at Sally and Bridget with a thoughtful expression. “Well, for starters, I’m going to need you both at the photo shoot. It’s important for everyone to feel comfortable, especially Sally. And trust me, this’ll be easy. She’s got a natural pose already—confident and relaxed.”

Sally shifted slightly, feeling the compliment but still uncertain about how “natural” she was in front of a camera.

Jeffrey caught her hesitation and added, “Don’t worry, kid. I’ve worked with way bigger egos. You’ll be a breeze.”

He turned to Theresa and pointed. “You should come too. Never know when an extra pair of hands will come in handy.”

Theresa raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Moral support?”

“Sure,” Jeffrey said, shrugging. “Or you can stand there and look serious. Either way.”

Bridget chuckled and nodded. “We’ll all be there.”

With a satisfied nod, Jeffrey reached into his bag and pulled out a large, thick book. He plopped it onto the coffee table in front of them with a thud. “Take a look through this. It’s some of my work. While you’re flipping through it, mind if I snap a few pictures? No pressure, just getting a feel for things.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly, and she glanced at Bridget, who smiled reassuringly. “Go ahead,” Bridget said, gesturing for Sally to open the book.

Sally hesitated, then slowly flipped open the book, revealing a wide array of portraits. The pictures ranged from funny to somber to downright strange, each one filled with emotion and life. As she flipped through the pages, Jeffrey moved around the room, his camera clicking away as he captured their natural reactions.

“Don’t worry, these aren’t the real shoot,” Jeffrey said as he clicked another shot. “Just practice.”

As Sally and Bridget pointed out photos they liked, the atmosphere grew lighter. Jeffrey had a way of making everything feel less formal, and soon, the awkwardness ebbed away completely.

At one point, Sally stopped on a black-and-white photo of a baby sleeping in nothing but a diaper. Bridget leaned over and asked playfully, “Is Sally supposed to pose like that?”

Sally’s face immediately turned red, and she stared at her mother in shock. “Mom! No way!” she exclaimed, but the embarrassment quickly gave way to laughter as the absurdity of the moment hit her.

Jeffrey grinned behind his camera, snapping a shot of Sally mid-laugh. “Got it,” he said, the click of his camera marking the moment.

Then, out of nowhere, he called out, “Oye, guapa!” Sally, still laughing, raised her head in confusion, giving him a curious, slightly demanding look. Jeffrey clicked again, capturing her expression perfectly.

Later, he hissed, “Schnell, schau!” with a dramatic intensity. Sally turned toward him with a sharp, focused gaze, and again, Jeffrey captured the moment with precision.

Theresa, watching from the side, was impressed despite herself. The man might look gruff and unpolished, but his skill was undeniable. He knew exactly how to catch the right moment, turning everyday interactions into art.

Satisfied with his practice shots, Jeffrey lowered his camera and turned back to Sally and Bridget. “You’ll be fine,” he said with a grin. “You’ve got a natural look. This’ll be fun.”

Sally’s earlier nerves had completely disappeared, replaced by a growing sense of excitement. Jeffrey’s attitude made the whole process seem like an adventure, not something to be stressed about.

“The real shoot will be Thursday and Friday afternoons, after school,” Jeffrey explained. “Thursday, wear whatever you want—something casual, nothing formal, and definitely not your school uniform. I don’t do portraits in those.” He winked, eliciting a smile from Sally. “We’ll have some other clothes for you to try on too, if you want. It’ll be fun.”

With that, Jeffrey grabbed his cap and headed for the door. “Don’t worry about anything. You’ll have fun. Just trust me.”

In a flash, he was out the door and heading toward his rented car, leaving Sally, Bridget, and Theresa smiling in his wake.

“Well, that was... different,” Sally said, still processing the whirlwind of Jeffrey’s energy.

Bridget smiled as she flipped through the book again. “He’s not what I expected, but I think he’s exactly what you need.”

Theresa, arms still crossed, nodded in agreement. “He’s good. Very good.”

Sally felt a thrill of excitement bubbling up inside her. The photo shoot no longer seemed daunting—it felt like an exciting new experience. She was ready for it.

--

Sally stepped out of Theresa’s silver SUV, the afternoon sun painting long shadows across the driveway. Theresa gave her a knowing smile and handed her a small, neatly wrapped package.

“Here,” Theresa said, her voice playful, but gentle. “Open it in your room. You’re growing up, so I thought you’d appreciate this. Use it when you’re ready.”

Sally furrowed her brow in curiosity. "What is it?"

Theresa winked and chuckled softly. “Trust me. Just try it on. You’ll see.”

Intrigued, Sally smiled back, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with uncertainty. She made her way inside the house, the package tucked under her arm, and went straight to her room. She set her backpack down by her desk, taking a deep breath before sitting on the edge of her bed to open the gift.

As she unwrapped it, a small piece of delicate fabric slipped into her hand. Sally blinked in surprise. It was a white thong—simple, soft, and minimal. The kind of underwear that felt like a quiet milestone in growing up. She stared at it for a moment, her heart picking up speed. She had never worn one before, and the idea of trying it now felt like a gentle step toward something new—something more mature.

She hesitated, thinking of her nightly routine, where diapers still gave her comfort and security. They were a quiet, private part of her life, one she’d never outgrown, but also one she didn’t feel ashamed of. This, however, was different. The thong represented a new chapter—one that spoke of confidence, independence, and the changes she was navigating.

Taking a deep breath, Sally rose from the bed and began to undress. She slid off her school uniform skirt and folded her regular panties neatly. The thong felt unfamiliar in her hands, but she carefully stepped into it, pulling it up her legs. The fabric settled lightly on her skin, delicate and barely noticeable. The sensation was unlike anything she had felt before—subtle but freeing, as if she were stepping into a new version of herself.

Turning to the mirror, Sally examined her reflection. Her body looked different, but not in an overwhelming way—more in the sense that she felt graceful, mature. No panty lines, no need to adjust anything. It was a small change, but one that made her feel more in control, more at ease with herself. Her usual nighttime diapers served their purpose, offering her a sense of security, but this... this made her feel confident in a new way, like she was stepping fully into her teenage years.

Sally smiled at her reflection, feeling a warmth spread in her chest. She wasn't rushing to grow up, but moments like this were part of the journey, part of understanding that she could balance both sides of herself—the girl who still needed comfort and the young woman who was discovering her independence.

This, she thought, was just another part of who she was becoming. And for now, that felt just right.

--

Sally stood in front of her mirror, the white thong still feeling new against her skin as she sifted through her closet, pulling out clothes and tossing them aside. The excitement of the upcoming photo shoot was slowly being replaced by indecision. Nothing seemed quite right. She wanted to look natural but also confident—something that struck the perfect balance between carefree and polished.

She tried on a miniskirt but wasn’t convinced. Shorts felt too casual, but the jeans she loved seemed a bit too predictable. She let out a small sigh, standing in front of her reflection, tugging at her clothes in frustration.

Downstairs, Theresa sat at the kitchen table with Bridget, who was typing away on her computer, finishing up some last-minute work. A cup of coffee sat beside her, nearly untouched. Theresa sipped her own cup, glancing at the clock.

“It’s been a while. Do you think I should go check on her? See if she needs help?” Theresa asked.

Bridget looked up from her screen, chuckling softly. “I think that might be a good idea. She probably needs a little nudge. You know how she is.”

Theresa grinned and nodded. “I’ll go see what’s going on.”

She walked up the stairs and knocked gently on Sally’s bedroom door. “Hey, it’s me,” she called out softly. There was a moment of silence, and then she heard a shy voice from the other side of the door.

“Come in.”

Theresa opened the door to find Sally standing in front of her full-length mirror, arms crossed as she looked at herself. She was still wearing the thong Theresa had gifted her, paired with a bra, her clothes scattered around the room. Sally smirked as she caught Theresa’s eye in the reflection.

“Well, you might as well see how it looks,” Sally said, her voice half teasing, half self-conscious.

Theresa raised an eyebrow, stepping inside with a grin. “I must say, it looks good on you, kiddo. So, what’s the holdup?”

Sally huffed, gesturing at the pile of clothes on her bed. “Nothing feels perfect. I’ve tried skirts, shorts, jeans… but nothing feels right for this. I want to look good, but I don’t want to overdo it.”

Theresa smiled and stepped closer, glancing at the options Sally had strewn across the bed. “Why don’t we start simple and see how it feels? You’ve got great taste; sometimes it’s just about experimenting a bit.”

She picked up a light-colored miniskirt. “How about this one? Let’s start with something that shows a little confidence.”

Sally reluctantly agreed and slipped it on. She looked at herself in the mirror, turning slightly, but the uncertainty still lingered in her eyes.

“Hmm,” Theresa murmured, eyeing her thoughtfully. “Maybe shorts?”

Sally slipped out of the skirt and tried a pair of denim shorts, pulling them on as she twisted around to check her reflection. They fit well but didn’t give her the feeling she was after.

“I don’t know…” Sally said, scrunching her nose.

“Okay, okay, let’s go back to what you love. Your jeans.” Theresa handed her the light blue Levi's that Sally often wore. “These are you.”

Sally smiled softly, slipping into the familiar pair of jeans. Instantly, she felt more at ease, and the slight discomfort of the thong faded into a distant thought. The jeans fit her like a glove, the soft jean material caressing skin once covered in regular panties – not anymore, and as she turned in the mirror, she could see the confidence returning to her face.

“Better?” Theresa asked, noticing Sally’s posture shift.

“Yeah,” Sally nodded, a small spark of relief in her voice.

“The t-shirt next,” Theresa suggested, pulling out a soft grey one from Sally’s drawer. “It’s simple, but it’ll work perfectly.”

Sally slipped it on, her look coming together as naturally as if it had been waiting for her. She then grabbed her black Converse sneakers and slid them on with ease.

“Wait!” Sally suddenly exclaimed, catching sight of her wrist. She quickly exchanged her Apple Watch for the vintage black Casio watch she had sitting on her dresser. “This feels more me.”

Theresa smiled warmly. “Now that’s the Sally I know.”

Sally looked at herself in the mirror, standing tall in her favorite jeans, t-shirt, and retro watch. A surge of confidence washed over her, and she felt a daring spark in her eye, as if she had just discovered a new layer of herself through this simple process.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she said, her voice carrying a newfound determination. She twirled around in front of the mirror, and paused to look over her shoulder.

“Yeah, nice view, Sally”, teased Theresa knowingly, in an older sister vibe.

Sally blushed slightly, but shrugged her shoulders. “A girl’s got to check”, she remarked.

Theresa watched as Sally stepped out of her bedroom with a lighter, more confident stride. The self-doubt from earlier seemed to have evaporated, replaced with an easy smile and a sense of maturity. Her movements had that subtle grace that comes when you know you’re comfortable in your own skin.

As Sally descended the stairs, Bridget glanced up from her work, her eyes softening as she saw her daughter.

Bridget smiled, warmth and pride evident in her expression. “You look composed, mature, and beautiful, sweetheart.”

Sally beamed, the words sinking in deeply. She felt ready—not just for the photo shoot, but for this new stage of herself she was slowly stepping into.

--

Sally slid into the back seat of the SUV, her fingers brushing against the soft leather as she buckled herself in. Theresa settled into the driver’s seat, adjusting the mirrors, while Bridget sat up front, her phone tucked away as she began chatting lightly with Theresa about the day ahead. The steady hum of their conversation filled the car, but Sally’s mind wandered elsewhere.

As the SUV pulled out of the driveway, Sally shifted in her seat, fidgeting just a little to get used to the unfamiliar sensation of the thong she was wearing. It felt different, nothing like the usual comfort of her regular panties or the secure bulk of her nighttime diaper. The thinness of the fabric, the way it barely touched her skin—it was strange but exhilarating all at once.

She found herself sitting a little taller, feeling the smooth fit of her jeans with no panty lines to adjust or worry about. The newness of it sent a small thrill through her, something quietly powerful. It wasn’t like she was wearing it to show off—no one else could see or even guess what was hidden underneath her clothes. That was the point, she thought with a small, reflective smile.

It was hers alone, a quiet confidence she carried just beneath the surface. A private milestone.

As the car moved along the road, she glanced out the window, watching the world blur past, but her mind kept drifting back to how this new piece of clothing made her feel. It wasn’t about impressing anyone or trying to seem older; it was about the way it made her feel. Empowered, in control, yet also comfortable in a way she hadn’t expected.

She fidgeted once more, but this time with a smile. The strangeness of it was fading, leaving behind a feeling of subtle excitement. It was like stepping into something new, something that was just for her.

In the front seat, Bridget’s laughter brought her back to the present. Theresa was making a light joke, and Sally saw her mother’s eyes twinkle with amusement as she glanced back briefly, catching Sally’s eye.

“You good back there?” Bridget asked with a grin.

Sally nodded, returning the smile, feeling lighter than before. “Yeah, I’m good.”

And she was.

--

As they pulled into the hotel parking lot, the SUV slowed to a stop in front of the entrance. The glass doors slid open, and out stepped Jeffrey, his usual unkempt, gruff figure somehow blending perfectly with the sleekness of the hotel. He wore his t-shirt – this time Nirvana - under a slightly faded jacket, and a baseball cap sat low on his head, shading his expressive eyes. Despite his appearance, there was a sharpness to the way he moved, a confidence in his stride as he approached the car.

"Ah, there she is! The star of the day!" Jeffrey called out with his deep, gravelly voice, spreading his arms wide in a dramatic greeting as Sally climbed out of the back seat. His gaze swept over her, and a knowing grin crossed his face as he gave a playful nod. "You look perfect. Like I told you before, you're a natural. Almost didn’t believe you’re 15."

Before Sally could respond, a black woman appeared at Jeffrey’s side, her energy filling the space instantly. She had wide, thick-rimmed glasses that framed her warm brown eyes and was dressed in a colorful mix of patterns that somehow worked together. She gave off a sort of geeky, quirky vibe that radiated joy.

“This is Fex, my assistant,” Jeffrey introduced. “Fex, meet Sally and her entourage.”

Fex broke into a wide grin, her personality as vibrant as her outfit. “Entourage, huh? I like that! You’ve got your people with you, girl! How’re we all doin’ today?” Her tone had that comedic charm, something that felt a bit like Whoopi Goldberg, and she greeted each of them with enthusiastic warmth.

“Hi, Fex. Nice to meet you,” Sally said, feeling instantly comfortable around her. Bridget and Theresa exchanged smiles as Fex shook their hands.

"Alright," Jeffrey interjected, clapping his hands together. "Let’s not waste time standing around. Come on, follow me."

He turned on his heel, leading the group toward the hotel doors with his usual banter. “So, here's the plan, alright? This shoot is gonna be easy, fun—nothing stiff or boring. We’re gonna capture the real you, Sally. You’ll be relaxed, you’ll have fun, and by the end of this, we’ll have the most natural, beautiful shots you’ve ever seen. No posing like a mannequin, okay? Just be yourself.”

Sally smiled, feeling a little more at ease as she followed behind him. His casual, laid-back energy was contagious, and she liked how everything felt more like an adventure than something stressful. She could still feel the subtle presence of her thong, a little reminder of her newfound confidence, and it bolstered her as they made their way down the hallway.

“We’ve got the perfect room reserved,” Jeffrey continued, glancing back at them as they walked. “Big windows, lots of light, and plenty of space for you to feel comfortable. And don't worry, we’ve got a changing area and plenty of outfits to experiment with. It’ll be fun.”

“Fun is my middle name,” Fex chimed in with a laugh, nudging Sally gently. “You’re in good hands, trust me.”

Sally chuckled, feeling lighter with each step. Bridget and Theresa walked close by, sharing a quiet conversation as they neared the room.

Jeffrey pushed open the door to reveal a spacious, well-lit suite with a large window that overlooked the city. Equipment was scattered around—a couple of lights, a camera on a tripod, and a clothing rack filled with options for Sally’s shoot.

“Welcome to your studio for the day,” Jeffrey announced with a sweeping gesture. “Let’s get started, shall we?”

Sally took a deep breath, her nerves starting to settle as she realized that with Jeffrey and Fex, this was going to be more fun than she had anticipated. And with Bridget and Theresa there, she knew she had all the support she needed.

--

As Sally stepped into the room, taking in the setup of lights, camera gear, and the outfits waiting for her, Jeffrey studied her closely. His eyes narrowed in a way that wasn’t critical but more… curious. He crossed his arms, leaning slightly on one foot, and after a moment, he let out a playful scoff.

“Alright, alright. I gotta say it,” Jeffrey began, shaking his head with mock disbelief. “You’re staging this ‘informality,’ aren’t you?”

Sally blinked, confused for a second, and then let out a nervous laugh. “What? No, this is just me.”

Jeffrey waved a hand in the air, dismissing her words. “Nah, no way. You step in here looking like you just strolled off the pages of Vogue. Look at you—light jeans, grey tee, black Converese shoes, even the watch. Casual like you just rolled out of bed, but perfect. You’d make front cover, kid. Front. Cover.”

Sally blushed, glancing down at herself as if seeing her outfit for the first time. “It’s just… what I had, really.”

“Uh-huh,” Jeffrey muttered, walking around her slowly, inspecting her from different angles. “I don’t buy it. You’re pulling off the whole ‘I didn’t try, but I totally did’ thing way too well. There's something different about you today. A little more... cheeky. A lot more confident.”

Sally grinned despite herself. It was true; she did feel different, more daring than she had before. Maybe it was the new piece of clothing she was wearing, the thong that hugged her in a way she wasn’t used to. Or maybe it was something else—maybe it was just part of growing up, of finding her confidence piece by piece.

But whatever it was, she knew Jeffrey could sense it. She shifted slightly, fidgeting again with the newness, and looked back at him. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she said, trying to sound casual.

Jeffrey threw up his hands. “There it is again! That look! You’ve got some secret going on here, I can feel it.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, half in jest but with a real spark of curiosity. “You’re standing differently. More confident. More relaxed. Cheeky”, he repeated.

Sally bit her lip, not quite able to suppress her smile this time. “Maybe I’m just feeling better about the shoot.”

“Uh-huh,” he said again, not quite buying it, though his grin showed he wasn’t too serious. “Whatever it is, it’s working. You’ve got this whole ‘I know something you don’t’ vibe going on, and it’s gonna show up in these photos.”

Fex, who had been adjusting the lighting nearby, chimed in with a laugh. “Yeah, Sally, you’ve got a glow. Whatever your secret is, keep it up. Jeffrey’s just jealous he’s not as confident.”

Jeffrey let out a loud laugh. “You caught me! But seriously, Sally. I don’t know what’s changed, but I’m liking it. We’re gonna capture something special today, I can feel it.”

Sally beamed at his words, feeling even more assured. She stood a little taller, knowing that even though Jeffrey couldn’t quite put his finger on what was different, she could. The subtle confidence from her secret, hidden beneath her clothes, gave her an extra edge. It was something just for her—something that made her feel powerful, bold, and completely in control.

“Let’s get to it, then,” Jeffrey said, clapping his hands together, a grin spreading across his face. “We’ve got a cover to shoot.”

Chapter 56 – Cheeky

The room buzzed with the sounds of camera clicks and soft conversation as Sally stood in front of Jeffrey and Fex. The large windows filled the room with natural light, casting soft shadows that moved as the sun began to dip lower in the sky. A faint hum of energy crackled through the space, and Sally could feel it flowing around her.

“Alright, alright,” Jeffrey said, waving his hand as he set his camera down for a moment. “Let’s start with something simple. Fex, grab her that Coke.”

Fex, ever the whirlwind of activity, zipped over to the side bar, pulling a chilled bottle of Coke from the mini-fridge. She handed it to Sally with a grin. “Here, drink up. Loosen up. This is gonna be fun.”

Sally twisted the cap off the Coke and took a sip, feeling the cool carbonation fizz against her lips. She wasn’t exactly sure what to do, but Jeffrey’s relaxed approach and Fex’s infectious enthusiasm kept her nerves at bay.

"Perfect!" Jeffrey’s voice broke through her thoughts as he snapped a few pictures, capturing her mid-sip. “You look like you’re in a Coca-Cola ad, kid! If they don’t hire you after this, I don’t know what they’re thinking.”

Sally laughed softly, her cheeks warming at the attention, but she quickly got into the flow. The playful banter between Jeffrey and Fex made her feel more comfortable, less self-conscious.

“Alright, now lean back on that bar,” Jeffrey instructed, pointing to the sleek black counter behind her. “Rest one arm, drink in hand. Casual, like you’re hanging out at some cool spot. Let’s see those chill vibes.”

Sally did as he said, leaning back slightly with the Coke bottle dangling casually from her fingers. She glanced off to the side, feeling the cool marble of the bar against her elbow, and let herself relax into the moment. Click, click. The camera kept capturing her, freezing each movement, each shift in her posture.

Jeffrey studied her through the lens, tilting his head slightly. “Yeah, that’s it. But give me a smile, not too big, just a little smirk. Like you know something I don’t. Perfect. Hold it… okay, now look over here.”

Sally’s gaze shifted toward the camera, her smile just teasing at the edges of her lips. She was getting more comfortable, more daring with each shot. Jeffrey’s banter and Fex’s encouragement were starting to fuel her confidence.

After a few more clicks, Jeffrey gestured toward a velvet sofa near the side of the room. “Let’s change it up. Have a seat on the sofa. Get cozy, but I want a little attitude in this one. Legs crossed, lean back, relaxed but sharp.”

Sally moved to the sofa, settling down into the plush cushions. She crossed her legs, leaning back, trying to channel the "cool, effortless" vibe Jeffrey kept talking about. The thong still felt new and strange, but also empowering, making her feel more in control of how she presented herself.

Fex bounced over to her, adjusting the Coke bottle in her hand. “Tilt it a little like this—yeah, that’s better. Now let’s play with it. Maybe bring it to your lips again, but don’t drink this time. Just hold it, like you’re teasing the camera.”

Sally followed the instructions, bringing the Coke bottle close to her lips but keeping her expression playful, her eyes narrowing slightly. Jeffrey snapped a series of shots, his voice coming through between clicks.

“Nice, that’s good. A little more attitude—there you go. Relax those shoulders. Perfect. Now toss the bottle to the side for a minute, and let’s do a serious one. Something soft but intense. Look out the window like you’re thinking about something important. Fex, give her the armchair.”

Fex grabbed the back of the armchair, dragging it closer to the window. “Here, sit sideways on this, one leg over the armrest. And give me a little more mystery in your expression.”

Sally perched on the arm of the chair, letting one leg drape lazily over the side. She turned her face slightly toward the window, letting her thoughts wander for just a moment, enough to soften her features. The camera clicked again, capturing the shift in her expression.

“That’s it, Sally,” Jeffrey called, his voice lowering as he focused. “Keep it natural. You’re thinking about something only you know. No posing, just let it happen.”

Sally felt her body relax into the chair, her mind half lost in the moment. She wasn’t sure what she was thinking about, but it didn’t matter. The light streaming in through the window made her feel calm, and Jeffrey’s quiet encouragement gave her a sense of control.

Fex, ever the energetic one, threw in her own suggestions. “Now stand up, move around the chair. Mess with your hair a little. Let it get a bit messy.”

Sally got up, moving around the chair like she was in a dream, running her fingers through her hair to give it a tousled, undone look. She felt her confidence grow with each step, each instruction. There was a boldness to it now, a sense of play she hadn’t expected to find.

“More of that!” Jeffrey cheered from behind the lens, snapping away. “Messy, wild, but still composed. You’re owning it now.”

Sally smiled to herself, the whole experience suddenly feeling less like a photo shoot and more like a personal discovery. The sensations from earlier—her new piece of clothing, the unfamiliar comfort—fueled her newfound boldness.

“Alright, final set,” Jeffrey said, his voice carrying the energy of the room. “Take a seat on that chair over there, legs up on the table, leaning back. Just totally casual. You’re the star, and you know it.”

Sally plopped down into the chair, tossing her legs up onto the nearby table and leaning back. This time, she didn’t have to think about what she was doing; she just let the confidence take over. The camera flashed as Jeffrey took the final shots, capturing her as she threw her head back in a soft, relaxed laugh.

“Perfect,” he said, lowering his camera and giving her a satisfied nod. “You’re something else, Sally. Whatever you’ve got going on today, it’s shining.”

Sally exhaled, feeling both exhilarated and at ease. The shoot had transformed from something nerve-wracking into something fun—something that let her explore this new, confident side of herself.

Jeffrey approached her, camera still in hand. “I don’t know what’s different about you today, but whatever it is—keep it. You’re a natural.” He grinned, looking to Fex. “She’ll make front cover one day, mark my words.”

Sally smiled softly, feeling the warmth of the compliment. The room still buzzed with the energy of the shoot, but deep down, she felt a new part of herself had come alive—bold, cheeky, and confident, just like Jeffrey had said.

--

"Alright, let’s see an athlete!" Jeffrey announced with a gleam in his eye, already mentally picturing the next set of shots. He motioned toward Fex, who scurried excitedly to the clothing rack, flipping through the hangers.

“I’ve got just the thing,” Fex chirped, pulling out a pair of dark blue leggings and a light blue sports t-shirt. “Perfect. This will bring out her energy. What do you think?”

Sally and Bridget approached the rack, and Fex held the outfit up against Sally, beaming. “Yes! Sporty, sleek, but still you. Bridget, why don’t you help her into these in the changing area?”

Bridget smiled and nodded, guiding Sally toward the small screened-off area in the corner of the room. Sally ducked inside, pulling the curtain closed behind them. The cozy privacy felt like a small respite from the whirlwind of the photoshoot, but Sally was still buzzing with excitement. She was having fun, more fun than she’d expected.

As Bridget adjusted the light inside the changing area, she turned to Sally with a soft, motherly smile. “How are you doing, sweetheart? Enjoying yourself?”

Sally smiled back, cheeks a bit flushed from all the attention. “Yeah… I am, actually,” she admitted with a hint of surprise in her voice. “It’s a lot, but it’s fun.”

Bridget’s eyes twinkled as she placed the athletic outfit on a hook. “I can tell. You look like you’re glowing out there.”

Sally turned around to face the mirror as she began slipping off her jeans, feeling more relaxed now. Just as she was about to toss them aside, it hit her—the thong. She froze for a split second, realizing her mother hadn’t yet seen her in it. She glanced over her shoulder at Bridget, who had a knowing smile on her face but didn’t say a word.

“Well, well,” Bridget said, humor sparkling in her voice. “I see Theresa's gift found its place.”

Sally turned fully toward her mother, her face lighting up with both embarrassment and amusement. “Yeah… about that,” she laughed softly, tugging her jeans the rest of the way off. “Theresa said I was a ‘big girl’ now.”

Bridget chuckled warmly, shaking her head. “She’s got a point, you know. It suits you. But it’s still a bit funny seeing you like this.” Her tone was kind, teasing but not judgmental.

“Yeah, a little different than, you know… the bulky stuff,” Sally said with a grin, alluding to her nighttime routine. The thong was such a contrast to the thick diapers she wore, and the moment felt almost surreal—one of those growing-up moments that was both awkward and exciting at the same time.

“Well, whatever you're wearing, you're still my girl," Bridget said, gently helping her pull up the tight leggings. “Alright, let’s get you into this sporty look.”

With a little help, Sally pulled on the dark blue leggings, the fabric stretching smoothly over her legs. They were snug, hugging her body perfectly, and she could feel the firmness of the material. She slipped into the light blue athletic t-shirt, the soft fabric falling just below her waist, and gave herself a quick glance in the mirror.

“Okay,” she said, exhaling. “Ready.”

Bridget gave her an approving smile. “You look great. Let’s show them.”

When Sally reemerged from the changing area, Jeffrey was waiting with a wide grin. “Ah, now we’re talking. You look like you just walked out of a Nike ad. Ready to show us what you’ve got?”

Sally smiled, feeling a little self-conscious but bolstered by everyone’s encouragement.

Jeffrey motioned toward a set of dumbbells he’d brought along. “Let’s do a little gym routine. Nothing fancy, just stretch, move around—let’s get some natural action shots.”

Theresa, who had been watching from the side, stepped forward with a playful grin. “I can help with that. C’mon, Sally, let’s get you moving. We’ve done this a million times before.”

Sally laughed, the nervousness falling away as she followed Theresa’s lead. They stood in the center of the room, and Theresa led Sally through a warm-up routine, starting with simple stretches. Jeffrey circled them, snapping photos from every angle, his camera clicking constantly.

“Perfect. That’s it, just move naturally,” he encouraged. “Stretch your arms a little more—great. Fex, adjust the light a bit on this side!”

Theresa was in full coach mode, her voice steady but upbeat. “Alright, Sally, let’s hit those lunges. Nice and slow, just like we practiced.”

Sally followed her instructions, lunging forward with a determined expression, feeling her body move fluidly in the tight leggings. The athletic gear felt like a second skin, and the workout routine made her forget all about the camera. She was in the zone.

“Now grab those dumbbells,” Theresa said, pointing to the small set on the floor. Sally picked them up, feeling the familiar weight in her hands. “Just a few curls. Let’s get that strength shot.”

Sally started curling the weights, feeling the burn in her arms, but her smile never left her face. Jeffrey crouched low, snapping shots as she worked out, his enthusiasm infectious.

“You’re killing it, Sally!” he called out. “These are the shots we needed. You’re a total pro.”

The room buzzed with energy as Fex darted around, adjusting lights and offering goofy encouragement in between takes. “You’ve got this! You’re like an Olympian! And hey, don’t forget to breathe!”

Sally laughed between reps, her confidence growing with every movement. She wasn’t just posing anymore—she was in her element, and it felt good.

After a few minutes of exercises, stretching, and weightlifting, Jeffrey lowered his camera and nodded approvingly. “Alright, I think we’ve got some great stuff here. That was amazing.”

Sally wiped a bit of sweat from her forehead, feeling accomplished, as Theresa gave her an encouraging pat on the back. “You did great, kiddo. Just like in training.”

Sally beamed, catching her reflection in the window. She felt strong, confident, and fully herself. Even in this new and strange setting, she knew she was growing—both inside and out.

--

After the final set of poses, Sally grabbed the can of Sprite Fex handed her, the cold condensation instantly cooling her palms. She popped the tab, and the fizz hit her ears like a refreshing promise. The first sip was pure bliss, the cool, lemon-lime bubbles hitting her tongue in the most satisfying way possible.

"Forget the Gulfstream," Sally murmured, half to herself, as she took another long drink. "This Sprite is worth a million dollars right now."

Theresa chuckled, overhearing her. “You’ve earned it.”

Jeffrey continued snapping a few casual shots of Sally cooling down with her drink, but even he could sense the day’s work was winding down. The room had the pleasant afterglow of a job well done, the energy relaxed but still buzzing from the success of the session.

“All right, kid,” Jeffrey finally said, stepping back from his camera and slinging it over his shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “I think we’ve got some absolute gold here. You nailed it.”

Sally smiled, feeling the mix of pride and exhaustion settle in. She stretched her arms, still feeling the pleasant tension in her muscles from the impromptu workout.

Fex leaned over the rack of clothes, organizing things as she added with a grin, “Seriously, you’re a natural. We’re basically done for the day.”

Sally took another sip of her Sprite, feeling a deep satisfaction that had nothing to do with the photos themselves, but more with how she had felt throughout the session. Strong, confident—like she was growing into herself.

Jeffrey suddenly clapped his hands together, breaking through the easy atmosphere. “But tomorrow!” he said with a dramatic pause, drawing everyone’s attention. “Tomorrow is gonna be different.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, curious. “Different how?”

Jeffrey’s eyes sparkled mischievously as he crossed his arms, clearly enjoying the suspense. “You’re arriving earlier. No warm-up with leggings and t-shirts. Oh no, tomorrow we’re going all out. Hair, makeup, nails—the whole shebang.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly, and she glanced at her mom, who was watching with an amused smile. “Hair and makeup?”

Jeffrey nodded, leaning in a bit for emphasis. “Yes, ma’am. And then—" he made an exaggerated, suspenseful pause, clearly enjoying the buildup, “the dress.”

Sally felt a twinge of excitement and nerves at the same time. “The dress?” she repeated, a little breathless.

“Oh yes,” Jeffrey said, eyes widening for dramatic effect. “The dress. You haven’t seen it yet, but trust me, it’s a showstopper. You’re gonna look like you stepped out of a fairytale.”

Fex grinned and chimed in, “Think of it like a mini red-carpet moment. You’ll love it.”

Sally couldn’t help but smile, feeling her heart flutter with anticipation. She had done the casual, sporty side of things today, but tomorrow felt like a different kind of adventure—one where she’d get to explore a more glamorous side of herself.

“You’ll be fine,” Theresa added with a wink. “We’ll all be there to make sure you’re comfortable.”

Jeffrey slung his camera bag over his shoulder, nodding sagely. “So get a good night’s sleep, kid. Because tomorrow is going to be special.”

Sally nodded, the excitement starting to simmer inside her. The day had been fun, but the promise of tomorrow—the makeover, the dress—felt like something bigger. Something that would push her even further outside her comfort zone, but in a way that excited her.

"Okay," she said, grinning. "I’m ready."

Jeffrey smirked. “You’d better be. You’ll be a whole new Sally tomorrow.”

--

The SUV hummed softly as it glided down the road, the late afternoon light casting long shadows across the city. Sally sat in the back, her head resting against the window, the weight of the day's excitement and exertion pressing down on her. The rush of the photo shoot had faded, leaving behind a pleasant, tired ache in her muscles. Her thoughts drifted, the quiet of the ride allowing her to savor the memories of the day.

In the front seat, Bridget and Theresa exchanged words, their conversation weaving between praise and laughter.

"She did amazing," Theresa commented, her eyes glancing in the rearview mirror at Sally. "I don’t think Jeffrey expected her to be such a natural."

Bridget chuckled softly. "I’m not surprised. She’s always been quick to adjust, especially when she’s comfortable."

Theresa smiled, her tone light but knowing. "Speaking of comfort… that little gift of mine seems to have worked wonders."

Sally, in her tired state, felt her cheeks heat up. She hadn’t expected her mother and Theresa to bring that up so casually, but she couldn’t deny it. Sitting there, even though she was exhausted, she felt different. Confident. Mature in a way she hadn’t before.

She blushed, turning her head slightly to avoid their eyes. “Yeah… it did make a difference,” she admitted, her voice soft, but there was no denying the truth behind it.

Bridget grinned knowingly, her eyes meeting Theresa’s briefly before turning back to the road. "I knew it would. Just a little something to remind you that growing up isn’t all bad."

The rest of the drive was filled with the warm hum of casual conversation between Bridget and Theresa, but Sally stayed quiet, letting herself sink deeper into the silence, absorbing their words. The day had been a whirlwind, and the anticipation of tomorrow—the dress, the full makeover—was already stirring in the back of her mind.

When they finally pulled up to their house, Theresa parked the car, and Sally dragged herself out of the back seat, stretching her legs as Bridget thanked Theresa. "Same time tomorrow?" Bridget asked.

Theresa nodded. "You got it. And no school for Sally. She’s going to need her energy for what’s coming."

Sally perked up a bit at that, the idea of skipping school making her feel a little better. The day had worn her out, and she wasn’t sure she had enough left in her for anything academic.

Bridget and Sally waved goodbye as Theresa drove off, then made their way into the house. Bridget immediately headed for the kitchen, and Sally followed, her stomach grumbling softly. The tension in her muscles was catching up with her, but she couldn’t help but feel a little excited for a late snack.

As Bridget reached into the pantry, Sally opened the fridge, her eyes scanning for something cold. Without thinking twice, she grabbed another can of Sprite, popping it open and taking a long, refreshing drink. The carbonation fizzed against her tongue, and she leaned against the counter, her body relaxing.

Bridget watched her with a thin smile, leaning on the kitchen island. "You seemed to enjoy today," she said softly, her voice gentle but curious.

Sally took another sip, letting the coolness of the drink ease the lingering heat from her body. “Yeah,” she admitted, smiling between gulps. “It was… a lot of fun.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for more.

Sally took a deep breath, her eyes heavy from tiredness but still sparkling with enthusiasm. "I didn’t really know what to expect, but Jeffrey and Fex made it easy. It didn’t feel like I was being watched. It was just… natural, I guess? At first, I was nervous, but the more we did, the more I got into it."

Bridget nodded, listening intently as Sally continued.

“And then with Theresa helping with the stretches… it just felt like home, like we were training together. But it was fun at the same time.” Sally paused to sip her drink again, her eyes growing a bit heavier as the tiredness crept up. “And Jeffrey, well, he has a way of making everything feel like it’s no big deal, even when it is. I wasn’t trying so hard, I guess. I was just… being myself.”

Bridget smiled, seeing the subtle transformation in her daughter over the course of the day. "I’m glad you were able to relax and enjoy it."

Sally nodded, the tiredness more pronounced in her eyes now. “It was tiring, though. But in a good way, you know? It felt like I was doing something important.”

Bridget’s smile grew a little, pride evident in her eyes. "You were, sweetheart."

As Sally finished off the rest of her Sprite, she felt a wave of gratitude for her mother’s quiet support. Even though she was exhausted, there was a feeling of contentment settling in her chest.

Bridget reached over, gently squeezing her shoulder. "Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow’s going to be another big day."

Sally nodded, her eyelids growing heavier as she set the empty can down. "Yeah… I will."

Mother and daughter settled into the comfortable silence of the kitchen, and for the first time that day, Sally allowed herself to fully relax, knowing she had her mother’s unwavering support.

--

Bridget watched Sally finish her second can of Sprite, followed by all the drinks she had at the photo shoot. The fatigue from the day's photoshoot clearly weighed on Sally, but Bridget couldn’t ignore the creeping concern that settled in as she mentally tallied all the liquid her daughter had consumed. Bridget knew what that meant. Experience told her that the night ahead might not be as easygoing as the evening had been.

After cleaning up the kitchen, Bridget observed Sally dragging her feet towards her bedroom. With a quiet sigh, she followed her daughter, the warmth of earlier fading into a more serious tone in her mind. She had made a decision.

As they reached Sally’s bedroom, Bridget knocked softly on the doorframe and walked in. Sally was already halfway across the room, setting her phone down on her desk. Bridget crossed her arms, her expression thoughtful, but firm.

“Sally,” she began, her voice soft but carrying a weight of seriousness.

Sally glanced over her shoulder, noticing her mother’s change in demeanor. She sighed, already sensing what was coming. “I know, I drank a lot,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair as she turned to face her mother.

Bridget stepped closer, her eyes gentle but resolute. “Sweetheart, you had four cans of pop tonight, and added two bottles of water on top of it. That’s… quite a bit, even for you.”

Sally looked down, biting her lip. She knew what was coming, but didn’t argue. She could already feel the effects of the drinks, and a part of her was relieved that her mom was stepping in before anything became a problem.

Bridget placed a hand on Sally’s shoulder, her tone soft but firm. “You’re growing up, I know. But tonight, with how much you’ve had to drink, we need to be careful.”

Sally nodded, feeling a mix of embarrassment and understanding wash over her.

 

Bridget gently guided her toward the bed, her decision already made. “I think it’s best that we take extra precautions tonight. I’m going to have you wear a diaper with two boosters, just to be safe.”

Sally’s face flushed slightly, but she didn’t protest. Her mother’s gentle seriousness told her this wasn’t a suggestion, and deep down, Sally knew her mother was right.

“I guess that makes sense,” Sally admitted, trying to push away the small sting of embarrassment. She had dealt with this before, and she trusted her mother’s judgment, especially on nights like this.

Bridget gave her a reassuring smile, pulling out a thick diaper and two boosters from the drawer. “It’s just for tonight, and it’ll help both of us get some peace of mind.”

Sally watched as her mother carefully prepared the diaper, expertly layering in the two boosters. There was a tenderness to the way Bridget moved, even when she was being firm, and that made Sally feel a little more at ease.

Once Bridget was done preparing everything, she turned back to Sally, her eyes softening. “I’ll let you take care of it, but I’ll be nearby if you need anything.”

Sally nodded, feeling the weight of the long day settle into her limbs. “Thanks, Mom.”

Bridget gave her a small, encouraging smile. “It’s nothing to be worried about. Let’s just make sure you’re comfortable and that there are no surprises tomorrow morning.”

Sally glanced down at the prepared diaper, feeling gratitude. As much as she wanted to be beyond this, tonight’s situation had made it clear that some things still needed to be handled with care.

With a final, gentle pat on Sally’s shoulder, Bridget turned toward the door, giving her daughter the space and privacy to take care of herself. Before leaving, she paused, looking back at Sally with a warm expression. “Get some rest, sweetheart. Tomorrow’s another big day.”

Sally smiled slightly, feeling the love and care her mother always gave, even when things felt awkward. "I will, Mom. Thanks."

As Bridget left the room, closing the door softly behind her, Sally sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the thick diaper with its added boosters. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was practical, and that was what mattered right now.

With a deep sigh, she began the process of getting ready for bed, knowing that, despite the awkwardness, her mom was looking out for her in the best way possible.

Chapter 57 - Booster

Sally sat on the edge of her bed, her gaze fixed on the thick diaper and two boosters neatly laid out in front of her. A sense of relief washed over her at the sight. After the whirlwind of the day, the thought of slipping into something familiar, something that provided comfort and security, felt grounding. She hadn’t realized how much she craved it until now.

As she reached down to unbutton her jeans, her fingers brushed against the waistband, feeling the smooth fabric beneath. Her mind flickered back to the earlier part of the day, when she had stood in front of the mirror admiring the way her thong gave her confidence—how it made her feel daring and grown-up. There was no mistaking the change she’d felt; the newness of the thong had stirred something in her, something that had pushed her to walk taller, speak more boldly, and yes, as Jeffrey had put it, feel “cheeky.”

She undid the button and slid the jeans down her legs, folding them neatly and placing them on the chair beside her bed. As she stood in front of her mirror, wearing just the white thong and t-shirt, she turned slightly, glancing at her reflection. The thong had been something new, a challenge that made her feel like she could handle anything. The smoothness, the confidence it brought—it had been thrilling.

Maybe I am ready to accept new challenges, she thought, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Today had been proof of that. The photo shoot, Jeffrey’s playful comments, and her own boldness all spoke to her growth. There had been a time when she would have shied away from the camera, but today, she had embraced it.

But now, as she unclasped her bra and slid the thong down her legs, folding it alongside her jeans, the weight of the day settled in. She felt her body craving something else—a kind of comfort that the day’s thrill couldn’t provide. The confidence from the thong was real, but so was her need for security, for the kind of comfort that only her nighttime diaper routine could give her.

Sally sat back down, picking up the first booster pad, her fingers tracing the soft, absorbent material. It was a routine she had done countless times before, but tonight, it felt different. Tonight, it wasn’t just about needing protection—it was about allowing herself to retreat into a space of care and peace, something just for her.

She carefully placed the first booster inside the diaper, smoothing it out before reaching for the second. Each motion was deliberate, almost meditative. As she layered the second booster into place, she marveled at the thickness, knowing that tonight, no matter how much she had drunk, there would be no worries. The diaper and boosters would do their job, allowing her to sleep soundly without interruption.

With a quiet sigh, Sally lifted the diaper and unfolded it, the crinkle of the material filling the room. She lay back on her bed, positioning the diaper beneath her hips, and pulled the front snugly up to her waist. The feeling of the thick padding against her skin was instantly comforting. It enveloped her in a sense of security that the thong, for all its boldness, could never provide.

As she reached for the tapes, she thought again of the contrast. The thong had made her feel grown-up, confident, in control of the image she projected to the world. The diaper, on the other hand, allowed her to let go of those pressures, to surrender to the comfort of knowing she didn’t have to worry about anything.

She secured the tapes one by one, making sure the diaper fit snugly but comfortably around her waist. The added boosters made it bulkier than usual, but that was precisely the point. She needed the extra protection tonight, and the thickness only amplified the sense of safety that settled over her.

Once she was done, Sally sat up, running her hands over the front of the diaper, feeling the soft, thick material cradling her. The weight of the diaper was reassuring, a tangible reminder that she didn’t have to be anything but herself right now. She could be vulnerable, she could be cared for, and in this moment, that was enough.

As she stood up, stretching slightly, she glanced again at the discarded thong on the chair. Cheeky, huh? Sally thought, smiling to herself. Maybe that part of her was growing, but so was this—her need for comfort, security, and self-acceptance. One didn’t have to negate the other. She could be confident and bold during the day, while still allowing herself the quiet peace of her nightly routine.

Sally pulled her sleep t-shirt on, the hem just brushing the top of her diaper, and stood in front of the mirror one last time. The girl staring back at her was the same Sally, but today, she felt a little more in tune with herself. She was learning to balance both sides—the daring young woman who wanted to take on the world, and the girl who still needed the security of her diaper at night.

As she climbed into bed, she felt the comforting weight of the diaper settle against her, the boosters thick but reassuring. Her body relaxed instantly, sinking into the familiar warmth. She thought back to the day, to the photo shoot, to the jokes and praise from Jeffrey, and felt proud of how far she had come.

She closed her eyes, feeling herself drift. Tomorrow would bring more challenges, more growth. But for now, in this quiet moment, she allowed herself to simply be: secure, comforted, and at peace with who she was.

--

As the soft glow of early morning filtered through the curtains, Sally stirred faintly in her sleep. The comforting bulk of the thick diaper and boosters cradled her securely, warm and familiar against her body. She had felt the dampness spreading through the padding throughout the night, waking briefly each time as her bladder emptied itself, but she didn’t worry. Her body was relaxed, knowing that the diaper would handle everything. There was no urgency, no panic—just the steady reassurance that she was safe.

The sound of rain tapping gently against the window lulled her deeper into sleep, and the security of the thick padding around her only amplified that feeling of peace. Sally trusted her diaper to keep her dry, as it always did, and she trusted her mother to be there in the morning to take care of her.

But as the morning crept closer, a familiar pressure began building in her abdomen. Her drowsy mind barely registered it at first, but slowly the urge to relieve herself grew, and she knew what was coming. Sally’s eyes fluttered open briefly, her body heavy with sleep. She shifted slightly in bed, her hand brushing against the waistband of her diaper, feeling how soggy it had become. Yet, she felt completely secure.

The pressure increased, and Sally squeezed her legs together instinctively, the urgency making itself known. There was no point in getting up. She was still groggy, and the thought of moving seemed impossible. But, more importantly, she didn’t need to. The comforting bulk of her diaper was there, ready for whatever her body needed.

With a quiet sigh, Sally allowed herself to relax, letting her body do what it needed to do. Her face flushed slightly in the semi-darkness, but there was a deep sense of relief as she felt herself begin to push, her body letting go into the security of her diaper. The pressure eased as she filled it, the warmth spreading as the mess settled against the padding. Sally felt no shame—only comfort. The thickness of the diaper held everything snugly in place, and the relief that washed over her was immediate.

She lay back, breathing deeply, feeling the tension in her body melt away. The familiar scent of the rain mixed with the softness of her bedding, and she closed her eyes again, letting herself drift back toward sleep. There was no need to worry. Her diaper, bulky and soaked now, was doing its job. She could feel its secure embrace around her, and that was all she needed to know.

Sally trusted her mother completely. Bridget would come in the morning, as she always did, to take care of her in times like these. That thought alone brought a sense of comfort deeper than any other. Bridget never made her feel embarrassed or ashamed—just cared for.

Sally shifted slightly in bed, the wet and messy diaper pressing against her, but she didn’t mind. In fact, the sensation added to her comfort, reminding her that she didn’t have to hold anything in or feel anxious. She could let go, both physically and emotionally, knowing that everything was being taken care of.

She breathed in deeply, letting the warmth of the bed and the steady rain lull her back to sleep. There was nothing to worry about. The night had been long, and her body had taken care of itself. Her diaper was thick enough to handle it, and Bridget would be there soon to help her with the rest.

With that comforting thought, Sally let herself drift back into a deep, peaceful sleep, her body fully relaxed, cradled in the safe cocoon of her bed and diaper. The world outside continued on, but inside, she was safe, comfortable, and completely secure.

--

Bridget quietly opened the door to Sally’s bedroom, greeted by the familiar scent that instantly confirmed what had happened overnight. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, illuminating the room just enough to see Sally sitting upright against her headboard, her phone in hand, her fingers moving quickly across the screen as she texted. Despite the smell, Bridget didn’t let her expression falter. Her daughter’s comfort was her priority.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Bridget said gently, stepping further into the room.

Sally glanced up, a small blush creeping across her cheeks. “Morning, Mom,” she replied, setting her phone down. “I’m telling Katrina I won’t be in school today.”

Bridget smiled, sitting on the edge of the bed. She could tell Sally was still waking up fully, her body adjusting to the remnants of the night before. “How was your night?” she asked casually, though the knowing look in her eyes already conveyed that she understood the answer.

Sally blushed a little deeper, shifting uncomfortably in the thick diaper that was now very full, the sensation heavy and warm. “Busy,” she mumbled, her tone half-apologetic.

Bridget chuckled softly, brushing a hand through Sally’s hair. “I figured,” she said with a light laugh. “That’s why I made sure to put two boosters in your diaper last night. But it seems like you’ve been ‘extra’ busy.” There was a knowing smile on Bridget’s face, one that held no judgment, only gentle understanding.

Sally squirmed slightly in bed, her legs unable to close because of the bulk of the soaked and messy diaper between them. She looked down for a moment, still blushing, but then she smiled faintly, feeling only warmth and acceptance from her mother. Bridget’s tone and attitude had always made these moments easier to deal with—something about the way she handled everything with grace and care.

Bridget stood up and motioned toward the bathroom. “Why don’t you waddle your way to the shower and get that off?” she suggested with a smile, her tone soft and playful.

Sally nodded, slipping off the bed and feeling the heavy weight of her diaper sagging between her legs as she walked. She waddled toward the bathroom, feeling the thick padding squish with each step. Once inside, Bridget followed behind her, making sure Sally felt comfortable as she helped her strip off the sodden diaper.

The shower’s warm water cascaded down, washing away the remnants of the night and the exhaustion that lingered in Sally’s body. As the water soaked her hair and skin, Sally felt a deep sense of comfort and security, knowing her mother was there, caring for her in the most vulnerable moments. Bridget stayed close, making sure Sally cleaned herself thoroughly, her touch always gentle and respectful.

When the shower was done, Sally dried herself off, wrapping the towel around her as she stepped out of the bathroom. She felt clean, refreshed, and safe in the soft cocoon of her home. As she emerged from the bathroom, she noticed her mother waiting by her bed.

Bridget had already laid out a simple, thick diaper, fluffed and ready. She looked up at Sally with a calm smile. “I thought it might be nice to have a relaxed morning,” she said warmly. “You’ve got the photo shoot later, so we can take it easy until then.”

Sally smiled, grateful for her mother’s care. Without a word, she laid down on the bed, and Bridget began to diaper her gently, the familiarity of the routine comforting them both. Bridget’s hands worked skillfully, the process calm and nurturing, reinforcing the trust and love between them.

Once the diaper was securely in place, Sally sighed with relief, feeling the soft padding beneath her. She felt cocooned, both in the physical sense and emotionally, knowing that her mother understood her needs without judgment.

“Thanks, Mom,” Sally murmured as she sat up, feeling relaxed and at peace.

Bridget smiled, brushing her daughter’s hair back gently. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Now just take it easy this morning. You’ve got a big day ahead of you.”

Sally nodded, her heart full, as she settled back into bed, enjoying the softness of the fresh diaper and the quietness of the morning.

--

The morning light filtered gently through the kitchen windows as Sally sat at the table, still in her diaper and t-shirt, the casual comfort of home surrounding her. Her hair was slightly damp from the shower, and a fresh warmth radiated from the diaper she had just been changed into. Bridget, seated across from her, had prepared breakfast—simple toast, fruit, and eggs—while Sally cradled a mug of coffee in her hands. They had fallen into a peaceful rhythm, the air around them calm and relaxed.

"Yesterday was… something," Sally murmured, taking a sip of her coffee. The warmth of the liquid flowed through her, helping her shake off the last traces of sleepiness. "I wonder what Dad will think of the photos."

Bridget looked up from her plate, her expression slightly cryptic, but with a small smile playing at her lips. "Oh, I think you’ll find out soon enough," she said, the answer vague but knowing.

Sally furrowed her brow slightly, sensing there was more to her mother’s words but not pressing the matter. She let it go for the moment, shifting in her seat, the soft crinkle of her diaper barely audible in the quiet room. The thought of her father seeing the photos made her both nervous and excited. It had been an intense experience, stepping into something so new and so bold, but she couldn’t deny that she felt proud of herself.

As she took another sip of coffee, Sally felt a familiar, gentle pressure build in her bladder. It wasn’t urgent, just a soft reminder of the fluids still working their way through her system from the night before. Without really thinking about it, she relaxed slightly, and the warm flow began to spread through her diaper, the padding quickly absorbing the small release. She shifted subtly in her seat, thankful she had the diaper on. The relief was instant, and she barely needed to acknowledge it, knowing the diaper would take care of everything.

Bridget glanced up from her breakfast, her motherly intuition keen, but she said nothing. Sally’s comfort in the moment was obvious, and there was no need to comment. Instead, they continued to talk about the photo shoot, the light conversation filling the room.

"You handled yourself so well," Bridget said with a note of pride. "Even Jeffrey couldn’t stop praising you."

Sally smiled at the memory. "It was… weird, but good. I didn’t think I’d like it as much as I did."

"You were a natural," Bridget added, taking a sip of her own coffee. "And I think the photos will show just how much you’ve grown."

After breakfast, Sally stood, the familiar crinkle of her diaper following her as she moved. She grabbed her thermos from the counter and poured the last of her coffee into it, sealing it up to take upstairs. The quiet confidence she’d felt yesterday still lingered, though now it was softened by the warmth of her home, the security of her routine.

"I’m going to paint for a bit," Sally said as she gathered her things. The Studio upstairs called to her, a place where she could unwind and let her creativity flow.

Bridget nodded, watching her daughter with a soft smile. "Take your time. You’ve earned a quiet morning."

Sally smiled back, the thermos in one hand as she turned to leave the kitchen. The crinkle of her diaper was a quiet background sound as she made her way upstairs, the familiar, comforting feeling of the padding reminding her that, for now, she could simply relax and focus on her art.

Once inside her studio, Sally set her thermos down on the small table by the window. The room was bathed in soft, natural light, and her easel stood ready with a fresh canvas. She took a deep breath, feeling the calm wash over her as she prepared to lose herself in her painting, free from distractions, secure in the comfort of her home.

--

As Sally stood before her easel, her brush gently gliding across the canvas, she found herself slipping into that familiar rhythm of creation, where time seemed to melt away and only the flow of color and form remained. The quiet crinkle of her diaper as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other was a comforting backdrop to the peacefulness of the morning. She dipped her brush into the paint again, smoothing another layer of color onto the canvas, but her thoughts began to drift.

It started subtly, a soft warmth spreading through her diaper, a gentle reminder of the liquids she had consumed during breakfast. Without even thinking about it, she let herself relax fully, allowing her bladder to release into the thick padding. The warmth spread quickly, enveloping her in a familiar sensation of security and comfort. She paused for a moment, the brush hovering mid-air, as the feeling made her stop and reflect.

There was something about the physical sensation that struck her as different. Just like when she had worn the thong the day before. The thong had given her a new, thrilling kind of confidence. It had emphasized her body in a way she had never experienced before, making her feel daring, cheeky, and almost rebellious. There was something bold in how it shaped her, both physically and mentally, letting her experiment with a new version of herself—one that exuded maturity and freedom.

But her diaper… her diaper was entirely different.

Where the thong was sleek and minimal, the diaper was thick and soft. Where the thong made her feel bold, the diaper made her feel secure. As the warmth from wetting it spread, Sally couldn’t help but reflect on how deeply comforting it was. The physical sensation wasn’t just about practicality; it offered her a sense of peace, of safety. The bulk between her legs, the way it cradled her body, it was a kind of nurturing that was entirely its own.

Sally absentmindedly brought her brush back down to the canvas, but her mind was still focused on the contrasting sensations. The thong had made her feel like she was stepping into a new role, one where she was testing the limits of her confidence. But the diaper, with its soft, secure padding, allowed her to return to a place of vulnerability, where she didn’t need to be in control or be something for anyone else.

It was just her—comforted, cared for, and safe.

She smiled softly to herself, appreciating the physical aspect of it all. How her body felt different in each, how her sense of self shifted depending on what she wore. The thong had given her confidence that she hadn’t expected, but the diaper offered her something more intimate—a quiet acceptance of her own needs. It allowed her to embrace a side of herself that wasn’t about being bold or rebellious but about allowing herself to be cared for, both by her mother and by herself.

Sally continued to paint, feeling more relaxed than she had in days. Every now and then, as she shifted on her feet or adjusted her stance, the gentle crinkle of the diaper reminded her of its presence, and she couldn’t help but smile. It was a reminder that she didn’t always have to be on the edge of adulthood, pushing herself into new challenges like the photo shoot or the thong had encouraged. Sometimes, it was enough to just be herself—vulnerable, protected, and deeply comforted.

Her thoughts meandered between the sensations, and for the rest of the morning, she found herself deeply immersed in both her painting and the wonderful feeling of security that her diaper brought. She didn’t rush or worry, letting the hours slip by as she created her art, free from any pressure or expectations. This was her time, her space, and she felt entirely at peace.

--

Bridget knocked softly on the door of Sally’s studio, stepping inside without waiting for a response. The room was filled with the faint scent of paint, and the natural light spilling in through the window made everything feel warm and serene. Sally stood in front of her easel, fully engrossed in her abstract painting, her movements fluid and graceful. The quiet crinkle of her diaper as she shifted her stance was barely noticeable, but Bridget’s motherly intuition picked up on it immediately. She smiled to herself.

"How’s it going in here?" Bridget asked as she stepped closer, folding her arms and leaning against the doorway.

Sally glanced over her shoulder, smiling at her mother’s presence. "Pretty good," she said, her voice relaxed. "I think I’m finally getting the colors right."

Bridget moved over to sit on the sofa, watching Sally as she continued painting. She studied the canvas, its abstract shapes and bold swaths of color starting to take form. The composition was fluid, yet there was an energy to it—an exploration of emotion in motion. Sally had always been able to convey so much through her art.

"That’s beautiful," Bridget said softly. "You’ve really captured something here. It’s different from your usual work, though. What’s the inspiration?"

Sally paused, tilting her head as she considered the question. "I don’t know," she admitted, dipping her brush into a pale blue. "I think it’s just… I wanted to express some kind of freedom, you know? Not being tied to anything specific. Just letting the colors move how they want."

Bridget nodded, understanding. "It shows. There’s something really liberating about it."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, the sound of the brush against the canvas filling the room. Bridget watched her daughter closely, noting how at ease she seemed—both in her art and in herself. The sense of security that Sally had, even wearing her diaper, made Bridget’s heart swell with love. She was proud of the young woman Sally was becoming, confident yet still deeply in tune with her own needs.

After a while, Bridget broke the silence again. "You know, it’s been a while since we’ve gone to New York together. What do you think about spending a weekend there? Just the two of us."

Sally’s eyes lit up as she turned to face her mother. "That sounds amazing! We haven’t been to New York in forever."

Bridget smiled, pleased by her daughter’s excitement. "I was thinking we could visit some galleries, maybe do a little shopping. You said you wanted to check out SoHo, right?"

Sally grinned, setting her brush down for a moment. "Yes, definitely SoHo. I’ve been wanting to see some of the art galleries there."

Bridget’s smile widened knowingly. "Ah, I thought so. SoHo it is, then."

Sally cleaned her brush and wiped her hands on the towel she kept nearby. "I’d love that," she said, turning back to the canvas for a final few strokes before putting everything away. "But I think lunch is next on the agenda, right?"

Bridget gave a small chuckle, nodding. "Yes, but I think you’ll need a fresh diaper first, sweetie."

Sally laughed softly, feeling a little flush of warmth at how casually her mother mentioned it. There was no embarrassment, no awkwardness—just the loving routine they shared. She wiped her hands thoroughly, then turned to face her mother. "Yeah, I figured."

Bridget stood up from the chair, her face filled with fondness as she walked over to where Sally was now laying down a mat on the floor. Sally, ever practical, knew what was coming next and gently eased herself down onto the mat, the crinkling of her diaper the only sound between them.

As Sally lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, Bridget knelt beside her, opening up the clean diaper she had brought and setting it aside for a moment. "You know," Bridget started, a teasing glint in her eye, "this part never gets old, does it?"

Sally chuckled, a little blush creeping up her neck. "Well, at least not for you," she replied with a grin. "You get all the fun."

Bridget playfully shook her head, unfastening the tapes of Sally’s wet diaper with practiced ease. "Oh, you’d be surprised," she said, sliding the soaked diaper out from under Sally. "You have no idea how skilled I’ve become at this over the years."

Sally giggled, relaxing as her mother wiped her clean with gentle, practiced movements. "I think you could teach a class, Mom."

Bridget raised an eyebrow with a smile. "Oh, I’d be a professional at this point," she joked, carefully ensuring that Sally was clean. Her movements were full of tenderness and love, the kind that only came from years of nurturing and knowing each other deeply.

As she reached for the fresh diaper, Bridget fluffed it out, making sure it was perfectly ready. "Alright, now let’s get you comfy," she said softly, lifting Sally’s legs just enough to slide the clean diaper beneath her.

Sally sighed, feeling the fresh padding beneath her, thick and soft. It was such a contrast to the confidence she’d felt yesterday in the thong, but she found herself grateful for the comfort now. "Thanks, Mom," she said quietly, her voice filled with gratitude.

Bridget smiled warmly as she pulled the diaper snugly around Sally’s waist, securing the tapes with care. "Anytime, sweetheart. You know that."

As the diaper was secured, Bridget gave a playful tap on Sally’s padded bottom. "There we go. All set, nice and dry. Ready for lunch?"

Sally sat up, the familiar crinkle following her movements, and smiled at her mother. "I am now."

Bridget helped her to her feet, and they shared a warm moment, both of them comfortable in this unique bond they shared. As they left the studio together, heading toward the kitchen for lunch, there was no doubt in either of their minds just how much love and respect they had for one another.

And as Sally crinkled her way downstairs, she couldn’t help but feel how deeply secure and supported she was, not just in her diaper, but in the love her mother always gave her.

Chapter 58 - Plans

A few days earlier...

(This here is sort of a bonus look behind the scenes)

Theresa had gathered the girls in the back room of a local café, a cozy space with oversized chairs and soft lighting. Katrina, Clara, Patricia, and Amanda were already seated, their notebooks and phones out, ready to brainstorm. Bridget, though fully aware of the plan, had graciously left all the organizing to Theresa, trusting her instincts completely.

Theresa strolled in, setting down her own notebook and looking at the excited faces around her.

“Alright, ladies,” she began with a grin, “we’re here to figure out how to make Sally’s surprise Quinceañera the most epic, unforgettable event. I’ve already booked the hotel and the adjoining event room for Friday evening, so we’re set on the basics. Now, it’s your job to come up with some magic.”

Katrina leaned forward immediately, her hands already animated. “First of all, this has to be HUGE. I’m talking about music, lights, dancing, and a lot of people. No one does a Quinceañera half-baked. We need a DJ.”

Clara raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Katrina, we’re not trying to throw a club night in Miami. Sally’s going to freak out if it’s too big. Maybe something a bit more… refined?”

“Oh come on!” Katrina shot back, flipping her wild curls over her shoulder. “It’s her Quinceañera! It’s a big deal!”

Patricia chuckled from her seat, nudging Amanda. “This is already going in about ten different directions, huh?”

Amanda grinned. “We could just hire a mariachi band and call it a day. Problem solved.”

Everyone laughed, but Katrina gasped in mock offense. “¡Dios mío, Amanda, that’s the laziest idea ever!”

Patricia leaned in, voice playful. “Okay, but seriously, we do need to think about how to balance it. Sally’s not the type to want a massive party, but it’s still a Quinceañera. We need something that’s elegant, but not over-the-top. Something that feels like her.”

Theresa watched them banter, amused at their energy. She knew she had to step in at just the right moment. “Alright, before this turns into a full-on circus, let’s take a step back.”

She paused, letting their attention focus on her. “Here’s the plan, and I think you’re going to love it.”

All eyes turned toward Theresa, intrigued. She opened her notebook and revealed the key piece of the puzzle.

“Sally’s father requested a two-day photo shoot for her, starting on Thursday. What I’m thinking is this—on the second day, Friday, Sally is already going to be in the hotel for the shoot. She’ll have her makeover done, the photographer will have her in a beautiful dress, and that’s when we spring the surprise. After some carefully orchestrated ‘confusion,’ the photographer will gently guide her toward the adjoining doors to the event room. Once she walks through, the lights go on, and you’re all there waiting to cheer, ‘Happy Birthday!’”

Katrina’s eyes lit up. “Wait, you’re merging the photo shoot with the Quinceañera reveal? That’s genius!”

Theresa nodded. “Exactly. She’ll think it’s just another part of the shoot, but when she enters the event room, boom, party time.”

Clara smiled, leaning back in her chair. “That’s perfect. She won’t even see it coming.”

Patricia clapped her hands together. “Okay, now that’s the kind of big reveal I can get behind. It’s subtle, but dramatic.”

Amanda grinned. “And she’ll already be dressed up. She’ll feel amazing.”

Theresa raised her hand slightly. “Exactly. And since she’ll be preoccupied with the shoot, we’ll have plenty of time to set everything up in the adjoining room without her noticing. We’ll also make sure to enter the hotel through the back to avoid bumping into guests. I’m working with the photographer, Jeffrey, and he’s in on it too. We’ll make sure everything runs smoothly.”

Katrina couldn’t hold back her excitement. “I love it. We need to make sure the decorations pop, though. Flowers everywhere. Candles. Lights. And oh, we should get a live band for when the DJ takes breaks.”

Clara chuckled. “Alright, I’ll concede to the DJ if we get the live band. It’s a deal.”

Theresa jotted down their ideas. “Alright, decorations and music are in. I’ll talk to the hotel about coordinating with their chef for food and drinks. Do you all have any ideas on what we should serve?”

Amanda perked up. “Sally loves finger foods. Nothing too heavy, but fun stuff, like mini sliders, sushi, and maybe a chocolate fountain for dessert.”

Patricia added, “And mocktails. Make it feel fancy without being too much.”

Theresa smiled. “I’ll speak to the chef. And as for the guest list, I’ve already got her closest friends down, but we’ll make sure it doesn’t get overwhelming.”

Katrina sighed dramatically, leaning her elbows on the table. “This is going to be the most amazing Quinceañera ever. Sally has no idea how lucky she is to have friends like us.”

Clara smirked, nudging Katrina. “Yeah, because no one else would go this over the top.”

Theresa laughed, closing her notebook. “Alright, then it’s settled. We’ll keep everything under wraps until the big day. Let me handle the logistics. You all just be ready for Friday.”

As the meeting wrapped up, the girls exchanged excited looks, the energy high as they began to imagine how the surprise would unfold. Theresa watched them with a sense of satisfaction. Everything was falling into place.

Chapter 59 - Prelude to Beauty

“It’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years,” Bridget declared, setting her iced tea down with a flourish.

Sally, mid-bite into her avocado and tomato sandwich on whole grain bread, raised an eyebrow. “Oh no,” she said, swallowing. “You’re not going to get philosophical on me now, are you? I’m still digesting.”

Bridget leaned back in her chair, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. “It’s Abraham Lincoln, Sally. I mean, the man knew a thing or two about life.”

Sally couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, but come on, Mom. Lincoln didn’t have to worry about photo shoots and dresses.”

Bridget tilted her head, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe not, but if he did, don’t you think he’d want to make the most of it? It’s about seizing the moment, sweetheart. You only get to do this once.”

Sally let out a playful groan. “Fine, fine. But just so you know, yesterday’s ‘life in my years’ was already pretty full. Today feels like overkill.”

Bridget’s laughter filled the room, warm and genuine. “It’s not overkill, it’s an experience. Trust me, it’s going to be beautiful.”

Sally sighed, but her eyes softened. She could hear the excitement in her mother’s voice, and it was hard to stay annoyed when she knew how much it meant to her.

Before she could reply, Theresa’s silver Mercedes SUV pulled into the driveway, catching Sally’s eye. Bridget waved toward the door, and Sally turned just in time to see Theresa letting herself in. Sally groaned inwardly, suddenly aware that she was sitting at the table in nothing but her t-shirt and a very visible diaper. While it wasn’t the first time Theresa had seen her like this, it still made her feel less-than-grown-up.

Theresa, ever unbothered, strode into the kitchen with a wide smile. She leaned over to give Sally a half-hug, her hand lightly squeezing Sally’s shoulder. She winked at Sally in a way that managed to be both comforting and mischievous. “Well, look at you,” she teased softly, her eyes sparkling, “rocking that look as confidently as ever.”

Sally blushed, but couldn’t help laughing. Theresa had a way of making even her most embarrassing moments feel normal. Theresa pulled up a chair, and Bridget poured her a glass of iced tea.

Theresa slid an elegant shopping bag across the table toward Bridget, glancing knowingly. Sally’s curiosity piqued immediately, and she shifted in her seat, lifting her bottom just enough to try and peek into the bag. The telltale crinkle of her diaper echoed in the kitchen, making her blush even more.

Bridget’s eyes sparkled as she smiled at her daughter. “I got you something special for the shoot,” she announced, pushing the bag toward Sally. “Theresa and I coordinated, and I think you’re going to love it. It’s not meant to show up in the photos, but it’s something that’s just for you to enjoy.”

Sally’s eyes widened as she took the bag, her hands trembling slightly with anticipation. She opened it and found an exquisitely wrapped package inside. With careful fingers, she untied the bow and unwrapped the box. As she lifted the lid, she gasped, her eyes widening at the sight of the beautiful, sheer material.

Her hands slid reverently over the dark blue lace, feeling the delicate fabric. She pulled out the strapless bra, marveling at its elegance, but it was the thong underneath that made her eyes pop open. The thin, frilly material was breathtaking, completely different from the simple white thong she’d worn the day before. This set was luxurious, something she’d never imagined herself owning.

Sally held the thong up by her little finger, her cheeks going red. The contrast between the sheer, elegant underwear and the thick diaper she was currently wearing felt almost comical. She couldn’t help but laugh, but it came out shy and a bit awkward.

Bridget, ever witty, leaned forward with a playful grin. “Quite the contrast, huh?”

Sally’s face burned, and she couldn’t help but groan, half-laughing and half-embarrassed. Theresa, ever matter-of-fact, smiled warmly. “Even if no one else sees it under the dress, it’s a magnificent way to frame the beauty you’ll be today, Sally. It’s all part of feeling your best.”

Sally’s blush deepened, but she carefully placed the underwear back in the box and set it in the bag. “It’s a little much, don’t you think?” she teased, but her voice softened with gratitude. She stood up, her diaper crinkling loudly, and leaned forward to hug her mother. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispered.

Bridget hugged her back, her eyes misting slightly. Sally then turned to Theresa, her face still pink, and gave her a grateful smile. “Thanks for helping with all the logistics,” she said, winking. Theresa returned the gesture with a heartwarming smile.

They all sat back down, resuming their conversation, the room now relaxed and filled with warmth. At one point, Sally let out a small sigh as she realized she had wet her diaper. She frowned slightly, disappointed that she hadn’t tried to hold it. She knew Theresa had seen her diaper dry when she’d gotten up to hug Bridget, and now she’d be able to tell she’d used it. Sally couldn’t help feeling a little embarrassed.

Bridget noticed Sally’s frown and gently coaxed her out of her chair. “Alright, up you go. Shower, wash your hair properly, and get into something comfortable for the hotel. We’ve got a big afternoon ahead.”

Sally stood, her wet diaper in display. Theresa, pretending not to notice, gave her an encouraging smile. “You’re going to get a full makeover—hair, nails, makeup—the whole shebang,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “And then, after that, you’ll get to put on the dress. Trust me, it’s worth the wait.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, still feeling like this was all too much. “All of this just for pictures?” she said, her voice incredulous but light.

Theresa’s expression softened. “It’s important for your father.”

Sally’s face hardened slightly. “If it’s so important to him, he could’ve gotten on that fancy plane of his and come to see it himself,” she retorted. Her voice carried a trace of hurt, but she immediately looked apologetic. “Sorry,” she mumbled, frowning and making a small, apologetic face.

With a crinkle, Sally turned and made her way out of the room, heading up the stairs. Bridget and Theresa exchanged a knowing look, understanding the mix of emotions swirling in Sally’s heart.

“She’ll be okay,” Bridget said softly, and Theresa nodded, her eyes warm with empathy.

--

“Drying your hair is one of the most difficult parts about being a girl,” thought Sally to herself. She sat naked in front of her vanity mirror after her shower, working her hair with the dryer, the warm air blasting through her damp locks as she carefully combed through them. It was always a task that felt both necessary and tedious, but today, with everything ahead of her, she took extra care. The strands of her hair glistened under the soft lighting of her bedroom, and she tilted her head, making sure to dry it evenly.

Her mind drifted as she continued, thoughts flitting from one subject to the next. Drying my hair, and my period, she mused. She cast a quick glance at the calendar pinned up next to her vanity, her eyes zeroing in on the small, circled dates. Her period was coming up next week. Her stomach tightened slightly at the thought, a familiar pang of discomfort that she pushed aside. At least, she reminded herself, she wouldn’t have to deal with it during the photo shoot today. Small mercies.

With a final pass of the dryer, she turned it off, running her fingers through her now-dry hair and fluffing it a bit. Satisfied, she set the dryer aside and stood up, feeling the air cool against her bare skin. She walked over to her bed where the elegant shopping bag from earlier sat, the luxurious lingerie inside still waiting to be worn.

Sally pulled out the lacy thong, holding it between her fingers and inspecting it closely. It was a deep, midnight blue, the lace intricate and delicate, with tiny floral patterns that added a touch of sophistication. The fabric felt impossibly soft against her fingertips, and she admired how it seemed to almost shimmer in the light. There was something both daring and beautiful about it—a piece of clothing meant to be unseen but still breathtakingly special.

The idea of wearing a thong still felt new to her. Yesterday had been her first time trying one on, but this one felt different. It was softer, more refined, and somehow made her feel more mature just by holding it. She took a deep breath, a small flutter of anticipation in her chest, and stepped into the thong, carefully pulling it up her legs. The thin straps settled snugly on her hips, the fabric fitting perfectly against her skin. It felt barely there, a whisper of fabric that made her feel both exposed and empowered.

She turned slightly, glancing at herself in the mirror. The way the lace framed her hips was almost artistic, and she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of confidence. It was strange, how something so small could make her feel so bold, but she wasn’t complaining. She smoothed her hands over her hips, taking in the way the thong accentuated her body, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Next, she reached for the matching strapless bra. The sheer, dark blue fabric cupped her breasts delicately, with just enough structure to offer support while still looking and feeling luxurious. She slid her arms behind her back, fastening it securely and adjusting the cups until they sat perfectly. The material felt soft and cool against her skin, and she admired how it shaped her, highlighting her collarbones and the gentle curves of her chest.

Sally stood back, taking in her reflection. The lacy set was undeniably beautiful, and though no one else would see it under her clothes, she reveled in the feeling it gave her. It was like a little secret, something just for her, and she felt a rush of excitement for the day ahead.

Reluctantly, she slipped on a pair of soft lounge pants and a comfortable hoodie, the casual clothes a sharp contrast to the elegant lingerie beneath. She pulled her hair into a loose ponytail, her heart still racing a bit from the thrill of the new underwear, and made her way downstairs.

Bridget and Theresa were waiting for her in the kitchen, their conversation pausing as Sally entered. Bridget looked up, her eyes lighting up when she saw her daughter. “All ready?” she asked, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Sally gave a small smile, trying to hide her nerves. “Yeah, I think so,” she replied, slipping onto one of the barstools at the kitchen island. She tugged at the hem of her hoodie absentmindedly, still hyper-aware of the lacy set she was wearing underneath.

Theresa, who was sipping a cup of iced tea, raised an eyebrow playfully. “You look relaxed,” she teased. “I hope you’re ready for the full makeover treatment.”

Sally rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her face. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, her voice light.

Bridget exchanged a knowing look with Theresa. “It’s going to be a day to remember,” she said, her tone full of promise. “I know you’re not one for a lot of fuss, but trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

Sally nodded, feeling a bit of the tension leave her shoulders. Her mother’s excitement was contagious, and despite her reservations, she found herself looking forward to whatever the day had in store.

Theresa set down her cup and clapped her hands together. “Alright, ladies,” she announced, “let’s get this show on the road.”

The three of them made their way out to Theresa’s silver Mercedes SUV, the sun shining brightly overhead. Sally slid into the back seat, the leather cool against her legs, while Bridget took the passenger seat. Theresa started the car, the engine purring to life, and they set off toward the hotel.

As they drove, the conversation flowed easily, a mix of lighthearted jokes and excited anticipation. Sally couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of adventure bubble up inside her. Today was going to be something special, she could feel it.

Chapter 60 - Ciao Bella

Jeffrey’s faded Scorpions t-shirt screamed 80’s all the way, and Sally couldn’t help but smile. The shirt was so worn, she could almost imagine it having survived a thousand rock concerts, and it suited Jeffrey perfectly. His burst of energy as he greeted the women was contagious, and it filled the room with a buzzing excitement.

“Are you ready to rock?” Jeffrey called out to Sally, throwing his arms wide in an exaggerated rockstar pose.

Sally grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Rock me like a hurricane!” she shot back, referencing the famous Scorpions song without missing a beat.

Jeffrey’s jaw dropped in mock amazement, and he clutched his heart. “This girl has culture!” he declared dramatically, as if Sally had just given the performance of a lifetime. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’m impressed.”

Theresa, standing beside Sally, raised an eyebrow. “Did you just…?” she started, but before she could finish, Bridget broke into a wide, proud smile.

“That’s my girl,” Bridget said, beaming. “She’s got good taste in music.”

Sally shot her mom a grateful smile. It was Bridget who had introduced her to all those classic rock songs, and moments like this made her glad she’d paid attention.

They walked into the event room, which had been transformed into a stunning studio space. A full makeover station had been set up, complete with elegant mirrors framed in soft golden lights. Three elegant Latin American women stood waiting expectantly, each radiating a sense of professional grace. Fex stepped forward with her usual upbeat energy and began introductions.

“Sally, meet your glam squad,” Fex said with a flourish. “This is Rebeca from Colombia, who will be taking care of your hair; Thaíze from Brazil, your fabulous manicurist; and Renata from Mexico, our makeup magician.”

Sally smiled brightly, feeling both excited and a little overwhelmed. “Mucho gusto!” she said, switching into Spanish, and then, turning to Thaíze, she added in her best Portuguese, “Oi, tudo bem?”

The women exchanged delighted glances, clearly impressed with Sally’s effort. Renata’s eyes widened, and she clapped her hands together. “¡Qué encantadora! You speak Spanish beautifully,” she said, and Thaíze nodded, adding, “And Portuguese too! You’re full of surprises.”

Sally felt her cheeks warm at the compliments, but she was grateful for the ease they brought to the introductions. Bridget watched proudly, while Theresa stood beside her, clearly impressed at Sally’s social and language skills.

Fex gently coaxed Sally toward the changing room. “Alright, superstar, let’s get you into something more comfortable,” she said. “Robes are always in fashion, you know.”

Sally slipped into the changing room and carefully undressed, feeling a shiver of anticipation. She pulled on the silk robe that had been provided, the soft, luxurious fabric sliding over her skin like a whisper. It brushed against her body, accentuating the feeling of her lacy thong underneath. The sensation was both thrilling and a little disorienting, and she couldn’t help but marvel at how different she felt, standing there in a silk robe that reached her knees.

She stepped out of the changing room, clutching the robe around her, and the women got to work immediately. Rebeca approached first, her hands gentle as she ran her fingers through Sally’s hair, assessing its texture.

“Your hair is beautiful,” Rebeca said warmly. “It’s got this natural straightness, but I can see how it curls just slightly at the ends. We’ll make sure it looks perfect.”

Sally smiled, feeling herself relax under Rebeca’s care. The hairdresser sectioned off her hair and began working, her fingers deft and experienced. As the curling iron heated up, Rebeca chatted with Sally about her plans for the day, filling the room with easy conversation.

Meanwhile, Jeffrey, never one to miss a moment, had his camera out, snapping photos of Sally from different angles. “These candid shots are gold,” he declared, moving around to get the best lighting. “Don’t mind me, just pretend I’m not here.”

Theo, a young man with a friendly smile and a camera rig, introduced himself with a wave. “I’ll be capturing the behind-the-scenes action,” he explained. “Just ignore me and have fun.”

Sally nodded, trying not to feel too self-conscious. It was easier when Rebeca started curling her hair, the warm iron smoothing and shaping each section. The process felt indulgent, like a pampering she hadn’t known she needed. Jeffrey kept snapping photos, and his playful commentary had everyone laughing.

At one point, Jeffrey glanced at Theresa, who was standing nearby. “Hey, you,” he called out, “Sally needs a drink. How about a cold Coke for our princess?”

Theresa’s eyebrows shot up, and she crossed her arms, mock-annoyed at being bossed around. “Excuse me?” she replied, but her eyes twinkled with humor. Sally giggled at the exchange, finding it funny to see Theresa “bullied” by Jeffrey.

Theresa eventually relented, disappearing for a moment and returning with a cold Coke bottle. She leaned down and whispered to Sally, “Pampered Princess,” before handing her the drink with a straw.

Sally took a sip, the cold, fizzy taste refreshing. “Thanks,” she said, smiling at Theresa’s playful sarcasm.

The atmosphere in the room was one of camaraderie and joy. Thaíze took over next, working on Sally’s nails with gentle precision. She filed, buffed, and painted them a soft, elegant shade that would complement Sally’s dress without being overpowering. All the while, she admired Sally’s hands. “Such graceful fingers,” she said, her Portuguese accent melodic. “You could be a hand model!”

Sally laughed, feeling more and more at ease. By the time it was Renata’s turn, she was practically glowing from all the attention and care. Renata examined Sally’s pale skin and dark brown eyes, deciding on a makeup look that would enhance her natural beauty.

“Your skin is perfect,” Renata told her. “So smooth and luminous. We’ll make your eyes the star, and keep everything else soft and elegant.”

As Renata worked on her face, Sally closed her eyes, savoring the feeling of the brushes and powders. It was a kind of pampering she wasn’t used to, but she couldn’t deny how wonderful it felt.

All the while, Jeffrey kept taking photos, capturing every laugh, every shared smile, and every moment of transformation. He and Fex kept the energy high, making jokes and teasing each other, while Theo quietly filmed in the background, unobtrusive but always there.

Just as Renata finished applying the final touches to Sally’s makeup, the door opened, and a short, motherly woman with curly dark hair bustled in. She wore a bright smile and carried a large garment bag with care. Her accent was thick and melodic as she introduced herself.

“Ciao, ciao! I am Loredana, the seamstress,” she announced, her voice warm and welcoming. “And I have brought you your dress.”

The excitement in the room seemed to double, and Sally’s heart began to race as she anticipated the final reveal.

Loredana’s warm, motherly demeanor enveloped the room as she stepped forward with a gentle but determined smile. “Come, come, bella,” she said, motioning for Sally to follow her toward the changing room. Her voice carried that lyrical Italian accent, making every word feel like a melody. Sally felt herself pulled along by the older woman’s energy, a mixture of curiosity and nerves swirling inside her.

Bridget joined them, introducing herself to Loredana with a polite smile. “I’m Sally’s mother,” she said, her voice warm but with an underlying excitement that matched the atmosphere of the day.

Loredana’s eyes sparkled as she shook Bridget’s hand. “Ah, the mother of this beautiful ragazza. You must be so proud,” she said, before turning back to Sally with a twinkle in her eye. “Now, let’s get you ready, my dear.”

Inside the changing room, Loredana and Bridget helped Sally slip out of her silk robe. Sally felt a wave of uneasiness wash over her as she stood there in only her lacy dark blue thong and strapless bra. The sheer, intricate material of the thong hugged her hips delicately, and the strapless bra cupped her small breasts with a whisper of elegance. It was a stark contrast to the thick, comforting diapers she wore at home, and the exposure made her feel both vulnerable and strangely confident.

Sally’s cheeks flushed, and she instinctively crossed her arms over her stomach, but Loredana was quick to dismiss her shyness in a typically brisk, Italian way. She stepped back, hands on her hips, and admired Sally with an appraising eye. “Bella,” she declared, nodding with approval. “Look at you. That figure! You are young, fresh, and perfect. Don’t be shy, ragazza.”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh softly, the embarrassment easing under Loredana’s genuine admiration. Bridget, standing beside her, gave her daughter a reassuring smile. “She’s right, Sally. You look beautiful.”

Loredana wasted no time, reaching for the dark blue dress she had brought in. The dress was exquisite—an elegant, strapless creation that seemed to shimmer in the soft light of the room. It was a deep, inky blue, the color of a twilight sky, and the fabric flowed gracefully from the bodice down to just above Sally’s knees. It was the perfect blend of sophistication and youthful charm, mature but not overpowering.

“Now, lift your arms,” Loredana instructed gently, holding the dress open so that Sally could step into it. Sally obeyed, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension as the luxurious fabric enveloped her. Loredana and Bridget worked together to carefully slide the dress up her body, adjusting the bodice so that it hugged her chest comfortably.

The strapless design felt new and unfamiliar. Sally glanced down, her heart racing as she felt the dress settle into place. The boning in the bodice offered support, and she was grateful for the strapless bra her mother had bought her—it fit seamlessly, cupping her breasts and keeping everything in place. The dark blue lace of the thong was hidden beneath the fabric, but Sally could feel the delicate material against her skin, a quiet reminder of the daring choice her mother had made for her. It was a private, thrilling confidence booster.

Loredana circled around Sally, adjusting the fit and smoothing the dress over her hips. Her hands worked deftly, tugging here and pinning there, making sure the dress fell perfectly. “Ah, perfetto,” she murmured, stepping back to admire her work. “Your figure is perfect for this dress, just as I told your father.”

At the mention of her father, Sally’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. She opened her mouth as if to ask a question but decided against it, biting her lip instead. Bridget noticed the reaction and gently squeezed Sally’s hand, offering silent reassurance.

Loredana, unaware of the tension, knelt down to slip a pair of beautiful flats onto Sally’s feet. They were a shimmery silver, simple yet elegant, and they complemented the dress perfectly. The older woman stood back up and clapped her hands together, a proud smile lighting up her face. “There,” she declared. “You are a vision, bella ragazza.”

Sally took a deep breath as Loredana and Bridget led her out of the changing room. When she stepped back into the main area, all eyes turned to her, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Sally walked toward the full-length mirror, her heart pounding in her chest, and when she finally saw her reflection, she gasped.

The transformation was breathtaking.

Her straight, shoulder-length black hair framed her face perfectly, the gentle curls at the ends adding an air of softness. Her dark brown eyes seemed to shine brighter, accentuated by the delicate makeup Renata had applied. The strapless dark blue dress hugged her body in all the right places, the fabric flowing gracefully around her knees. She looked older, more poised, but still unmistakably herself. The elegance of the dress, combined with the private thrill of the lacy underwear beneath, made her feel powerful and beautiful.

Sally’s eyes filled with emotion, and a pang of sadness pierced her heart as she thought about her father. He should have been here to see this moment, to see her standing tall and radiant. She swallowed hard, trying to push away the ache, but it lingered.

Bridget, standing beside her, noticed the sadness in her daughter’s eyes and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Sally turned to look at her mother, and despite the melancholy, she managed a small, grateful smile.

“You look stunning,” Bridget whispered, her voice thick with pride.

Sally took a deep breath, her reflection shimmering with beauty and the hint of longing. “Thanks, Mom,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside her.

She was ready, but a piece of her heart still wished her father could be here to see how far she’d come.

--

The man looked like a Secret Service agent.

Sally couldn’t help but think it as she watched the tall, stone-faced man standing in the corner of the event room. He wore a crisp black suit, perfectly polished shoes, and dark sunglasses, despite being indoors. He held a sleek black briefcase in one hand and appeared to be waiting for some kind of signal. As Sally sat on the edge of the divan, still fidgeting with the hem of her dark blue dress, she noticed the man glance over at Theresa. Theresa met his gaze and gave a small, subtle nod.

The man moved forward, walking with a deliberate, purposeful stride until he was standing right in front of Sally. He didn’t introduce himself, and he didn’t smile. Instead, he set the black briefcase on a nearby table and, with an air of solemn ceremony, clicked it open. Sally watched, her heart pounding with curiosity, as he lifted out a thin square jewelry box.

Her eyes widened, and she held her breath as he opened the box.

Inside, nestled in plush black velvet, was the most exquisite set of jewelry Sally had ever seen.

Theresa stepped forward, her voice warm with excitement. “Your father sent these for you,” she said gently, her eyes shimmering with pride. “Something special for today.”

Sally’s mouth fell open. She reached out with trembling fingers, her breath catching as she took in the beautiful pieces.

First, there were the Sapphire Drop Earrings: a pair of elegant teardrop-shaped blue sapphires, framed delicately with a halo of small diamonds. They sparkled as the light caught them, the deep blue gems matching her dress perfectly. They were regal, breathtaking, and unlike anything she had ever imagined wearing.

Next was the Sapphire and Diamond Pendant Necklace: a fine white gold chain with a matching blue sapphire pendant, also teardrop-shaped and surrounded by diamonds. The pendant would rest just above her collarbone, drawing attention to the elegant line of her neck.

Finally, there was the White Gold Charm Bracelet: dainty and beautiful, with a few thoughtful charms dangling from it. The centerpiece was a small, elegant Gulfstream airplane silhouette, representing her father’s career and, she knew, his love for her. There was also a heart charm and a matching sapphire charm, tying the whole set together.

Sally’s vision blurred as her eyes filled with emotion. She blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears from spilling over. Her father had thought of this, organized it, made sure she had something beautiful for this moment. But even as her heart swelled with appreciation, there was a sharp stab of longing. She would have preferred his presence to this expensive gift. She missed him—missed having him there to share this special day.

Bridget stepped closer and gently put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Let’s put them on,” she said softly. Together, they lifted the earrings and fastened them to Sally’s ears, the cold metal brushing her skin before warming to her touch. The necklace followed, and then the charm bracelet, which jingled softly as it clasped around her wrist.

Jeffrey had been snapping photos the entire time, capturing the raw, unfiltered emotion on Sally’s face. Theo, the videographer, was filming quietly in the background, recording every moment. Sally stood still, feeling the weight of the jewelry and the mixed emotions swirling inside her. Her eyes burned with sentiment, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, willing herself to smile.

Jeffrey, ever observant, noticed the tears glistening in her eyes. “No time for crying now, kid,” he called out, his voice a playful command. “We’ve got a shoot to do!”

Sally took a deep breath and nodded, allowing herself to be pulled back into the present. Jeffrey and Fex exchanged a look, and then Fex stepped forward, gently guiding Sally to the divan. “Alright, princess,” Fex said with a teasing smile, “let’s get you posing.”

Sally sat on the divan, her hands folded in her lap. Jeffrey positioned her carefully, making slight adjustments to her posture. “Chin up, eyes serious,” he instructed, circling around her with his camera. “We want intensity, mystery. Think deep thoughts.”

Sally tried to focus, channeling the swirling emotions inside her. The longing for her father, the excitement of the day, the weight of her new jewelry—all of it created a depth in her eyes that Jeffrey was quick to capture.

Click. Click. Click.

Jeffrey called out phrases in German, and to his delight, Sally responded confidently in the language. “Sehr gut, Sally!” he exclaimed, laughing. “You surprise me every time. Now, let’s get some close-ups. Look at me—yes, just like that.”

Sally maintained her serious expression, her dark brown eyes focused and intense. The camera clicked away, capturing the way the light reflected off her pale skin and the dark blue of her dress. Her shoulder-length black hair had been styled elegantly, curling softly at the ends, and the sapphire earrings framed her face perfectly.

Jeffrey took advantage of her solemn mood, commanding her in a mix of German and English. “Gib mir mehr! More feeling, more depth. Jawohl, keep it going!”

But as the shoot continued, Fex decided it was time to lighten the atmosphere. She started telling silly jokes, making funny faces, and whispering ridiculous comments in Sally’s ear. Sally couldn’t help but giggle, the laughter bubbling up despite her efforts to stay serious.

“Come on, Sally!” Fex said, throwing her hands in the air. “Laugh! Let’s see that smile!”

Sally burst out laughing, her eyes crinkling with joy, and Jeffrey clicked away furiously. “That’s it!” he shouted. “Perfect! More of that!”

The energy in the room lifted, and Sally found herself genuinely enjoying the moment. Jeffrey and Fex kept up the playful banter, coaxing her into a series of relaxed, informal poses. Sally leaned back on the divan, tossing her hair over her shoulder, and at one point even fell into a fit of giggles as Fex pretended to trip over her own feet.

Theo’s drone hovered in the background, capturing aerial shots of the scene. The soft whirring sound blended with the laughter, and the room was filled with a joyful buzz. Sally stretched out on the divan, then sat up and crossed her legs, one hand resting on her knee. She leaned forward, her smile genuine, and Jeffrey caught the moment with perfect timing.

For the final shots, Sally stood up, twirling around in her dress. The sapphire necklace glittered with each movement, and the bracelet jingled softly on her wrist. Her laughter echoed through the room, a testament to the happiness she was feeling despite the lingering ache in her heart.

“Alright, Sally,” Jeffrey said, lowering his camera and grinning. “One last special shot. Are you ready?”

Sally caught her breath, her cheeks flushed from laughing. “Ready,” she replied, her heart pounding with anticipation.

--

Jeffrey was staring far off at the other end of the room. Sally followed his gaze. “See the end of the room, Sally?” Jeffrey asked, frowning.

Sally nodded, her curiosity piqued. The end of the room seemed far away, almost shrouded in the soft, diffused light that filled the space. Jeffrey turned back to her, his expression serious yet brimming with anticipation.

“Walk to it,” he instructed. “Look forward, walk with purpose, like you’ve got somewhere important to be. When you reach the end, stop, then turn around and face me.”

Sally took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. The room was silent except for the soft hum of the drone circling somewhere above her. She adjusted the delicate teardrop sapphire earrings hanging from her ears and the pendant that rested just above her collarbone. Her fingers brushed the charms on the bracelet, feeling the cold, smooth outline of the small Gulfstream airplane.

With a sense of determination, she set off, each step feeling deliberate and powerful. The dress moved differently when she walked, the fabric swishing gracefully around her knees, and the elegant flats felt light and easy on her feet. The strapless bra held her comfortably, but she couldn’t help noticing how the lacy thong felt against her skin—a whisper of sophistication that made her smile, lost in thought.

Jeffrey’s voice suddenly rang out, shattering the moment. “Oye, guapa!”

Sally paused mid-step, turning her head with a regal, almost bossy demand. “¿Qué quieres?” she replied, her Spanish accent sharp and commanding.

Jeffrey’s eyes lit up, and he clicked away, capturing the moment with fervor. “Perfect! Keep going!” he called, clearly delighted. Next to him, Theo was filming, the camera panning smoothly from behind, capturing her every movement.

Sally reached the end of the room, took a moment to collect herself, and turned around gracefully. Her movements were fluid, elegant, and she heard Jeffrey’s hiss of approval. “Yesss!!” he exclaimed, and a ripple of cheers and applause broke out among the small crowd. Theresa and Bridget clapped and cheered, and Sally couldn’t help but beam with newfound confidence.

Jeffrey walked toward her, clapping his hands together in praise. “That was incredible,” he said, his voice full of energy. “You’ve done amazing work these past two days, Sally. Now, we’re at the final countdown.”

He pointed along the wall to a door that stood out, slightly ajar. “See that door?” he said. “You’re going to walk along the wall, and when the door opens, you’ll step through it. I’ll be right here, capturing the moment as you enter. Trust me, the effect will be breathtaking.”

Theo was already moving, slipping into the adjoining room to set up his camera. The drone continued to hover, ready to follow Sally’s every move. Fex gave Sally a thumbs-up and an encouraging smile, while Jeffrey checked his camera settings one last time.

Sally nodded, feeling her heart beat faster. It was just a walk, but something about this moment felt significant. There was a tension in the air, a sense of expectation that made her feel special, almost regal. She breathed in, then out, preparing herself.

“Okay,” she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.

She started walking, her steps even and sure. The drone hummed softly overhead, and she did her best to ignore it, focusing instead on the path ahead. Jeffrey was snapping photos, his camera clicking in rhythm with her movements, and Fex was waving her on with enthusiasm. Her mother and Theresa stood near the door, their faces filled with warmth and pride.

Bridget’s smile was wide and full of love, and Theresa gave her a nod of reassurance. Sally smiled back, a tentative yet hopeful smile, and continued toward the door. Her breath felt shallow as she neared the threshold, the anticipation building with every step.

She reached the door, and with a final exhale, she stepped through.

The drone swooped over her head, and Sally instinctively ducked, her eyes widening in surprise. But before she could fully process what was happening, the lights blazed on around her, illuminating the entire room.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SALLY!!”

Chapter 61 - Quinceañera

 

The room was alight with soft, twinkling fairy lights, the kind that gave everything a dreamy, golden glow. The tables were adorned with elegant arrangements of blue and white flowers, complementing the deep hue of Sally’s strapless dress. The sound of laughter and upbeat music filled the air, and Sally’s heart swelled as she took in the sight before her.

All of her friends from school were there. Katrina, Clara, Patricia, Anastasia—even Charlie was present, standing near the snack table with a wide, genuine smile on his face. The room was packed with people she knew, but the person standing in front of them all, the one who held her attention and made the world seem to blur, was her father, Adrian.

Sally’s eyes widened, and for a heartbeat, she froze, almost as if her brain couldn’t fully register what she was seeing. Then, with a burst of raw, uncontainable joy, she shrieked, “Daddy!” Her voice echoed with happiness and relief, and she darted forward, her silk dress swishing around her knees as she ran into his arms.

Adrian, who was normally composed and reserved, smiled with a warmth that reached his eyes as he opened his arms to his daughter. Sally hugged him fiercely, her grip tight, and for a moment, Adrian’s usual stoic demeanor melted away. He held his daughter gently but firmly, whispering softly in German, “Ich bin so stolz auf dich, meine Prinzessin.”

Sally pulled back, her eyes shimmering with happy tears, and beamed at her father. “Du bist der beste Papa der Welt”, she breathed. Her heart felt full to bursting, and she was surrounded by the love she had longed for. As she took a moment to process the surprise, Katrina and Clara rushed over to hug her. The three friends laughed and squealed, caught up in the magic of the moment.

One by one, everyone came to congratulate her. Her mother, Bridget, and Theresa jumped into the celebrations wholeheartedly, both of them glowing with happiness. Sally spotted Olivia, her mentor and trust fund manager, and made a beeline for her, pulling her into a warm hug. Olivia, dressed in a chic navy suit, returned the embrace, her eyes filled with fondness.

“You did it, Sally,” Olivia said with a smile. “You look breathtaking.”

Sally blushed, but before she could respond, Clara appeared with a mocktail in hand—a beautifully garnished drink in a crystal glass. “Here, for the birthday girl!” Clara said with a flourish.

The music began to play, and Sally tried her best to greet everyone. She was gracious, smiling and exchanging small talk with numerous classmates. Although some of them looked slightly out of place, she made sure to include everyone, her poise and warmth shining through.

“Your dress is stunning!” one girl commented, her eyes wide with admiration.

“Thank you,” Sally replied with a kind smile. “And these earrings and necklace—they were a gift from my dad.” She touched the sapphire pendant lightly, the blue stone catching the light.

“Oh wow, they’re gorgeous,” another classmate said, and the conversation turned to the elegance of her jewelry and the beauty of the event. Sally’s heart was full, and she marveled at how smoothly everything was going.

Then, the music shifted to a softer tune, and everyone turned to see Adrian approaching Sally with an outstretched hand. “May I have this dance?” he asked, his voice filled with quiet pride.

Sally’s breath caught in her throat, and she nodded, slipping her hand into his. The crowd gave them space, and soon Sally found herself being guided across the dance floor by her father. Adrian’s movements were confident and practiced, and he led her gracefully, his hand steady on her back.

Sally felt the tears prick her eyes again as they twirled. Feeling her father’s arms around her, guiding her with ease, was like a dream she hadn’t even realized she’d had. She wiped a tear away, smiling up at him through the emotion.

Adrian noticed, his eyes softening. “You’re everything I could have hoped for, Sally,” he said gently, his voice low enough for only her to hear.

Sally bit her lip to stop the tears from falling, but her emotions were overwhelming. Clara, ever the observant friend, whisked her away just as the dance ended, dragging her to the bathroom.

“Come on, we have to fix that makeup!” Clara said with a laugh, and as they reached the bathroom, Renata appeared seemingly out of nowhere, makeup brush in hand.

“Let me help, darling,” Renata said, expertly touching up Sally’s face. “You look like a princess, but let’s make sure you stay picture-perfect.”

Sally laughed, and soon her makeup was back to perfection. Clara grabbed her hand. “Alright, now go pee before you cry again!” she teased, pushing Sally into a bathroom stall.

Sally protested. “Clara, I can handle my dress myself!”

Clara crossed her arms. “Uh-huh, sure. If you don’t let me help, I’m calling Katrina to come watch.”

Sally groaned. “Fine, but don’t tell anyone about this.”

Inside the stall, Clara lifted the skirt of Sally’s dress, helping her hold it up as Sally took care of business. Clara’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise when she spotted Sally’s lacy thong.

“Whoa, Sally! Is that a thong?” Clara whispered, shocked but impressed.

Sally flushed but grinned. “Yeah, my mom got it for me. And honestly, it’s way more comfortable than I thought.”

Clara giggled. “Katrina’s been trying to convince me to wear one, but I was hesitant. Now I might have to try it!”

“You totally should,” Sally encouraged, laughing as they exited the stall. Katrina was waiting outside the bathroom door, hands on her hips.

“You left me alone!” Katrina mock-complained. “I wanted to watch Sally pee too!”

Sally rolled her eyes. “Well, too bad.”

Clara interjected, “Sally’s thong is amazing, by the way.”

Katrina’s eyes lit up. “Oh my gosh, let me see!”

Sally laughed, making a face. “No way! It’s covered by the dress.”

Katrina smirked mischievously. “Honestly, I half expected you to be wearing a diaper under that dress, Pampered Princess!”

Sally’s face flushed with embarrassment, but she quickly retorted with a playful eye-roll. “Ha ha, very funny, Katrina. You’re just jealous.”

The three of them burst into laughter, the teasing and jokes adding a warm, familiar energy to the moment.

--

Back at the celebration, the vibrant atmosphere enveloped Sally as she stepped away from her friends and made her way over to where her parents stood together. The sight of her mother and father laughing, their shared smiles illuminated under the party lights, filled Sally with an overwhelming sense of warmth. For a fleeting moment, she felt the world slow down, and all she could focus on was the joy of seeing her parents united, if only for this special evening.

Her father, Adrian, noticed her approach and waved her over with a wide smile. His posture was relaxed, but the pride in his eyes was unmistakable. Standing next to him was a distinguished group of his friends and business associates—men and women who carried an air of international sophistication. They exuded a blend of Mediterranean charm, Texan affability, and European refinement. Each of them turned to look at Sally with anticipation as she arrived.

Adrian placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, his voice full of fatherly pride. “This,” he said, his German accent more pronounced in his moment of emotion, “is my heiress.”

Sally felt her cheeks flush at the word. Heiress. It seemed too grand, too formal, yet she knew it was true in a sense. Her father’s world was full of responsibilities and legacies, and being introduced in this way carried weight. Still, she took a steady breath, her mother’s and Theresa’s advice echoing in her mind: Stand tall, be confident, and show them who you are.

With grace, Sally extended her hand to greet each guest. The older woman from Greece, with olive skin and warm, crinkling eyes, clasped her hand and said, “Oh, Adrian has told us so much about you, Sally. You’ve grown into such a beautiful young lady.”

A businessman from Texas, wearing a sharp suit and cowboy boots, chuckled warmly. “He sure has! Your dad’s always talking about his little girl. Well, not so little anymore, I see.”

Sally laughed softly, responding with a mix of humor and humility. “Thank you. He might say I’m grown up, but I still have plenty of moments to remind him I’m not quite there yet.” Her voice carried a playful charm, and the group laughed appreciatively.

Another guest, a tall German man with silver hair and a reserved demeanor, nodded respectfully. “You carry yourself well, Fräulein,” he said. “Your father speaks highly of your artistic talents.”

Sally’s heart swelled with pride, not only at the compliments but at the realization that her father had been speaking about her with such fondness to people across the world. She thanked him graciously, mentioning her latest painting project and engaging the group in conversation about art and culture.

As she spoke, Bridget stood nearby, her eyes glistening with pride. She watched as Sally effortlessly balanced her youthful spirit with a newfound maturity, her poise evident in the way she listened attentively and responded thoughtfully. Bridget could see the confidence shining in her daughter, a confidence that had been carefully nurtured over years of love, guidance, and self-discovery.

Sally’s dress sparkled under the twinkling lights, the deep blue fabric catching the gleam of the sapphire jewelry she wore. Her earrings swayed gracefully with each movement, and the pendant rested delicately against her collarbone, accentuating her graceful neckline. Even the charm bracelet on her wrist—particularly the Gulfstream airplane charm—seemed to glimmer with purpose, a symbol of the connection she shared with her father.

Adrian’s friends continued to treat her as though they had known her for years. They asked about her interests, complimented her on her knowledge of languages, and even shared humorous anecdotes from their travels and business dealings. Sally found herself slipping seamlessly into the conversation, laughing and engaging with ease.

It was a surreal moment for her, yet it felt right. She had spent years feeling like a girl caught between childhood and adulthood, but here, tonight, she stood confidently in her own identity. Her mother’s love and her father’s legacy both felt like steady pillars behind her, supporting her as she navigated this world of elegance and expectation.

Adrian, watching Sally, seemed momentarily lost in thought, his expression softening as he looked at his daughter. He spoke in German, his voice tender and affectionate. “Ich bin so stolz auf dich, meine Kleine,” he said. “You have no idea how much I’ve dreamed of this moment.”

Sally’s eyes stung with unshed tears, and she replied quietly in German, “Ich wünschte, du wärst öfter hier, Papa.”

Adrian’s expression faltered for a moment, but he squeezed her shoulder gently, the bond between them unspoken but profound.

--

Sally lay in bed, her body exhausted but her mind still alive with the rush of emotions from the day. The quiet of the night wrapped around her, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves outside her window and the faint hum of the refrigerator down the hall. The stillness was soothing, but it made the transition from the party’s whirlwind of excitement to this solitary moment feel even more surreal.

She pulled her blanket up to her chest, feeling the familiar bulk of her diaper cradling her. The soft crinkling, which had always been a source of comfort, was a stark contrast to the silky, luxurious feel of the dark blue lace thong she had worn earlier. It was hard to reconcile how, just hours ago, she had felt so grown-up, wearing delicate and sophisticated underwear beneath that elegant strapless dress. The lace had caressed her skin, making her feel mature and alluring in a way she had only begun to understand. Yet here she was now, back in the security of her diaper, back in the vulnerability and innocence of a girl about to turn fifteen.

The thought made her smile softly to herself. How strange life could be, oscillating between feeling like a glamorous young woman and a girl still wrapped in layers of comfort and security. It was like trying to straddle two worlds at once, and she knew she wasn’t quite ready to leave either behind.

Her eyes traced the shadows on the ceiling as she thought back to the surprise party. The room bursting with friends, the cheers of “Happy Birthday,” and then, most memorably, the sight of her father standing right there, waiting for her. The shock of seeing Adrian, the way her heart had leapt with a mix of disbelief and joy, made her chest tighten again with the memory. She could still feel his strong embrace, hear the way he had whispered lovingly to her in German, as if no time or distance had ever separated them. The tears she had fought to hold back earlier began to sting her eyes once more.

And then there was the photo shoot. Yesterday had been all about laughter and spontaneity, posing in her sporty outfit and laughing at Jeffrey’s jokes. He had made everything feel so light, capturing moments that felt effortless. Today, however, had been different—formal, composed, and filled with an elegance she had never experienced before. Jeffrey’s energy had been infectious, and his compliments had made her feel truly beautiful. He had made her believe she could be the star he saw in her.

Her fingers found their way to a stray strand of hair, still soft from the hours of pampering. The hairdresser, Rebeca, had worked magic, smoothing and styling her hair until it fell perfectly around her face. It had looked so sleek and sophisticated, accentuating the graceful lines of her jaw and framing her dark eyes. She had almost felt unrecognizable, but in a good way, as though she were seeing a new version of herself come to life.

Sally’s thoughts drifted back to the thong, and she let out a small laugh, muffled by the pillow. The memory of that moment at the party, when Clara had taken her to the bathroom after dancing with her father, was vivid. Clara’s reaction when she saw the delicate lace—utter shock mixed with curiosity—had made Sally blush and giggle. Clara had admitted that Katrina had been trying to convince her to wear a thong for ages, but she had always hesitated. Sally had recommended it wholeheartedly, though she had to admit to herself that even after two days of wearing one, it still felt both thrilling and strange.

Her mind then wandered to the more practical concerns of being a girl: her period. She glanced at her calendar, counting down the days. It was coming up next week, and she felt the familiar pang of anxiety. She was grateful it hadn’t arrived during the photo shoot, at least. The last thing she had needed was to feel even more self-conscious while trying to balance being elegant and poised in front of the camera.

Her father’s face came back to her then, and her heart ached. She replayed the memory of their dance, his hands guiding her gently around the floor. For those few precious minutes, she had felt like a princess in a fairytale, like nothing in the world could touch her. Adrian had looked at her with such pride, and yet, there was a sadness, too, knowing how rare these moments were. She wished he could be there more often, that his work and life didn’t always have to pull him away.

But Clara’s laughter had broken that wistful moment, whisking her away to the bathroom. The whole bathroom escapade replayed in her mind: Clara helping her with the dress, her embarrassment at needing assistance, and the way Clara had teasingly marveled at her choice of underwear. Katrina’s wild reaction afterward, pretending to be offended that she hadn’t been invited to witness it all, had made Sally laugh so hard she thought she might burst. The playfulness of her friends had grounded her, pulling her back into the joy of the celebration.

Sally smiled to herself, shifting slightly under the covers. The lace thong, the soft and sheer material, had been a symbol of stepping into womanhood, a daring little secret beneath her dress. But now, as she lay in bed with the thick, familiar diaper padding her, she realized she didn’t have to choose between feeling grown-up and wanting comfort. Both were parts of her, coexisting in this confusing, beautiful transition of growing up.

Her eyelids grew heavier as the memories wove together in her mind, a comforting montage of love, laughter, and longing. The weight of everything—the party, the photo shoot, the presence of her father, her friends’ teasing—pressed gently against her consciousness, pulling her toward sleep.

--

Sally’s thoughts drifted like the lazy currents of a river, carrying her away to a dreamscape of her own making. In her dream, she found herself walking the rainy streets of Zurich, the cobblestones glistening under a soft drizzle. The world felt hushed, wrapped in a veil of tranquility, and she was alone, yet completely at peace. The rain kissed her skin, cool and pleasant, and the city seemed to whisper to her, its old buildings standing like quiet sentinels. There was no party, no photo shoot, no pressure to be anything but herself—just the soothing rhythm of her footsteps, the patter of the rain, and the serene, timeless presence of Zurich.

It was a dream of solitude, of self-discovery, and as she wandered the rain-soaked streets, Sally felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. She was alone, but not lonely. The city and the rain were company enough, and in that moment, she felt infinite, connected to something far greater than herself.

Back in her bedroom, Sally’s breathing slowed, and a soft smile lingered on her lips as she slipped deeper into sleep, the rain of Zurich washing over her dreams.

Sally’s dream unfolded in vivid, comforting colors. She found herself wandering the cobblestone streets of Zurich, a gentle rain falling from a silver-gray sky. The raindrops pattered rhythmically against the stone, their soothing sound blending harmoniously with the soft murmur of the Limmat River nearby. The cool, refreshing rain kissed her cheeks and dampened her hair, but instead of feeling uncomfortable, Sally felt embraced by the city’s calm, as though Zurich itself was wrapping her in a tender, protective cocoon.

With each step, the world felt more tranquil. The city was hushed, and the rain continued to fall steadily, washing over her like a lullaby. Sally was alone, but there was no fear or anxiety—only the soothing comfort of being cradled by a place that felt like a gentle guardian. As she walked, she felt herself relaxing completely, every muscle in her body softening as she surrendered to the serenity of the moment. The rain felt warm and safe, almost as though the city itself was giving her permission to let go of everything she had been holding in, both physically and emotionally.

The dream began to take on an almost surreal quality. Sally felt the warmth from the rain intensify, spreading through her body, and she found herself sighing in relief, the tension melting away. The warmth enveloped her, and she didn’t try to resist it. There was nothing to resist—this was a place where she could feel secure, where she could release every last bit of stress and simply be.

Back in her bed, the sensations from her dream mirrored reality. As Sally’s body fully relaxed, the natural consequence of a night filled with soft drinks and mock-tails, combined with the deep tranquility of her sleep, caused her bladder to release. The thick, absorbent diaper she wore cradled her securely, doing its job without letting any discomfort reach her slumbering mind. Her body was safe, protected, and at peace, and her subconscious knew it, allowing her to stay deeply asleep.

In her dream, the rain continued to fall, gentle and comforting. Sally wandered through the misty streets, feeling the warmth around her and the sense of security in knowing she was sheltered from the elements. There was no embarrassment or worry—only an overwhelming sense of calm, as if Zurich itself had wrapped her in an embrace. She knew, even in her dream, that she was fully protected.

The night stretched on, quiet and serene, as Sally remained cocooned in her thick diaper, its softness enveloping her like a second layer of comfort. Her subconscious registered the gentle, protective barrier, and she remained deeply at ease, her body nestled in the familiar security she had always known. The rain in her dream washed away any lingering tension, and she drifted even deeper, the worries of the waking world held at bay.

When the first rays of morning light began to filter through her curtains, Sally stirred slightly. Her body shifted, and she became vaguely aware of the warmth and fullness in her diaper, but there was no anxiety—only the familiar sense of security. Her mind, still hazy from sleep, registered that she had been cared for, that her nighttime protection had done its job, allowing her to experience a night of uninterrupted peace.

Sally let out a small sigh, hugging her blanket closer. The dream of Zurich lingered at the edges of her consciousness, the rain’s soothing rhythm still echoing in her ears. The cocoon of her diaper felt soft and secure, a gentle reminder that she didn’t have to worry about anything. Not now, not yet. She was safe, wrapped in comfort, and free to slowly wake up to the day, knowing she had been protected all through the night.

--

Sally lay in her bed, the soft, comforting weight of her thick diaper warm and reassuring against her skin. She felt the gentle crinkle whenever she shifted slightly, a familiar sound that, after everything she had been through, was comforting rather than embarrassing. The blankets had slowly slipped off her shoulders, pooling around her waist, and she didn’t mind the coolness of the room. Instead, she felt wrapped in a serene sense of relaxation.

The whirlwind of the last few days played in her mind. Her surprise Quinceañera, the glamorous photo shoot, the excitement of her friends, and the unexpected joy of having her father, Adrian, in town—it all felt like a dream she hadn’t quite woken up from. She couldn’t help but smile to herself, thinking about how she had danced with her father, the way his arms had guided her around the dance floor. It had been surreal, feeling that close to him, hearing his gentle words in German as he expressed his pride and love.

Sally rolled onto her side, letting her legs stretch out and feeling the squishy warmth of her diaper pressing softly against her skin. It was strange, but comforting, like being wrapped in a cocoon where nothing could disturb her peace. She stretched her arms over her head and let out a small, content sigh, the feeling of total relaxation washing over her.

With a sleepy smile, she reached over to her nightstand and grabbed her phone, the screen lighting up and momentarily brightening the dim room. As she scrolled through her notifications, she was overwhelmed by the flood of messages and tags. Her chats were filled with friends gushing about the party, sending her pictures and inside jokes from the night before.

The GulfstreamSally hashtag was trending, and she couldn’t believe how many posts featured her. Some pictures captured her in candid moments, laughing with Katrina and Clara or sipping a mocktail with a mischievous grin. Others showed her posing with friends, looking radiant in her stunning blue dress and sapphire jewelry. Her heart swelled at the outpouring of love and the way people had embraced the celebration.

Sally flipped onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows as she scrolled through the images. Seeing herself in the photos felt almost like an out-of-body experience. Was that really her? The girl who looked so poised, so full of life and confidence? It was hard to reconcile that glamorous version of herself with the comfortable, sleepy girl she felt like now, lying in bed in just her t-shirt and diaper.

She couldn’t help but giggle softly, burying her face in her pillow for a moment. The contrast was so stark, yet she felt at peace with both sides of herself. The luxurious, grown-up world she had stepped into for her birthday celebration and the quiet, secure comfort of her own room were both parts of who she was. And that realization made her feel more content than she had in a long time.

Lifting her head, she returned to scrolling through the positive messages and heartfelt comments, feeling the warmth of her friends’ words. She knew she had made memories that would stay with her forever, and as she drifted closer to sleep, her heart felt full, her spirit content, and her mind wrapped in the security of knowing she was loved and cherished.

Chapter 62 – Croissants

Opening her messaging app, Sally was met with an active chat from Katrina, who seemed to be up early—or perhaps hadn’t slept much at all, still buzzing with energy from the party.

Katrina: Morning, Gulfstream Sally! 

 

 Recovering from your royal debut?

Sally: Omg, I just woke up. My head is still spinning from last night!

Katrina: LOL! Party of the year, am I right? 

 

 Clara and I are still rehashing every moment.

Clara: Sally, you were a TOTAL QUEEN. That dress, that hair… we can’t get over it!

Sally: Stopppp, you guys are making me blush. But seriously, I can’t believe how amazing it all was. I’m still processing everything!

Katrina: Processing… like when you had to process that mocktail emergency and Clara had to help you with your dress in the bathroom? 

 

Clara: Hahaha! Hey, I saved you from disaster. You’re welcome!

Sally: Ughhh, don’t remind me! 

 

 But thank you, Clara, seriously. Couldn’t have done it without you.

Katrina: Also, the thong, Sally! 

 

 I can’t believe it was your first time and you looked THAT good! Clara gave me all the details!! 

 

 

 

Sally: Hahaha, I know! Who knew something that small could be such a big deal? 

 

Clara: Speaking of big deals… GulfstreamSally is trending, girl! Everyone’s obsessed!

Sally: WHAT?! Wait, no way! [runs to check]

Katrina: Go look!! The pictures are fire. Everyone’s raving about how you’re like this mysterious jet-setting heiress. 

 

Sally: I’m dying, I’m dying. Okay, I need to scroll and see this. But seriously, you guys made last night unforgettable. Thank you so much. 

 

Katrina: Love you, babe! Best night EVER!

Clara: We love you, GulfstreamSally! 

 

 Now, when’s our next adventure?

Katrina: “Yes, so what’s the next big adventure, Gulfstream Sally? Or have you peaked at this epic party?”

Sally: “Pffft, I’ve got plenty of adventures left. Don’t you worry.”

Clara (hijacking Katrina’s phone): “Adventures, huh? Like the adventure of surviving a night in that dress without tripping?”

Sally: “Hey! I made it all night without falling. That’s a win in my book.”

Katrina: “Fine, fine, you were a graceful queen. But what’s the real next adventure? Maybe skydiving? Bungee jumping?”

Sally: “Umm, how about something a little less extreme?” After that party, I’m thinking my adventure will be… napping all day.

Katrina: Boring! How about this: your next adventure is me helping you change that diaper you are so proud of. 

 

Sally: laughs You’re terrible! But… honestly, I could use that help. 

 

Clara: Oh my gosh, Katrina! You’ve corrupted her! 

 

Katrina: “Alright, alright. How about… drumroll… Sally changes her own diaper like a true independent woman?” 

 

Sally: “LOL, you’re the worst! But honestly… This thing is DONE for.” 

 

Clara: “Oh my god, please tell me you’re joking.”

Sally: “Nope. Full send, no regrets. It was that last mocktail.” 

 

Katrina: “Aww, our Pampered Princess strikes again! Want me and Clara to come over and supervise?” 

 

Sally: “You two are a nightmare. But seriously, thanks for always making me laugh.”

Katrina: “Always! That’s what friends are for. We’ve got your back (and, you know, your other end if needed).”

Sally: “OMG, stop! 

 

 But really, love you both.”

Clara: “Love you too! Now go get changed before you start a new adventure: ‘Soggy Sally and the Uncomfortable Morning.’”

A message from her mother popped up on the screen.

Mom: Your dad is here and having breakfast. Make sure you’re decent if you plan to come down!

Sally’s eyes widened slightly, and a wave of relief washed over her. Her father didn’t know about her need for diapers, and she had always preferred to keep it that way. It was a part of her life that she only shared with those she trusted the most—her mother, her closest friends—but not her dad. At least, not yet.

Sally: THX mom. Will get decent 

 

 

Setting her phone aside, she sat up, feeling the familiar dampness of her wet diaper. It was sagging slightly, and she could feel a bit of an itch where the edges pressed against her skin. Time to get cleaned up, she thought. She pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it into the laundry bin. Then, she carefully untaped the diaper, trying not to cringe at the cold feeling of the damp padding as she rolled it up and threw it in the diaper pail.

Now naked, she padded across her room, feeling the coolness of the wooden floor under her feet as she made her way to the bathroom. The early morning light streamed in through the window, warming the space with soft, golden hues. She stepped into the shower, twisting the knob until the water cascaded over her in a warm, comforting flow.

The water felt like pure bliss against her skin, washing away the last remnants of sleepiness and the discomfort from her wet diaper. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, letting the droplets run down her hair and back. It felt rejuvenating, the steam filling the bathroom and wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth. Sally took her time, relishing the simple pleasure of a morning shower.

Once she was clean, she stepped out, grabbing a fluffy towel and drying herself off quickly but thoroughly. She wrapped her hair in the towel, twisting it up into a makeshift turban, and then stood in front of her bathroom mirror. The reflection looking back at her seemed refreshed and ready for the day. She smiled at herself, feeling a little rush of excitement—her dad was here, and even though the last couple of days had been overwhelming, she was happy to have this moment with him.

She walked back into her room, towel still wrapped around her hair, and opened her dresser to find something to wear. Her eyes landed on her favorite red t-shirt with the Swiss flag printed boldly across the front, the one she’d bought in Zurich during a memorable trip with her father. It felt like the perfect choice. She slipped it on, the soft cotton feeling familiar against her skin.

Next, she chose a simple pair of regular panties, slipping them on and feeling the contrast to the thick padding she’d just taken off. It was nice to feel lightweight and free. She grabbed a pair of cutoff jeans, sliding them on and fastening the button. She left her feet bare, liking the feel of the cool floor against her soles.

With her hair still damp but falling loosely around her shoulders, Sally took a deep breath and made her way downstairs. Her heart felt light, and she was ready to greet the day—and her dad. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and the sounds of light breakfast chatter drifted up to meet her, welcoming her into the warmth of her family’s morning.

--

As Sally went downstairs, she could hear friendly banter drifting from the kitchen. The warmth of her parents’ laughter and the occasional clinking of cutlery was a comforting sound. She took a moment to pause on the last step, soaking in the rare feeling of having both of them together. It was something she cherished, even if she knew her parents would never be together in the traditional sense.

Walking into the kitchen, Sally was greeted by a surprising sight: her father, Adrian, was sitting at the table in blue jeans and a polo shirt. Sally had only ever seen him in blazers and crisp dress shirts, and the casual outfit looked strangely out of place on him—but in a good way. Of course, his casual clothes still had that unmistakable air of luxury. The polo shirt was undoubtedly some designer brand, and the Rolex watch glinted under the morning sunlight that poured through the window.

Adrian noticed her and broke into a warm smile. “Ah, there’s our birthday girl,” he said, setting down his cup of coffee. On the table beside him was a box of croissants, which made Sally blink in surprise.

“Fresh croissants?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a seat. “I didn’t even know they existed in Hartford.”

Adrian chuckled. “Imported from the best bakery in town,” he said, a playful glint in his eye. “Had to make sure breakfast was up to European standards, of course.”

Sally leaned in to half-hug him from the side, her arms slipping around his shoulders. He returned the hug, his hand patting her back affectionately before he returned to his coffee. Her mother, Bridget, came over and kissed her gently on the head. “Morning, princess,” she said, her voice full of love.

Sally couldn’t help but be relieved her mother hadn’t added “pampered” to the usual nickname. She gave her mom a smile. “Morning, Mom.”

Adrian’s eyes crinkled with amusement as he looked at her t-shirt. “I remember that one,” he said, nodding toward the red shirt with the Swiss flag. “We bought it together in Zurich, didn’t we?”

Sally beamed at the memory. “Yeah, we did. It’s still one of my favorites.”

Bridget took a seat across from Adrian, looking at him with a touch of curiosity. “So, what are your plans?” she asked tentatively, as if trying to gauge how long he’d be sticking around.

Adrian took a sip of his coffee and then leaned back in his chair. “Well, I’ve got some business to take care of in The City this week,” he said. “So I’ll be in and out. But I’ll make sure to be around as much as possible.”

Sally’s face lit up. “You’re staying in the area all week?” she asked, a note of excitement in her voice.

He nodded, smiling at her enthusiasm. “That’s the plan.”

They fell into a conversation about the party, and Sally couldn’t help but bring up the fact that her actual birthday was tomorrow. “You know,” she said, grinning, “I was planning to have a pool party with a few of my friends before you surprised me with all this. Is that still possible?”

Her parents exchanged a glance and frowned deeply, looking so serious that Sally’s smile faltered. Even her father looked grave, and for a moment, Sally’s heart sank. Was she really asking too much? The air in the room grew tense, and she was about to apologize when suddenly both of them burst into laughter.

“Of course you can have a pool party, Sally!” Adrian said, his eyes twinkling. “We wouldn’t dream of denying you that.”

Sally blinked in shock. She’d never seen her father joke before, and it took her a moment to process. But then she broke into laughter, relief flooding through her. “You guys are the worst,” she said, though her voice was full of affection.

They continued to talk about the party, the conversation flowing easily now. Bridget mentioned that the weather looked promising, with an early summer on the horizon. “It’ll be perfect for a pool party,” she said.

Adrian nodded thoughtfully. “Is the pool ready?” he asked. “I had Theresa check on some things around the house, but I wanted to make sure everything is in order.”

Bridget smiled gratefully at him. “It’s perfect, thanks to Theresa. Everything’s ready to go.”

Breakfast gradually reached its natural end, and Bridget stood up, stretching a little. “How about we all lounge in the backyard?” she suggested, looking at Adrian and Sally.

Sally’s face brightened, and she nodded eagerly. Adrian stood, too, and the three of them made their way out to the backyard, the morning sun promising a beautiful day ahead. It felt wonderful, Sally thought, to be together like this, surrounded by laughter and love. Even if things weren’t perfect, moments like these made everything feel just right.

--

As Sally sat in the expansive backyard with her parents before lunch, the sun shone brightly, casting warm rays over the freshly cut lawn. The pool sparkled invitingly, waiting to be used for the first time this season. It was a perfect day for planning a party, and the relaxed atmosphere only added to the sense of anticipation.

Sally leaned back in her lounge chair, and gazed at the scene. Her father, Adrian, looked relaxed and happy as he listened to her ideas, sipping a beer. Of course, from a proper beer glass. Her mother, Bridget, held a longneck beer, occasionally taking small sips and laughing at Sally’s enthusiasm. Sally herself was content with her bottle of Coke, the condensation dripping onto her hand as she leaned forward with excitement.

“How about I hire a catering company and a barbecue chef?” Adrian suggested, his voice easy and warm. “It’ll make things easier, and everyone can just enjoy themselves.”

Bridget initially frowned, her brow creasing. The idea of going all out for a simple pool party seemed excessive. But seeing Adrian’s eagerness, she softened. He loved being generous, and she knew it was his way of showing love.

“Well,” Bridget said, giving him a playful smile, “as long as it’s simple and not over-the-top, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

Sally’s face lit up. “Thanks, Dad!” she said, immediately tapping away on her phone to create a group chat for her friends. She named it Pool Party Crew and added Katrina, Clara, Patricia, Anastasia, and a few of the girls from her swim team. Within seconds, messages started flooding in.

Katrina: OMG!! First pool party of the season, let’s gooooo! 

 

 

Anastasia: Yesss, what’s the theme? Casual or full glam?

Clara: If Katrina’s involved, you know it’s not casual 

 

Katrina: Rude but true! Also, I’m wearing my bikini, and Clara is too!

Clara: 

 

 Why are you always trying to embarrass me?

Katrina: Because you look stunning in it! Stop denying the world that view!

Sally chuckled at the banter, feeling excitement bubble inside her. She kept her bikini a secret—the sleek, colorful number she had bought with Theresa. It felt special, and she couldn’t wait to show it off.

Sally: Let’s talk food and drinks! My dad’s hiring caterers, so we’ll be set! 

 

 

Anastasia: Fancy!! Your dad really adds a touch of class to everything 

 

Katrina: Not class, elegance! Only the best for GulfstreamSally!

Sally smiled at the nickname, feeling warmth spread through her chest. Just then, Patricia chimed in, her message a bit more tentative.

Patricia: Um, would it be okay if I brought Charlie? He’s been begging me. But he’d be the only boy, and I get if that’s weird.

Sally’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of Charlie. He was two years younger but charming in a way that made her feel a little giddy.

Sally: Of course! He can chat with my dad about planes or something. He’d love that.

Clara: Charlie’s crashing our girl time, huh? 

 

 But okay, it’ll be fun.

Katrina: I agree! We need some male energy, even if he’s a baby boy!

Patricia: Thank you, Sally! You’re the best!

Sally beamed, feeling the excitement building. She couldn’t wait for tomorrow.

Adrian’s voice pulled her back to the present. “You seem very focused on that phone,” he said, chuckling. “Planning something big?”

Sally looked up, grinning. “Just organizing swimsuits and food,” she said. “The girls are already teasing each other.”

Bridget chuckled and squeezed Sally’s hand. “Sounds like it’s going to be quite the event.”

Sally looked at her parents, feeling a wave of love and gratitude. They were both there, supporting her, making her feel cherished. She knew tomorrow would be perfect.

“Yeah,” she said softly, her heart full. “It’s going to be amazing.”

Bridget leaned forward, setting her longneck beer down on the small table between them. “You know, Sally,” she said thoughtfully, “I was thinking. Maybe you should invite the extended families of your friends. The more, the merrier, right? It would make the gathering even more social, and Adrian would love to meet everyone.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly, and she glanced at her dad, who nodded in agreement. “Absolutely,” Adrian said with a grin. “I’d love to meet the people who’ve had such an influence on your life. Besides, it’ll be fun to have a real celebration with everyone together.”

Sally considered the idea for a moment, then smiled. “Alright,” she said, feeling a new wave of excitement. “Let’s make it big.”

She pulled out her phone and opened the group chat she’d created for the pool party, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

The three of them sat back and enjoyed the afternoon sun, the excitement for the pool party buzzing in the air. Sally couldn’t have felt more loved or content.

Sally: Hey everyone! Quick update on the pool party tomorrow! 

 

 

Katrina: What’s up, Gulfstream Sally? 

 

Clara: Please tell me it’s not canceled! I’ve already laid out my bikini! 

 

Sally: LOL, no worries, it’s definitely on! But my parents think we should make it bigger—like, bring your families too!

Patricia: Families? Like parents and siblings? 

 

Sally: Yep! My dad wants to meet everyone, and my mom says we should make it a full-on family affair. So invite everyone! Charlie is definitely welcome, Patricia. 

 

Clara: Aww, that’s actually a great idea! My mom will love this. She’s been wanting to meet you all!

Katrina: OMG, I can’t wait for the chaos of having all our siblings around. This is going to be epic.

Patricia: Charlie’s going to be SO excited. He’ll feel like he got a VIP pass. Thanks, Sally! 

 

 Also, my little brother will probably try to photobomb us. 

 

Anastasia: My parents are going to be thrilled. And more people means more fun!

Katrina: I can’t believe we’re turning this into the first huge event of the summer. Gulfstream Sally knows how to host! 

 

Sally: Haha, well, credit goes to my parents for making it happen. 

 

 Just make sure everyone comes ready to swim, eat, and have fun!

Katrina: Can’t wait! This is going to be legendary!

--

As they sipped their espressos, the conversation in the backyard shifted from the laughter of lunch to the soft hum of afternoon plans. The espresso cups clinked gently on their saucers, and Sally could feel the warmth of the drink spreading through her, even though a heaviness lingered in the air. Her mother, Bridget, set her cup down with a sigh.

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart,” Bridget said, giving Sally a look that held both affection and regret. “I wanted to spend the afternoon and evening together, but I’m way behind on work.” She offered a knowing look, her eyes twinkling despite the apology. “I’ve been a bit too distracted lately, and if I want tomorrow off for your birthday, I’ll have to work straight through until tonight.”

Sally’s heart sank a little, and she glanced down at her espresso. A pang of guilt hit her; she knew she was partly to blame. Between the photo shoot, the party, and all the excitement, her mother had set her work aside more times than she should have. Bridget worked as a manager for a nonprofit organization, a job that constantly required her focus, yet she had given so much of her time and energy to make Sally’s special days perfect.

Bridget noticed her daughter’s guilt and reached over to give her hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry, really,” she said gently. “I’m just happy to see you happy.”

Adrian, who had been listening quietly, leaned back in his chair and looked at Bridget. “How’s your Haiti project going?” he asked, his voice serious but curious.

Bridget gave him an exhausted smile. “Which one?” she replied. “We have three current projects there—education initiatives, clean water systems, and a women’s health program. But it’s difficult. The gang violence and corruption are relentless. Sometimes, it feels like we’re trying to light a candle in a hurricane.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly. It was the first time she had ever heard her mother talk about work in such a raw, unguarded way. Bridget usually kept work separate from home life, sheltering Sally from the harsh realities she faced every day in her job.

Adrian’s response stunned Sally. He leaned forward, his blue eyes meeting Bridget’s. “Even the smallest light can guide others in the darkest of storms,” he said, his voice soft but resolute. “Your courage and determination mean more than you realize, and your effort, however small it may seem, could inspire hope and make a difference beyond what you can see.”

Sally looked at her father, her mouth slightly open. She had never heard him speak like this, with so much passion and empathy. Adrian’s world was one of corporate jets and international business, but in that moment, he revealed a side of himself she hadn’t known.

Bridget’s eyes softened, and she nodded. “Thank you, Adrian,” she said, her voice full of gratitude. They began to talk about Haiti, sharing stories of the struggles and the small, hard-won victories. Adrian even mentioned some of his own charity efforts, both in Haiti and in other places where aid had seemed hopeless. Sally listened, fascinated by the conversation, realizing that her parents shared a depth she hadn’t fully appreciated before.

But then Adrian turned to Sally, his demeanor changing to one of warmth and enthusiasm. “I’ll spend the day with you, Sally,” he said, setting his espresso cup down. “What would you like to do?”

Sally blinked, surprised. She hadn’t expected this turn of events, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words. “Um,” she stammered, her mind scrambling for an idea. “I’m not sure…”

Adrian smiled and leaned in, his expression encouraging. “What do you normally do on a Saturday afternoon?”

Without thinking, Sally blurted out, “The mall and the movies.” She paused, realizing how juvenile that sounded, especially to her sophisticated father. “But that’s usually with Mom or my friends,” she added quickly. “I don’t know if you’d want to…”

But Adrian’s face lit up, and he nodded firmly. “The mall and the movies,” he repeated in his assertive German accent. “That will be fun.”

Sally hesitated. “We could do something else,” she offered, a bit embarrassed. But Adrian waved the idea away with a smile.

“No, the mall and the movies sound perfect,” he insisted. “Just like Zurich.”

A fond smile spread across Sally’s face at the memory. Zurich had been special. She was wearing the red Swiss t-shirt they had bought together, and the mention of it made her heart feel warm. “Okay,” she agreed, feeling a rush of excitement.

Adrian pulled out his phone and began to message his driver, and Sally couldn’t help but smile. This Saturday was shaping up to be unexpected and wonderful, and she felt a surge of happiness as she looked forward to spending it with her father.

Chapter 63 – Painting the town

Sally lingered at the top of the staircase, observing her parents’ playful debate over the choice of transportation. Bridget, her mother, stood with one hand on her hip, advocating fiercely for using the family car. “Adrian, you bought us that beautiful car,” Bridget insisted with a hint of exasperation, her tone firm but loving. “We should be using it.”

Adrian, Sally’s father, looked at her mother with a bemused expression. “I’ve already reserved a car with a driver for the week,” he countered with a frown. “Driving in a city I’m not familiar with is impractical. Besides,” he added, with a playful shrug, “being chauffeured is more comfortable.”

Sally grinned, shaking her head at the sight of her parents’ gentle bickering. She knew her parents weren’t likely to reconcile romantically, but seeing them interact like this, sharing laughter and casual banter, warmed her heart. It felt good to be together as a family.

“I’m going to get changed,” Sally announced, breaking away from the scene. She caught the slightly stunned expression on her dad’s face as she disappeared down the hallway. Men, she thought with an amused eye-roll, they just don’t understand. Of course, she had to dress up for a Saturday outing at the mall, especially when it was with her dad. Looking good was non-negotiable.

In her room, Sally kicked off her flat shoes and peeled off her red t-shirt, tossing it onto her bed. She shimmied out of her cutoff jeans and stood there in just her simple cotton underwear. As she walked into the bathroom to freshen up and use the toilet, she took a moment to contemplate her wardrobe options for the day.

When she returned, she had a sudden burst of inspiration: a chic black skirt paired with a cozy white sweater would strike the perfect balance between stylish and comfortable. She laid the skirt and sweater on her bed, considering the accessories she might add later. But before she started getting dressed, another thought crossed her mind.

If they were going to the mall and then to the movies—and maybe even dinner afterward—she needed to think about comfort and security. Long outings could be unpredictable, and Sally knew she preferred to feel prepared. Her gaze drifted to the shelf in her walk-in closet, where two packages of pull-ups sat discreetly: one set of Goodnites and one set of Ninjamas. Both options offered her a sense of peace of mind, but today, she had to make a choice.

Sally crossed her arms and tilted her head, thinking. Goodnites were reliable and familiar, but the Ninjamas had a smoother, more secure fit that she found herself favoring more often. Today was a big day with her father, and she wanted to be as comfortable as possible without any worry. Decision made, she picked up a pair of Ninjamas and ran her fingers over the material, feeling a tinge of nervousness.

This was the first time she’d be wearing a pull-up with her father, eliciting a rueful smile. But then she brushed off the thought. He would never notice, and that was the whole point. It was her secret—something that helped her feel secure and empowered. With a gentle laugh, she stepped into the Ninjamas, sliding them up her legs and adjusting them so they sat comfortably on her hips.

She turned to the mirror, smoothing her hands over the waistband of the pull-up, ensuring it was discreet under her clothes. The faint crinkle was barely audible, and she only heard it because she knew it was there. “Perfect,” she whispered to herself, feeling that familiar sense of security settle over her.

Next, she slipped on her black skirt, which reached just above her knees. She made sure the skirt lay smoothly over her hips, hiding any trace of what she was wearing underneath. With that taken care of, she swapped out her planned blouse for a soft, classy white sweater that felt both timeless and elegant. After adding her flat black shoes, simple earrings, and her trusty Apple Watch, she took a moment to admire the ensemble in the mirror.

For the final touches, Sally lightly brushed her hair and applied a touch of makeup. She smiled at her reflection, feeling both youthful and mature. The Ninjamas were her little secret, providing a layer of comfort that no one else needed to know about. She grabbed her purse and thoughtfully slipped in not just one but two spare pull-ups, knowing that a day with her dad might call for extra precautions.

Satisfied that she was ready, Sally picked up her phone and checked her messages briefly. The excitement for the day was buzzing in her chest, and she couldn’t wait to spend quality time with her father. As she left her room, she barely noticed the soft crinkle of her pull-up beneath her skirt, already feeling at ease.

Downstairs, a black Suburban was parked in the driveway, the driver standing by the vehicle, ready for their outing. Bridget met her at the bottom of the stairs and pulled her into a warm hug. “Have a wonderful time, sweetheart,” her mother said, her voice full of genuine affection.

“Thanks, Mom,” Sally replied, feeling a rush of love for her mother. They pulled apart, and Sally turned to face her father, who was holding the car door open for her with a patient but slightly amused expression.

“Ready to go, princess?” Adrian asked, his accent making the question sound more formal than it was.

Sally laughed, feeling a mix of anticipation and joy. She hugged her mother one more time and then slipped into the Suburban, ready for whatever the day had in store.

“So, tell me, Sally,” he began in his familiar, warm but slightly formal tone, “which shops do you enjoy the most at the mall?”

Sally smiled, feeling both amused and slightly self-conscious. She knew her father had a penchant for the luxurious and refined, so her usual preferences probably wouldn’t be impressive. “Well,” she started, “I really like some of the usual brands… you know, like American Eagle for jeans and Urban Outfitters. And for jogging clothes, I usually go to Lululemon. Teresa and I picked out some great workout outfits there last month.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow, trying to mask a hint of disappointment. His daughter, one of the wealthiest teens in America, seemed entirely uninterested in the high-end luxury brands he knew so well. He couldn’t help but think back to their trip to Zurich, where Sally had appeared visibly uncomfortable and out of place among the glitzy boutiques filled with designer clothes and accessories. He made a mental note to gently introduce her to the wonders that her status and wealth could afford—without overwhelming her.

He shifted the conversation smoothly. “And what about the film we’re going to see? Do you have one in mind?” He could see a flicker of hesitation in Sally’s eyes, as if she didn’t want to impose her preferences.

Sally hesitated, but her father’s patient and encouraging smile reassured her. “Well… I’ve really been wanting to watch Inside Out 2,” she admitted with a small, self-conscious laugh. “It’s the sequel to Inside Out. It’s about emotions, memories, and how our minds work, but told in a really creative way.”

Adrian’s eyebrows shot up in genuine amazement. “That sounds fascinating,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. He was always intrigued by the way Sally’s mind worked, her thoughtful choices often surprising him. “Emotions and memories, you say? Psychology wrapped in a Pixar film. I’m impressed.”

Sally felt a surge of happiness at her father’s reaction, her heart warming at the thought of sharing something so meaningful with him. As she sat comfortably in the luxurious leather seat, she became more aware of the soft, discreet padding of the Ninjama under her skirt. It gave her an unexpected sense of youthful comfort and security, a contrast to the otherwise mature outing she was having with her father. She felt safe and content, wrapped up in this rare moment of bonding.

The Suburban finally slowed as it approached the entrance of the bustling mall, and Sally noticed a small crowd of shoppers casting curious glances at their car. Her father’s presence and the grandeur of the vehicle certainly made an impression. The driver pulled smoothly to a stop and stepped out, walking around to open the door for them.

Sally couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious as she stepped out, aware of the eyes watching her. She tried to stand tall, her black skirt swishing gently around her knees, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and nervousness. Her father stood waiting for her, every inch the picture of elegance and poise, even in his casual attire.

She looked up at the driver and flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said earnestly. She couldn’t quite remember his name, but she recognized him from the time he had driven her and Theresa to the airport for her trip to Zurich.

The driver nodded respectfully, and Sally felt a pang of familiarity and comfort as she turned back to her father. Together, they walked through the glass doors of the mall, the air conditioning brushing coolly over their faces, ready for an afternoon of exploration, movies, and a taste of luxury.

--

The movie was everything she’d hoped for. Inside Out 2 managed to capture the complexity of emotions with humor and warmth, and Sally found herself laughing and even getting misty-eyed at parts. What shocked her the most, though, was how deeply she related to some of the emotions portrayed, especially the blend of teenage uncertainty and growing self-awareness.

As they walked out of the theater, Adrian had a genuine smile on his face, his laughter lingering. He turned to her with a curious and slightly mischievous glint in his eye. “So, as the expert here—being both a teenager and a girl—how accurate did you find the film?”

Sally flushed immediately, her face turning a deep shade of red. The question was harmless enough, but it was loaded with so much self-consciousness that she tried to wave it off. “Dad,” she groaned, trying to brush it away, “let’s just say it hit pretty close to home.”

What she didn’t mention was how, during one of the more emotional scenes, she’d had to make a choice between holding it in uncomfortably or discreetly using her Ninjama. Choosing the latter had given her peace of mind, but now she needed to take care of that. “Excuse me for a sec,” she said, and hurried off to the nearby washroom, felling the moist Ninjama gently sagging between her legs.

Once in the bustling bathroom, Sally quickly found a stall. With the efficiency she’d developed over time, she lifted her dress and carefully ripped off the damp Ninjama, grateful that she wasn’t wearing tights or anything complicated. The change was quick and seamless. Sliding on a fresh Ninjama, she smiled to herself. There was something empowering about managing her own needs so discreetly. Washing her hands, she smirked at her reflection, amused by the small victories of teenage life. The movie, she thought, definitely hadn’t covered that aspect of growing up.

When she came out, she waited a moment for her father, who soon joined her, and together they walked toward the mall’s high-end stores. Adrian’s demeanor was casual, but Sally could sense his subtle intent. He was leading her, gently, into a world she had always admired from afar.

Their first stop was a luxury fashion boutique with polished glass doors and elegantly dressed mannequins in the windows. Sally had passed by countless times, but stepping inside with her father felt like entering a new realm. Adrian guided her through the store, pointing out the quality of fabrics, the craftsmanship of a finely tailored jacket, and the intricate detailing on a gown. “Feel this,” he said, lifting the sleeve of a silk blouse for her to touch. “Notice the way it drapes—silk, especially of this quality, doesn’t just look beautiful; it feels beautiful.”

Sally did as he instructed, marveling at the buttery softness of the material. She tried not to think about the prices, which were whispered in quiet, unobtrusive ways by elegant tags. She was particularly fond of the cashmere sweater. Adrian didn’t push her to buy anything; instead, he seemed to want her to appreciate the artistry and thoughtfulness that went into these items.

At another store, they paused by a glass case displaying handbags. One particular piece caught Sally’s eye—a classic handbag in supple leather, its design understated but undeniably sophisticated. She hovered there, admiring the craftsmanship. The saleslady, a polished woman with a warm, knowing smile, approached them but didn’t pressure Sally. “It’s a beautiful piece, isn’t it?” she said, her voice professional but kind. “Timeless, and versatile. It’s one of those bags that stays with you for years.”

Sally nodded, aware of the store workers casting discerning but interested glances her way. They seemed to recognize her potential as a future patron. She felt slightly self-conscious but also flattered, and she wondered if one day she’d return and buy something, not for the sake of luxury but because she truly loved and valued it.

Eventually, they made their way out of the store and to the mall entrance, where their driver was already waiting with perfect timing. Sally realized she hadn’t even noticed her dad sending a message. The Suburban whisked them away to an upscale restaurant, one Sally had never visited but had heard of in passing.

The atmosphere inside was informal yet refined, with the clientele dressed in elegant casual attire. Sally marveled at how well her father seemed to know his way around these exclusive spots. Once they were seated, she couldn’t help but bring up the question that had been on her mind.

“Dad,” Sally began hesitantly, “how do you always know exactly what to do and make it look so easy?”

Adrian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. He watched her carefully, as if trying to gauge what she was really asking. After a moment, he gave a small smile and shifted the conversation slightly. “I’m curious,” he said, leaning forward. “What did you think about the stores we visited today? Did anything catch your eye?”

Sally’s cheeks flushed as she thought about the beautiful handbag she’d admired. “Actually, there was something,” she admitted, her voice softer. “That handbag… the one in the glass case. I almost bought it.”

Adrian’s eyebrows lifted with interest. “Almost?” he echoed. “Why didn’t you?”

Sally frowned, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “Because of the price,” she confessed. “It just seemed… ridiculous. Even though I loved it, I couldn’t justify spending that kind of money.”

Adrian nodded, his gaze serious but understanding. “I see,” he said. “And that’s the tricky thing about wealth, isn’t it?” He paused, as if collecting his thoughts. “You see, Sally, it’s not just about buying expensive things because you can. It’s about understanding the value and purpose behind those things. The price of that handbag isn’t just about status; it’s about the craftsmanship, the design, the durability. But more importantly, it’s about knowing when something is worth investing in and when it’s not.”

Sally frowned trying to absorb her father’s words.

Adrian’s expression softened, and he leaned forward, his voice warm and understanding. “You have good taste, Sally,” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “That handbag you were eyeing is from one of the finest luxury brands in the world. It’s not just a fashion statement—it’s a work of art. Each one is handcrafted, with artisans dedicating hours, sometimes days, to perfecting every stitch and detail.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly as she listened, listening to her father’s explanation.

“It’s expensive because of the craftsmanship, the quality of the materials, and the brand’s heritage,” Adrian continued. “It’s something that, if you cared for it well, could last a lifetime. It’s not just about spending money; it’s about investing in something made with care and precision. That’s the reality of high-end luxury.”

Sally tilted her head, considering his words. “I never thought about it that way,” she admitted. “It always felt… excessive, you know?”

Adrian nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I understand. But luxury, when done right, is about appreciating artistry and the finer things in life. It’s not about showing off; it’s about valuing the work that went into creating something truly special.”

Sally couldn’t help but smile, feeling a sense of pride that her taste had impressed her father. “Thanks for explaining it that way,” she said. “It makes more sense now.”

He reached over and gave her a gentle, reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You’re welcome. And don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of this world. It’s all about finding a balance between enjoying the finer things and staying true to yourself.”

Sally listened carefully, her curiosity piqued. “So… how do you know when it’s worth it?”

Adrian’s eyes softened, and he took a moment to respond. “You learn to discern what truly enriches your life and what is simply an unnecessary indulgence. And beyond that, you understand that having the means to make choices like this comes with a responsibility. Wealth can give you access to incredible things, yes, but it also gives you the opportunity to make an impact.”

Sally tilted her head, still processing his words. “An impact?” she repeated.

“Yes,” Adrian continued. “You have to think about how your decisions, your spending, and even the way you present yourself can influence and help others. Wealth gives you power, but it’s how you use that power that defines you.”

Sally absorbed his words, feeling a new weight of understanding settle over her. It made sense, in a way she hadn’t considered before.

There was a brief lull in the conversation, and Sally relaxed and felt herself pee her Ninjama. She felt the liquid be slowly absorbed and found herself thinking about her nickname. She glanced up at her father, a mischievous smile playing at her lips. “You know,” she began, “they call me Gulfstream Sally at school. So I guess I have the right to ask about the Gulfstream, too.”

Adrian looked momentarily surprised, then broke into a warm laugh. “Gulfstream Sally, huh? I had no idea you’d picked up a nickname like that.”

Sally grinned. “Well, yeah. So spill. What’s the deal with the Gulfstream?”, leaning forward as she felt the damp padding against her.

Adrian’s expression grew more serious, but there was a sparkle in his eye. “Alright,” he said, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “The Gulfstream is, admittedly, a luxury. But it’s also a strategic tool. You see, having a private jet allows me to be anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice. It’s helped me close deals, secure partnerships, and manage businesses in ways that wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. The cost is significant, but the opportunities it creates can pay for the jet many times over.”

Sally’s eyes widened in surprise. “So it’s not just about flying in style?”

Adrian chuckled. “No, not just about style. It’s about efficiency and maximizing opportunities. It’s an example of using wealth wisely — turning a luxury into an asset that provides real value.”

Sally felt her respect for her father deepen. There was so much more to the way he navigated his life and his wealth than she’d ever imagined. “Wow,” she murmured. “That makes a lot of sense.”

Adrian reached across the table, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “And that’s what I want you to understand, Sally. Your privilege isn’t just about living a comfortable life. It’s about using what you have to make a difference, even if it’s in small, thoughtful ways.”

Sally felt a swell of pride and responsibility, knowing there was so much more to learn and discover about her own role in the world. The conversation lingered between them, rich and full of meaning, as they enjoyed their meal and the rest of the evening together.

--

As Sally and her father emerged from the restaurant, the evening air was crisp and carried a subtle hint of approaching summer. The quiet hum of city nightlife surrounded them, but what drew more attention was the sight of their waiting black Suburban. The driver, dressed impeccably in his uniform, moved swiftly to open the door, and passersby paused to watch the scene unfold. Sally could feel the weight of their curious gazes, and for a brief moment, she felt self-conscious.

But then she glanced up at her father. Adrian, with his calm demeanor and confident stride, seemed unfazed by the attention. He placed a gentle, guiding hand on her shoulder, leading her toward the vehicle. His presence had a grounding effect, and Sally felt her nervousness melt away. It wasn’t so bad, she realized, being the focus of so much attention when her dad was there, guiding her with care.

Beneath her stylish black skirt, Sally was keenly aware of the damp, comforting presence of her Ninjama. She had wet it again just before dessert, a choice she made out of necessity. Her dad had been so enthusiastic, insisting she try multiple desserts—a decadent chocolate torte, a creamy tiramisu, and a tangy lemon tart. There had been no time to excuse herself, and while she had felt a pang of embarrassment, she was thankful for the security her pull-up provided. Now, the weight of it was a subtle reminder that she was eager to get home and freshen up.

The ride home was filled with a warm, companionable silence. Sally and Adrian sat side by side, both content and thoughtful after their evening together. The Suburban’s smooth, steady motion was almost lulling, and Sally found herself reflecting on the day, feeling a glow of happiness. She turned to look at her father, who seemed lost in thought, his profile illuminated softly by the streetlights they passed. She felt a surge of gratitude for this time with him.

As they pulled into the dark driveway, the driver once again moved swiftly, opening Sally’s door with practiced efficiency. She stepped out and murmured a polite “Thank you,” her voice warm but quiet. Sally made a mental note to ask her father for the driver’s name, as she felt too shy to ask herself. Adrian walked with her to the front door, where Bridget stood waiting. The light from the hallway cast a welcoming glow, and Sally immediately noticed the signs of her mother’s late-night work session: the open study door, the scattered papers, and the tired lines around her eyes.

“Welcome back,” Bridget greeted them, her smile tired but genuine. Her gaze lingered on Sally, taking in the joyful, slightly flushed look on her daughter’s face. It was clear that the evening had been special.

Adrian said his goodbyes, leaning in to give Sally a gentle kiss on the forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the party,” he promised, his voice filled with warmth.

Bridget, never one to miss an opportunity to organize, put a hand on his arm. “Come for breakfast,” she insisted. “It’ll be easier to have you here early to help set things up.”

Adrian gave a small chuckle, nodding. “Alright. I’ll bring fresh croissants,” he said, his European flair evident in the choice.

Sally’s face lit up. “More croissants?” she teased lightly. “You’re going to spoil us, Dad.”

He gave her a wink before turning and making his way back to the Suburban. Bridget watched him go, her tired smile softening as she turned back to her daughter. She reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind Sally’s ear. “You look exhausted, sweetheart,” she said gently. “Did you have a good time?”

Sally nodded, the warmth from her evening out still wrapped around her like a cozy blanket. “I really did,” she said, her voice full of contentment.

Bridget tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit in that motherly way that always seemed to see right through Sally. “Is there something you want to share?” she asked, her voice knowing and gentle.

Sally hesitated, her cheeks growing warm. She bit her lip for a moment before giving a small, shy smile. “My pull-up is wet,” she admitted quietly, the embarrassment evident but softened by the trust she had in her mother.

Bridget’s eyebrows shot up in mild surprise, and then she let out a soft laugh. “You wore a pull-up out with your dad?” she asked, clearly amused.

Sally shrugged, and lifted her dress. The bulky Ninjama showed the evidence of use. Her smile turning sheepish. “Well, there was the movie… and then the long dinner… I didn’t want to risk it,” she explained, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.

Bridget shook her head, a fond smile spreading across her face. “You are incorrigible,” she said, her tone full of affectionate exasperation. She gave Sally a playful swat on her padded bottom, the gesture both teasing and loving. “Alright, off to bed with you. It’s late.”

Sally laughed, feeling the warmth of her mother’s love wash over her. “Okay, Mom,” she said, turning to head up the stairs. She paused halfway up, looking back to see her mother tidying up her work papers. Bridget looked exhausted, but there was a contentment in her eyes that mirrored Sally’s own.

With a final smile, Sally made her way to her room. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath, the day’s events replaying in her mind. She was tired but happy, and there was a sense of accomplishment in having managed everything so well.

Chapter 64 – Playful

Sally closed her bedroom door softly and leaned against it for a moment, exhaling. The quiet of the house surrounded her, and she allowed herself to savor the sense of peace that had settled over her. The evening had been perfect, and yet, there was still a feeling of relief to be back in her own space, where she could shed the day’s weight—both figuratively and literally.

She walked over to her vanity, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her hair, which had looked so perfectly styled earlier, was now slightly tousled, and her makeup had begun to fade. But there was a happiness in her reflection, a glow that had everything to do with the evening spent with her father.

Sally pulled off her black skirt and folded it neatly, placing it in her laundry hamper. She smiled as she felt the damp weight of her Ninjama sagging slightly between her legs. It had done its job perfectly, keeping her secure and dry despite the long evening. The pull-up wasn’t exactly glamorous, but she had to admit there was a thrill in the secrecy.

She tugged her sweater over her head, dropping it into the hamper along with her bra. Now, standing in just her Ninjama, she crossed the room to her dresser, where she kept her nighttime supplies. There was a sense of routine in this, a rhythm that she had grown to find comfort in. She opened a drawer and pulled out a thick, soft nighttime diaper, the one that would carry her through until morning.

Sally ripped the sides of her Ninjama, carefully rolling it up and discarding it in the small trash bin she kept beside her dresser. She wiped herself down with a fresh, cool wipe, the sensation refreshing after a long day. As she unfolded the nighttime diaper and positioned it beneath her, she couldn’t help but smile. The thick padding enveloped her like a warm hug, a familiar and comforting presence. It was a stark contrast to the elegant, grown-up underwear she had worn earlier in the day, but here, in her room, this felt right.

Once the diaper was snug and secure, she ran her hands over the soft plastic material, sliding her fingers in the leg gathers to make sure they were in position. She pulled on a comfortable t-shirt. It was one of her favorites, soft and worn. She felt cozy and safe, and as she listened to the distant sounds of her mother moving about, closing up for the night, she knew she wasn’t alone.

Sally stepped out of her room, the soft crinkle of her diaper audible in the quiet hallway. She made her way to her mother’s open bedroom door and knocked gently on the frame.

Sally stepped into her mother’s room, the soft light casting a gentle glow over everything. Bridget had already changed into her pajamas. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun, and her face was tired but warm with that unshakeable maternal love. She was putting away a stack of work papers, her eyes weary from hours of staring at screens and documents.

“Hey, Mom,” Sally said softly, shuffling into the room.

Bridget looked up and patted the space beside her on the bed. “Come here, sweetie. Sit down.”

Sally walked over, the soft crinkle of her diaper barely audible in the quiet room. She plopped down beside her mother, leaning her head against Bridget’s shoulder. The exhaustion of the day was settling in, but she felt like she had so much to say.

“It was… such a good day,” Sally started, her voice carrying that dreamy quality that only came from being bone-tired. “We went to the mall, and it was weird at first. You know how the entrance is all shiny and crowded, and there’s always that smell of popcorn and new shoes? It felt different with him, like… like everything was fancier just because he was there. It was cool to have a driver” She let out a little laugh, shaking her head. “He even opened the door for us so we could get out. In front of all those people looking! I’m still not used to that.”

Bridget smiled, her hand coming up to stroke Sally’s hair gently. “Sounds like an adventure.”

Sally nodded, her eyes growing heavy, but she pressed on. “Yeah, and he took me to all these high-end shops. Like, the kind of stores I’d normally never go into. The handbags, the jewelry, the clothes… Everything was so expensive, like, ‘can’t-believe-the-price-tags’ expensive. I almost bought a handbag, this really beautiful one. But when I saw the price, I just… I couldn’t do it. I mean, how do people justify spending so much money on one thing?” Her voice drifted off, thoughtful.

Bridget listened patiently, her own exhaustion palpable, but she didn’t interrupt. Sally continued, her words slower now as sleep began to creep in.

“Then… the restaurant,” Sally murmured, a soft smile forming on her lips. “Dad made me try so many desserts. There was this one chocolate tart that was, like, heaven in a bite. And he kept laughing and telling me to try more, like he just wanted to see me happy. It was… special. You know?” Her voice cracked a bit, and she paused, pressing her lips together.

“I always thought he was this… untouchable businessman, with his private jet and his meetings and all that. But tonight, he was just… Dad. And for a while, I forgot about everything else, even about… well, you know.” Sally’s hand instinctively rested against the soft padding between her legs. “It was like I could be a normal teenager. Or maybe not normal, but happy.”

Bridget’s eyes softened as she listened, her heart aching a little for her daughter. She knew the complexities of Sally’s life, the balancing act she always had to perform, and she admired her strength.

Sally leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder, her voice dropping to a whisper. “And, Mom, when we were in the movie… I was so grateful I wore a pull-up. I mean, I would’ve never made it through without it. You know how I hate rushing out of the cinema to use the bathroom and miss the movie. But even then, I still felt… okay. Like, not embarrassed or anything. Just… safe.” Her voice wavered, and her eyelids fluttered.

Bridget chuckled softly, placing a gentle kiss on Sally’s forehead. “You’ve always been so brave, Sally. Even when you think you’re not.”

Sally sighed, her voice growing quieter.

Bridget felt her heart swell with emotion, but before she could respond, she noticed that Sally had closed her eyes, her breathing deepening. Sally had drifted off, right there on the bed, her head resting against her mother’s shoulder. Bridget smiled, a tender, tired smile, and gently adjusted her daughter so she was lying comfortably.

She looked at Sally, now fast asleep, and felt a wave of love wash over her. Too tired to move herself, Bridget decided to let Sally stay. She carefully slipped onto the other side of the bed, pulling the covers over both of them. As she settled in beside her sleeping daughter, Bridget closed her eyes, her exhaustion finally catching up with her.

In the quiet of the room, with the soft, rhythmic sound of Sally’s breathing filling the air, mother and daughter drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s love.

--

Sally slowly drifted into consciousness, her senses gradually awakening to the gentle glow of early morning sunlight filtering through the thin curtains. At first, she felt disoriented. This wasn’t her bed. The mattress was far too soft, the pillow cradling her head was her mother’s, and the whole room felt bathed in the calm, warm hues of a space that wasn’t quite her own. She blinked a few times, letting her eyes adjust, and then a familiar sound reached her ears: the soft, rhythmic snoring of her mom, Bridget, still fast asleep beside her.

A sleepy smile spread across Sally’s face. Memories of the previous evening flooded back—the time spent with her dad, the comforting exhaustion that had pulled her into slumber, and how her mother had welcomed her into her bed, just like she used to when Sally was younger. It was a gesture of love that made Sally feel so secure.

With a small yawn, Sally stretched her limbs, feeling the soft rustle of her t-shirt and the familiar crinkle of her exposed nighttime diaper. She had kicked off the covers during the night and she reached for them to cover her mother. The diaper was warm and heavy from the night, but she didn’t mind. It was a part of her morning routine, and the comfort it provided still wrapped her in a sense of security. But for now, she wasn’t in a hurry to change or leave the cozy sanctuary of her diaper.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet landing softly on the cool floor. The quiet house was bathed in morning stillness, and she moved carefully so as not to wake Bridget. Tiptoeing to the hallway, she stepped tentatively, feeling the bulk of her diaper shift with each move. Her t-shirt swished gently over it, a reminder of the little side she was comfortable embracing at home.

Sally made her way to her own bedroom, pushing the door open and taking in the familiar sight of her space. She crossed to her nightstand, picked up her phone, and smiled at the notifications lighting up her screen. But before she got too distracted, she remembered her idea to do something nice for her mom. Making coffee would be the perfect start.

As she scrolled through her messages, a thought popped into her mind, and with a mischievous grin, she decided to text her father.

Sally: Guten Morgen, Papa! Bist du wach?

Her father’s reply was almost instant, as if he had been waiting to hear from her.

Adrian: Guten Morgen, meine schöne Prinzessin. Was machst du so früh wach?

Sally grinned, feeling a burst of happiness at his affectionate greeting. She told him she was just making sure she knew when he’d be arriving, mentioning that her mom was still asleep.

Adrian: I should be there in one hour.

Relieved that she had some time before needing to prepare for the day, she descended the stairs, diaper slightly sagging but secure. Sally felt a lazy, contented happiness. The house was still, the only sound being the quiet padding of her bare feet. Entering the kitchen, she took a moment to soak in the peace of the morning before getting to work. She reached for the bag of fresh coffee beans, inhaling the rich aroma as she poured a generous amount into the grinder. The sound of the beans cracking and breaking was a satisfying noise, waking her up fully.

Next, she filled the coffee maker with water, her movements methodical yet relaxed. As the coffee brewed, she prepared two mugs. The warm, inviting smell of the coffee filled the kitchen, mingling with the soft light streaming in through the windows. Sally stood there for a moment, savoring the quiet and the simple pleasure of doing something thoughtful. The almost involuntary flow of pee into her diaper felt like it belonged in this peaceful moment.

With the mugs filled and steaming, Sally carefully balanced them in her hands. Navigating the stairs with two full cups was no easy task, but she moved slowly, taking each step with care as her legs shuffled warmly over her diaper.

She tiptoed back into her mother’s room, where Bridget was still sleeping peacefully. Setting the mugs gently on the bedside table, Sally pulled out her phone and connected it to the Bluetooth speaker. She selected a rowdy blues song, letting it play at a volume to wake her mother.

 

“I want to show you that anything is possible
I want to show you that your wildest dreams can come true
And I swear someday I'm gonna figure out how to do just that
But until then, I guess trying is all I can do

Maybe I'm wrong thinking you want something better
Maybe I'm wrong thinking you got no problem making it through the night
Maybe I'm wrong about every little thing I'm talking about
Maybe I'm wrong, but just maybe, maybe I'm right…”

 

The music floated through the room, and Bridget began to stir, her eyes slowly blinking open. The sight that greeted her was one of pure love: her daughter standing beside the bed, in her t-shirt and wet diaper, holding a mug of coffee with a radiant smile.

“Good morning, Mom,” Sally whispered, her voice warm and affectionate. “Dad will be here in less than an hour, so I thought you’d want to wake up.”

Bridget rubbed her eyes, sitting up with a grateful smile. She took the coffee from Sally and inhaled deeply before taking a sip. “Thank you, sweetheart,” she murmured. “You’re an angel.”

Bridget’s eyes widened slightly as realization dawned on her. “Wait a minute,” she said, setting her coffee cup on the bedside table and looking at Sally with a soft, affectionate smile. “Today is actually your 15th birthday, isn’t it?”

Sally’s eyes sparkled, and she nodded, her smile widening. Bridget placed her coffee aside and reached out, pulling Sally into a warm embrace. “Happy birthday, my beautiful girl,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re 15 already. Where has the time gone?”

Sally leaned into her mother’s hug, feeling the love and warmth radiating from her. “Thanks, Mom,” she said, her voice muffled but full of affection. She wrapped her arms around her mother, savoring the closeness of the moment.

Bridget pulled back slightly, her hands resting on Sally’s shoulders as she looked at her daughter with a mixture of pride and tenderness. “You’ve grown into such an incredible young woman,” she said, her eyes glistening with tears of joy. “I’m so proud of you, today and every day.”

Sally’s heart swelled with emotion, and she gave her mother a bright, grateful smile. “I love you, Mom,” she whispered.

Bridget kissed her on the forehead and held her for a moment longer, before finally sitting back with a playful sigh. “Well, birthday girl, let’s get ready for what’s bound to be another memorable day,” she said, her eyes twinkling.

Sally laughed softly and settled cross-legged on the bed in front of her mother. The music continued to play, and they shared the simple joy of the moment. Bridget’s eyes drifted down, noticing the obvious signs of Sally’s overnight diaper.

“Well,” Bridget teased, a playful glint in her eye, “it looks like somebody slept really well.”

Sally blushed but laughed, the sound light and carefree. “I did,” she admitted, feeling no shame. “Thank you for letting me sleep here. It felt so nice… like when I was little.”

Bridget’s eyes softened, and she reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Sally’s ear. “You’ll always be my little girl,” she said lovingly. “Even as you grow into this incredible young woman.”

Sally’s heart felt full, and she leaned into her mother’s touch, the bond between them palpable and strong. They sat there, savoring the shared warmth, both of them ready to face the day ahead, united by love and the knowledge that they would always be there for each other.

Bridget sipped the last of her coffee and noticed the telltale signs of Sally’s wet diaper: the sag and the way Sally shifted uncomfortably. With a gentle smile, she reached out and tucked a strand of Sally’s hair behind her ear. “Looks like someone needs out of this diaper,” she said kindly.

Sally sighed, a hint of reluctance on her face. “Yeah, I guess I do,” she admitted, feeling lazy and content but also aware that she needed to take care of things.

Bridget noticed Sally’s hesitation. “Want to take care of that, or do you need a little encouragement this morning?” she asked, her tone light and playful but full of understanding.

Sally pouted playfully. “Ugh, I’m feeling so lazy today,” she confessed, flopping back onto the bed dramatically. The two of them shared a quiet laugh, the kind only a mother and daughter could share.

Bridget chuckled and gave her daughter a gentle nudge. “Come on, lazybones. Let’s get you sorted out so you can start the day feeling fresh. I’ll even help get things ready for you.”

Sally smiled, feeling grateful for her mother’s patience and care. “Okay, okay,” she relented, sitting back up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The diaper crinkled again, and she made a face, half-amused and half-resigned.

With a small grin, she pulled off her t-shirt and looked down at the diaper she’d worn to bed. It had done its job, keeping her secure and comfortable through the night, but now it was time to embrace a new version of herself—the confident, vibrant teenager who was about to host a party with all her friends.

Sally slipped into the bathroom, untaped her diaper and gently rolled it shut, placing it in the garbage pail. She took care of her morning routine, and got cleaned up. The warm water from the shower felt refreshing as it cascaded over her skin, washing away any lingering sleepiness and preparing her for the excitement of the day ahead. Once she was dry and feeling rejuvenated, she went back to her room and opened her dresser.

There, folded neatly, was her brand-new bikini. It was colorful and fun, with vibrant patterns that seemed to capture the essence of summer. She’d never worn a bikini before, and the idea of it made her feel a mix of nerves and excitement. Carefully, she slipped on the bikini, adjusting the straps and taking a moment to check herself out in the mirror.

Sally turned this way and that, inspecting her reflection. The bikini fit her perfectly, accentuating her growing confidence and making her feel like the young woman she was becoming. There was something thrilling about seeing herself in this new light—no longer just the girl who sought comfort and security, but someone ready to embrace the fun and freedom of being a teenager. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she admired the way the bright colors complemented her skin, and she couldn’t help but smile. It seemed to accentuate the flair of her hips, the curve of her breasts in a way her one-piece bathing suit didn’t.

Still, the thought of walking around in just a bikini made her feel a little exposed, so she grabbed a pair of comfortable cutoff jeans and slipped them on over the bikini bottoms. The frayed edges of the shorts brushed against her thighs, giving her outfit a casual, laid-back vibe. She pulled on a loose, breezy Key West t-shirt over her bikini top, the fabric soft and familiar, but she knew that underneath, she was ready for the big reveal once the party began.

Sally glanced at herself in the mirror one last time. The combination of her playful bikini and her casual outerwear made her feel both secure and adventurous. She was ready for whatever the day had in store, and she couldn’t wait to welcome her friends, share laughter, and enjoy the sunshine. On last thought, she reached for her black Gulfstream cap and put it on her head. It was going to be hot, and she needed protection as she helped out outside.

With a deep breath and a heart full of anticipation, Sally grabbed her phone and headed downstairs, ready to embrace the day—and the part of herself that was growing braver and more confident with every step.

--

Adrian arrived promptly, the front door swinging open to reveal him carrying a large paper bag filled with freshly baked chocolate croissants. The sweet aroma of buttery, flaky pastry and melted chocolate wafted through the kitchen, making Sally’s mouth water. He grinned as he took in the scene: Bridget, still in her soft, relaxed shorts and a loose t-shirt, and Sally, looking like a carefree teen in her cutoff jeans and loose top, her hair up in a black cap.

“Good morning, birthday girl!” Adrian announced, his voice warm and full of energy. His eyes twinkled as he set the bag on the kitchen counter.

Sally’s eyes lit up, and she rushed forward to give him a hug. “Morning, Dad!” she exclaimed, her heart brimming with joy. Even though the big party had been two days ago, it still felt special to have him here today, especially when he remembered it was her actual birthday.

“Is that a Gulfstream hat?”, asked Adrian, surprised.

Sally nodded. “Captain Henderson gave it to me on my flight back from Zurich”, she explained.

“It suits you”, declared Adrian.

Bridget smiled, leaning against the counter as she sipped her coffee, her eyes shining with affection as she watched their interaction. “Morning, Adrian,” she greeted him, her voice warm.

Adrian pulled back from the hug and took a small, elegantly wrapped box from his pocket. “Since today is your real birthday,” he said, handing it to Sally with a wink, “I thought you deserved one more gift.”

Sally’s eyes widened with surprise and delight as she took the gift. “Oh my gosh, Dad, you didn’t have to!” she said, but her hands were already working at the delicate wrapping. Bridget leaned in a little, curious.

Sally finally unwrapped the box and opened it to reveal a pair of chic Havaianas poolside thong sandals, sleek and stylish with a subtle shimmer to the straps. Her jaw dropped, and a wide grin spread across her face. “These are so stylish and chic!” she declared, holding one up to admire the design. The sandals were perfect—effortlessly cool and ideal for a pool party. She smiled ruefully, pleased that they would match her secret bikini perfectly.

“I thought they’d go nicely with your poolside look today,” Adrian said, pleased with her reaction.

Bridget chuckled, her eyes crinkling with mirth. “You’ve got good taste, Adrian. Those are perfect for her.”

Sally slipped them on immediately, wiggling her toes and admiring how well they complemented her casual outfit. “Thank you, Dad,” she said, her voice sincere. She leaned in to give him another hug, her heart full of love and appreciation.

“You’re welcome, meine Prinzessin,” Adrian replied, using the affectionate German nickname. He patted her back lightly before stepping back to join Bridget at the counter.

They quickly set up a simple breakfast, each grabbing a chocolate croissant and savoring the decadent treat. The conversation flowed easily as they discussed the pool party preparations. Adrian’s fond smile never wavered as he watched Sally animatedly talk about the fun she was anticipating with her friends.

Bridget, though still in her laid-back attire, was just as engaged, laughing along with her daughter. Despite the busyness of her work life, she cherished moments like this, where family came first.

Adrian leaned back in his chair, casually elegant in his meticulously faded t-shirt, jeans, and docksiders, with his Ray-Bans tucked into his collar. He looked every bit the sophisticated, yet approachable man Sally had always admired. “You know,” he said, turning to Bridget, “it’s nice to see you both so relaxed before the chaos begins.”

Bridget rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t get too used to it. Once the caterers arrive and the guests start trickling in, this whole place will be a whirlwind.”

As if on cue, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the caterers. The three of them exchanged glances, and Sally’s eyes lit up with excitement. “They’re here!” she said, practically bouncing in her new sandals.

Adrian chuckled, standing up and placing a reassuring hand on Sally’s shoulder. “Let’s get everything set up, shall we?”

Together, they headed to the door, the sense of love, warmth, and anticipation filling the air as they prepared for a day full of laughter, celebration, and the kind of memories that make family life so special.

The backyard was alive with the sound of laughter and splashing water. The sun beamed brightly, casting shimmering reflections on the surface of the pool, and the scent of grilled burgers and hot dogs wafted through the air from the barbecue station. The caterers moved about, ensuring everything was perfect, while the adults gathered in small groups, mingling and chatting over drinks.

Katrina and Clara had been the first to arrive, both with their parents in tow. Clara’s parents, who were quieter and reserved, exchanged polite greetings with Bridget and Adrian, while Katrina’s parents, vibrant and full of life, animatedly struck up conversations with anyone nearby. Katrina’s father spoke passionately about his Colombian roots and his successful construction ventures, while her mother laughed warmly, drawing even the most hesitant guests into conversation.

Katrina and Clara approached Sally with wide smiles, congratulating her once again on her birthday. Although Sally had insisted on no gifts, the girls playfully winked and deposited wrapped presents onto the table set up for later. Sally rolled her eyes but laughed, feeling grateful for her thoughtful friends.

“You weren’t supposed to bring gifts!” Sally protested, but her friends only grinned at her.

“Too bad,” Katrina teased, setting her own gift on the table designated for presents. “You’re the birthday girl, and we had to spoil you a little.”

Sally rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile. “Thank you,” she said, giving both of them another hug. The three of them exchanged excited looks, but they hesitated to strip down to their swimsuits just yet, waiting for more friends to arrive and for the party to fully come to life.

One by one, more friends arrived, each accompanied by their families. The backyard began to fill with a lively mix of teenagers and adults. Patricia’s family arrived next, pulling up in their sleek Mercedes convertible, with the top down and the wind ruffling their hair. Patricia’s younger brother, Charlie, climbed out shyly, clutching a gift-wrapped box. As they approached, Charlie hesitated before thrusting the gift into Sally’s hands.

Patricia rolled her eyes but grinned. “I told him you said no gifts, but he wouldn’t listen.”

Charlie’s cheeks reddened slightly, but he stood firm. “I wanted to,” he said, a bit defensively.

Sally’s curiosity piqued, and she carefully unwrapped the box. Her eyes lit up as she pulled out a pristine 1:18 scale model of a white Ford Mustang with sleek black racing stripes. She gasped in delight, running her fingers over the detailed model.

“No way, Charlie! This is incredible!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with amazement.

Charlie’s face brightened with a shy smile. “I remembered you said you loved Mustangs,” he mumbled. “I, uh, even went to a Ford dealership to find it. The sales guy thought we were there to buy a car,” he added, glancing at his sister, who laughed at the memory.

Patricia playfully nudged him. “Yeah, it was quite the scene convincing them we just wanted a model. He saw us drive up in the Mercedes and figured we could well afford a Ford”.

Sally’s heart swelled with gratitude. She impulsively hugged Charlie, who froze in surprise before awkwardly patting her back. Katrina raised an eyebrow and smirked at the display, but Sally didn’t care. She pulled back, holding up the model car.

“This is going on display in my room,” she declared, “and I’ll get a Mustang to match when I turn 16.”

Katrina chimed in, her eyes widening. “Only one year away! Can you believe how fast time is flying?”

Sally laughed, feeling the anticipation of the future mixed with the joy of the present. As more guests arrived, the atmosphere grew more relaxed. The girls, still a bit shy about undressing to reveal their swimsuits, finally found the courage as the crowd settled in. Sally hesitated for a moment, feeling the butterflies in her stomach as she pulled off her loose t-shirt and cut-off jeans to reveal her colorful new bikini.

Katrina’s eyes went wide, and she made a dramatic show of gasping. “Oh my gosh, Sally! Look at you!” she whispered, keeping her voice low for the benefit of Clara’s more conservative parents. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were going all out! Te queda perfecto!”

Sally blushed, but she couldn’t help laughing. “Well, it’s a special day,” she said, feeling a rush of confidence.

Katrina revealed her own bikini, which was surprisingly modest. “I didn’t think you’d be braver than me,” she teased. Clara, who was still wearing her one-piece swimsuit, just rolled her eyes.

“Okay, okay,” Clara said with a smile. “Next time, I’ll wear a bikini. Maybe. But I doubt I’ll ever look as hot as Sally”.

Bridget and Adrian stood off to the side, observing the scene. Bridget couldn’t help trading a slight frown with Adrian as she noticed Sally in her bikini, but Adrian just laughed, placing a comforting hand on Bridget’s shoulder. “She’s growing up,” he said gently.

Bridget sighed, a smile breaking through. “I know. I remember what it was like to be a teenager.”

Soon, the pool was full of splashing teens. Charlie, brimming with energy and looking cute in his bright blue swimming trunks, cannonballed into the pool, sending a wave of water over everyone nearby. The playful chaos ignited a rush, and soon all the teens were diving in, laughing and chasing each other. The air was filled with squeals, playful shouts, and the rhythmic splashing of water.

The air was filled with the delicious aroma of food from the barbecue area, where the chef and servers were busy grilling burgers and preparing drinks. The adults began to drift into their own groups, some sampling the drinks while others engaged in lively conversation. Adrian, with his effortless charm, moved easily between the more reserved parents and the outgoing ones, making everyone feel welcome. Even Clara’s usually serious parents seemed to relax in his presence.

Sally felt a rush of pride seeing her father handle the social occasion with such ease.

At one point, Sally spotted Charlie standing poolside, deep in conversation with Adrian. Her heart did a little flip when she noticed Charlie showing her father something on his phone. It was probably the pictures he had taken of her boarding Adrian’s Gulfstream, the ones that had started the whole #GulfstreamSally trend. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling a mix of embarrassment and fondness.

Katrina elbowed her, bringing her back to reality. “Earth to Sally! Are you daydreaming about a certain someone?” she teased, taking a bite of her hamburger.

Sally blushed and laughed, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, but her smile gave her away.

The party continued, filled with delicious food, sun-soaked laughter, and the joy of friends and family coming together. As the day wound down and families began to leave, Sally knew she would never forget this perfect, sunlit celebration surrounded by the people she loved most.

Chapter 65 – Joy and Anger

“The end is never the end,” thought Sally after the party, as she sat on the edge of her bed, brushing out her damp hair from a warm, soothing shower. The cool evening air had swept in as the sun set, and she could still hear the faint echoes of laughter and splashing from earlier in the day. Her mind was swirling with thoughts—her upcoming period lingered in the back of her head, bringing with it a small pang of tension. She made a mental checklist: pads, Tylenol, and that calming tea her mom always kept in the pantry for her cramps.

She caught sight of the package of diapers sitting quietly in her room, a familiar and comforting presence. Her eyes lingered wistfully for a moment, knowing she’d have to wait. Her dad was staying for dinner, and even though she longed for that feeling of security, she didn’t want to risk any awkward moments.

Instead, she focused on the exciting prospect of spending more time with him. Pulling on a pair of soft black lounge pants and a light-yellow hoodie, she slipped her feet into her new Havaianas sandals. The comfortable, chic look made her smile as she ran her fingers over the smooth straps. Ready for the evening, she grabbed a cold bottle of Coke from the fridge and headed to the living room.

Her parents were there, seated close together on the couch and engaged in an animated conversation. Each held a longneck beer—her mom cradling hers in both hands while her dad held his directly, without his usual beer glass. It was a rare sight to see him this informal, and Sally couldn’t help but tease.

“Dad, drinking straight from the bottle? Are we slumming it tonight?” she joked, her tone playful.

Adrian chuckled, raising his bottle in mock formality. “I’m embracing the casual life,” he replied, winking. Bridget laughed, and the warmth between them made Sally’s heart swell. Seeing her parents getting along so well, even though she knew they’d never reunite romantically, felt like a gift.

But soon, the conversation shifted to something more serious. Her dad had been explaining something about his charity project, and Sally took a seat, sipping her Coke and listening intently. Adrian’s voice carried a blend of passion and humility as he spoke about the work they were doing to support children and teenagers from underprivileged backgrounds. His charity, though not solely his, was a collaboration with close friends and business partners, many of whom Sally had met at her birthday party.

Sally’s brows furrowed with interest. “So how does it work?” she asked. “Raising all that money?”

Adrian leaned forward, his face alight with purpose. “We work together to inspire others—other wealthy individuals—to contribute. It’s about pooling resources to make a real difference. We have fundraising events in the US and Europe coming up, and I was hoping you might want to participate,” he said, his eyes searching hers for a reaction. “It would mean a lot to have you there, beside me.”

Sally was stunned. “Me?” she managed, her voice soft.

Bridget placed a gentle hand on Sally’s knee, her eyes kind. “Think about it,” she said. “You’re young, you’re passionate, and who better to connect with other teenagers and show them the power of change than someone their own age?”

Adrian nodded in agreement. “The new generation needs to see that charity isn’t just for the older crowd. You could bring a fresh perspective, Sally. Just being there would mean a lot.”

Sally’s mind raced. The idea was overwhelming, yet something about it resonated deeply. “But… what would I do?” she asked, feeling the weight of the responsibility.

Adrian’s eyes softened. “At first, you’d just be with me. Observe, learn, and see how it all works. Eventually, you’ll find your place, your voice in all of this,” he said. His tone grew lighter, a teasing glint in his eye. “After all, you are my heiress, aren’t you?”

Sally’s cheeks flushed, and she gave a small laugh. “Heiress, huh? No pressure there,” she said, trying to keep things light.

Her mom smiled. “We’ll take it one step at a time,” she promised. “I’m actually using my experience from my work with the nonprofit to help organize this. We’re working together to make it a bigger project than it’s ever been.”

Adrian added, “It’s not just my charity. I’m just one piece of it,” he said humbly.

Bridget rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “A very big piece,” she countered.

Sally took another sip of her Coke, the reality of the situation settling in. “So… what’s the next step?” she asked, trying to wrap her head around it.

Adrian sat back, his eyes full of pride. “Tomorrow, I have a meeting in Beverly Hills with the event planner. You could come with me, see how it’s all set up,” he offered. “If you’re up for it.”

Sally’s jaw dropped. “Beverly Hills? Like, I’d travel with you?”

He nodded, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Only if you want to, of course.”

Bridget chimed in, “School is flexible. As long as you’re responsible and keep up with your work, you won’t miss anything. We’ve already spoken with the school.”

Sally felt a surge of excitement and nervousness. This was all so new, so big. “I’m starting to feel like a princess,” she joked, “with all these responsibilities.”

Her dad’s eyes twinkled. “Have you ever watched The Crown?” he asked.

Sally shook her head. “I’ve heard of it but never seen it.”

“I’d recommend it,” he said. “It’s a good way to understand how heavy responsibility can be. You won’t be a queen, but the impact you can make is still significant.”

Silence settled over them, each lost in thought, until Bridget broke it with a laugh. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Right now, she’s just a teenager in lounge pants,” she teased, ruffling Sally’s hair.

Sally smiled, her nerves slowly giving way to anticipation. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of flying with her dad on the Gulfstream. Maybe this was the beginning of something bigger than she’d ever imagined.

--

Sally tossed and turned under the covers. The weight of everything—the responsibilities, the excitement, the uncertainty—pressed down on her like a heavy blanket. Despite the joy she felt about traveling with her dad and stepping into this new role, her mind raced with worries. Will I be good enough? Will I live up to his expectations? The crinkling sound of her diaper, once a source of comfort, seemed to tease her tonight, reminding her of her duality: a growing teenager facing adult responsibilities but still dealing with the vulnerabilities of youth.

Finally, exhaustion claimed her, and sleep took over. But it felt like mere seconds before her alarm blared. Sally jolted awake, disoriented. Something felt off. As her grogginess faded, she realized her T-shirt was damp, and her bedsheets were soaked. Her diaper had leaked. A groan of frustration escaped her lips, and she couldn’t help but shout a string of choice words.

“Sh*t, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t!”

From the hallway, Bridget, ever the attentive mother, heard the commotion and hurried in. “Sally?” she called, her voice a mix of concern and exasperation. She stepped into the room, her eyes widening at the sight of her daughter standing in a damp T-shirt and a leaking diaper. Sally’s frustration was palpable, and her mother took in the scene: the wet sheets, the defeated slump of Sally’s shoulders.

“Hey, hey,” Bridget said softly, though her eyebrows arched at the bad language. “What’s going on here?”

Sally turned, her face flushed with frustration. “I leaked. I f*cking leaked. And I’m soaked. And today was supposed to be… special,” she said, her voice cracking.

Bridget’s heart ached for her daughter. Despite the mess, she saw a young girl overwhelmed by the weight of the day ahead. She stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on Sally’s shoulder. “It’s just an accident, sweetheart. We’ll fix it. But maybe let’s tone down the language, alright?” she chided softly, trying to bring a sense of calm.

Sally took a shaky breath, nodding. Her mother’s calm presence was like a balm. With Bridget’s reassurance, she headed to the bathroom, peeling off the wet T-shirt and groaned inwardly at the disgusting feeling of having the pee-soaked t-shirt touch her skin. She untaped the soaked diaper and let it flop to the floor. She noticed there was not a dry spot to be found in it. It was totally saturated. She stepped into the shower feeling filthy and sighed as the warm water from the shower washed away the remnants of her rough start. The soap felt wonderful, and she scrubbed herself with an effort to feel purified. It felt cleansing, not just physically but emotionally too, and by the time she emerged, wrapped in a towel with her wet hair clinging to her face, she felt a little more like herself.

Bridget had already stripped the bed, efficiently taking care of the wet sheets. She turned to see Sally, her eyes softening. “Feeling better?”

Sally nodded, though a trace of tension still clung to her. “Yeah, thanks,” she murmured, running a hand through her damp hair. She was ashamed of her reaction, and it reminded her of the time she had leaked in her pull-ups in her dad’s Gulfstream, with Theresa on her trip to Zurich.

“Good,” Bridget said with a warm smile. “Now, let’s find something perfect for today. We need to make a good impression, right?” Together, they went through Sally’s closet, settling on a pair of stylish black jeans and a soft white cashmere sweater. Sally inspected herself in the mirror, hesitant. “I guess I look okay,” she admitted.

“You look more than okay. You look perfect,” her mother reassured her. But as Bridget mentioned that Adrian was already downstairs waiting, Sally felt the anxiety spike again. Am I ready for this? she wondered.

Sally carefully applied some makeup, trying to steady her trembling hands. Earrings. She needed the right ones. She sorted through her collection, growing frustrated when nothing seemed to match. Her heart thumped as she kept rearranging them, feeling the knot of nerves tightening in her stomach. She yanked open a drawer, only to slam it shut when she couldn’t find what she wanted.

Bridget, hearing the noise, knocked gently on the open door. “Sally, you really need to go. Your dad is waiting,” she reminded her, her voice gentle but firm.

Sally sighed, finally selecting a simple pair of earrings and strapping on her Apple Watch. She grabbed her suitcase, grateful she had packed it the night before, and rolled it down the hallway. The suitcase bumped along, and she couldn’t help but feel a wave of annoyance. All this money, and no one to help me with my suitcase? she thought bitterly.

At the bottom of the stairs, she spotted her dad. Adrian was standing with Theresa and Bridget, engaged in soft conversation, but the moment he saw Sally, his gaze flicked to his watch. The disapproval in his eyes stung, and he made a small, clipped remark. “We’re running late.”

The anxiety Sally had been holding back surged forward, and she snapped, “Well, your Gulfstream should make up for lost time.”

Adrian’s expression hardened. “That’s not acceptable, Sally,” he said, his voice cold and formal.

Sally’s frustration boiled over. “Then you’ll just have to live with it,” she retorted.

The hallway fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Theresa raised an eyebrow, surprised, while Bridget’s face, unseen by Sally, showed concern.

Sally clutched her suitcase handle, her anger giving way to regret. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice small. When no one responded, she looked up, her eyes shining with tears. “I really am. I shouldn’t have acted that way.” There was so much she wanted to say, yet… she remained stoically silent.

Theresa’s gentle, reassuring nod helped soothe the moment, and Adrian’s expression softened. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Sally’s shoulder. “Let’s forget it, okay? Can I take your suitcase?” His voice was diplomatic, but Sally sensed an unease, a desire to sweep things under the rug. It left her feeling conflicted.

Bridget pulled her into a hug. “Don’t let Angry win,” she whispered, referencing the character from Inside Out. “Let Joy take over.” Sally managed a weak smile, and her mom added softly, “And remember, PMS doesn’t have to run the show.”

Sally’s face turned red, but she nodded, grateful for her mother’s understanding.

Outside, Theresa greeted her warmly, and Sally recognized the familiar Suburban. “Happy birthday,” Theresa whispered, giving her a hug.

Sally managed a smile, and quickly asked Theresa the driver’s name. “Bruno”, she whispered.

“Good morning, Bruno,” Sally said, making sure to use his name. His eyes widened with surprise, and a pleased smile spread across his face.

“Good morning, Miss Weiss,” he replied, clearly delighted she knew his name.

He loaded her suitcase, and Sally climbed in, feeling a bit better as she joined her dad in the back seat. Theresa took her place in the front.

Theresa turned to face them and gave them the day’s briefing. “We’re taking a chopper to Teterboro,” Theresa explained as the SUV rolled down the street. “Then we’ll board the Gulfstream to Van Nuys. Van Nuys is a private airport close to Los Angeles”, she explained, for Sally’s benefit. “Our hotel is in Beverly Hills, where we’re planning the event. Once we check into the hotel, we’ll meet Fiona and Janet to discuss the fundraiser. Jeff and Anastasios will be there too. You met them at your birthday party.”

Sally nodded, relieved to know the plan. She remembered her dad’s Texan and Greek friends. She looked forward to getting to know her dad’s friends.

The familiar sight of the Sikorsky S-76 at the local airport lifted her spirits, and a thrill of excitement surged through her. Maybe today would turn out okay after all.

--

The light rain pattered against the windows of the helicopter as Sally climbed aboard. It was her third time in a helicopter, and although she liked to think of herself as a “veteran” now, the rush of excitement still coursed through her veins. She couldn’t help but grin as she buckled her seatbelt, sat back on the plush leather seat, the hum of the rotors already sending a familiar thrill through her.

Theresa leaned over, her voice warm and reassuring despite the noise. “You know,” she confided, “I still get a rush every time, no matter how many times I’ve flown. It’s part of the magic.” She winked, and Sally felt a sense of camaraderie that made her heart feel a little lighter.

Adrian, seated next to Sally, gave her a brief smile, his demeanor calm but attentive. Even he, with all his worldly experience, seemed to respect the awe that came with flying. Sally took a deep breath as the pilot shut the door and the rotors began to spin faster. The helicopter vibrated with energy, and Sally gripped the armrest, feeling the anticipation build.

The helicopter lifted off the ground, and Sally’s stomach did a little flip. The sensation of being suspended, of rising into the air, never got old. She felt the pressure push her back against her seat as they climbed higher, the rain streaking diagonally across the windows. Hartford shrank below them, a patchwork of streets and rooftops disappearing into the mist.

Sally gazed out at the rainy landscape, the world shrouded in a gentle gray haze. The helicopter cut through the rain, and she could see droplets splattering and dancing off the glass, illuminated by the diffused light of the overcast sky. The rhythmic drumming of the rain mixed with the steady thrum of the rotors, creating a kind of symphony that was oddly calming.

Theresa pointed out of the window, drawing her attention to a break in the clouds where a sliver of blue sky peeked through. “Even on days like this,” he said, “there’s always a patch of clear sky somewhere. You just have to find it.”

Sally’s father was silent, almost meditative. Sally hoped they could clear the air during their trip.

Sally pondered Theresa’s words, feeling the tension from earlier slowly ebb away. Her father’s presence, combined with the wonder of flight, did give her a sense of reassurance. She exchanged a smile with Theresa, both sharing the quiet exhilaration of being in the air.

The helicopter flew over rivers and highways, the landscape unfolding beneath them in a blur of greens and grays. Occasionally, Sally could make out the towns and industrial areas, their buildings clustered together like miniature models. The rain softened as they traveled, but the sky remained a moody, dramatic canvas, with clouds swirling and shifting in the distance.

Sally closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling. The vibration of the helicopter, the faint scent of rain, and the thrill of speed combined into an experience that made her feel alive. The nerves she’d felt earlier were still there, but now they mixed with anticipation, a sense of adventure she couldn’t deny.

Before long, the helicopter began its descent, and the pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom, announcing their arrival at Teterboro Airport. Sally’s eyes widened as she spotted the familiar sleek shape of the silver Gulfstream jet waiting on the tarmac. The sight of the jet made her heart race—not out of nerves, but out of excitement for what lay ahead.

As the helicopter touched down gently next to the Gulfstream, Sally felt the rush of anticipation once more. The rain had eased to a light drizzle, and the blades of the helicopter slowed, the noise gradually fading. Adrian unbuckled his seatbelt and looked at Sally with a thin smile that seemed to say, Here we go.

Sally took a deep breath, unfastened her belt, and stepped out of the helicopter. The drizzle kissed her cheeks, and she felt the cool, damp air wrap around her. The Gulfstream loomed before her, sleek and powerful, a reminder of the adventure she was about to embark on. For a moment, she let herself soak it all in—the rain, the thrill, the promise of new experiences—and felt a spark of excitement ignite deep inside her.

--

Sally stepped out from under the helicopter’s rotors, taking in the sight of Teterboro Airport. The tarmac stretched out in all directions, and she was momentarily taken aback by the sheer number of private jets parked and preparing for takeoff. Many of the planes looked sleek and elegant, similar to her dad’s Gulfstream, their polished white exteriors gleaming in the drizzle. But a few jets stood out, painted in vibrant colors or finished in glossy black, giving them an air of mystery and power.

Still, her eyes were drawn to the familiar Gulfstream G700 waiting for them, its engines already humming quietly in preparation for takeoff. It was her dad’s plane, and that made it special. The steward held a large umbrella over her head to keep her dry, and Sally felt a bit self-conscious, but also strangely important. Her dad, however, declined the offer of an umbrella, brushing it off with a small, confident wave, while Theresa managed with her own umbrella, the rain glistening on its surface.

As they approached the plane, the background was alive with activity. Planes lined up, taxiing toward the runway, and Sally’s attention was drawn to a large aircraft taking off close to them. The roar of its engines reverberated through her chest, making her feel small yet thrilled to be a part of this bustling world of travel and adventure.

Just then, Nitaya, the Thai stewardess, descended the steps of the Gulfstream with a warm smile. Sally’s face lit up at the sight of her, remembering the kindness Nitaya had shown her on her first flight.

“Welcome back, Miss Weiss,” Nitaya said cheerfully, her voice carrying over the gentle hum of the engines. “Captain Henderson and First Officer Gruber are excited to have you flying with us again.”

Sally’s heart swelled with warmth, feeling a sense of familiarity and belonging. She returned the greeting with enthusiasm, glad to see that she had left a favorable impression. Adrian watched the interaction with a pleased expression, appreciating how effortlessly his daughter seemed to charm the crew.

Together, they climbed the steps into the Gulfstream, the warm, luxurious interior greeting them like a second home. The polished wood accents and plush leather seats were pristine, and the scent of fresh air lingered in the cabin. Sally slid into her usual seat by the window, and Nitaya made sure she was comfortable. “We’re all set to take off,” she informed her, and Sally nodded, buckling her seatbelt.

Adrian made his way to his preferred seat near the back of the cabin, where a large table was set up for work or dining. He settled in effortlessly, as if the plane were an extension of his office. Theresa took the seat opposite Sally, giving her a playful thumbs-up that made Sally smile, despite the knots of nervousness still lingering in her stomach.

Nitaya closed the airplane door, securing it firmly, and took her seat near the galley. Almost instantly, the Gulfstream began to taxi toward the runway, joining the queue of aircraft preparing for takeoff. Sally watched, captivated, as they slowly rolled forward. From her window, she could see other planes accelerating and lifting into the sky from the parallel runway, their engines roaring.

The Gulfstream finally reached its position, and Sally braced herself as the engines roared to life. The thrust pushed her back into her seat, and she marveled at the power and speed of it all. The ground blurred beneath them, and within moments, they were lifting off, the plane smoothly ascending into the clouds.

Barely an hour ago, she had been at home. Now, she was flying over the East Coast, embarking on a new adventure, and the realization filled her with a mix of excitement and trepidation. Everything was happening so quickly, but there was no turning back now.

Chapter 66 – Business as Unusual

As soon as the Gulfstream reached a stable altitude, Nitaya was up with her practiced efficiency, gliding through the cabin with grace. Sally watched her as she began preparing a small but exquisite meal. The gentle hum of the engines surrounded them, a steady and calming presence, while the morning sunlight streamed through the large windows, creating a golden glow inside the cabin.

Nitaya approached Sally with a warm smile. “Miss Weiss,” she said in her pleasant, accented English, “why don’t you join your father at the back row? I’ll serve some snacks there.”

Sally nodded, feeling a bit apprehensive but willing to follow. She stood up, clutching the edge of her seat to steady herself as the plane swayed slightly, and made her way to where her father was sitting at the large table in the rear of the cabin. Adrian looked up from his laptop, his piercing eyes softening as he saw her approach. He closed his computer gently, offering her a nod and a small, reserved smile.

Sally took the seat across from him, her heart still tight with unease from their earlier interaction. Before either of them could speak, Nitaya returned with a tray. She set down two glasses of Vichy Catalan sparkling water, the crisp, mineral-rich taste something Sally had grown to love during their last trip. Alongside the drinks, she placed an assortment of delicate, bite-sized sandwiches, each artfully arranged: Manchego cheese and Spanish ham, Italian salami, and a small selection of olives.

“Enjoy,” Nitaya said with a smile before retreating to the galley.

Sally picked up her glass, feeling the bubbles fizz against her lips as she took a sip. The tension between her and her father began to dissipate, softened by the warmth and simplicity of sharing a meal. Adrian took a bite of one of the sandwiches and then looked at Sally, his expression open but cautious.

She put her glass down, her hands clasping together nervously. “Dad,” she began, her voice quiet but earnest. “I just wanted to say I’m really sorry. I acted… bratty. You didn’t deserve that, and I shouldn’t have taken my stress out on you.”

Adrian’s eyes widened slightly, clearly surprised. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. “Sally,” he said gently, “you don’t need to repeat your apology. I understood, and I forgave you. We all have moments when we let our emotions get the better of us.”

Sally swallowed, feeling the weight of her emotions pressing against her chest. “I know,” she said, her voice thickening. “But I need you to know that I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me. I’ll try not to act rashly in the future. I just… I really want us to be okay.”

Adrian sat back, his usually composed demeanor giving way to something more vulnerable. He sighed, a hint of regret in his expression. “You know,” he began, his voice softer than usual, “I’m not very experienced at this. Being a father to a teenager, I mean. I’ve spent so much time away, and I know that absence has left gaps in our relationship. It’s not fair to you, and I understand that.” He paused, searching her eyes. “I want to be better for you, Sally. If there’s a way we can learn to relate to each other, not just as partners in this new venture but as father and daughter… I’d really like that.”

Sally’s eyes misted over, but she managed a small, hopeful smile. “Like King George VI and Elizabeth,” she said, a glimmer of humor in her voice. “I’ve been watching The Crown.”

Adrian’s eyebrows lifted, and a genuine chuckle escaped his lips. “Hopefully with a longer time together,” he said, his tone tinged with both amusement and sincerity.

Sally’s heart swelled, and she fought back the tears that threatened to spill. “Thank you, Dad,” she whispered, her voice trembling with gratitude.

They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the quiet hum of the engines and the clinking of glasses as they sipped their sparkling water. Sally turned to look out of the large round window, the sky stretching endlessly around them, the clouds billowing below like a soft, endless ocean. The food in front of them had warmed not just their stomachs but the spaces between their hearts, bringing them closer together in a way that felt genuine and lasting.

They ate the rest of the sandwiches in companionable silence, each taking comfort in the shared moment, the view, and the sense that they were, slowly but surely, finding their way to one another.

Adrian looked up from his glass and smiled warmly as Captain Henderson approached them. The captain, tall and distinguished with silver-streaked hair and a confident yet friendly demeanor, greeted Adrian first with a polite nod before turning his attention to Sally.

“Miss Weiss,” Captain Henderson said fondly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of her. “It’s a pleasure to have you on board again. The crew and I are delighted you joined us again.”

Sally’s face flushed a delicate pink. She wasn’t used to the formality or the attention, and she fiddled nervously with the hem of her cashmere sweater. “Thank you, Captain,” she replied, her voice gentle but sincere. “It’s always exciting to be here.”

Captain Henderson’s smile widened. “We’re looking forward to a smooth flight today. I apologize for not greeting you earlier, but we were pushing to keep our slot. Air traffic can be a real game of strategy sometimes.”

Sally’s blush deepened, and she ducked her head slightly. “Oh, that was probably my fault,” she admitted guiltily. “I was running late this morning.”

Adrian’s eyes sharpened, and he gently but firmly cut in. “Nonsense,” he said with authority. “It had nothing to do with Sally. Captain, don’t listen to her — she’s being too hard on herself.”

Captain Henderson chuckled, clearly enjoying the father-daughter dynamic. “Well, it all worked out,” he said kindly. “We’re right on track now. Miss Weiss, First Officer Gruber would be pleased if you stopped by the cockpit when you have a moment,” Captain Henderson said with a friendly smile. “He mentioned he was looking forward to greeting you on this flight. But he’s on duty in for this leg”.

Sally’s eyes brightened with excitement. “I’ll definitely come up and say hi,” she promised. “I always love visiting the cockpit.”

Captain Henderson gave her a warm nod. “We’ll look forward to it. In the meantime, enjoy the flight. We’ll be cruising at 49,000 feet, so enjoy the view.” With that, he bid them farewell and returned to the cockpit, his polished shoes making almost no sound on the plush carpet.

As the captain left, Adrian turned to Sally with a smile of genuine admiration. “You know,” he said thoughtfully, “I’ve never seen the crew so taken with a passenger. They’re always professional, but with you, it’s different. There’s something about the way they interact with you.”

Sally’s cheeks warmed again, and she bit her lip, feeling a little bashful. “They’re just being polite,” she said, waving off the compliment. “I’m sure they treat all the passengers that way.”

Adrian shook his head, his expression serious but warm. “No, Sally. It’s more than that. It’s the way you treat them — like equals. You remember their names, you’re genuinely interested in talking to them. That matters.”

Sally tilted her head, surprised by her father’s observation. “I… I just think it’s important,” she said softly. “People are working hard to make things run smoothly for us. The least I can do is show respect.”

Adrian’s eyes sparkled with a hint of pride. “Speaking of which,” he added with a curious smile, “how did you know Bruno’s name? I noticed you greeted him this morning.”

Sally grinned sheepishly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I asked Theresa. I had seen him before. He drove me and Theresa to the airport last year when we were flying to Zurich. I try to remember people’s names, especially if I’m going to be seeing them again.”

Adrian’s smile deepened, and he looked at her with a mixture of pride and affection. “It makes a difference, Sally,” he said. “It’s a quality that not everyone has. And it’s something that makes you special.”

Sally ducked her head, feeling a warm glow in her chest. It was rare for her father to speak so openly and compliment her like this, and she cherished the moment.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the faint hum of the engines and the occasional soft clinking of glassware filling the cabin. Sally took a sip of her sparkling water, her heart feeling lighter than it had in days.

--

Sally watched her father excuse himself from his seat, noticing the familiar, methodical way he stood up and made his way to the back of the Gulfstream. She followed his movements with her eyes, guessing he was headed to the washroom. The thought reminded her that she should probably use the bathroom soon too. With a small sigh, she took the final bite of her Manchego cheese sandwich, savoring the earthy, rich flavor as it melted on her tongue.

Just as she was contemplating her next move, Theresa slipped into the seat across from her, interrupting her thoughts. “Hey, Tess,” Sally greeted, her voice warm but tinged with curiosity.

“Hey, Sally,” Theresa replied, offering a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The tension in her demeanor was palpable, and Sally could feel the undercurrent of something unspoken between them.

Sally leaned forward, concern creasing her brow. “How have you been?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

Theresa exhaled and gave a small smile, talking about her weekend. But as the conversation progressed, Sally couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more.

“Are you… mad at me?” Sally asked hesitantly, her voice dropping to a near whisper. She hated the thought of disappointing someone she admired so much.

Theresa looked at her seriously, then nodded. “Can I be frank with you?” she asked, her voice calm but firm.

Sally’s stomach did a little flip. “Yes, of course,” she said, frowning with concern.

Theresa took a breath, choosing her words carefully. “Sally, you’re a great girl,” she began, her tone softening. “And you’ve become a real friend to me. But you need to remember something important.” She paused, meeting Sally’s eyes. “You’re also my boss.”

Sally’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Me? Your boss?” she echoed, clearly baffled.

Theresa nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yes, you,” she said. “Officially, your dad is my boss because you’re still a minor. But my job is to work for your best interests. Everything I do is guided by what will benefit you. Adrian and I work together on that.”

Sally’s expression shifted from surprise to understanding. “I think I get it,” she said slowly. But there was still confusion clouding her features. “But why are you being so serious?”

Theresa’s smile faded as she leaned in, her voice gentle but direct. “What happened earlier between you and your dad… the outburst,” she said. “It shouldn’t have happened in front of staff. People like me. You see, when there’s tension in a family as high-profile as yours, it has repercussions.”

Sally’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and she nodded slowly. “I didn’t think about that,” she admitted.

Theresa reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Sally’s. “I understand,” she said kindly. “But here’s some friendly advice. When there’s conflict, try to keep it private. Resolve it calmly, and always be diplomatic. Be willing to give in, be flexible. Disasters can happen when wealth and family mix—especially this kind of wealth.” She gestured around the luxurious airplane, emphasizing her point. “People watch, Sally. They notice everything.”

Sally’s eyes grew watery, and she swallowed hard, nodding. “I get it. I really do,” she whispered.

Theresa smiled warmly. “And for the record,” she added, “I think your father is an angel. I’m proud to work for him. And for you,” she said, her voice thick with affection. “You’re an angel too.”

Sally felt her heart swell, and a tear threatened to spill over. “Thank you, Tess,” she said, her voice trembling. “I needed to hear that.”

Theresa gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry if I intruded,” she said. “But I thought you should know.”

“Please,” Sally said, her voice cracking slightly, “don’t stop giving me advice. I need it desperately.”

Theresa’s smile widened, and she stood up, patting Sally’s shoulder. “You’ll be okay, boss,” she said with a wink. “Trust me.”

Sally watched her return to her seat, feeling a mixture of gratitude and relief. Theresa had a way of making her feel understood and supported, even in the most complicated moments.

--

Sally stood up from her plush leather seat, feeling the gentle hum of the Gulfstream G700 beneath her feet. Stretching her legs, she glanced toward the front of the cabin, deciding to check out the washroom there. The front washroom wasn’t one she had used before; she was more accustomed to the one toward the back, where the familiar setting felt more like a small private sanctuary.

Walking past the quiet seating area and Theresa reading her Kindle - she gave her a small wave- Sally approached the front washroom door. It slid open with a gentle push, revealing a surprisingly elegant space. The interior was sleek and modern, with a subtle blend of polished wood and gleaming chrome. The mirror was backlit, casting a soft glow over the marble countertop, and everything looked immaculate, as if prepped for royalty. Nothing in comparison to commercial airliners.

Sally smiled at the luxurious feel of the room. Even for someone who was used to her dad’s extravagant lifestyle, this washroom felt like a treat. Pulling down her pants, she marveled at the comfort she felt while doing that. Normal airplanes made her feel so exposed when she did that, and the cramped space even made it difficult. But this, this was pure bliss, she thought as she lifted the padded leather cushion to sit on the toilet.

She washed her hands in the glass basin, marveling at the fine hand lotion and the soft towels neatly folded beside the sink. The faint scent of lavender filled the air, calming her nerves. With a satisfied sigh, she finished up and opened the door, stepping out into the main cabin once more.

Pausing in the galley, she noticed Nitaya, the Thai stewardess, skillfully arranging dishes on a tray. Nitaya looked up, her eyes lighting up as she saw Sally. She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “Lasagna for lunch today. Your father’s favorite.”

Sally’s eyes widened with delight. “Oh, that sounds perfect,” she whispered back, grinning. She watched for a moment as Nitaya worked, admiring the seamless way she handled everything, and then turned her attention to the cockpit door.

Gathering her courage, Sally stepped into the cockpit, where Captain Henderson and First Officer Gruber were busy managing the flight. The array of screens, and blinking lights always fascinated her, and the expansive windows showed the vast blue sky, stretching endlessly. The First Officer had a headset on, speaking to air traffic control with a calm, focused voice.

“Indianapolis Center, Gulfstream Seven Alpha Tango, flight level four nine zero…” he said, his voice steady. She couldn’t quite understand the rest.

The First Officer Gruber repeated back the instructions verbatim, confirming the new heading. As he finished up, Captain Henderson turned his chair slightly, his face lighting up when he saw Sally. “Ah, Miss Weiss,” he greeted warmly. “We’re just entering Indiana. Everything’s going smoothly.”

First Officer Gruber, now less occupied, turned and gave Sally a thumbs-up, a smile breaking across his face. “Sorry I didn’t greet you properly earlier,” he said. “Just had a routing adjustment to handle.”

Sally waved it off, feeling a warmth in her chest. “No problem. It’s amazing to see you both in action,” she said, admiring the professionalism of the cockpit crew. She lingered for a moment longer chatting, enjoying the view and the high-tech atmosphere, before saying her goodbyes and heading back into the cabin.

As she walked back, she saw her father waving her over. Adrian had returned to his seat, his laptop open, and he looked ready to talk. Sally took a deep breath, feeling more at ease after her brief escape to the cockpit, and made her way to join him.

--

As Sally moved to sit across from her father at the polished Gulfstream table, he looked up and said, “Sally, would you mind bringing your laptop?” His voice was casual, but there was an air of seriousness in the request.

Sally’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she nodded and went to the front of the plane. She dug into her backpack, retrieving her sleek silver MacBook. As she made her way back to the table, she felt a small ripple of anxiety mixed with curiosity. What could be so urgent?

Placing the laptop in front of her, she looked at her father expectantly. Adrian leaned forward, his fingers drumming lightly on the table. “I’m sending you the action plan for the fundraiser and the charity presentation,” he said. “I’d like you to read it, get familiar with it. The meeting is going to be intense, and I don’t want you feeling lost.”

Sally’s eyes widened. “Now?” she asked, feeling the pressure tighten in her chest.

“Yes, now,” Adrian replied with a patient smile. “Sometimes we work on the go, and this is one of those times. It won’t be too difficult, I promise. Just read it over and tell me your thoughts. I’m interested in seeing it from your perspective.”

A small thrill of importance coursed through Sally. She wasn’t just a teenager on a fancy plane; she was being asked to contribute, to be part of something meaningful. She nodded, determination setting in. Opening her laptop, she connected to the plane’s Wi-Fi. It took a few moments to load, and she quietly hoped it would be fast enough.

“What’s your email?” Adrian asked, and she blushed slightly, hesitant to admit the address she had created years ago. It had been hard as there were too many Sallys out there. “Um…” she recited her Sally dot something at gmail dot com email.

Adrian frowned, raising an eyebrow. “That won’t do,” he said, shaking his head. “You need a proper, secure email. This is serious business.” He gestured for Theresa, who had been reading on the sofa.

Theresa approached, leaning in to hear Adrian’s request. “Theresa, can you make sure Sally has a corporate email set up? Something secure.”

Theresa’s eyes lit up with a knowing smile. “Oh, I already took care of that,” she said, tapping her temple. “I’ve got you covered.”

Adrian gave her an appreciative look. “You’re an angel,” he said, the gratitude clear in his voice.

Sally couldn’t help but laugh. “We’re all angels here,” she joked, grinning at their shared inside reference. Theresa chuckled and rolled her eyes playfully.

Theresa took Sally’s laptop, swiftly setting up the corporate email. “Here you go,” she said, handing it back. “This is strictly business. Don’t give it out to anyone. For now, only use it for communications with your dad and me.”

Sally felt a rush of importance, as though she were stepping into a new, more adult role. “Got it,” she said, feeling the weight of the new responsibility. Adrian sent the documents over, and Sally watched as the email notification popped up on her screen.

Opening the files, she began to read. The words felt dense at first, heavy with the language of charity work, fundraising initiatives, and strategic partnerships. But as she read further, she found herself engrossed, understanding bits and pieces as the bigger picture began to take shape.

Theresa returned to her seat, giving Sally and Adrian space to work. Sally remained focused, her eyes scanning the text intently. She barely noticed as Nitaya approached with plates of steaming lasagna. The smell of the rich tomato sauce and melted cheese made Sally’s stomach rumble, but she was too absorbed to pay attention.

“Here you go,” Nitaya whispered, placing a plate in front of her. “Lasagna.”

Sally looked up, momentarily startled, and smiled. “Thanks,” she murmured, picking up her fork. Adrian, who was already digging in, gave her an encouraging nod.

“Eat while you work,” he advised. “It helps to keep your brain going.”

Sally smiled, taking a bite of the savory lasagna. The warm, comforting flavors mixed with the thrill of feeling needed and responsible. She chewed slowly, her eyes returning to the text. As the Gulfstream began its descent into Van Nuys, the plane tilted as it banked, startling Sally.

“Sally,” her father said, breaking her concentration, “time to stop for now. We’re about to land.”

Sally looked up, blinking as though coming out of a trance. Her head felt full, and her heart pounded with a mix of excitement and anxiety. She closed her laptop and set it aside, still processing everything she had just read.

Adrian watched her with a mixture of pride and amusement. “You did well,” he said softly, and Sally felt her cheeks warm.

As the Gulfstream touched down, she felt a sense of anticipation for what awaited them in Beverly Hills.

Chapter 67 – The real deal

It wasn’t a hotel; it was a palace.

Sally stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, as Theresa chuckled softly beside her. “Sorry, it’s not the Presidential Suite,” Theresa said, only half-joking, as they were ushered into Sally’s room. The ornate double doors swung open to reveal a space so grand, it felt like stepping into a luxurious, old-world European palace. High ceilings were crowned with elegant chandeliers, and intricate crown moldings traced along the walls. Plush cream and gold carpets spread across the marble floors, and rich drapes adorned the tall windows that overlooked a manicured courtyard.

Sally spun around slowly, taking it all in. “This… is my room?” she asked, her voice a mix of disbelief and wonder.

Theresa, ever composed, nodded. “Yes, indeed. Although, if you’d like more space, there is the Presidential Suite, which your father is already occupying,” she said, with a playful lift of her eyebrow.

Sally turned her gaze to the concierge, who was trying to hide a smile at her awe. Realizing she had been gaping, she quickly collected herself. “Thank you,” she said warmly. “Everything is perfect.”

The concierge, pleased with her politeness, gave a small bow and made his way out, and Theresa stepped forward, slipping him a generous tip. As the door clicked shut behind him, Sally frowned slightly. “Wait,” she said, looking at Theresa, “aren’t I supposed to be the one giving out tips? Shouldn’t I have, like, a stack of cash or something?”

Theresa’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Yes, you’re right. But for now, your father prefers I handle those details,” she explained. “While you’re still a minor, he feels it’s safer and more practical. But I do appreciate your concern.”

Sally let out a small sigh, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at not having thought of that sooner. “Makes sense, I guess,” she conceded.

“And,” Theresa added, “my room is just downstairs. You can call or message me anytime, or if you need anything immediately, just press number 1 on the room phone to reach the concierge. Don’t hold back, Sally. You’re a Weiss, and they’re here to take care of you.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly, not quite used to the idea of being treated so regally. “Right,” she murmured, still trying to absorb everything. The maids left having taken care of the final touches.

Theresa gave her a knowing smile. “Take your time, freshen up, and we’ll meet in the lobby in an hour for coffee with your dad.” With that, Theresa retreated gracefully, leaving Sally standing in the grandeur of her suite.

As soon as she was alone, Sally couldn’t help but wander through the room, almost tiptoeing as if she were exploring a museum. The main sitting area featured a set of velvet armchairs and a luxurious couch arranged around a marble coffee table. A vase of fresh lilies filled the room with a delicate fragrance, and an enormous flat-screen TV was elegantly mounted on the wall, discreetly framed by an antique-looking cabinet.

Sally ran her fingers over the cool marble of the table, feeling a sense of awe. Her gaze moved to the French doors leading to a balcony. Pushing them open, she stepped out and was greeted by a soft breeze and a breathtaking view of Beverly Hills. Rodeo Drive was just next door, and beyond them, the city sprawled out, kissed by the California sunshine.

Returning inside, she made her way to the bedroom. The bed was enormous, dressed in crisp white linens with gold accents. A mountain of fluffy pillows sat neatly arranged, and at the foot of the bed, a cashmere throw was artfully draped. Sally couldn’t help but collapse onto the bed, sinking into its softness. For a moment, she let herself revel in the luxury, the sheer comfort of it.

She checked her suitcase. It was tucked into the closet… and it was empty! Her clothes were properly hung and neatly put into drawers. Even her… her diapers! She felt a surge of heat on her face as she searched for her diapers. There… in her duffel bag which also kept her toiletries and pads, resting on the bathroom vanity, untouched. She laughed in sweet relief. Someone would have to wonder about a rich girl in diapers. Not yet, at least!

Next, she explored the bathroom, which was even more extravagant. A deep soaking tub was set under a crystal chandelier, with gold fixtures that gleamed under the lights. There was a walk-in rain shower, lined with marble, and a vanity that looked fit for royalty. Plush towels were stacked neatly, and an array of luxury toiletries was arranged on the counter. Sally caught her reflection in the enormous mirror, and she felt a pang of disbelief. Was this really her life now?

She thought back to the ride from the airport. What she had initially thought was just a black Sprinter van waiting by the plane had turned out to be a decked-out luxury limousine. The interior had been fitted with leather seats, ambient lighting, and even a mini bar. Never had a coke felt so special. The twenty-minute ride had felt like a scene from a movie, and she had struggled to believe it was real.

Sally shook her head, trying to process it all. Everything about this experience was surreal, from the elegant reception at the hotel, where staff had greeted them like royalty, to the concierge who had treated her with the utmost respect. She took a deep breath, feeling both exhilarated and overwhelmed. This wasn’t just a trip or a vacation—it was the start of something bigger.

--

The first thing Sally did was grab her phone and dial her mom’s number. She couldn’t wait to share everything about this whirlwind day. As she paced the enormous room, it rang a few times before her mother’s familiar voice answered.

“Hey, sweetie!” Bridget’s voice was warm but slightly muffled, as if she was speaking from somewhere with a soft hum in the background.

“Mom, you won’t believe this place,” Sally blurted out, barely able to contain her excitement. “It’s not a hotel room; it’s a palace! I swear, I think I could live here forever. The bathroom alone is like… I don’t know, a spa mixed with a castle or something.”

Bridget chuckled on the other end. “Oh, honey, I can’t wait to hear all about it. But guess what? I’m actually on a plane right now.”

Sally’s eyes widened, and she paused mid-step. “A plane? Already? Wait, what kind of plane?”

There was a soft laugh from Bridget, and Sally could picture her mom’s amused expression. “A nice kind,” Bridget said, dropping her voice into a whisper as if sharing a delightful secret. “Your dad insisted on chartering a private jet to fly me down to Key West. And get this—it’s huge, Sally. A massive one, and I’m the only passenger. There are more flight attendants than people on board.”

Sally’s jaw dropped. “Seriously? That’s so… Dad,” she said, shaking her head with a fond smile. “I can’t believe it. How is it?”

“It’s surreal,” Bridget admitted, her voice brimming with wonder. “They’ve got these gourmet snacks and a full menu. I just had the most incredible fruit platter, and they keep asking if I need anything. It feels like I’m some kind of royalty.” She paused. “But enough about me—tell me more about your room!”

Sally twirled around to take in the grandeur of her suite once more. “Mom, there’s this enormous chandelier in the sitting area. And the bed—it’s so big, I think I could do cartwheels on it! Oh, and the TV must be the size of a movie screen. The concierge even told me to call for anything, like, anything at all. And Theresa said the Presidential Suite is even bigger, which Dad has. Can you believe that?”

Bridget let out an amazed sigh. “Wow, it sounds like they’re treating you like a princess. Your dad does have a way of going all out, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, he really does,” Sally said, her voice softening. “But it’s nice to know you’re getting spoiled too. Are you excited about meeting Olivia?”

Bridget’s tone became more serious but still joyful. “I am. It’s going to be a busy few days, but it’s an incredible opportunity to work with her. We’ll be making some important decisions about the charity partnership. But don’t worry, I’ll keep you updated every step of the way.”

Sally felt a swell of pride and connection. “I’m so glad we’re both having these amazing experiences. Even if it’s a bit overwhelming.”

Bridget’s voice turned tender. “It is, isn’t it? But remember, you’re strong and capable. And we’ll figure it all out together, okay?”

Sally nodded, even though her mom couldn’t see her. “Okay, Mom. I’ll call you later and let you know how everything goes.”

“Sounds perfect,” Bridget said. “And, Sally? Enjoy every moment. You deserve this.”

“I will,” Sally promised. “Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

Sally ended the call, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. She set her phone down, her heart full, ready to take on the next adventure.

With newfound resolve, she decided to take Theresa’s advice. She headed to the bathroom, splashed her face with cool water, and tidied herself up. She brushed her hair, took a moment to straighten her outfit, and looked at herself in the mirror. One step at a time, she told herself. She could handle this.

Satisfied, she took another breath, ready to face whatever awaited her downstairs.

--

Sally felt like a rich kid in the movies, navigating this expansive luxury hotel. The lavish lobby gleamed with polished marble floors, towering floral arrangements, and soft golden light filtering through opulent crystal chandeliers. Her footsteps echoed lightly as she walked, a reminder that she was somewhere extraordinary.

Stepping into the elevator, Sally couldn’t help but smile at her reflection in the polished mirrors that lined the walls. The button for the ground floor glowed as she pressed it, and the elevator glided smoothly downward, offering a view of the lush garden courtyard through its glass panels. The ride felt brief yet luxurious, and soon, she was stepping out into the lobby, taking in the sight of guests mingling, the hum of elegant conversations, and the faint notes of piano music drifting through the air.

Sally’s eyes scanned the room until she spotted her father sitting at a table near the hotel café. He was dressed impeccably, as always, his posture relaxed but commanding, a cup of steaming coffee cradled in his hand. Theresa was just getting up from the table, her tablet in hand.

Theresa smiled at Sally as she approached. “I’ll meet you both later at the meeting,” she said, her voice warm but purposeful. “I need to set up the presentation.”

Sally nodded, her nerves fluttering a little, and watched Theresa leave before turning to her father. As she moved to sit down, a waiter appeared to help pull out her chair. Sally managed to feign an air of nonchalance, as if she were used to such treatment, and thanked the waiter politely. She was still getting accustomed to the world of luxury she now found herself navigating.

Another waiter hovered nearby, ready to take her order. Sally glanced at her father, who raised an eyebrow. “Coffee,” she said simply, feeling a bit flustered.

Her dad’s eyes softened, and he leaned forward slightly. “You should eat something, Sally,” he suggested gently.

“I’m not really hungry,” she said.

Her father didn’t let it go. He turned to the waiter. “Please bring her some food” he requested.

The waiter nodded and left, returning shortly with a beautiful platter of golden, flaky croissants and delicate pastries. Sally’s mouth watered despite herself. Picking up a croissant, she bit into it and discovered the delicious, savory filling of melted cheese and salty ham. She ended up having a second one, and her father smiled, clearly pleased to see her enjoying it.

Sipping his coffee, Adrian watched her. “Your mother told me you called her,” he said. His voice was calm, but there was a note of interest.

Sally nodded. “Yeah, she’s on her way to Florida,” she replied, her eyes lighting up. “She told me about the private jet you chartered for her.”

Her father gave a small nod. “Only the best for your mother,” he said, his tone sincere. “By the way, Theresa has all the details for the charter company. If you or your mom ever need to travel, she can arrange everything using our account.”

Sally blinked, momentarily stunned. “Just like that?” she echoed.

Adrian chuckled at her disbelief. “It’s a bit of a hassle to bring the Gulfstream halfway across the world every time someone needs it,” he explained. “This is the best compromise.”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh. “Chartering a private jet as a compromise? Really?”

Her father’s eyes sparkled with humor. “For GulfstreamSally, yes,” he teased gently. “I only want the best for you.”

Sally laughed at her nickname and felt her cheeks warm. “Charlie must have shown you some interesting pictures,” she said, remembering how her friend had captured candid shots of her boarding the Gulfstream, which had started a playful social media trend.

Adrian’s expression softened. “You looked wonderful in those photos,” he said, a note of fatherly pride in his voice.

Sally’s thoughts drifted as she imagined her future: private jets, elegant hotels, and the responsibilities that came with her family’s wealth. Would her days of flying commercial really be over? Was she ready to embrace this new lifestyle? The questions swirled in her mind, and she gazed into the distance, feeling both excited and overwhelmed.

Her father seemed to sense her inner turmoil. “It’s a lot to take in,” he acknowledged. “But you’ll get used to it.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “I guess so,” she murmured.

Her father shifted the conversation, talking about the fundraiser they were preparing for. Sally shared some of the insights she’d gained from reading the documents earlier. “I liked the part about focusing on education for underprivileged teenagers,” she said thoughtfully. “It’s about giving them the tools to create a better future.”

Adrian’s eyes lit up with approval. “Exactly,” he said. “Education can change everything.”

Just then, the hotel concierge approached with a polite smile. “Mr. Weiss, Miss Weiss,” he said, “the conference room is ready for you. May I escort you there?”

Sally took a last sip of her coffee and stood, feeling a little steadier on her feet. Her father rose as well, and together they followed the concierge, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Chapter 68 – Stepping Stones

Fiona, dressed impeccably in a tailored black dress, stepped to the front of the elegantly designed conference room. The space was dimly lit, with a glowing presentation screen displaying a breathtaking image of a grand, modern mansion framed by lush greenery and overlooking the glittering cityscape of Los Angeles. Beside her stood Janet, ready to assist with the slides and details.

Fiona began, her voice steady and enthusiastic. “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for joining us today. Janet and I are thrilled to share our vision for this fundraiser, one that promises to be as impactful as it is unforgettable. Our chosen venue is a stunning private estate nestled in the heart of the Hollywood Hills, offering both exclusivity and a truly magical setting.”

Janet clicked the remote, bringing up an image of the mansion’s luxurious entrance, adorned with a sweeping staircase and dramatic lighting.

Fiona continued. “As you can see, the estate is nothing short of extraordinary. Our event will commence with an elegant cocktail hour on the mansion’s grand terrace, which overlooks a breathtaking view of the city. Guests will be greeted with signature champagne cocktails and canapés, prepared by our celebrity mixologist and caterer, while a string quartet plays softly in the background.”

Adrian leaned forward, his discerning eyes analyzing every detail. “And security?” he asked, ever the protector of his family’s interests.

Janet responded, prepared for the question. “We’ve partnered with a top-tier security firm. Discreet but vigilant staff will be stationed at key points, and there will be a secure check-in process for all attendees. We’re taking every precaution to ensure a safe and smooth event.”

Sophia, Anastasios’s wife, interjected with a warm smile. “It sounds lovely, but what about the décor? How do you plan to elevate the space?”

Janet smiled back and clicked to the next slide, which showed a digital mock-up of the terrace decorated for the evening. “We’re creating a ‘Celestial Elegance’ theme. Imagine cascading fairy lights woven into the garden trellises, giving the impression of a sky full of stars. The dinner tables will be adorned with midnight-blue linens, and the centerpieces will feature white hydrangeas, orchids, and silver-dusted foliage. We’ll also incorporate soft uplighting to accentuate the mansion’s architecture and provide a warm glow throughout the event space.”

Sally’s eyes widened as she leaned toward her dad, whispering, “This is way more glamorous than I imagined.” Adrian’s mouth curled into a small smile, though he remained focused.

Jeff, with his Texan charm, asked, “And the dinner? You know folks remember the food as much as the cause.”

Fiona’s eyes lit up. “We’re glad you asked. We’ve secured Chef Luca Moretti, a Michelin-starred culinary genius known for his contemporary twist on classic Italian cuisine. The evening will feature a five-course meal, starting with a saffron-infused seafood bisque, followed by truffle risotto, and ending with a trio of decadent desserts. Each course will be paired with carefully selected wines from Italy and California.”

Janet added, “For entertainment, we’ll transition from an intimate jazz performance during dinner to a lively set by a famous DJ. The mansion’s pool area will transform into a dance floor, complete with custom lighting and floating lanterns for a magical atmosphere.”

Anastasios, ever the businessman, raised an eyebrow. “This all sounds impressive, but how do we ensure the focus remains on the charity and not just the glamor?”

Fiona nodded, understanding the concern. “An excellent point. We’ve planned several heartfelt moments to keep the mission front and center. Upon arrival, guests will receive personalized booklets sharing stories of the teenagers who have benefited from the charity. During dessert, we’ll have a short, powerful video presentation highlighting the transformative impact of our work. Following that, Sally will be invited to say a few words, as a young ambassador of the cause, emphasizing the importance of empowering the next generation.”

Sally sat up straighter, surprised but intrigued. “Me?” she whispered to her dad, who gave her an encouraging nod.

Janet moved to the next slide. “Our guest list includes prominent business leaders, Hollywood A-listers, and influential philanthropists. We’re coordinating with top-tier media outlets to provide tasteful coverage of the event, ensuring we maximize visibility for the cause without turning it into a media circus.”

Sophia asked, “How many guests are you expecting?”

Fiona replied, “We’re aiming for an intimate gathering of about 150 carefully selected guests. This ensures meaningful interactions while maintaining the exclusivity of the event.”

Adrian leaned back, absorbing all the information. “It’s ambitious,” he said, his tone contemplative. “But it sounds like a well-thought-out plan. Let’s ensure every detail is perfect.”

Janet smiled, grateful for his support. “We’re confident it will be an evening to remember, one that not only celebrates but also creates a lasting impact.”

The room buzzed with excitement as Sally felt the weight of her role but also the thrill of being part of something so significant. As the meeting continued with more questions and discussions, Sally raised her hand, her expression curious.

Janet noticed and gave her a warm smile. “Yes, Sally? You have a question?”

Sally took a breath, feeling the plans swirling around her. “I was just wondering… about my role in all of this,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “I want to make sure I’m prepared. What exactly will I be doing? And what’s expected of me during the fundraiser?”

Janet stepped forward, her eyes kind. “Great question, Sally. Your presence is incredibly significant, and we want you to be both yourself and a beacon of hope for other teenagers. During the fundraiser, you’ll have a few key roles.” Janet clicked to a slide labeled Sally’s Role, drawing everyone’s attention.

Janet continued. “First, you’ll mingle with the guests during the cocktail hour. The idea is to engage with people, share your genuine thoughts about why this charity is important, and be approachable. You have a natural warmth that can really inspire people to connect with our mission.”

Sally nodded, a little nervous but intrigued. “Okay, so… just be myself?”

“Exactly,” Janet said, her smile widening. “Then, during dessert, we’ll show a short video presentation. After that, you’ll be invited to say a few words. Nothing too formal or rehearsed, unless you want to prepare something. Just speak from the heart. Tell the guests why you care about this cause and what it means to you. It doesn’t have to be perfect; it just needs to be sincere.”

Sally’s heart pounded at the thought, but she managed a smile. “I can do that,” she said, though she still felt a little apprehensive.

Jeff, sitting across from her with his signature Texan grin, chimed in. “Sally, when you talk, people will listen. You’ve got a special spark, and you know what? Just tell them what you’re passionate about. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about showing who you really are.”

Anastasios leaned in thoughtfully. “I’ve seen how people respond to authenticity. Talk about your journey, your dreams, and why you believe in this cause. People are moved when they hear genuine stories. And you have one, even if you don’t realize it yet.”

Sophia added, “And if you get nervous, just take a deep breath and look at someone you love in the crowd. Your parents will be there, and everyone will be rooting for you. Sometimes, a simple message from the heart can move mountains.”

Sally felt her confidence begin to grow with their encouragement. She glanced at Theresa, who stood to the side managing logistics on her tablet. Theresa caught Sally’s eye and beamed with pride, her smile lighting up her face. The quiet reassurance in that moment strengthened Sally’s resolve.

Adrian reached over and gently squeezed Sally’s hand. “You’re going to do great,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “This isn’t about pressure or perfection. It’s about showing your heart, and I know you have one of the biggest hearts of all.”

Sally took a deep breath, her nerves fluttering but now accompanied by a budding sense of purpose. “Okay,” she said, her voice more confident. “I’ll do my best.”

Fiona leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with inspiration. “You know what would be really impactful?” she said, looking around the room. “Some striking photographs of Sally. Something that’s cool, artsy, and really shows her in a great light.”

Sally’s heart sank, and she felt herself instinctively pull back in her chair. “Photographs?” she echoed, trying to mask her dismay. The thought of going through another photo shoot felt exhausting, especially after the whirlwind of her recent birthday experience. She glanced over at Theresa, who was doing her best to suppress a smirk. Theresa’s knowing look only made it more obvious how amusing she found Sally’s reaction.

“Oh, come on,” Jeff said, leaning forward with a grin. “It’s a great idea. You’ve got that natural charisma.”

Anastasios nodded in agreement. “Yes, it would bring a fresh, youthful energy to the event.”

Sally bit her lip, her mind racing for a solution. Then an idea struck her. “Wait,” she said, turning to her father, who had been listening intently. “We could use the pictures from my birthday photo shoot.”

Adrian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He took a moment to consider her suggestion. “The birthday photo shoot?” He hesitated, the protective father in him surfacing. “Those pictures are… quite personal,” he admitted, thinking back to the intimate, joyous moments they had captured.

Sally gave him an earnest look, her cheeks tinged with a bit of color. “I know,” she said, her voice softer but resolute. “But I don’t mind. It was a really special time, and I think they’d work.”

Adrian studied his daughter’s expression, then gave a slow nod. “All right,” he said. “If you’re sure.” He smiled gently at her. “We can select some that feel appropriate.”

The rest of the room watched the exchange curiously, not quite understanding the context of what they were discussing. Fiona and Janet exchanged puzzled glances. Theresa, sensing the need for an explanation, stepped in with her usual poise.

“Actually, Sally had an extraordinary photo shoot for her birthday,” Theresa began. “The photographer was Jeffrey Thomas” Fiona and Janet both gasped, eyes wide with surprise.

“Jeffrey? From SILVIA?” Janet repeated, incredulous. “You mean the Jeffrey?”

Theresa nodded, a playful glint in her eyes. “The very one,” she confirmed. “He did an incredible job. There were both formal and informal pictures, and he captured Sally’s spirit beautifully.”

Theresa quickly took out her phone and dialed Jeffrey, putting him on speaker. The room fell silent as the phone rang, and then Jeffrey’s familiar, vibrant voice came through.

“Theresa!” Jeffrey greeted. “What a lovely surprise. What can I do for you?”

Adrian leaned forward. “Jeffrey, this is Adrian Weiss. We’re here discussing a fundraiser, and we’d love to use some of the photos from Sally’s shoot. Are they ready?”

Jeffrey let out a delighted laugh. “Adrian, of course! They’re nearly finished, but I can send you a few samples right now. And coincidentally, SILVIA has assigned me to cover the event. I’ll be there in person!”

Sally’s eyes widened. “You’re coming?” she blurted out, half in disbelief and half in excitement.

“Absolutely, darling,” Jeffrey said, his voice rich with enthusiasm. “Now, give me just a moment. I’ll send the pictures over.”

Within moments, the presentation screen lit up with images of Sally from her birthday. The room went silent as everyone took in the stunning photos. There were pictures of Sally in her jeans and t-shirt, her elegant dress, her eyes full of light and confidence, and candid shots of her laughing and moving with joy and some serious and thoughtful. The images captured her youthful energy, her soul and the beauty of the moment.

Sally’s face flushed red, but she couldn’t help smiling. Seeing those moments on the big screen brought back a wave of happiness. Her father’s eyes softened as he took in the images of his daughter, pride radiating from his expression.

“These are… breathtaking,” Fiona murmured, her voice full of admiration.

“They really are,” Janet added, leaning closer to take a better look. “Sally, you look perfect.”

Sally glanced over at her father and saw the emotion in his eyes. She felt a warm glow in her chest. Reliving that day and sharing it with the people around her filled her with a sense of pride, not just in herself but in the connections she had built.

As the meeting wrapped up, Fiona and Janet exchanged final thoughts with Adrian and Sally. “This was extremely productive,” Fiona said, gathering her materials. “Thank you all for your time. We’ve got plenty to work on, and this event is shaping up to be something truly special.”

Janet added with a warm smile, “Sally, your involvement is going to be a game-changer. Thank you for being so engaged.”

Theresa gave Sally a proud nod from the side of the room. “I’ll stay back with Fiona and Janet to finalize some logistics,” she said to Adrian. “You all deserve a wonderful evening.”

Adrian stood, thanking everyone once more, and turned to Sally. “Ready for dinner?” he asked, a gentle smile easing his usual seriousness.

“Definitely,” Sally replied, feeling the weight of the day lift slightly.

Jeff and Anastasios, along with their wives, joined Adrian and Sally as they walked down to the hotel’s elegant restaurant. The space had an inviting ambiance, with soft lighting, plush seating, and an outdoor terrace that overlooked the cityscape, now bathed in the warm hues of the setting sun.

The group chose a long table outside, where the view was breathtaking. A cool breeze drifted over the terrace, and a jazz trio played soft, melodic tunes in the corner, creating an effortlessly sophisticated atmosphere. Adrian took his seat at the head of the table, with Sally next to him, and Jeff and Anastasios, along with their wives, settled in comfortably.

Jeff’s wife, a poised woman named Lillian with an eye for elegance, leaned over and complimented Sally. “You handled yourself beautifully today,” she said. “You’re a natural.”

Sally blushed slightly. “Thank you,” she replied, feeling both flattered and a bit humbled. “It’s all very new to me, but I’m trying.”

Anastasios, with his deep, melodic Greek accent, chimed in. “Trying, yes, but also succeeding,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. His wife, Sofia, nodded in agreement, her eyes warm and full of admiration. “We are so happy to have you as part of this initiative,” Sofia added.

Adrian smiled at the support his daughter was receiving. “You see?” he said to Sally. “You’re making an impression already.”

As the waiter approached to take their orders, Adrian suggested something light but filling, given the long day they had. Sally asked for a Caesar salad, while the others ordered a variety of dishes, from grilled salmon to fresh pasta.

Jeff leaned in, clearly entertained. “GulfstreamSally, is it?” he asked, and Anastasios’s laughter boomed across the table. “You’re already a legend,” Anastasios joked, and the group dissolved into laughter.

The mood lightened, and as the sun dipped below the horizon, the conversation flowed easily. They discussed the upcoming fundraiser, with Sally mentioning the points she had picked up from the documents.

Sally’s eyes lit up as she spoke, her words brimming with conviction. “It’s truly amazing, the impact this charity has on teenagers,” she began, her voice soft yet passionate. “The way it prioritizes education—it’s life-changing. For so many kids who’ve been dealt such unfair hands, having someone invest in their potential means everything.”

She paused for a moment, her fingers tracing an absent pattern on the edge of her glass. “I mean, think about it,” she continued, her brown eyes earnest. “A good education can open doors that might have otherwise stayed shut forever. For kids who don’t have the same opportunities, it’s not just about learning math or science—it’s about giving them a shot at a future they can be proud of.”

Her gaze grew distant for a moment, as if imagining all the lives being transformed. “And the fact that the charity doesn’t just stop at academics but also mentors these kids, shows them what’s possible—that’s the kind of impact that lasts a lifetime. It’s… inspiring.” Her words hung in the air, a testament to how deeply she believed in the cause.

Lillian’s eyes lit up. “Spoken like a true advocate,” she praised. “You’re going to bring fresh energy to this.”

Their meals arrived, beautifully presented, and everyone dug in with enthusiasm. Sally was surprised to find herself genuinely hungry, enjoying the cheesy, savory flavors of her salad. Adrian watched her with a satisfied smile. “See?” he said. “A little food goes a long way.”

As they ate, the conversation continued. Jeff and his wife talked about their latest travels, and Anastasios shared stories of his family’s vineyard in Greece. The laughter was infectious, and Sally found herself smiling more and more. Even the weight of her new responsibilities felt a little lighter with the support around her.

The sky turned a deep indigo, and the city lights began to twinkle. The jazz trio played a gentle tune, their music weaving through the air like a comforting embrace. As the meal wound down, Sally couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of belonging. She glanced at her father, who looked more relaxed than she’d seen him in a while, and at the friends who had become like extended family.

“It’s a lot to take in,” Adrian said quietly, as if reading her mind. “But you’ll get used to it. You’re doing great.”

Sally smiled, the last of her worries melting away for the evening. Surrounded by good food, good company, and the promise of new adventures, she felt ready for whatever came next. The sunset bathed the terrace in a golden glow, and for the first time in days, she felt at peace.

Chapter 69 - Diapers in the Clouds

Sally waved goodnight to her father as he walked her to her suite, his hand resting gently on her shoulder. “Rest well, sweetheart,” Adrian said with a warm smile, the lines around his eyes crinkling with affection. “There’s no rush tomorrow morning. Take your time and enjoy yourself.”

Sally nodded, feeling both tired from the long day and yet bubbling with a renewed energy. “Thank you, Dad,” she replied, giving him a quick hug before slipping into her suite and closing the door behind her.

The click of the door echoed softly in the grand room, and for a moment, Sally stood still, taking it all in. The expansive suite felt like a dream—a luxurious oasis reserved just for her. The room was bathed in a soft golden glow from the ambient lighting, and the high ceilings made everything feel grand and important. It was a world away from her usual teenage surroundings, and she couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement as she stood there, soaking it all in.

She slipped off her shoes, her bare feet sinking into the plush, velvety carpet. It was so thick and soft that it felt like walking on clouds. With a playful skip, Sally crossed the room and twirled once, the silky material of her loose sweater spinning around her. She felt light, almost giddy, and let out a quiet laugh.

Her gaze was drawn to the floor-to-ceiling windows that framed the entire wall opposite the bed. Beyond the glass, the Los Angeles skyline glittered like a sea of stars, each light twinkling with life and stories she couldn’t even begin to imagine. She pressed her palms against the cool glass and leaned forward, the city sprawling out beneath her like an illuminated map. Cars were mere specks, moving in the distance, and she felt a sense of wonder at how small everything seemed from up here.

Turning away from the window, she explored her suite, running her fingers along the polished wood of the furniture and the gold accents that gleamed under the soft light. The living area featured a grand sofa with velvety cushions, perfect for sinking into, and a marble coffee table that held a small arrangement of exotic flowers. A welcome gift sat beside the bouquet—an assortment of chocolate truffles in an ornate box with a handwritten note that read, Enjoy your stay, Miss Weiss.

Sally couldn’t resist. She picked up a truffle dusted with cocoa powder and bit into it, the rich, velvety chocolate melting on her tongue. “Wow,” she whispered, savoring the indulgence. The simple act of enjoying a luxurious treat in this extraordinary place felt like a scene from a movie.

Next, she wandered into the en-suite bathroom, which was more like a personal spa. The massive soaking tub was framed by marble pillars, and there was an array of fragrant bath salts and oils neatly arranged on the counter. A rainfall shower stood in the corner, its glass walls sparkling, and Sally made a mental note to try it before bed. The vanity area was equipped with bright Hollywood-style lights, and she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, cheeks flushed with excitement and curiosity.

With a grin, she opened the bathroom cabinets, discovering plush white towels and complimentary luxury skincare products. “This is unreal,” she mused, running her fingers over a bottle of lavender-scented body lotion. The scent was calming, and she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply before placing it back.

Feeling invigorated, Sally returned to the main room and flopped onto the massive king-sized bed. The mattress was so soft that she sank in, her body cradled by the luxurious bedding. She stretched out, arms and legs spread wide, and let out a contented sigh. The pillows were like fluffy clouds, and she couldn’t help but nestle into them, enjoying the sensation.

But there was still too much energy coursing through her for sleep. She sat up, grabbing the TV remote from the bedside table. The flat-screen TV was so large it felt like having her own private cinema, and she flipped through the channels, pausing on a classic black-and-white movie. The nostalgic, grainy film felt oddly fitting, and she let it play in the background as she continued to explore.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Katrina: How’s Beverly Hills, GulfstreamSally? Sally laughed and quickly typed a response, It’s like a dream. You wouldn’t believe this hotel room!

Katrina replied almost immediately, Send pics! We’re all dying of curiosity!

Sally got up, snapping pictures of the opulent room, the marble bathroom, and the glittering cityscape from the window. She sent them off, feeling connected to her friends even from miles away. The group chat exploded with excited messages, and Sally felt her heart swell with warmth.

--

Finally, she decided to draw herself a bath. The bathroom was a sanctuary of luxury, and she took her time, twisting the golden taps and watching as steaming water cascaded into the porcelain tub. The warmth of the room curled around her, tempting and sweet. With a deliberate touch, she added a few drops of rose-scented oil, watching the way it swirled, painting delicate patterns on the water’s surface. A handful of bath salts followed, dissolving with a soft fizz, and soon, the air was thick with fragrance, lush and hypnotic.

She shed her clothes slowly, savoring the cool air against her skin as each piece slipped away. The cashmere sweater whispered off her shoulders, the zipper of her jeans hummed low as it was drawn down, leaving her bare and vulnerable as they dropped to her ankles, to the delicious contrast between warmth and coolness. For a moment, she stood still, feeling the electric brush of anticipation on her skin.

Stepping into the steaming bath was a kind of surrender. The water wrapped around her, a warm embrace, caressing every curve, igniting every nerve. She exhaled, a quiet, breathy sigh, and sank deeper, letting the heat claim her. Her body softened, tension dissolving in waves. The rose scent lingered on her lips, and she closed her eyes, feeling her mind drift, heavy and hazy with pleasure.

Her hands moved lazily over her own body, gliding through the water, feeling the silk of her own skin, appreciating the tenderness she had long denied herself. Each touch was gentle, lingering, a rediscovery. The heat of the water pooled between her thighs, and she let herself revel in the sensation, the simple joy of feeling alive, sensitive, attuned to her own desires.

Sally stepped out of the warm embrace of the bath, her bare skin glistening, every inch of her feeling soft and renewed. Droplets of water clung to her curves, trailing lazily down her body as she made her way, unhurried and confident, to the vanity. The room felt cool, the air teasing against her warm, damp skin, heightening her senses in a way that made her feel deliciously alive.

She reached her duffel bag, unzipping it with a soft, drawn-out motion, and carefully pulled out a thick, pristine white diaper. The plastic crinkled gently in her hands, a sound that sent a thrill coursing through her. The diaper was soft yet firm, smooth to the touch, and she took a moment to run her fingertips over its surface, unwrapping the diaper and fluffing it, savoring the contrast between its coolness and her own heated skin.

Moving with a blend of anticipation and tenderness, she approached the enormous bed. The sheets, still fresh and slightly chilled, whispered against her as she lay down, positioning herself in the center. She spread the diaper out beside her, the smooth plastic shimmering faintly under the dim light, a promise of comfort and security.

Sally’s heart beat a little faster, a heady mixture of excitement and calm washing over her. She lifted her hips, slowly guiding the soft, thick diaper beneath her. The sensation was exquisite—the coolness of the plastic sent shivers over her skin, contrasting sharply with her warmth. She eased herself onto it, feeling the padding hug her curves, enveloping her in a sense of safety that was as comforting as it was stimulating.

As she drew the sides up around her waist, fastening it snugly, a deep sense of satisfaction and serenity settled over her. The thick padding pressed gently between her thighs, each movement accentuated by its presence, making her hyper-aware of her body and the way it felt. She let out a sigh, a soft, breathy release, sinking deeper into the bed, cradled by the diaper’s embrace.

The room was quiet except for the gentle hum of the city outside, and she closed her eyes, reveling in the moment. The sensation was more than physical; it was a deep, intimate comfort, a cherished ritual that made her feel wholly herself. She nestled into the pillows, the familiar crinkle and the press of the diaper grounding her, wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth, contentment, and the bliss of indulgence.

Sally felt her skin still warm, the faint fragrance of roses clinging to her as she moved. She stood and walked toward the center of the suite, wearing nothing but her thick, white diaper, and the sheer thrill of the new luxurious environment made her laugh, a bright, carefree giggle that echoed off the elegant walls.

The diaper crinkled with every step she took, an intimate sound that sent a delightful shiver through her. The padding was thick and soft, pressing snugly between her legs, and each subtle movement made her hyper-aware of her body, of the gentle resistance and the way it hugged her curves. She ran her fingers down her bare stomach, tracing the elastic waistband of the diaper, marveling at the way the cool, smooth plastic contrasted with the heat of her freshly bathed skin.

Sally danced a little, twirling on her tiptoes across the plush carpet, delighting in the way the diaper shifted and crinkled with her movements. There was something deliciously indulgent about this moment, a giddy sense of freedom she rarely allowed herself to feel. She padded over to the full-length mirror that stood in one corner of the suite, pausing to take in the sight of herself—her damp, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, the way her body glowed with the warmth of the bath, and that thick, playful diaper accentuating her curves.

She couldn’t help but laugh again, a soft, breathless sound. There was something intoxicating about seeing herself like this, so vulnerable yet so completely in control of her own pleasure. She swayed her hips, feeling the padding press against her, a tactile reminder of her heightened senses and the exhilarating juxtaposition of softness and firmness.

“Look at you,” she whispered to her reflection, biting her lip, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Absolutely ridiculous and yet so… perfect.” Her voice was soft, breathy, as she savored the absurdity and the sensuality of the moment.

With a newfound sense of adventure, she wandered across the suite, her bare feet crinkling against the cool marble floors. She felt every step, every whisper of the diaper against her skin, the way the padding cushioned her and made her movements more deliberate, more sensual. The luxury of the suite—the shimmering curtains, the velvet chaise, the gleaming chandeliers—felt almost surreal, a stage set for her private, indulgent fantasy.

Sally made her way to the enormous window that overlooked Beverly Hills, the city lights spread out beneath her like a glittering sea. She pressed her body against the glass, the cool surface a stark contrast to her flushed skin. The diaper crinkled as she leaned forward, and she closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the heady combination of exhilaration and relaxation that enveloped her.

The view was breathtaking, but so was the feeling of being here, in this moment, completely and unapologetically herself. She let out a sigh, a mix of contentment and desire, her body thrumming with the strange and beautiful thrill of her own private rebellion.

“Here’s to adventures,” she murmured to herself, smiling as she took it all in. The city below glittered with possibility, and she felt wrapped in a cocoon of her own choosing, secure, free, and utterly alive.

The weight of the day’s activities pressed heavily on her, the memories of meetings, laughter, and quiet moments weaving into a tapestry of exhaustion that settled into her bones. Yet, it was a satisfying sort of tiredness, the kind that made her yearn for the softness of the bed waiting just a few steps away.

Sally crossed the suite, her diaper crinkling softly with every movement, a soothing, rhythmic sound that added to the lullaby of the evening. She found one of her plush, oversized t-shirts folded neatly in the closet. The fabric was cool and comforting as she slipped it over her head, the hem brushing against her thighs, skimming the edge of the thick diaper.

A small smile played on her lips as she ran a hand over the shirt, savoring the contrast between its loose softness and the snug, comforting press of the diaper. There was something so innocent and playful about it, a secret comfort that made her feel cocooned in her own sense of safety and care.

Unable to resist the pull of the bed any longer, she made her way over, pulling back the silky covers before wiggling underneath. The diaper crinkled with her movements, the sound mingling with her soft giggles as she nestled into the sheets. The padding between her legs felt warm and secure, a gentle, constant reminder of the way she had chosen to embrace the night with a sense of self-care and adventure.

She shifted slightly, finding the perfect position, the thick padding pressing pleasantly against her, heightening the sensation of relaxation that washed over her. The bed was a cloud of softness, and the distant lights of Beverly Hills glittered outside the window, casting a faint, golden glow across the room.

Sally closed her eyes, a deep sigh escaping her lips as the exhaustion of the day began to melt away. The combination of the crinkling diaper, the plush t-shirt, and the enveloping covers created a blissful cocoon around her, and she let herself drift, feeling utterly content and deliciously relaxed.

Sleep came easily, like a gentle whisper, and she surrendered to it with a smile, her dreams painted with the lights of the city and the soft, comforting feeling that wrapped around her, guiding her into a night of peaceful, uninterrupted rest.

--

The first rays of morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, and Sally stirred slowly, her body melting into the plush, luxurious bed. Her eyes fluttered open, and a lazy smile stretched across her lips as she became aware of the familiar, comforting crinkle of her diaper. She felt the soft padding pressed against her skin, still warm from the night, snug and secure.

Her fingertips drifted to the waistband, and she marveled at the way the diaper still felt soft and pristine. A thrill of delight coursed through her as she realized it was still dry, untouched. She giggled quietly, savoring the way the feeling of waking up in a clean diaper brought her a sense of indulgent anticipation.

Her heart beat a little faster, and she let herself sink further into the bed, fully present in the moment. The contrast between the firm, soft padding of the diaper and the silky smoothness of the sheets made her skin tingle. She turned her face into the pillow, sighing deeply, her body humming with the anticipation of what was to come.

Slowly, Sally shifted onto her back, the diaper crinkling gently beneath her as she opened her legs just slightly. The sound was a tantalizing prelude to the pleasure she knew awaited her. She could feel the gentle pressure of the padding between her thighs, the way it cradled her curves, offering a unique comfort that made her entire body feel deliciously alive.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply, savoring the moment, the way the anticipation built, heightening her senses. The padding felt cool and firm against her skin, yet it promised warmth, security, and release. She let go, releasing her bladder and feeling the warmth flood her diaper, pooling around her bottom. She focused on the sensation, on the way her body relaxed further, sinking into the bed as a wave of contentment washed over her.

The idea of surrendering to the warmth, of feeling her body relax completely as she let go, filled her with a deep, exquisite bliss. The entire suite seemed to pause with her, the only sounds the faint hiss mingling with the hum of the city waking up outside and the crinkle of her diaper as she shifted.

The anticipation, the unique pleasure of self-indulgence, and the sheer sense of freedom brought her to a state of pure, relaxing ecstasy. Her body felt light, warm, and unburdened, a contrast to the gentle press of the padding that reminded her of her own vulnerability and strength, the thrill of embracing a part of herself that she cherished.

Sally let out a breath, her body shivering with bliss as she relished in the feeling, every nerve alive with the comforting weight and sensation. The morning sunlight danced across her skin, and she knew this moment was hers, one of perfect, intimate satisfaction.

The soft, thick padding of her diaper pressed gently against her, and she could feel the warmth that had spread, cradling her in a uniquely comforting embrace. The familiar crinkling sound filled the quiet room with a sense of anticipation, a secret thrill that made her pulse quicken.

Her fingers drifted to the elastic waistband, tracing the smooth edges, and she let out a quiet, contented sigh. Every sensation felt magnified, from the way the diaper hugged her body, warm and snug, to the way her own breath grew heavier, filling the space around her. Her hips shifted slowly, as she pressed her hand deeper into the soft warm diaper, and she savored the gentle pressure, each movement a delicious ripple of sensation.

The contrast was intoxicating: the wet, pliable padding against her skin, yielding yet firm, amplifying the heat that pooled deep in her belly. Sally closed her eyes and let herself sink into the moment, focusing on the feeling of the thick, protective embrace of the diaper. It was both gentle and electrifying, a pleasure derived from the physical sensation and from the sheer joy of her vulnerability and self-acceptance.

As she moved, her legs opening more, the crinkling sound mixed with her quiet sighs. Her body hummed with pleasure, each gentle press and shift of the padding sending warm waves through her. She could feel the tension melting away, replaced with a deep, blissful relaxation. There was something profoundly intimate about the way the diaper pressed against her, cushioning and embracing her, and she relished the unique sensation, the sense of being held in a cocoon of softness.

Her heart raced as she continued to explore the feeling, savoring the rhythm she created, each subtle movement igniting another surge of warmth and contentment. The world outside the hotel window—Beverly Hills glittering in the sunlight—faded from her awareness. There was only this moment, this private, blissful moment, and the luxurious comfort she had allowed herself to embrace.

Sally’s entire body felt alive, tingling with a combination of relaxation and excitement, as if she were floating on a cloud made just for her. The warmth of the padding, the crinkle of the diaper, the way it moved with her—each detail made her feel cherished, safe, and deliciously alive. A soft smile curved her lips as she basked in the glow of her own pleasure, savoring the delicate balance between release and contentment.

When she finally stilled, the aftermath of her bliss still radiating through her, she sank deeper into the bed. Her heart gradually slowed, and a profound sense of peace enveloped her. The diaper was still warm, a reminder of the sensual journey she had just taken, and she wrapped herself in the feeling, completely at ease and glowing with contentment.

--

Satiated and pleasantly relaxed, Sally stretched languidly in bed, her body still tingling with the afterglow of her self-gratification. She felt utterly at peace, every muscle relaxed, her mind quiet. As she began to stir, she couldn’t help but giggle softly at the gentle crinkle of her diaper with every shift. The padding had sagged slightly, warm and soft against her skin, a constant reminder of her intimate pleasure.

With a content sigh, she shuffled out of bed, the sound of the crinkling diaper following her with each step. She adjusted the waistband, feeling the weight of the padding, which only made her smile even more. The luxurious carpet was cool and plush beneath her bare feet as she made her way to the bathroom, the morning light casting a golden hue over the marble tiles and polished fixtures.

Sally caught her reflection in the mirror as she leaned over to wash her face, her cheeks glowing and hair slightly tousled from sleep. She relished the cool splash of water on her skin, the droplets running down her neck and pooling at her collarbone. As she reached for a towel, she spotted the plush hotel robe hanging invitingly on the back of the door. Her eyes lit up, and with a playful grin, she peeled off her oversized t-shirt, letting it fall into a soft heap on the floor.

The robe felt like heaven as she slipped it on, the material thick and luxurious against her bare shoulders. It wrapped around her body, muffling the crinkle of her diaper and making her feel deliciously cozy. She tied the belt loosely, savoring the sensation of the soft fabric brushing against her thighs, and crinkled her way back into the main suite.

The morning outside was dazzling, the sun illuminating the cityscape of Beverly Hills in all its splendor. Sally padded over to the window, the thick robe sweeping around her ankles, and gazed out at the view. The world seemed to shimmer, and she felt like she was part of that brilliance, wrapped up in her own little sanctuary.

Crinkling with each step, she wandered into the sitting area of the suite. The elegant room was adorned with velvet chairs and a sleek glass coffee table, and on it lay the hotel’s room service menu. Her stomach grumbled in anticipation, and she picked up the menu, scanning the options with delight.

Reaching for the room phone, she dialed for room service, her voice still carrying a note of post-pleasure relaxation. “Good morning,” she said, her tone warm and inviting. “I’d like to order a full breakfast, please. Coffee, pancakes with maple syrup, and a side of fresh fruit.”

“Absolutely, Miss Weiss,” replied the friendly voice on the other end. “We’ll have that up shortly.”

“Thank you,” Sally said, her fingers toying with the edge of her robe as she hung up the phone. The anticipation of a delicious breakfast only added to the comfort of the moment. She wandered aimlessly around the suite, the crinkle of her diaper muffled but still present under the soft embrace of the robe.

She let herself be lazy, savoring the feel of the thick padding between her legs as she meandered from the window to the couch, running her hands over the smooth upholstery, and finally settling into a plush armchair. The robe and diaper combined made her feel enveloped, safe, and perfectly at ease, and she traced lazy patterns on the armrest as she waited.

The suite was filled with a serene silence, occasionally broken by the hum of traffic from the streets below, and Sally couldn’t help but smile. Wrapped in luxury, comfort, and her own little secret, she knew this morning was hers and hers alone—a blissful pause before the day’s adventures would begin.

--

There was a light, confident knock on the suite door. Sally’s heart skipped a beat, and she shuffled over to the door, her robe swishing around her and the diaper beneath crinkling softly with each step. Expecting room service, she opened the door with a welcoming smile, only to be met with the surprise presence of Theresa.

“Sally!” Theresa’s voice rang out brightly. She was dressed sharply, as always, in a tailored blazer over a simple yet elegant blouse. Her eyes sparkled as she took in the sight of Sally in the luxurious hotel robe. “Look at you, all cozy. Must be nice.”

Sally’s heart raced a little, but she mustered a playful grin. “More than you can imagine,” she replied, her voice tinged with amusement and a glint of mischief in her eye. “I just ordered breakfast, but I can call down and get more if you’d like.”

Theresa waved her off, stepping into the suite and closing the door behind her. “No need, I already had breakfast,” she said, setting her purse on one of the velvet chairs. “I just came by to let you know you have the day off. Your dad’s meetings went so well yesterday that they decided they don’t need you until a couple of weeks from now.”

Sally’s smile faltered for a moment, a pang of unease settling in her chest. She tugged the robe tighter around her body, thankful for the thick, soft fabric that kept her secret hidden. Theresa seemed to notice Sally’s subtle discomfort and gestured toward the dining table. “Why don’t you sit down and relax? I’ll take care of room service when it arrives.”

Sally gratefully complied, settling into a chair just as there was another knock at the door. Theresa answered it, giving a polite smile to the room service attendant. The attendant wheeled in a tray loaded with a decadent breakfast: a steaming pot of coffee, a tower of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup, fresh fruit gleaming like jewels, and a platter of pastries.

Theresa raised an eyebrow at the sight. “Did you order enough for a small army?” she teased, her voice warm and teasing.

Sally laughed, feeling more at ease. “Come on, dig in!” she urged, motioning to the spread. Theresa chuckled, tipping the waitress generously before taking a seat across from Sally and picking at a small plate of fruit.

“You know,” Theresa said between bites, “you could spend the day sightseeing or shopping. Rodeo Drive is just across the street. It’s the perfect place for some retail therapy.”

Sally sipped her strong coffee, savoring the deep, rich flavor, and followed it with a bite of fluffy pancakes soaked in syrup. “I’ve heard so much about Rodeo Drive,” she said, eyes lighting up with intrigue. The two of them began to talk animatedly about the shops, the fashion, and the people who frequented the famous street, their laughter filling the elegant suite.

Then, there was another knock. Theresa stood, brushing crumbs from her lap. “I’ll get it,” she said, glancing back at Sally, who stayed seated, pulling her robe a bit tighter and feeling the familiar, comforting crinkle of her diaper.

Theresa opened the door to reveal Adrian, Sally’s father, who greeted them warmly. “Good morning, ladies,” he said, stepping into the room. Sally offered him a bright smile but stayed seated, still feeling a bit self-conscious in her robe and the wet diaper under it.

Adrian walked over, his eyes crinkling at the corners with affection. “You look relaxed,” he said to Sally, a hint of approval in his voice. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” He glanced around the suite, admiring the view through the tall windows. “This is quite the place, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Sally agreed, leaning back in her chair. She felt a wave of ease wash over her. Despite the vulnerability she felt in her robe and diaper, she knew she was safe, surrounded by people who cared for her.

Adrian’s tone shifted as he explained the change of plans. “With these unexpected meetings, there’s no point in keeping you and Theresa here,” he said. “I was thinking you might like to go stay with your mother in Florida for the rest of the week. I’ve already spoken with Bridget and Olivia. Olivia is thrilled to have you, and Theresa will accompany you.”

Sally’s face lit up at the idea. “I’d love to go to Florida,” she said immediately, thinking of sunny beaches and warm ocean breezes.

Adrian smiled, pleased with her enthusiasm. “Good. Theresa, can you arrange a charter flight?”

Theresa nodded. “Of course, we can leave after our stroll on Rodeo Drive,” she added with a playful raise of her eyebrow.

Adrian chuckled. “Yes, yes, try to teach Sally the art of shopping.” He stood, pressing a fatherly kiss to Sally’s cheek. “I’ve got to run—I’m already late for my meeting,” he said, and with one last affectionate look at his daughter, he was gone.

 

Chapter 69 (Continuation... )

After Adrian left, the suite felt a little quieter, the buzz of his departure leaving a sense of anticipation in the air. Sally finished the last bites of her breakfast, savoring the sweetness of the maple syrup and the rich taste of her coffee. She set her fork down and leaned back in her chair, feeling full and content.

Theresa, having polished off a few pieces of fruit herself, moved over to the elegant sitting area and settled into one of the plush sofas. “Come on over here,” she beckoned, her smile warm and inviting. Sally got up, instinctively tightening the soft robe around herself and feeling the gentle crinkle of her diaper as she moved. She walked over and sank onto the sofa next to Theresa, tucking her legs beneath her and adjusting the fabric of her robe over her knees.

Theresa pulled out her phone and opened a sleek app with an icon of a jet. “Let me show you how this works,” she said, leaning in to share the screen with Sally. Sally watched with wide-eyed curiosity as Theresa navigated the app. “We’re flying from Van Nuys to Marathon in Key West,” Theresa explained. “The airport codes are VNY for Van Nuys and MTH for Marathon.”

Sally’s eyes sparkled with interest. “Wow, I’ve never really thought about how all this jet stuff works,” she admitted, leaning in closer as Theresa tapped through the options.

“It’s actually pretty simple,” Theresa assured her. “You’ll get the hang of it soon enough.” She selected their departure airport, then the destination, her movements precise and efficient. “Now, we just tap in the date and time,” she said, entering this afternoon as their departure, “and hit send.”

With a flourish, Theresa tapped the final button, and the request was sent. She turned to Sally with a smile. “For your account, the concierge service will take care of everything,” she explained. “They’ll arrange a car to take us to the plane, make any hotel reservations if we needed them, and even handle special requests. In this case, we’re just focused on getting to the airport and to Florida, so no hotel this time.”

Sally listened intently, feeling both impressed and a little overwhelmed by the luxury of it all. She sat comfortably on the sofa, the plush cushions cradling her as she felt her body naturally relax. The fullness of her bladder suddenly became apparent, and she let herself release it slowly, feeling the warm rush spread into her diaper. The sensation was comforting, soothing even, and she couldn’t help but smile slightly, feeling her cheeks flush a little at her own indulgence.

Theresa finished confirming the details, and with a satisfied nod, she put her phone away. “All set,” she announced, looking up at Sally. Her eyes twinkled knowingly, and she leaned in with a playful grin. “Now, let’s get ready if we want to make the most of the time we have left today."

Then, she lowered her gaze. "And I’ll leave you to sort out that diaper,” she added, giving Sally a teasing wink.

Sally felt her face grow warm with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks, Tess,” she said, the shared moment of humor helping to ease any lingering tension.

Theresa stood, brushing invisible lint from her blazer. “I’ll be in the lobby coordinating everything. Take your time, and when you’re ready, we’ll hit Rodeo Drive for some shopping.”

Sally nodded, her heart lifting at the prospect of a fun outing with her friend. As Theresa left the suite, Sally took a moment to herself, feeling a unique blend of relaxation and anticipation for the day ahead.

--

As the door closed behind Theresa and the sound of her footsteps faded down the hallway, Sally let out a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. A playful grin spread across her lips as she loosened the knot of her robe, letting it fall open. The soft fabric slipped from her shoulders, and she leaned back into the sofa, propping her feet up on the marble coffee table.

The thick diaper, now heavy and soaking, pressed warmly against her skin, and she felt a surge of heat rush through her body at the sight. Her fingertips danced over the padding, prodding it gently, and she couldn’t help but click her tongue, a teasing noise that matched her mischievous smile. “My little secret,” she murmured to herself, the words hanging in the quiet of the luxurious suite. “Mostly secret, anyways”, she murmured, remembering Theresa’s knowing comment about her diaper.

Her body responded to the familiar, comforting sensation, a flush spreading over her skin. She lingered there for a moment, savoring the deliciously naughty feeling of her private fun. But with a soft sigh, she gathered her resolve, knowing it was time to get ready. Standing up, she let the robe slip off completely, pooling around her ankles, and she felt the cool air prick at her skin in contrast to the warm, damp diaper.

The familiar crinkle accompanied her every step as she made her way to the bathroom, the sound echoing off the marble tiles. With practiced ease, she untaped the diaper, feeling a little thrill at the release of pressure as she peeled back each side. She expertly rolled it up, the practiced motion a part of her private ritual, and reached into her duffle bag for a discreet plastic bag she had brought along for just this purpose.

Placing the used diaper inside, she tied the bag securely and deposited it in the bathroom’s garbage bin, tucking it away carefully and hoping it would go unnoticed. The thought of the hotel maid discovering her secret made her chuckle, a laugh that bubbled up and made her blush. She could just imagine the look of shock on someone’s face, and it added a touch of playful embarrassment to her private musings.

Turning to the shower, Sally stepped inside and let the warm water cascade over her. It was a quick shower, but it felt heavenly. The water caressed her skin, washing away the remnants of her indulgence and leaving her feeling refreshed, clean, and invigorated. She ran her hands over her body, enjoying the sensation, her touch lingering as she took pleasure in the small, simple luxury of the moment.

As she finished, she couldn’t help but smile, feeling utterly relaxed and ready to embrace whatever the day had in store.

Chapter 70 - Pringles

Sally bit her lip slightly, a playful smile teasing at the corners of her mouth as she considered what to wear for her outing to Rodeo Drive. She felt pretty, confident, and a little mischievous. Today was a day to dress in a way that made her feel alive, striking that perfect balance between cute, tasteful, and attractive.

Turning to her open her closet, she reached for the white thong she had packed. The delicate fabric was soft between her fingers, and she slipped it on, the minimal coverage hugging her curves and accentuating her slim waist. She admired the way it contrasted with her pale skin, a subtle yet enticing detail. Next, she chose a matching white lace bralette, the fabric sheer but sweet, cupping her medium-sized breasts and adding just the right amount of flirtation to her ensemble.

Sally’s eyes twinkled with delight as she picked up her short black skirt. It was made of a smooth, structured fabric that flared slightly at the hem, giving her outfit a playful edge. She stepped into it, pulling it up over her hips and fastening the side zipper. The skirt hugged her in all the right places, emphasizing her toned legs and flowing gracefully as she moved.

She considered her top for a moment, her fingers trailing over a few options before settling on a blush-pink knit sweater. The lightweight fabric felt luxuriously soft against her skin as she slipped it over her head, tugging it down so it skimmed her figure. The boat neckline sat perfectly, revealing just enough of her collarbones to be subtly alluring while keeping her look elegant and youthful.

Satisfied, she moved to her accessories. She fastened a simple gold pendant necklace around her neck, the small charm resting just above her collarbones, catching the light. A pair of delicate gold hoop earrings came next, framing her face and adding a touch of sophistication. She took a moment to study herself in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair to tame the waves into soft, effortless curls.

Next, she reached for her white ankle boots, slipping them on and admiring how they complemented her outfit, adding a modern, chic flair. With her outfit complete, she turned to her makeup. She kept it minimal: a hint of rosy blush swept across her cheeks, a few coats of mascara to make her brown eyes pop, and a glossy pink lip that added just the right amount of shine.

Sally took one last look in the mirror, spinning slightly to watch the way her skirt swirled around her thighs. She felt radiant, perfectly dressed to turn heads without trying too hard. Confident and ready for the day, she grabbed her small black crossbody bag, which held only the essentials: her phone, a wallet, and a tube of her favorite lip gloss.

With a final check to make sure everything was in place, she pulled her suite door closed behind her, hearing the satisfying click of the lock. Her heart fluttered with anticipation as she walked down the quiet hallway, each step a gentle echo of her ankle boots on the carpeted floor. She reached the elevator and pressed the button, a smile playing at her lips, feeling ready to take on the world—or at least the fashionable streets of Rodeo Drive.

She was glad she had packed nice clothes for Rodeo Drive. They weren’t the finest, but she was suspicious she would eventually be upgrading her wardrobe.

--

Theresa stood near the large windows that framed the bustling street outside, looking effortlessly poised in a crisp white blouse and tailored linen pants. Her hair was pulled back into a chic low bun, and she wore minimal jewelry, but her natural elegance gave her an air of sophistication and command that was hard to ignore. As assistant to the Weiss family, she felt it was her duty to maintain a certain aura.

As soon as she spotted Sally, her face lit up with a warm smile.

“There you are!” Theresa greeted her, her voice bright and full of genuine affection. She walked over, her heels making a soft, confident rhythm on the marble. “You look absolutely darling,” she said, giving Sally’s outfit an appreciative once-over. “Blush pink really suits you.”

Sally blushed at the compliment, feeling a wave of warmth rush over her. “Thanks, Theresa,” she replied, a shy smile playing at her lips. “I tried to put something together that felt… Rodeo Drive-worthy.”

Theresa chuckled and slipped an arm around Sally’s shoulders in a sisterly gesture. “Trust me, you’re perfect. And don’t worry about trying to fit in. Just enjoy yourself.” Her tone was a mix of casual reassurance and a hint of the older-sisterly role she often played. “Now, are you ready to shop till you drop?”

Sally’s heart fluttered with both excitement and nerves. Shopping on Rodeo Drive was the stuff of dreams, but she felt slightly out of place, aware of her inexperience with luxury. “I think so,” she said, her voice laced with a bit of uncertainty. “I just… I’m not used to this kind of shopping, you know?”

Theresa squeezed her shoulder. “That’s why you have me,” she said with a playful grin. “I’ll guide you through the process. You’ve got the means now, so let’s make the most of it and have some fun. Think of this as a chance to get everything you need for Key West—and maybe even spoil yourself a little. Not even Olivia will object”.

With that, they stepped out of the hotel and onto Rodeo Drive. The sun was warm but pleasant, the sky a brilliant blue without a cloud in sight. The street was lined with high-end boutiques, their glossy windows showcasing luxurious clothes, shoes, and accessories that seemed almost surreal in their perfection. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, and there was an energy in the air that felt alive with possibilities.

Theresa led the way confidently, her presence reassuring, and Sally followed, her eyes wide with wonder. They stopped in front of a designer store with sleek glass doors, and Theresa nudged Sally forward. “This is our first stop,” she declared, holding the door open for her. “Let’s get you some summer essentials.”

Sally stepped inside, and the cool, air-conditioned space felt like a different world, filled with racks of vibrant clothing, the finest fabrics, and a subtle scent of fresh linen. A friendly sales associate greeted them with a welcoming smile, and Theresa wasted no time in explaining what they were looking for: light, breezy outfits suitable for the tropical climate of Key West, along with a couple of bikinis and other poolside essentials.

At first, Sally felt hesitant, her fingers barely brushing the luxurious fabrics, as if she were afraid to touch anything. The price tags made her eyes widen, and she caught herself whispering, “This is more than I’ve ever spent on clothes…” Theresa noticed her discomfort and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t think about the numbers,” she advised. “Think about how you feel in it. It’s about quality, longevity, and treating yourself. Trust me, once you find pieces that make you feel amazing, you’ll understand.”

Sally nodded, trying to take Theresa’s advice to heart. With a deep breath, she let herself explore, feeling the fabrics glide under her fingertips. A flowing, white sundress caught her eye, the material light and perfect for a beachside dinner. She slipped into a nearby dressing room to try it on, and when she stepped out, Theresa’s eyes lit up.

“That’s beautiful on you!” Theresa exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “See what I mean?”

Sally couldn’t help but smile, twirling slightly and watching how the dress fluttered around her legs. The feeling of the soft fabric and the way it hugged her waist made her feel elegant, carefree, and beautiful. “Okay, I’m starting to get it,” she admitted, her excitement growing.

They moved from one boutique to the next, with Sally gradually becoming more comfortable and adventurous. She picked out high-waisted shorts, breezy crop tops, and a pair of strappy sandals that Theresa insisted were a must-have. They explored bikini options together, Theresa giving her honest feedback while making her laugh with playful teasing. Sally found herself gravitating toward a simple yet flattering black bikini and a vibrant floral one that made her feel confident and beach-ready.

By the time they exited their last store, Sally’s arms were full of shopping bags, and her cheeks were flushed with happiness. She felt a sense of exhilaration she hadn’t expected, the experience of shopping on Rodeo Drive no longer intimidating but thrilling and full of possibility. She would try and forget the amount spent in the flick of her Apple Watch.

Theresa looked at her with a satisfied grin. “See? I told you it would be fun. And you did great.”

Sally laughed, the sound light and carefree. “You’re right. I never thought I’d enjoy this so much, but… thank you for showing me.”

“Anytime,” Theresa said, linking her arm through Sally’s. “Now, let’s get all of this back to the hotel and get you ready for Florida. We’ve got an adventure ahead of us.”

--

When Sally and Theresa walked through the hotel doors after lunch, the cool air of the lobby greeted them, offering a reprieve from the warm afternoon sun. Theresa, as composed as ever, approached the concierge desk with the confidence of someone used to orchestrating travel logistics. Sally stayed a step behind, marveling at Theresa’s effortless authority.

“We’ll be checking out shortly,” Theresa informed the concierge, her tone polite but businesslike. The concierge nodded, immediately making a note on his tablet. Theresa turned to Sally, her demeanor softening into the familiar older-sisterly warmth. “How about you up to your room. Freshen up if you need to, and I’ll meet you down here in twenty minutes to head to the airport.”

Sally nodded obediently, balancing her shopping bags in her arms. “Got it. I’ll see you soon,” she replied, before making her way to the elevator. As she rode up to her floor, she thought briefly of her father. His meeting schedule kept him busy, and though she’d miss him during her time in Florida, she found comfort knowing he’d be back in Hartford before returning to Switzerland. The thought made her smile—there was something grounding about his steady presence, even from a distance.

When she entered her room, she was met with the sight of a maid efficiently packing her belongings into her suitcase. Sally froze for a moment, her arms tightening around the handles of her shopping bags. Relief flooded her as her eyes darted to the corner where her duffel bag sat untouched. Her toiletries—and her diapers—were safely inside, the bag zipped and undisturbed. She let out a quiet breath and stepped further into the room.

The maid, a petite woman with dark, smooth hair tied into a low bun, glanced up and offered a polite smile. Her movements were quick and precise, folding and arranging Sally’s clothing with practiced ease. Sally couldn’t help but be impressed by the efficiency. “Thank you so much,” she said warmly, her voice carrying a genuine note of gratitude.

“You are welcome, miss,” the maid replied softly, her accent latin.

Thinking she was Latina, Sally responded with a friendly smile, “Muchas gracias.”

The maid’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she corrected gently, “I am Brazilian, miss”, she said, with a respectful half-smile.

Sally’s face lit up with understanding. “Ah, desculpa! Muito obrigada”, she said, switching quickly to Portuguese. She had a knack for languages and delighted in using them when she could. Thaize, her manicure at the photo shoot, had coached her on basic Portuguese.

“Qual seu nome?”, Sally asked, tentatively.

The maid looked startled, but pleased. “Marlene”, she said looking down, unsure.

“Muito prazer, Marlene, meu nome é Sally”, said Sally, starting to feel out of her depth now. She hoped she had pronounced the maid’s name correctly.

The maid’s shy smile grew a little wider, and she inclined her head in appreciation before continuing her work, keeping an effort to appear professional. Sally watched for a moment, silently marveling at how seamlessly the maid packed everything. When she was done, Sally thanked her again, and the woman left with a polite farewell.

Sally set her shopping bags down and hurried to the bathroom to freshen up. She splashed cool water on her face, quickly touched up her makeup, and smoothed her jet-black hair. As she stepped back into the main room, the bellboy appeared at the door, ready to take her luggage. He was young and cheerful, dressed in the hotel’s immaculate uniform, and he gave her a polite nod.

“Let me get these for you, Miss Weiss,” he said, moving to collect her bags.

Sally hesitated, realizing she didn’t have any cash to tip him. “I’m so sorry,” she said apologetically. “I don’t have any cash on me right now…”

The bellboy smiled warmly, waving off her concern. “Not to worry, Miss. It’s my pleasure,” he said with genuine graciousness. His kindness put her at ease, and she thanked him sincerely as he wheeled her bags out of the room.

When Sally reached the lobby, Theresa was waiting, her phone in one hand and her sleek sunglasses perched on top of her head. She gestured toward the doors, where the concierge stood beside a gleaming black Range Rover, holding the back door open.

“Vamonos,” Theresa said, exuding her half-Mexican persona. Sally followed, stepping outside and squinting slightly in the bright sun. The bellboy was already loading their luggage into the trunk with practiced efficiency, his movements careful but quick. Theresa handed him a generous tip, which he accepted with a gracious bow. As he turned to Sally, he smiled and nodded respectfully. Sally smiled back, still marveling at the level of care and service she was receiving.

“Have a pleasant trip, Miss Weiss,” the concierge said smoothly, his tone polished yet warm. Sally paused, the formality of being addressed that way striking her anew. There was a part of her that still wasn’t used to this world of luxury, but she found herself smiling, her gratitude genuine.

“Thank you,” she said softly before sliding into the Range Rover’s back seat. The leather interior was cool against her skin, and she leaned back, letting the experience wash over her.

Theresa climbed in after her, giving the driver a brief nod. The vehicle pulled away from the curb, the hotel concierge waving them off as the Range Rover blended into the flow of afternoon traffic. Sally gazed out the window, watching as the bustling streets of Beverly Hills slipped past. They were on their way to the airport, and soon, to Florida—a new adventure awaited.

--

The sleek black Range Rover pulled up to a discreet building at Van Nuys Airport. The thought of flying out of somewhere new made her pulse quicken with a mix of curiosity and excitement.

Theresa leaned closer as the car came to a stop in front of a modest yet elegant Fixed Base Operator. Its understated design belied its exclusivity. “This is one of the more private ones,” Theresa whispered knowingly, her voice tinged with approval. Sally nodded, taking in the quiet efficiency of the staff waiting just inside the sliding glass doors. “Some operators are getting bigger and they are beginning to feel like… airports”, added Theresa.

As the driver opened the car door for her, Sally stepped out, smoothing her skirt instinctively. The California sun was warm against her skin, but a pleasant breeze kept the afternoon comfortable. A concierge was already waiting for them, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit and offering a professional smile.

“Good afternoon, ladies. Welcome. Your plane is ready to depart whenever you are,” he said, his tone polished but warm. “If you’d like refreshments before boarding, we can arrange that as well.”

Theresa glanced at Sally, leaving the decision to her. Sally hesitated for just a moment before responding, “I think we’re ready to board.”

“Of course,” the concierge replied with a slight bow, ushering them inside and pulling out his phone to make a quick call. Within moments, a pilot appeared, fully uniformed in his crisp navy suit and adorned with gleaming four-striped epaulettes on his shoulders. His cap was tucked neatly under his arm, and his polished shoes clicked softly against the pavement as he approached.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted them, his accent faintly French. “I am Captain Gustave Boiron, your captain for today’s flight to Marathon, Florida. You may call me Gus.”

Sally instinctively took a step forward, offering a polite but confident smile. “A pleasure, Captain Boiron,” she said, pronouncing his name with perfect French precision and shaking his hand. Her demeanor caught the captain’s attention, and his expression softened into one of approval.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss…” he trailed off, leaving space for her to introduce herself.

“Sally Weiss,” she said, extending her hand.

Theresa stood slightly behind Sally, allowing her to take the lead, and Captain Boiron, noticing this dynamic, naturally addressed Sally as the point person. “Well, Miss Weiss, it will be my honor to pilot your flight today.” He turned to Theresa, who smiled warmly as Sally introduced her. “And this is Theresa.”

“Theresa,” he acknowledged with a slight nod, shaking her hand in turn.

“If you’ll follow me, ladies,” Captain Boiron said, gesturing toward the tarmac. Sally felt a flicker of excitement as she followed him, her heels clicking lightly against the stylish marble floors. As they stepped outside, her eyes widened slightly at the sight of the jet waiting for them.

The plane was sleek and gleaming, with elegant lines and three engines—an unfamiliar detail that immediately caught Sally’s attention. She slowed her pace slightly, taking it in. “That’s… not a Gulfstream,” she said aloud, her curiosity piqued.

Captain Boiron noticed her interest and smiled. “You are correct, Miss Weiss. This is a Dassault Falcon 7X. It’s a French-built trijet, known for its efficiency and range. It’s one of the finest private jets in the world.”

Sally’s lips curved into a smile. “It’s beautiful,” she said sincerely, taking another moment to admire the aircraft.

The red carpet rolled out from the base of the stairs added a touch of ceremony, and as they approached, the first officer and the flight attendant were waiting to greet them. The first officer, a tall man with a neat beard, stepped forward with a smile. “Welcome aboard,” he said, shaking their hands and introducing himself. The flight attendant, a poised woman with sleek hair, introduced herself, bowing her head slightly.

Sally and Theresa returned their greetings, and the crew gently ushered them up the stairs and into the plane. Sally’s first impression was of understated luxury. The cabin wasn’t brand new, but it was immaculately kept. The rich brown leather seats contrasted beautifully with the cream-colored interior, creating a cozy yet elegant atmosphere.

As Sally took a step further in, her eyes landed on a small can of green Pringles sitting in the armrest of the nearest seat. A delighted laugh escaped her lips. “Pringles?” she said aloud, looking back at Theresa. “I never imagined I’d have Pringles on a private jet.”

Theresa chuckled, settling into the seat next to her. “Only the finest snacks for the finest passengers,” she teased, reaching for her own can as Sally took the front-row seat.

The flight attendant appeared beside them with a welcoming smile. “Can I offer you something to drink before we take off?” she asked.

“A sparkling water, please,” Sally replied automatically. She was getting the hang of it. As the attendant brought her San Pellegrino, and poured into a delicate glass with ice and a lemon slice, Sally popped open the can of Pringles, savoring the salty crunch. She glanced at Theresa with a playful grin. “Pringles on a Dassault Falcon. My dad would get a kick out of this. I’ll have to tell him to include this in the list of perks”.

Theresa smiled indulgently and opened her own can, clinking it lightly against Sally’s as though they were toasting. “Cheers,” she said, and Sally laughed, taking another bite.

As they were getting comfortable, the flight attendant secured the door and returned to her seat in the galley. Moments later, Captain Boiron stepped into the cabin to brief them. His presence was steady, exuding quiet confidence.

“Ladies, we’re expecting a flight time of approximately four hours,” he began, his tone professional yet friendly. “We should arrive in Marathon, Florida, at about 11 PM local time.”

Sally’s brow furrowed slightly. “11 PM?” she repeated, surprised.

“Time zones,” Theresa interjected quickly, giving Sally a reassuring smile. “We’ll gain hours as we fly east.”

Captain Boiron nodded. “Exactly. It’s later by the clock, but the flight itself is just four hours.”

Sally nodded in understanding, sitting back in her seat with a satisfied smile as Captain Boiron excused himself and returned to the cockpit. The hum of the engines starting up filled the cabin, and Sally couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement as the Dassault Falcon prepared for takeoff.

--

Sally couldn’t resist the urge to explore the jet. She had flown often enough on her father’s Gulfstream G700 to know its layout by heart, but this Falcon was a whole new experience. The cabin felt more tailored for accommodating guests, with seating arrangements designed for larger groups. Instead of the familiar sofa and TV setup opposite it, there was a table surrounded by four sleek leather seats. Sally ran her fingers along the polished wood of the table as she passed, taking in the rich brown and cream tones of the cabin that exuded understated luxury.

As she walked toward the rear of the plane, she found a section with two sofas facing each other, the center space broken up by the bathroom door. She peeked into the bathroom, delighted to see it was just as luxurious as the rest of the jet. The compact space gleamed with spotless fixtures, plush hand towels, and subtle lighting that made it feel cozy rather than cramped.

After freshening up, Sally returned to the rear seating area. She decided to set up camp there, appreciating the privacy and the large table in front of her. She pulled out her laptop from her backpack and retrieved the files for the upcoming fundraiser. Opening the document, she leaned back in her seat and began to read, her brow furrowing as she tried to wrap her head around the intricate details of the proposal.

The stewardess approached with a soft smile, carrying a tray of sparkling water and an assortment of snacks. “Would you like anything else, Miss Weiss? Dinner will be served shortly. We have steak, salmon, or a vegan option if you prefer.”

Sally considered for a moment. “I’ll have the salmon, please. Thank you.”

The stewardess nodded graciously and left Sally to her work. She took a sip of her water, refreshed by its crispness, and continued reading, determined to absorb as much as possible.

When dinner arrived, Theresa joined her, settling into the seat across the table. Sally looked up briefly, smiling, before returning her attention to the document.

“You look just like your dad right now,” Theresa remarked, grinning. “That frown and everything.”

Sally chuckled. “Like father, like daughter, I suppose.”

Theresa lifted her phone and snapped a picture of Sally as she held her chin, deep in thought, her finger lightly brushing her lips. Sally glanced up, surprised. “What are you doing?”

“Sending this to your mother,” Theresa replied with a teasing smile.

Sally rolled her eyes but smiled ruefully. “Might as well send it to Katrina too, so she sees I’m not just having fun.”

Theresa grinned and tapped away on her phone, sending the pictures off. Meanwhile, Sally turned her attention to her email. Her inbox was disappointingly empty, but her thoughts drifted to her father, curious about what he might be doing. On a whim, she picked up her phone and dialed his number. It wasn’t often that she initiated contact, but the thought of hearing his voice felt right in the moment.

After a couple of rings, his familiar voice answered. “Sally?” he said, the surprise in his tone unmistakable.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, smiling softly. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I just… wanted to see how you’re doing.”

There was a pause on the line, a moment of quiet as Adrian Weiss processed his daughter’s rare call. His voice, when it came, was warm and pleased. “No, you’re not interrupting. I’m glad you called. Are you and Theresa all right?”

“We’re fine,” Sally assured him. “Everything’s going smoothly. I just thought I’d check in and see how you were doing.”

“I’m on my way to Dallas for a meeting,” he replied. “Actually, I’m flying now. It’s a coincidence you called.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly. “You’re flying? So are we,” she said with a laugh. “We’re on a Falcon seven-something—I can’t remember the exact name.”

Adrian chuckled. “The Falcon 7X, most likely. It’s a fantastic jet.”

“It’s nice,” Sally admitted, glancing around the cabin. “But I think I prefer your Gulfstream.”

“Well,” Adrian said, his tone laced with amusement, “the Gulfstream does have its advantages. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Anything else on your mind?”

“Nothing urgent. Just wanted to hear your voice, I guess,” Sally said, her voice softening.

Adrian paused again, and Sally could sense his smile. “That means a lot, Sally. Thank you for calling. Let me know when you’ve landed.”

“I will,” she promised. “Safe travels, Dad.”

“You too,” he said warmly. “Talk soon.”

As the call ended, Sally looked up to see Theresa watching her with a knowing smile. “Better call your mom now,” Theresa suggested. “Let her know when you’ll be arriving.”

Sally nodded, dialing her mother’s number. Bridget picked up almost immediately. “Sally! How’s the flight?”

“Good,” Sally said, her tone bright. “We’re on our way and should land around 11 PM local time.”

“That’s late,” Bridget said, a note of concern in her voice. “Olivia and I will pick you up at the airport.”

“You don’t have to, Mom. It’s so late. We can just take a car service,” Sally offered.

“Nonsense,” Bridget replied firmly. “Olivia lives just a couple of miles from the airport, and I want to be there to see you.”

Sally smiled at her mother’s insistence, warmth blooming in her chest. “All right, Mom. I’ll see you soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” Bridget said with a smile in her voice. “Safe travels, sweetheart.”

“You too,” Sally replied with a laugh. “See you soon.”

As Sally hung up, she leaned back in her seat, feeling content and connected.

--

After finishing her dinner, the hum of the engines and the comfort of the jet’s luxurious cabin lulled Sally into a peaceful sleep. Her head rested against the soft leather of her seat, her arms folded loosely across her lap. The dimmed lights of the cabin, paired with the rhythmic vibrations of the plane, worked like a lullaby. For the first time in a long while, she truly let herself relax.

“Sally… Sally,” Theresa’s soft voice broke through the haze of sleep, accompanied by a gentle nudge to her shoulder.

Sally stirred, blinking groggily as she straightened up in her seat. “Huh?” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep.

“We’re approaching Marathon,” Theresa said, smiling down at her. “Time to get ready for landing.”

Sally rubbed her eyes and stretched, feeling the satisfying pull of her muscles as she woke fully. “I actually fell asleep?” she asked, her tone incredulous as she glanced out the window at the faint lights of the Florida Keys coming into view below. “I never fall asleep on planes.”

Theresa chuckled, taking her seat across from Sally. “Takes a private jet to relax you enough for that, I guess.”

Sally smiled faintly as she reached for her laptop, still open on the table in front of her. She closed it carefully and slid it into her backpack, zipping the compartment securely. As she organized the rest of her things, Theresa leaned back, her expression playfully smug.

“You’re the ideal pampered princess,” Theresa said, her voice teasing. “God forbid you ever have to fly commercial again.”

Sally froze for a moment, the words making her cheeks flush. “I am not a pampered princess,” she protested, though her voice lacked conviction. She stuffed her backpack under her seat with an exaggerated huff. “I’m perfectly capable of flying commercial.”

Theresa raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into an amused smile. “Oh really? Let me guess—you’d still demand sparkling water and Pringles at 30,000 feet.”

Sally’s face turned even redder as she sputtered, “That’s… that’s beside the point!”

Theresa’s laughter filled the cabin, warm and infectious. Sally finally joined in, shaking her head at her own embarrassment. “Okay, fine,” she admitted, rolling her eyes. “I prefer flying like this, but I could fly commercial if I had to.”

“Sure you could,” Theresa said with a wink, settling back into her seat as the plane began its descent.

Sally glanced out the window again, the dark expanse of the ocean giving way to the soft glow of lights from Marathon. She couldn’t help but smile as the plane dipped lower, the landing gear engaging with a faint thud. The whole experience still felt surreal—the luxury of the Falcon, the comfort of the flight, and now, the prospect of being greeted by her mom and Olivia.

She buckled her seatbelt and leaned back, her thoughts swirling as she prepared for the next part of her adventure. Theresa might have teased her, but Sally couldn’t deny she felt grateful for the life she was beginning to embrace, even if it came with its own share of adjustments.

Chapter 71 - Turquoise

 

The sunlight streaming through the windows nudged Sally awake. She blinked against the brightness, stretching her arms above her head, her t-shirt riding up. The snugness between her legs reminded her of the diaper she’d worn to bed, still dry but familiar. A small smile played at her lips as she stirred beneath the plush covers.

Her thoughts drifted lazily back to the previous night—the late landing at Marathon’s small airport in the Falcon 7X, the warm sea breeze on her face as she stepped off the jet, and the quick drive to Olivia’s grand house. Even under the glow of streetlights, the mansion had looked impossibly large, perched like a jewel on the edge of the sea. She had barely registered Olivia’s friendly chatter or her mom’s reassuring presence. Exhaustion had taken over as she was guided to her guest bedroom—a room so large and well-appointed it might as well have been a master suite.

Her mother’s suggestion to “get comfortable and rest” echoed in her mind. Just because Sally had “teen” at the end of her age, her mother seemed it fit to mother her anywhere she went. Too tired to protest or act her age, she had simply nodded, letting Bridget fuss over her. Now, the memory of pulling on the diaper sent a warm flush through her. She felt a little rush as she was a guest in an unknown home, but she’d appreciated the comforting embrace of the soft padding as she drifted off.

Snug and secure. Hers. A private indulgence few could understand.

Sally shifted her legs slightly as she woke, sighing as her body relaxed and released her morning bladder. The warm sensation spread slowly, the release drawing a deep, contented sigh. Her body slumped back into the mattress, her mind floating between the lingering haze of sleep and the guilty pleasure of her diapered comfort.

A knock at the door startled her out of her reverie.

“Sally? Are you up, sweetheart?” Her mother’s voice was warm, gentle.

Sally’s heart raced as she hastily pulled the covers up over her waist. “Uh, yeah—come in,” she called, her voice higher than intended.

Bridget stepped inside, her eyes immediately softening at the sight of Sally still bundled in bed. “Good morning, baby. Did you sleep well?” She came closer, brushing a strand of hair from Sally’s forehead.

“Yeah,” Sally said quickly, trying to sound casual. “Really well, actually. The bed’s amazing.”

“Good. You had such a long day yesterday—you needed the rest,” Bridget said. She perched lightly on the edge of the bed. “How was California? Did you have fun? Your dad put me up to date about the fundraiser”

“It was great, the hotel was… unbelievable” Sally said, keeping her tone light. “I got to visit Rodeo Drive, and it was amazing. So many designer stores, Mom—I loved it.”

Bridget smiled, but before she could respond, another knock came at the open door. Olivia’s voice followed, cheerful and melodic.

“Morning, Sally! I saw the door open and thought I’d check on you. It’s past nine, and Stella’s been up making pancakes.”

Olivia entered the room with the ease of a perfect hostess, her smile broad and welcoming. Sally’s cheeks warmed as Olivia’s eyes flicked to her, still tucked in bed. The wet diaper beneath the sheets felt glaringly obvious, and Sally’s grip on the covers tightened.

“Oh, good morning,” Sally said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I was just… getting up.”

“Well, I hope you slept well,” Olivia said, moving closer. “The room’s comfortable, I hope?”

“It’s amazing, thank you,” Sally said quickly, hoping her awkwardness didn’t show.

Another knock interrupted again, and Theresa appeared in the doorway, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. She raised an amused eyebrow at the growing crowd.

“Morning,” Theresa said, stepping in. “Coffee for the princess.” She handed the cup to Sally, who managed a stiff smile as she took it, her other hand still clutching the covers.

Theresa glanced around at the group. “Popular morning for you, huh?”

Before anyone could respond, yet another knock came, and the door opened fully to reveal a girl peeking in. She looked about twelve, her blonde hair pulled back in a short ponytail, her tight t-shirt and short skirt giving her an air of confidence that felt far older. Sally couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between the preteen’s poised, almost-adult demeanor and her own hidden wet diaper.

“Aunt Olivia, are you all coming to breakfast? The pancakes are getting cold,” Stella said, her voice chirping with excitement. Her blue eyes fixed on Sally, lighting up. “Hi! You must be Sally. I’m Stella.”

“Hi, Stella,” Sally said, her voice faltering. She forced a smile, sitting up straighter. She cringed as the diaper crinkled faintly beneath her, and she shifted uncomfortably, trying to act casual.

“You’re so lucky to stay here!” Stella said, stepping fully into the room, her bright smile almost infectious. “Did you see the beach yet? It’s amazing.”

“Not yet,” Sally admitted, trying to sound mature. “I got in really late last night, so I haven’t had a chance.”

“Well, you should come down soon! Are you going to have pancakes? I made them.” Stella beamed proudly, looking completely at ease.

Sally swallowed, her gaze flicking to Stela’s outfit again. Her confidence, her put-together look—it all made Sally feel so small, so childish in comparison. She tightened her grip on the coffee cup and took a sip, willing herself to sit straighter, to act more composed.

“Yeah, I’ll come down soon,” Sally said, forcing a light laugh. “They sound great.”

As Stella prattled on about the pancakes and the perfect weather, Sally’s discomfort grew. The wet diaper hugged her, a quiet but constant reminder of her private world, so different from Stella’s self-assured presence. Sally’s cheeks flushed as she shifted slightly, the padding beneath her rustling faintly.

Another knock.

This time it was Olivia’s husband, Ken. He stepped in with a warm smile, greeting everyone before waving at Sally. “Good morning! Welcome to Marathon.”

“Good morning,” Sally said, her voice strained as she tried to maintain composure.

The conversation turned to casual chatter—plans for the day, the weather, and more talk of pancakes. Sally barely heard a word. Her pulse raced, and her mind screamed for the crowd to leave. Theresa caught her eye, reading the silent plea in her gaze. With practiced ease, she stepped in.

“Alright, folks,” Theresa said brightly. “Let’s give Sally a moment to get ready. She’ll be down soon enough.”

With some gentle prodding, Theresa ushered the group out, throwing Sally a knowing wink before closing the door behind her.

Sally let out a long, shaky breath, the tension finally melting away. She kicked the covers off, stretching as she stood. The wet diaper sagged slightly between her legs as she waddled toward the expansive ensuite bathroom. Catching her reflection in the mirror, she let out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

This was her. Awkward, eccentric, but wholly herself. And she loved it.

--

Sally stepped into the expansive ensuite bathroom, the full-length mirrors on the walls instantly catching her reflection. She paused, her breath hitching slightly as she took in the sight of herself: tousled hair cascading over her shoulders, her oversized t-shirt slightly wrinkled from sleep, and beneath it, the unmistakable outline of her wet diaper. The faint sag and subtle discoloration were visible when she shifted her weight, her posture both curious and self-conscious. Slowly, she turned to face the mirrors fully, her eyes trailing over her reflection. The contrast struck her as it always did, a heady mix of empowerment and vulnerability. She was undeniably a young woman—her curves, her posture, the way her hands moved to push back her hair, all markers of maturity. Yet below the waist, the thick, padded garment clung to her like a deliberate contradiction, its infantile nature jarring against the image of teenage confidence she tried to project.

Sally’s fingers toyed with the hem of her t-shirt, hesitating, then lifting it inch by inch, revealing the diaper in all its snug, crinkling glory. She let the shirt slide over her head, tossing it aside, standing there now in just her wet diaper. Her breath deepened as she struck a pose, one leg slightly bent, her hips tilting as if mimicking the models she’d seen on Rodeo Drive’s glossy posters. She ran her hands over her sides, down her waist, and stopped just above the waistband of the diaper, marveling at the absurdity, yet alluring aspect of it—the childish bulk wrapped around her hips, so incongruous with the smooth lines of her adult figure. She turned to the side, glancing over her shoulder at her reflection, the round curves of the diaper beneath the elastic tapes catching the light and framing her backside.

It was strangely intoxicating, this private moment where she could reconcile two parts of herself that felt worlds apart. The diaper wasn’t just infantile—it was hers. It represented comfort, rebellion, and a part of her identity she could rarely explore outside these quiet, stolen moments. She felt a thrill of power and eroticism as she ran her fingers lightly along the elastic edge, pulling slightly, teasing herself with the thought of undoing the tapes. She arched her back slightly, modeling as though for an unseen audience, relishing the tension between her adult sensuality and the undeniable innocence of her attire. A smile curled on her lips as she stared into her own eyes in the mirror, seeing not just the diapered girl she was but the confident, complex woman she was becoming. It was absurd, it was thrilling, and it was hers. Always hers.

--

Wrapped in a plush white towel, still warm from the steam of her shower, Sally stepped out of the ensuite bathroom feeling refreshed. The soft fabric clung to her skin as she dried off and slipped into her cutoff jeans and a loose t-shirt. The casual outfit felt perfectly summery, and she slid her feet into a pair of thong sandals – a gift from her dad -  before giving her damp hair a quick fluff with her fingers. As she stepped into the hall, the smell of warm pancakes and the sound of laughter reached her. Following her instincts, she trailed the inviting aromas downstairs, the light breeze from the open windows carrying the scent of salt and syrup.

Sally entered the dining area, the sunlight pouring through the tall windows casting everything in a golden glow. The large table was already a lively scene: Stella was seated with a plate piled high with pancakes, her legs swinging as she talked animatedly, while Olivia poured coffee for Ken and Bridget. Theresa was leaning casually against the counter, sipping her own coffee with a bemused smile as she watched the morning unfold.

“There she is!” Bridget announced with exaggerated fanfare as Sally stepped into the room. “The queen has descended from her chambers!”

“Good morning!” Olivia added with a warm smile. “I was just about to send Stella up with a search party.”

“Would’ve been more like a rescue mission,” Ken chimed in, winking. “I was half-expecting to find you buried under all those people in your room.”

The table erupted in laughter, and Sally flushed, waving a hand dismissively as she slid into the empty seat between her mother and Theresa.

“Very funny,” she said, grabbing the pitcher of orange juice and pouring herself a glass. “I don’t know what happened—one minute it’s quiet, and the next it’s like the entire house was in my room.”

“Like that scene from A Night at the Opera,” Ken said with a chuckle. “The stateroom scene. Classic.”

Stella frowned, setting down her fork. “What’s that?” she asked, her curious blue eyes darting around the table. “What’s the stateroom scene?”

Sally smiled, leaning toward Stella. “It’s from an old movie, a comedy with the Marx Brothers. There’s this tiny room, like smaller than a closet, in a ship, and one person after another keeps squeezing in. First a maid, then an engineer, then a repairman—until it’s totally packed, and you can’t even see who’s who anymore. It’s chaos.”

Stella giggled, her fork poking at her pancake. “That sounds so weird.”

“It’s hilarious,” Sally said, laughing as she remembered the scene. “You should watch it. I bet you’d love it.”

“Maybe tonight,” Olivia suggested, her tone playful. “We can recreate the scene ourselves. I think Sally’s room is big enough for at least twice as many people.”

“Oh, no,” Sally said with mock alarm, shaking her head. “Not happening. If anyone’s reenacting anything, it’s going to be outside. Far, far away from my room.”

The table laughed again, and Stella grinned at Sally, clearly warming to her. The rest of the meal continued with lighthearted chatter, everyone enjoying the food and each other’s company. Sally felt herself relax into the rhythm of it, the earlier tension from the morning’s awkwardness melting away.

When everyone had finished, Sally stood and began collecting plates, stacking them neatly. “Let me help with the dishes,” she offered, turning toward the kitchen.

The room fell quiet for a moment before Olivia and Ken both turned to her, their expressions of shock so exaggerated it was almost comical.

“You want to do the dishes?” Olivia asked, blinking. “Here? In this house?”

Ken leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with mock solemnity. “Sally, this might be the most scandalous thing you’ve ever said.”

Theresa snorted into her coffee, and Bridget pressed her lips together as if stifling a laugh. Just as Sally was about to respond, a quiet voice cut through the room.

“Excuse me, miss,” said a stiff-looking young woman in a crisp uniform who Sally hadn’t even noticed until now. The maid stepped forward, offering Sally a polite but firm smile as she took the stack of plates from her hands. “I’ll handle this.”

Sally opened her mouth to protest, but the woman was already moving toward the kitchen, her steps measured and precise.

Olivia chuckled, patting Sally on the arm. “Thank you for the thought, Sally, but we’ve got help for that. You just focus on enjoying your coffee.”

Sally sat back down, a sheepish smile spreading across her face as Theresa leaned over and murmured, “I’ll bet that’s the first time anyone’s tried to do dishes in this house.”

“Probably the last, too,” Sally whispered back, unable to keep from laughing softly.

The table burst back into light conversation, and Sally leaned into her chair, sipping her coffee. Despite the absurdity of the moment, she felt a quiet contentment settle over her. This was her life—chaotic, glamorous, and full of contrasts—and somehow, she loved it.

--

Sally leaned back in her chair, her stomach full of pancakes and her heart light from the warmth of breakfast. The chatter had died down, the coffee pot was nearly empty, and the morning sun streamed through the open windows. Across the table, Stella beamed at her, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she stood, her excitement barely contained.

“I’m going to the beach!” Stella announced, grabbing her towel and tossing it over her shoulder. “You’re coming, right? The water’s gorgeous!”

Sally followed Stella’s gaze to the windows, her breath catching. The turquoise waters of the Keys sparkled under the bright sun, as if the scene had been plucked straight from a postcard. White sand stretched out beneath the palm trees, and she could almost hear the waves calling to her.

“Absolutely,” Sally said, pushing her chair back eagerly. “Just give me five minutes. I need to change.”

She darted upstairs, her heart pounding with excitement. In her room, she threw open her suitcase, pulling out the bikini she’d bought on Rodeo Drive. It was a sleek two-piece in a pale blue that perfectly complemented her complexion. She couldn’t wait to wear it—the Keys seemed like the perfect debut.

Just as she started to slip out of her t-shirt, Theresa appeared in the doorway. “Hold on, Sally,” she said gently, her expression serious. “Before you go anywhere, you might want to check your email.”

Sally blinked. “My email?”

Theresa nodded. “The new corporate account I set up for you. You haven’t checked it since it was opened, have you?”

Sally frowned, the excitement draining from her face. “No, I guess I forgot.”

Theresa stepped into the room, already holding an open laptop. “Sit down,” she said, motioning to the stylish armchair by the window. Sally obeyed, settling into the plush seat as Theresa placed the laptop in front of her.

“I’ve been skimming the emails as your assistant,” Theresa explained, “but there’s one from your class tutor you need to see.”

Sally’s stomach twisted. She wasn’t used to this—the responsibility, the formality. Clicking on the email, she scanned the list of tasks her tutor had sent: math equations, a history essay, physics problems. All due by the end of the day.

“Are you kidding me?” Sally muttered, her eyes wide. “I haven’t done anything yet. How did I let this happen? Qué tonta soy!”

Theresa gave her a sympathetic smile. “No eres tonta. Traveling makes it easy to lose track of time. That’s why you need to stay organized.”

Before Sally could respond, Stella bounded into the room, wearing just a loose t-shirt over her bathing suit and holding a beach towel. She looked carefree and adorable, her bright grin fading as she noticed Sally’s expression.

“What’s wrong?” Stella asked, tilting her head. “Aren’t you coming?”

Sally sighed, glancing between Stella and the laptop. “I can’t. My tutor sent me a mountain of schoolwork, and it’s all due today. I’m really sorry.”

Stella’s shoulders slumped. “But the beach…” She glanced out the window, her disappointment clear. “Can’t you do it later?”

“I wish,” Sally said, guilt creeping into her voice. “But I’m already behind. I have to get it done.”

Stella frowned but nodded, clearly trying to hide her disappointment. “I guess I’ll go alone, then,” she said softly. “It’s not as fun, though.”

“Not while unsupervised. You can use the pool as much as you want, Stella!” Olivia called from the hallway, overhearing. “We’ll all go to the beach another time.”

Stella sighed but managed a small smile. “Okay. Have fun with… equations, I guess.”

Sally watched her go, the guilt pressing down on her. She barely noticed Theresa sitting down beside her. “It’s okay to feel disappointed,” Theresa said gently. “But you need to start thinking like an adult. You’re traveling now, and that comes with perks—but also responsibilities.”

Sally frowned, staring at the laptop. “I know. I just… I don’t know how Dad does it. He’s always on the go, and I’m already a mess.”

“That’s why he has people like me,” Theresa said with a smile. “And you’ve got me, too. But I can’t do your homework for you. What I can do is help you organize yourself, so this doesn’t happen again.”

Theresa stood, her voice turning brisk. “Now, let’s get you settled. You’ve got a beautiful view, and that should make it a little easier.” She gestured to the wide window overlooking the turquoise sea, the sunlight dancing on the waves. “See? Not so bad.”

Sally smiled despite herself, taking a deep breath. “Thanks, Theresa. You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Theresa said with a wink. “Now, I’ve got some errands to run. You’ll be okay on your own?”

Sally nodded. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

As Theresa left, Bridget appeared, leaning against the doorway. “Not going to the beach?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sally explained her situation, bemoaning her lack of responsibility. “I can’t believe I let this happen,” she finished. “I’m such an idiot.”

Bridget shook her head, crossing the room to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “Stop it. You caught on quickly, and you’ll learn from this. That’s all that matters.”

Sally managed a small smile. “Thanks, Mom. You’re pretty good at this whole ‘parenting’ thing.”

Bridget grinned. “Well, I’ve had practice. Now, I’m off for coffee with Olivia. That gives you two hours to get everything done. We’ll see you for lunch.”

She turned to leave but paused. “Oh, by the way, Stella’s in the pool, and Ken’s in his study.”

“And the maid?” Sally asked ruefully.

“Probably doing your dishes,” Bridget quipped with a grin. With that, she left, closing the door behind her.

The house fell quiet, save for the faint splash from the pool. Sally stared at her laptop, the sunlight streaming through the window casting a glow on the open page. She thought briefly about putting on a diaper—how comforting it would feel, how it might help her focus. But she shook the thought away, heading to the bathroom instead to relieve herself like a grown up.

Returning to her desk, she sat down and slipped in her AirPods. The first chords of “Mustang Sally” filled her ears, and she smiled faintly, her fingers hovering over the keyboard. Her mind drifted to Charlie, Patricia's little brother. Blond and cute, his love for P-51 Mustangs. She wondered what he’d say about the song. Probably some quip about real Mustangs being planes, not cars. Visions of Charlie appeared, from her recent birthday party and his gift of the Mustang die cast model. Charlie in diapers.

Shaking her head, Sally refocused, diving into the work before her. The equations started to make sense, the rhythm of the music keeping her on track. Despite the occasional distraction, she pushed through, her mind settling into the task. By midday, she had gone through half her favourite Spotify playlist and finished most of the assignments.

Her phone buzzed with a message from her mom: Come join us for lunch.

Sally exhaled, stretching as she stood, proud of what she had accomplished despite the rocky start.

--

Sally descended the stairs, feeling the sense of accomplishment still buzzing from finishing her schoolwork. As she stepped into the living room, she spotted Stella, perched on a lounge chair and towel-drying her hair, her cheeks flushed from the sun. Stella’s face lit up when she saw Sally.

“Finally!” Stella exclaimed, bounding up from her seat. “You’re done, right? Can we go to the beach now?”

Sally chuckled, holding up a hand to slow the enthusiastic twelve-year-old down. “Not quite. I’ve been summoned by my mom for lunch. But the good news is, I’m mostly finished with my homework. So, we can definitely hang out this afternoon.”

Stella huffed in mock disappointment but quickly perked up. “Where’s lunch?”

“Some bistro by the marina,” Sally said, pulling out her phone to check the directions again. “Not far. I think It’s a few blocks away.”

“Oh!” Stella’s eyes sparkled. “You can take an e-bike from the garage. I’ll show you how they work. They’re so cool.”

Before Sally could respond, Stella had grabbed her arm and led her toward the garage. Inside, the air was cool and smelled faintly of motor oil and rubber. Rows of vehicles gleamed under the fluorescent lights, including a sleek, dark blue Aston Martin convertible parked near the far wall. Sally’s eyes lingered on it, as she got nearer to it, her heart quickening.

“Someday,” she muttered wistfully, imagining herself behind the wheel of that gorgeous car. “Someday soon.”

“Not today,” Stella quipped, pulling her arm the other direction. “But this,” she said, gesturing to a row of e-bikes mounted on kickstands, “is way more fun!”

Sally laughed, stepping closer to examine the bikes. They were sleek, modern, and lightweight, with matte finishes and small battery packs mounted discreetly under the seats. Stella selected a bright teal one and motioned for Sally to try it.

“It’s just like a regular bike, but way easier,” Stella explained, launching into an animated tutorial. She pointed out the power button, the throttle for assisted speed, and how to shift between manual pedaling and electric assist. Sally, already familiar with traditional biking, caught on quickly.

“I think I’ve got it,” Sally said confidently, swinging a leg over the frame. The bike wobbled slightly under her weight, but she steadied herself, gripping the handlebars.

“Wait, wait,” Stella said, rummaging through a cabinet. She pulled out a sleek black helmet and handed it to Sally. “You need this. Safety first.”

Sally arched a brow, amused at being directed by a twelve-year-old. “Yes, ma’am,” she said with a grin, strapping the helmet on.

Ken appeared in the garage doorway, leaning casually against the frame. “Looks like someone’s been using the e-bikes without permission,” he remarked with a teasing smile.

Stella turned to him, her expression the picture of innocence. “I’m a fast learner,” she said, feigning an angelic tone.

Ken chuckled, shaking his head. “Just be careful, Sally. Those things can go faster than you’d think. Maybe someday soon you can borrow the Aston”, he said, with a knowing smile.

With a quick glance at her phone for the route, Sally set off, the bike gliding smoothly out of the driveway. She waved over her shoulder, catching Ken’s amused expression as Stella continued explaining features Sally had already mastered.

As Sally pedaled down the sunny streets, the first impressions of the e-bike left her exhilarated. The electric assist kicked in seamlessly, propelling her forward with minimal effort. She barely had to pedal, the sensation somewhere between riding a regular bike and coasting on a scooter. The breeze whipped through her hair beneath the helmet, cooling her despite the heat. The ease of the ride made her feel weightless, almost as if she were flying.

The sun bore down heavily, its rays reflecting off the pavement in shimmering waves. Sally was grateful for the helmet, which shaded her face and kept her focused on the road ahead. She passed clusters of houses, each one nestled behind lush greenery and swaying palms, the turquoise water occasionally visible through gaps in the trees. The tropical charm of Marathon made everything feel brighter, warmer, and more alive.

As she sped along, she spotted the local high school, its flag waving lazily in the humid air. Teenagers were mingling outside for lunch break and paused to look at her as she cycled by. The sight sent her thoughts drifting back to her schoolwork and her friends, Katrina and Clara. They were probably sitting at lunch, counting down the days until summer. For Sally, summer had already begun, but balancing her travels with assignments was proving to be its own challenge. She resolved to stay on top of things, knowing Katrina would text her relentlessly to keep her accountable.

A few minutes later, the marina bistro came into view, its colorful awning fluttering in the breeze. The smell of saltwater mingled with the faint aroma of grilled seafood and fresh bread, making her stomach rumble despite the pancakes she’d eaten earlier. Sally checked her phone to confirm the location and rolled the e-bike to a stop near the door. She engaged the wheel lock and took off her helmet, running a hand through her hair as she headed inside.

The bistro was pleasantly busy, with soft ambient music playing and the clinking of dishes adding to the laid-back vibe. Her mom and Olivia waved to her from a corner table by the window, and Sally made her way over, wiping a bead of sweat from her neck.

“You made it,” Bridget said warmly, lifting her cocktail in a playful toast. “How was the ride?”

“Hot,” Sally admitted with a laugh, collapsing into the chair across from them. “But the bike was amazing. I might need one for myself.”

Olivia smiled, taking a sip of her iced tea. “They’re great, aren’t they? Perfect for getting around town without too much effort.”

A waitress appeared at their table, and Sally quickly ordered a Coke, already feeling the perspiration running down her back. When the drink arrived, she took a long, satisfying sip, the icy fizz bringing instant relief.

“God, that’s heaven,” she murmured, setting the glass down.

“Summer in the Keys,” Bridget said with a smile. “You get used to the heat. Eventually.”

As they opened their menus and discussed lunch options, Sally felt the weight of the morning’s work melt away. The promise of a relaxing afternoon hung in the air, and she couldn’t wait to finish her meal and head back to the turquoise waters she had been dreaming of all morning.

--

The lunch plates had been cleared, and the bistro’s relaxed hum provided a pleasant backdrop to the conversation. Sally leaned back in her chair, her Coke glass nearly empty, as Olivia set her napkin on the table and leaned forward with a thoughtful expression.

“Sally,” Olivia began, her tone shifting to something more serious but still warm, “since you’re here with us, I think it’s a good time to give you an overview of how the Weiss family approaches philanthropy. Your trust fund plays a part in it, and understanding the bigger picture will help you see how everything fits together.”

Sally blinked, intrigued. “Sure. I mean, Dad and I talked about some of it on the way to L. A. on the plane. I know about the donations we make, but I guess I’ve never seen how it all works.”

“That’s completely normal,” Bridget chimed in, smiling at her daughter. “It’s a lot to take in, but this is a good opportunity to start learning.”

Olivia nodded, folding her hands on the table. “The Weiss family has always prioritized giving back, but we do it in a way that aligns with your father’s values—quietly, effectively, and with genuine impact. Most of the donations are anonymous, meaning the recipients often have no idea who the benefactors are.”

Sally tilted her head, curious. “Why anonymous? Wouldn’t it be good for people to know where the support comes from?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Olivia admitted. “But your father believes in letting the results speak for themselves. He’s not interested in the spotlight or in leveraging philanthropy to boost his public image. There’s a level of humility in that approach—giving because it’s the right thing to do, not because it makes the giver look good.”

Bridget added, “It also protects the family’s privacy. Publicizing every donation can attract unwanted attention, not all of it positive. People might misunderstand your intentions or assume there are ulterior motives. By keeping things low-key, we can focus on the causes that matter most without unnecessary distractions.”

Sally nodded slowly, taking it in. “So… what kinds of causes do we support?”

Olivia smiled. “A wide range, but the focus is always on addressing critical needs and making a lasting impact. For example, there are education programs for underprivileged children, healthcare initiatives in underserved areas, and environmental projects that aim to preserve biodiversity. Then there are smaller-scale, highly targeted efforts—like helping families who’ve lost everything in natural disasters or funding scholarships for exceptional students who can’t afford college.”

“And the Beverly Hills fundraiser?” Sally asked, recalling the event they were planning.

Bridget chuckled. “It’s a joint effort between your father and several of his business associates to support teenagers from low-income backgrounds who are trying to succeed in high-cost areas like Central America and Africa. The goal is to provide mentorship, education opportunities, and financial aid to help them thrive.”

Olivia leaned in. “It’s mostly about raising awareness among other wealthy families. Believe it or not, not everyone with significant wealth realizes just how much good they could do with it. Some see philanthropy as an obligation or even a chore, some as an occasion to go to a party, while others simply don’t know where to start.”

“That’s surprising,” Sally said, frowning slightly. “If they have so much money, wouldn’t helping others be obvious?”

“Not always,” Bridget said gently. “Think about it: if you’ve never faced hardship yourself, it can be hard to imagine what others are going through. And for families who inherit wealth, especially over generations, the focus often shifts to maintaining that wealth rather than using it for others.”

Olivia added, “That’s part of why events like the Beverly Hills fundraiser are important. They not only raise money for a good cause but also create a platform for discussions about values and responsibility. It’s a chance to remind people that with great privilege comes the ability—and the moral duty—to make a difference.”

Sally considered this, swirling the ice in her glass. “So, it’s not just about writing checks. It’s about… changing perspectives?”

“Exactly,” Olivia said, smiling. “Your father often says that philanthropy isn’t just about giving—it’s about understanding. When you understand the challenges others face, you can find the most effective ways to help.”

Bridget leaned forward, her gaze warm. “That’s why we want you involved, Sally. Your trust fund isn’t just a financial safety net; it’s a tool. And part of your responsibility as a beneficiary is learning how to use it wisely—not just for yourself but for others.”

“That sounds… big,” Sally admitted, her voice thoughtful. “Like, a lot to take on.”

“It is,” Olivia said gently. “But you’re not alone. That’s why we’re here—to guide you. You’ve got a team of people behind you, working for you. And you don’t have to figure everything out overnight. For now, just focus on learning and asking questions. The more you understand, the more confident you’ll feel about making decisions when the time comes.”

Sally nodded, feeling both the weight of the conversation and the pride in being entrusted with such responsibility. “I’ll do my best,” she said earnestly. “I mean, I still have a lot to learn, but I want to make a difference.”

Bridget reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “That’s all we ask. One step at a time. And take your time. You have ten years to learn”.

“Ten?”, asked Sally, confused.

“You gain full control of your trust fund by the time you’re twenty-five”, answered Olivia.

Sally let that thought sink in. Suddenly everything felt a lot easier.

“Besides,” Olivia said with a playful smile, “it’s not all work and no play. Events like the Beverly Hills fundraiser can be fun — dressing up, meeting interesting people, making connections. It’s a chance to enjoy yourself while doing good.”

Sally grinned, feeling a spark of excitement. “Well, if it involves making a difference and maybe wearing a great dress, I’m in.”

The three of them laughed, the heavy topic giving way to lighter conversation. Sally couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of purpose. Her trust fund wasn’t just about her future—it was a chance to shape the futures of others, too. And that, she realized, was a privilege she wouldn’t take lightly.

--

The afternoon sun hung high in the sky as Sally and Stella walked to a quiet stretch of beach next to the house, their towels slung over their shoulders. The turquoise waters shimmered like liquid glass, inviting them with every gentle wave that lapped against the pristine sand. Stella had a spring in her step, her energy boundless, while Sally carried a contented smile, excited for a simple day of fun.

Stella’s gaze kept wandering to Sally’s pale blue bikini, her eyes wide with admiration. “That’s such a cool bikini,” she said wistfully, brushing her sandy hands against her shorts. “And your sunglasses… they’re, like, perfect. Did you get them in California?”

Sally smiled, adjusting the designer frames perched on her nose. “I did, actually. Rodeo Drive. But honestly, the best part of shopping there is pretending you belong.”

Stella laughed, plopping her towel onto the sand. “Well, you do belong. I mean, look at you.”

Sally laughed along, but her heart softened. Stella’s wide-eyed admiration reminded her of when she was twelve, still figuring out her style and dreaming of the freedom to express herself. “You know,” Sally said, setting her bag down, “when I was your age, I would’ve done anything to have this much fun at the beach. It wasn’t always bikinis and sunglasses, you know.”

“What was it?” Stella asked curiously, cocking her head.

“Mostly board shorts and trying to bury my friends in the sand,” Sally said with a grin. “And chasing waves like we didn’t have a care in the world.”

“Let’s do that, then!” Stella exclaimed, tugging her t-shirt over her head to reveal a brightly patterned swimsuit. “C’mon, let’s go!”

Sally didn’t need to be asked twice. Dropping her sunglasses onto her towel, she dashed into the surf after Stella, her laughter echoing as the cool water splashed against her skin. They leaped over waves, ducked under the larger ones, and let the rhythm of the sea carry them in its playful embrace.

Stella squealed as Sally grabbed a handful of water and flung it at her. “Oh, it’s on now!” she cried, retaliating with a splash of her own. The two engaged in a mock water fight, giggling and shrieking as if they were both kids again.

For Sally, it was a revelation. She had expected to enjoy the beach, but not quite like this—letting go of any need to appear grown-up, feeling twelve again herself. There was something freeing about seeing the world through Stella’s eyes, where every wave was a challenge to conquer and every shell on the shore was a treasure.

By the time they sprawled on their towels to catch their breath, the sun had dipped low in the sky, casting the beach in shades of gold and pink. Sally turned her head toward Stella, who lay with her eyes closed, a small, contented smile on her face.

“You’re not so bad, you know,” Sally teased lightly.

“You’re not so bad either,” Stella replied without opening her eyes. “For someone who’s, like… serious.”

Sally laughed, swatting her with a corner of her towel. “Watch it, kid. Serious still got moves.”

They lingered on the beach until the horizon showed signs of a setting sun. Packing up their things, they made their way back to the house, pleasantly exhausted from the day’s adventure.

When they arrived, the others were already gathered by the pool, drinks in hand and the atmosphere relaxed. Sally and Stella rinsed off under the outdoor shower, the cool water washing away the salt and sand from their skin. Sally tilted her face up into the stream, letting the droplets cascade over her, feeling refreshed and utterly content.

After changing into fresh swimsuits, the two slipped into the pool, the water warm against the cooling evening air. Olivia floated lazily on a lounger, her glass of iced tea perched nearby, while Bridget sat at the edge of the pool, her feet dangling in the water. Ken leaned back in a chair, sipping a glass of something golden, and Theresa had just returned, settling into the conversation with her usual ease.

The group chatted idly, their voices mingling with the faint hum of crickets and the soft lapping of the pool water. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of purple and red. Sally leaned against the pool’s edge, her arms resting on the cool tiles as she listened to the easy banter around her.

Stella, still full of energy despite the long day, swam in lazy circles, occasionally chiming in with questions or comments that made everyone laugh. Sally found herself watching the scene with a quiet smile, soaking in the rare moment of tranquility. This—sunset skies, gentle water, and good company—felt like the perfect way to end the day.

As the evening deepened, the stars came out in earnest, their reflections twinkling on the water’s surface. Sally felt a soft breeze on her damp skin and closed her eyes for a moment, content and at peace.

The day had been full of contrasts—responsibility and play, reflection and spontaneity—but as she floated in the warmth of the moment, Sally couldn’t help but feel that she’d struck the perfect balance. If only her period wasn’t about to come, life would be perfect.

--

As the sky darkened, the hum of the poolside conversation softened. Theresa approached Sally, who was leaning on the pool’s edge, her chin resting on her folded arms.

“Don’t forget about your schoolwork,” Theresa reminded gently, her voice cutting through the relaxed atmosphere.

Sally groaned, lifting her head. “You just had to ruin the moment, didn’t you?”

Theresa smirked. “Think of it this way: the sooner you finish, the sooner you can forget about it and enjoy dinner.”

Sally sighed and hoisted herself out of the pool, water streaming off her bikini-clad form. She wrapped herself in a towel, glancing wistfully at the tranquil evening sky before trudging toward the house. Her feet left faint damp marks on the tiles as she made her way upstairs to her room.

In her bedroom, Sally sat at her desk, still in her emerald bikini, as she pulled her laptop toward her. The essay loomed on the screen, unfinished but close. She set her fingers to the keyboard and let the words flow, typing furiously to complete her thoughts. With a final flourish, she reread the last sentence, clicked “Send,” and slumped back into her chair.

The weight lifted from her shoulders immediately, leaving her with a sense of accomplishment and relief. “Finally,” she muttered to herself, closing the laptop.

Just as she stood to head to the bathroom, Theresa poked her head through the door. “Did you send it?”

Sally turned, raising an eyebrow. “You’re my assistant. Check my outgoing mail if you don’t believe me.”

Theresa grinned. “Oh, I will. Maybe I’ll even review your homework while I’m at it.”

Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Go ahead, just don’t grade me too harshly.”

Theresa stepped fully into the room, her expression softening. “Good work, boss,” she said with a wink. “I left some supplies in the bathroom, by the way. Figured you might need extras for the week.”

Curious, Sally walked to the bathroom, her bare feet padding across the cool floor. As she stepped inside, her eyes fell on a new package of diapers sitting neatly on the counter. She blinked, then turned back to Theresa, who lingered in the doorway.

“How did you know I was almost out?” Sally asked, her voice tinged with surprise.

Theresa shrugged lightly. “Your suitcase was small when we left, and we’re staying longer than expected. It wasn’t hard to guess.”

“You went out to the pharmacy just for this?” Sally asked, holding up the package.

“Well, and toothpaste and floss,” Theresa added, motioning to the counter where Sally’s preferred brand of dental products sat. “Better than those hotel freebies, right?”

Sally looked at the diapers again, her cheeks warming slightly. “You even found a good brand,” she murmured, a little shy.

Theresa smiled, her tone reassuring. “I did some research. Figured you deserved the best, like everything else. Don’t overthink it—it’s no big deal.”

Sally nodded, still a bit taken aback. “Thanks, Theresa. Really. I mean it.”

Theresa stepped closer, patting Sally on the shoulder. “You’re welcome. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty cute in them anyway.”

Sally blushed deeply but managed a small laugh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“That’s why I’m good at my job,” Theresa said with a grin before leaving the room.

--

Refreshed from a real shower, Sally dressed for dinner in a breezy sundress—simple but elegant, perfect for a Florida evening. The meal was relaxed and lively, the group enjoying the laid-back charm of Olivia and Ken’s seaside mansion. Soft music played in the background as the conversation flowed easily, ranging from their day’s adventures to the upcoming Beverly Hills fundraiser. Stella entertained everyone with tales of her “incredible beach skills,” much to Ken’s amusement. Sally felt a warm glow as the evening unfolded, a mix of family, friendship, and the comforting rhythm of the Keys.

After dinner, the atmosphere shifted to pure comfort. Everyone changed into their most relaxed attire—shorts, loose t-shirts, and bare feet—before gathering in the living room. Olivia had suggested they watch A Night at the Opera, a personal favorite. The old Marx Brothers comedy played on the large screen as they all settled into the plush sofas, bowls of popcorn scattered around.

Sally sat cross-legged with a sleepy Stella nestled next to her, the younger girl’s head resting against Sally’s shoulder. Stella had been eagerly trying to follow the plot but was quickly losing steam.

“I don’t get it,” Stella said softly, her eyes half-closed. “Why are they all squished in that tiny little room?”

“It’s the joke,” Sally explained with a laugh. “It’s so ridiculous that it’s funny. Just wait—it gets better.”

As the famous stateroom scene unfolded, the room erupted in laughter. Bridget laughed so hard she wiped tears from her eyes, and even Olivia clapped her hands at the absurdity of it all. Sally found herself doubled over, holding her sides as she gasped for breath.

Stella lasted until the end of the scene before finally dozing off, her soft snores punctuating the laughter. Sally glanced down at her, brushing a strand of hair from her face, and smiled.

“Lightweight,” she murmured affectionately.

The movie played on as the grown-ups continued to laugh, sharing memories of their favorite comedies and enjoying the warmth of the moment. For Sally, it was a perfect ending to a day that had been both hectic and wonderful—a reminder that amidst responsibility and self-discovery, there was always room for laughter and love. Now, her period was definitely rising its ugly head, though.

--

Sally stood barefoot in her bathroom, the cool tile grounding her after a long day. The soft light overhead bathed her in a golden glow, her reflection in the mirror capturing her as she was now: clad only in a simple pair of white cotton panties. On the counter beside her was the new package of diapers, their smooth plastic exterior glinting in the light. Theresa had picked them up for her earlier, a thoughtful gesture that now set Sally’s pulse fluttering.

Her toothbrush was already in her hand, bristles streaked with a dollop of minty toothpaste. As she began brushing her teeth, her eyes strayed to the package. The brand was familiar—she’d seen it on pharmacy shelves before—but she’d never tried these. Her mom usually ordered her stash online, discreetly, but this was different. The unexpectedness of it added a thrill. She thought of the one remaining diaper from her usual brand tucked away in her drawer. Practicality told her to use that first, but curiosity teased at her thoughts, urging her to try these instead.

Sally’s strokes slowed as her mind wandered. She continued brushing, foam gathering at the corners of her mouth, and she imagined the feeling of opening the package, the texture of the diapers inside. The thought sent a shiver down her arms, raising goosebumps that prickled her skin. She rinsed her mouth and reached for her floss, her movements deliberate, as though prolonging the moment she’d been anticipating all evening.

Her fingers worked the floss between her teeth, but her focus was on the crinkling promise of the package beside her. Anticipation simmered in her chest, and her cheeks flushed as she imagined the softness, the snugness, the fulfilling comfort she always found in this ritual. The mere thought of it made her exhale a shaky breath.

Finally, with her teeth clean and her patience worn thin, Sally turned toward the package. Her hands hesitated only briefly before tugging at the plastic seam. The sound of the package ripping open filled the quiet bathroom, sharp and satisfying. Inside were the pristine white diapers, neatly folded and waiting for her. She reached in and pulled one free, holding it up to inspect it.

The diaper was thick and soft, its outer surface smooth under her fingers. She unfolded it carefully, the motion accompanied by a faint crinkle that sent a delightful tingle down her spine. In the mirror, her reflection caught her eye: standing there in just her panties, holding a diaper in her hands. Her lips curved into a smile. The sight was somehow endearing and amusing all at once. Her own diaper. She marveled at the thought, the mix of practicality and deeply personal pleasure it brought her.

She continued unfolding it, noticing the subtle commercial markings and the discreet wetness indicator line running along its length. The scent was the next thing to captivate her—cottony, with a hint of aloe vera, fresh and inviting. She brought the diaper to her cheek, its softness brushing against her skin like a whisper. She giggled, her laughter light and unselfconscious.

Her reflection in the mirror seemed to glow with a sense of contentment as she set the diaper down and slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties. She slid them down her legs, letting the soft fabric pool at her feet before kicking them away. Picking up the diaper again, she opened her legs slightly and slid it between them. The sensation was immediate and exquisite. She pressed the diaper against her body, her hands holding it in place, savoring the thick, cushioned feel.

Sally glanced up at her reflection again, her cheeks still flushed. The sight of herself—bare from the waist down, save for the diaper held against her body—was strangely alluring. She didn’t often think of herself as sensual, but this view, this moment, stirred something within her. She bit her lip, feeling her body respond to the soft pressure of the diaper.

She moved to the marble countertop, leaning her bottom against its cool surface. With practiced hands, she brought the front of the diaper up against her stomach, smoothing it into place before reaching for the adhesive tabs. This was new—putting it on while standing up—but she liked the novelty of it. One by one, she pulled the tabs snug and fastened them securely. When she looked back in the mirror, she saw herself as she was now: a grown woman, confident and composed, wearing her diaper like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her fingers brushed across the front of the diaper, the smooth material yielding under her touch. She smiled, her reflection mirroring her joy. Reaching up, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “A grown-up in a diaper,” she mused softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “A diaper lover.”

The thought didn’t shame her; it filled her with a sense of belonging, of completeness. The diaper wasn’t just a garment—it was comfort, security, a part of who she was.

Satisfied, Sally turned off the bathroom light and crinkled softly as she made her way to her bedroom. She slipped into her favorite sleep shirt, the hem brushing against the top of her diaper, and climbed into bed. The night was quiet, the vast expanse of the black sea visible through her window. Stars twinkled above, their soft light a soothing backdrop to her thoughts.

Lying on her back, she opened her legs slightly and allowed herself to relax completely. Her bladder released, warmth spreading through the diaper as it absorbed everything effortlessly. She sighed, a contented sound that echoed the peace she felt inside.

The day’s tensions melted away, leaving her in a state of perfect relaxation. As her eyes fluttered closed, Sally smiled softly to herself. She felt safe, secure, and undeniably herself. Within moments, she drifted off to sleep, her mind calm and her body utterly at ease.

Chapter 72 – Keys and Wheels

Sally woke earlier than usual, her eyelids fluttering open to a faint, silvery light spilling into her bedroom. Outside, the world was still cloaked in the soft veil of dawn. The Key West sea stretched endlessly beyond her window, its surface calm and inviting, reflecting shades of lavender and pale blue as the sun flirted with the horizon. She felt unusually alert, as though her body had decided that today deserved an earlier start.

She stretched languidly, the familiar rustle of her diaper a thrill of the warmth and comfort it provided. Even wet, it held snugly around her waist, a soothing presence against her body. Today, that sense of security felt particularly welcome. Her period had started, and with it came the usual discomfort, the low, dull ache in her abdomen that made her crave softness and calm. The diaper, thick and absorbent, offered just that—a cocoon of quiet reassurance. The tapes even seemed to press on the right spot, soothing the dull ache.

Sally swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood, her bare feet sinking into the plush rug. She tugged at the hem of her oversized t-shirt, letting it fall just over the waistband of her diaper. Moving to the window, she gazed out at the sea, marveling at how the colors shifted as the light strengthened. Hints of coral and amber brushed the horizon now, reflecting off the water like a painter’s first tentative strokes on a blank canvas. The sight tugged at something deep within her.

Her sketchbook lay on her desk by the window, her pencil case beside it. This desk was now her sanctuary, her retreat. She made her way over and sank into the chair, her diaper crinkling faintly as she shifted to get comfortable. The soft pressure of the padding pressed against her lower belly, a sensation that felt oddly grounding. She wiggled slightly, adjusting her posture, and smiled at the simple pleasure of the moment.

Her fingers brushed the smooth cover of the sketchbook as she opened it to a blank page. Picking up a pencil, she let her hand move instinctively, sketching the sunrise in loose, fluid lines. The sea, the horizon, the interplay of light and shadow—it all began to take shape, though she wasn’t yet sure where the drawing would lead. That was part of the joy, wasn’t it? The unknown, the process of creating without a clear destination.

Yet, even as her hand moved, her thoughts drifted.

The diaper between her legs mirrored the paradox of her life, she thought—a strange, intimate symbol of both freedom and constraint. It offered her comfort, a sense of indulgence, a way to care for herself in a world that constantly demanded so much. And yet, it was also a secret, something she shielded from others, something that separated her from the polished image people expected her to project.

She thought about her responsibilities—the weight of them sometimes felt immense. Her family’s wealth brought privilege, yes, but also pressure. Expectations to excel, to manage, to lead. To be a perfect daughter, a perfect teenager, poised and polished at every turn. Sometimes, she wished she could just escape it all, retreat into her art, lose herself in the colors and textures of her paintings. Her studio at home was her haven for that reason—a space where she could shed the expectations and simply be. But any place was great when her mood struck.

Her pencil moved faster now, the lines of her sketch growing bolder, more abstract. The sea on the page began to blend with the sky, the horizon dissolving into a swirl of emotion and energy. She wanted to capture the duality of the moment—the peace of the sunrise and the turbulence of her thoughts.

She pressed her thighs together slightly, feeling the wetness in her diaper shift. The sensation was oddly satisfying, a counterpoint to the ache in her abdomen. She gently released her bladder, the new warmth pooling between her legs. It was strange, really—how something so mundane, so practical, could also bring her a sense of pleasure, of comfort. She thought of the way it hugged her body, the way it allowed her to let go, to feel safe. It wasn’t just about the physical sensation. It was about what it represented: permission to be vulnerable, to embrace her needs without judgment.

Her period added another layer to it all. She hated the cramps, the heaviness, the fatigue that always came with it. But the diaper made it easier, softened the experience. She didn’t have to worry about the usual mess or discomfort. It was one less thing to manage, one small luxury in a life that often felt too full.

The sun had risen higher now, painting the sky with streaks of gold and turquoise. The sea sparkled under its light, a living tapestry that seemed to hum with energy. Sally’s pencil slowed as she stared out at the view, her thoughts shifting to the beauty of the present moment.

Wasn’t this what life was about? Finding these pockets of peace, these quiet moments where she could reconnect with herself? She thought of her art, of how it allowed her to channel her feelings in ways words never could. The pressure she felt, the expectations, the joys and fears—they all found their way onto her canvas, transformed into something tangible, something meaningful.

Her sketch was nearly complete now, though she knew it was just the beginning. She would take this rough drawing to her studio later, let it inspire a larger piece. She wanted to capture the serenity of the sea, the warmth of the sunrise, but also the undercurrent of tension, of reflection. She wanted the painting to tell a story—not just of the view, but of her own inner world.

The sun was fully up now, the day beginning in earnest. Sally set her pencil down and leaned back in her chair, her diaper crinkling softly as she shifted. She ran a hand over her belly, pressing lightly against the padding, and smiled. She felt calm, centered, ready to face whatever the day would bring.

Her gaze drifted back to the sea, and for a moment, she simply sat there, soaking in the beauty of the view. Life was complicated, yes. But it was also beautiful, full of moments like this—moments of quiet reflection, of connection, of simple, unadulterated joy.

Sally turned her attention back to her sketchbook, jotting down a few notes about color tones and feelings, things she wanted to remember when she started painting later.

The sound of a soft knock behind her broke her concentration. Sally turned her head slightly, feeling a flicker of nervousness before relief settled over her. It was her mother, Bridget, standing in the doorway. Her mother’s elegant silhouette was backlit by the early morning light, her features soft and calm. Sally relaxed, grateful it was her mother and not anyone else.

“You’re up early,” Bridget said, her voice warm and low, tinged with curiosity. She stepped further into the room, her gaze falling naturally to Sally, seated in her t-shirt and diaper, a pencil in hand. She didn’t blink or falter—it was a sight she was used to.

Sally made a face and leaned back in her chair, letting her pencil rest on the desk. “Needed to let some steam out,” she admitted, motioning toward the sketchbook. “And… my period started.”

Bridget’s lips curved into a knowing smile, her wit quick as always. “Ah, the monthly betrayal. It’s like your uterus decided to wake you up just to remind you who’s in charge.”

Sally snorted softly at the comment, appreciating her mother’s ability to lighten even the most mundane discomforts. Bridget crossed the room, coming to stand behind her daughter. She placed her hands gently on Sally’s shoulders, giving them a light squeeze, her touch grounding and familiar.

“You’ve captured the colors beautifully,” Bridget said, her gaze shifting to the sketchbook. Then, her eyes drifted out the window to the stunning view of the Key West sea. “What a morning. You must have woken up feeling inspired.”

Sally tilted her head slightly, her expression softening. “Something like that. It’s a good way to keep my head clear. I just… I don’t know. I feel restless. There’s a lot I need to figure out.”

Bridget nodded, her hands still resting on Sally’s shoulders. “I can tell,” she said gently. “But let’s make sure you have the time and space to sort it all out. What if we head home tomorrow morning? That’ll give you some quiet time in your studio before you leave for Switzerland.”

Sally considered this, leaning her cheek against her mother’s hand where it rested on her shoulder. The gesture was instinctive, a subtle expression of the comfort and safety she found in her mother’s presence. “Yeah, I think I’d like that,” she murmured. “Thanks, Mom.”

They stayed like that for a moment, mother and daughter gazing out at the tranquil sea, the world slowly waking around them. Bridget’s voice was soft when she spoke again. “Take the day easy, sweetheart. Let Theresa take you out on a little adventure. The day looks promising, and you’ve been cooped up long enough.”

Sally chuckled. “You’re trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?”

“Never,” Bridget teased. “But I do think Key West is calling your name. And I’d rather you get out for a bit than have visitors barging in late this morning. You know how these people love a mid-morning tour.”

Sally groaned theatrically. “Ah, yes, my illustrious stateroom. Where the rare, nocturnal artist is spotted sketching in her natural habitat. Shall I charge admission?”

Bridget laughed, the sound light and musical, and gave her daughter’s shoulder a playful nudge. “Go shower and get dressed, Picasso. And tell Theresa about the road trip idea.”

Sally sighed dramatically but stood, the diaper crinkling softly and sagging as she moved. “Fine, fine. But I’m counting this as my first masterpiece of the day.” She gestured to her sketchbook before walking toward the bathroom, already pulling her t-shirt over her head.

Bridget smiled after her, then turned her gaze back to the sunrise, a feeling of pride swelling in her chest. Sally had always been a beautiful enigma—a mix of vulnerability and strength, creativity and practicality. Moments like these reminded her just how much she admired her daughter.

As the sound of the shower began in the adjacent bathroom, Bridget quietly left the room, giving Sally the space to start her day.

--

The remnants of breakfast lingered on the table as the morning sunlight poured through the windows of Ken and Olivia’s expansive dining area. Sally leaned back in her chair, sipping the last of her orange juice, while Theresa casually flipped through a travel guide she’d found near the kitchen counter.

“So, road trip?” Theresa asked, looking over at Sally with a raised eyebrow. “What do you think? Key West is only a couple of hours away.”

Sally’s eyes lit up, but before she could respond, Stella groaned loudly from her spot near the couch. “Road trips are so boooring,” she declared, stretching dramatically. “It’s just driving, driving, and more driving. No thanks.”

Sally rolled her eyes at Stella’s antics, glancing at her mom. “What about you, Mom? Want to come along?”

Bridget shook her head with a smile. “I already did the drive earlier this week with Olivia. Besides, I think you and Theresa could use some one-on-one time.”

Olivia chimed in, her voice warm. “Take the Jeep Wrangler. It’s perfect for the Keys—open-air, rugged, fun. You’ll love it.”

Theresa was about to agree when Ken appeared in the doorway, a knowing smile on his face. “Jeep? Nah,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “This looks more like an Aston Martin kind of day.” He winked at Sally, who froze for a moment, her cheeks tinged with surprise.

Sally had spent the previous day admiring the sleek, dark blue DB12 Volante convertible in the garage, its lines impossibly smooth and its allure undeniable. She stammered, “Really? You’d let us take that?”

“Why not?” Ken said, his tone casual. “I trust Theresa with it. And it’s not every day you get to drive the Keys in a car like that.”

Theresa shrugged, a grin spreading across her face. “Who am I to argue with that kind of hospitality?”

--

Minutes later, the Aston Martin purred to life, the deep rumble of its engine resonating through the garage. Theresa was at the wheel, adjusting her seat as Sally slipped into the passenger side, running her fingers along the buttery leather interior. The scent of polished wood and high-end detailing filled the cabin.

Theresa pressed a button, and the convertible’s roof folded back smoothly. The open sky greeted them as sunlight poured into the car. “This,” Theresa said with a smirk, “is how you do a road trip.”

Sally pulled on her black Gulfstream cap, and slid on her designer sunglasses. “I feel like a movie star,” she quipped, adjusting the brim of her cap.

“You look like one, too,” Theresa replied, easing the car out of the driveway. The Aston Martin rolled smoothly onto the quiet, palm-lined streets of the neighborhood, its engine a low growl that turned heads as they passed.

The neighborhood was alive with quiet luxury—manicured lawns, gleaming yachts moored nearby, and sprawling homes with panoramic views of the ocean. Residents out for morning walks paused, their gazes following the convertible as it glided by. Some nodded politely, probably recognizing the car; others simply stared, a mixture of admiration and respect etched on their faces.

Sally leaned back in her seat, her ponytail catching the breeze. “I could get used to this,” she said, smiling.

Theresa glanced at her briefly. “It’s the car, not us. Trust me, if we were in a minivan, no one would care.”

Sally laughed. “Maybe. But it’s nice to pretend for a bit.”

Theresa glanced at her briefly, a sly smile playing on her lips. “Pretend? Sally, we’re not pretending. This is your world. The cars, the luxury, the attention—it’s not a dream or a loaner life. It’s yours.”

Sally tilted her head, her laughter softening into a thoughtful silence. “I guess. It just feels… surreal sometimes.”

Theresa tapped the steering wheel lightly, her tone turning slightly more serious but still warm. “It’s going to feel that way for a while, but you’ve got to start wrapping your head around it. You’re not borrowing this lifestyle. You’re living it. And before you know it, you’ll be driving your own Aston Martin, top down, making heads turn just like this.”

Sally smirked, adjusting her sunglasses. “Maybe. But I think I’ll need a few more lessons before Ken lets me near this one again.”

Theresa chuckled. “True. And you’ll have them. But you’ll get there. And when you do, I’ll be in the passenger seat, making sure you don’t get any speeding tickets.”

Sally grinned, feeling a flicker of confidence at Theresa’s words. “Deal.”

The sunlight danced off the car’s deep blue paint as Theresa turned onto the main road. The ocean peeked through the gaps in the trees, the scent of salt and warmth filling the air. With the top down, the wind whipped through their hair, tangling it into carefree strands.

Not long into the drive, Theresa slowed the car as they approached the viewpoint near the Seven Mile Bridge. The road stretched ahead like a ribbon over the water, the iconic expanse of turquoise and blue shimmering under the late morning sun. The old bridge, weathered and narrow, ran parallel to the new one, its charm undiminished by age.

“This seems like a good spot to stretch our legs,” Theresa said, flicking the switch to raise the convertible’s roof. The mechanism purred softly as the top folded into place, shielding the interior from the sun.

Sally nodded, already reaching for the door handle. “Good call. I’ve been dying to see this up close.”

Theresa parked the car neatly in a shaded spot near the small parking lot. They stepped out, the heat of the pavement radiating through their shoes as they made their way toward the old bridge walkway.

The narrow path of the old bridge welcomed them with its weathered railings and unobstructed views of the endless ocean. Theresa took the lead, her stride relaxed but purposeful. Sally followed, pausing every few steps to peer over the edge at the clear water below. Fish darted in the shallows, their scales glinting in the sunlight.

“This is incredible,” Sally said, her voice soft with awe. “It’s like walking on the edge of the world.”

Theresa smiled, leaning against the railing. “It does feel like that. And it’s a good reminder, too.”

“Of what?” Sally asked, glancing at her.

Theresa gestured broadly to the ocean and the expanse of sky. “That there’s so much more out there. Bigger things than whatever’s weighing you down. It puts things in perspective.”

Sally leaned against the railing beside her, her sunglasses reflecting the waves. “Sometimes it feels like everything is… too much, you know? Like I’ll never figure it all out.”

Theresa nodded, her gaze steady. “That’s normal. But here’s the thing: you don’t have to figure it all out at once. It’s okay to take it one step at a time.”

Sally sighed, letting the breeze ruffle her hair. “It’s just hard. School, the trust fund, my dad’s expectations… I feel like I’m juggling a million things, and I’m afraid of dropping all of them.”

Theresa placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “That’s what I’m here for. To help you keep the balls in the air. And trust me, your dad? He’s not expecting perfection. He just wants to see you trying, learning, and growing. That’s what matters.”

Sally smiled faintly. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Theresa admitted with a grin. “But you’re not doing it alone. You’ve got me. And when you feel like it’s too much, just take a moment—like this—and remember why you’re doing it.”

Sally turned her gaze back to the water, the weight in her chest easing slightly. The sound of the waves and the warmth of the sun wrapped around her, grounding her in the moment. For the first time in a while, she felt like she could breathe.

--

 

Girls, girls, girls

Ain't nothin' like them in the whole wide world.

So damn smart and cute,

And it's amazing what they pass off as a bathing suit.

Winners and losers

Sailors and cruisers

We're all qualified, for a license to chill

And I believe I will

Let the rat race run, roll around in the sun until

Trouble turns funny, songs get sung

A little bit of money, the night's still young

Leave me alone I've got a license,

A license to chill

 

As the girls sang loudly along, the Aston Martin rolled into Key West with an effortless grace, its engine purring like a satisfied cat as Theresa navigated the colorful streets. Pastel-painted houses with wraparound porches and swaying palm trees lined the roads, their charm heightened by the scent of salt and sunscreen that wafted in the air.

Sally had her Gulfstream cap pulled low, her black sunglasses perfectly perched on her nose. The morning breeze tousled her hair as she leaned out slightly, scanning for landmarks. “Key West looks like a postcard,” she mused, after Theresa had turned the volume to a civilized level, adjusting the brim of her cap. “If a postcard came with a piña colada and Jimmy Buffett music.”

Theresa laughed, steering them through a roundabout adorned with tropical flowers. “It’s got that vibe, doesn’t it? Relaxed, quirky, and just the right amount of ‘did I drink too much last night?’ energy.”

Sally grinned, pointing ahead. “There it is! The Southernmost Point marker!”

Theresa slowed the car as the iconic red, black, and yellow stone came into view, a beacon of photo ops and questionable tourist poses. “Let’s see how lucky we are with parking,” she murmured.

To their astonishment, a spot opened up right by the corner, as if the universe had decided they deserved a VIP pass to Key West. “On a Thursday morning?” Sally said, her eyebrows shooting up. “This feels like cheating.”

“Let’s not question it,” Theresa replied, sliding the car expertly into the space. “Sometimes the universe just gives you a freebie.” The convertible top whizzed back into place.

Sally and Theresa stepped out into the breezy Key West morning, the smell of the ocean stronger now. The marker stood ahead, bold and unapologetically kitschy, with “90 Miles to Cuba” emblazoned on its side. A few scattered tourists milled about, but it was refreshingly quiet.

“This is your moment,” Theresa said, motioning Sally toward the marker. “You’ve got the cap, the shades, the whole ‘I’m casually fabulous’ vibe going on. Get over there.”

Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Fine, but you’re in this with me.” She pulled out her phone, switching to selfie mode as they walked toward the stone.

The wind picked up as they approached, and a rogue wave splashed against the rocks, sending a fine spray of saltwater into the air. “Ack!” Sally yelped, jumping back. “Did we just walk into a splash zone?”

Theresa laughed, her own sleeves dampened by the spray. “Apparently the Southernmost Point comes with a side of saltwater facial. Now smile—we’re making this work.”

Sally held the phone up as they huddled together, grinning through the next wave of mist that caught them mid-pose. The photo captured Sally’s wide grin and Theresa’s amused expression, droplets of water gleaming on their faces.

“Perfect,” Theresa said, inspecting the photo. “But now I want one of just you. Go stand by the marker.”

“Why me?” Sally protested, though she was already moving toward the stone.

“Because this is your first time here, and you’re the star today,” Theresa replied, waving her off.

Sally posed next to the marker, trying her best to look dignified as the wind whipped her hair around. Another wave hit the rocks, splashing the side of the marker and dousing her legs.

“Tess!” she shrieked, stepping back as the water trickled down her calves.

“Hold still, you’re doing great!” Theresa called, holding up the phone and laughing so hard she nearly dropped it. “This is the content we’re here for!”

Sally glared at her but couldn’t help laughing herself. “I swear, if this ends up in the school group chat…”

“I’m sending it to Katrina, at least”, teased Theresa.

Another wave hit, this time sending a fine mist over Sally’s shoulders. She threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, I’m done. Your turn.”

Before Theresa could move, a cheerful elderly couple approached, the man holding an old Nikon camera and the woman wearing a sunhat that looked like it had seen every beach from here to the Bahamas.

“Would you like us to take a picture of you two together?” the woman asked, her voice kind but firm in that unmistakable “I’m someone’s grandma” tone.

Theresa smiled. “That would be great, thank you.”

The man took the phone while the woman positioned them, fussing over the angle and insisting they both stand closer to the marker. “You’ll want the water in the background, eh” she said. “It’s all about the composition.”

Another wave splashed against the rocks, and Sally instinctively ducked as the spray reached her again. The elderly couple laughed, and the man snapped a series of photos, muttering about how “kids these days don’t know how to stand still for a good picture.”

When the couple handed the phone back, Theresa checked the photos. “These are amazing. Thank you!”

The woman beamed. “You’re welcome, dear. Now go make some memories. Life’s too short not to get splashed once in a while.”

As they walked back to the car, Sally glanced at the photos, laughing at the mix of candid splashes and genuine smiles. “That was surprisingly fun,” she admitted, sliding into the passenger seat.

Theresa started the engine, the Aston Martin purring to life. “See? A little saltwater and some friendly Canadians, and you’ve got yourself a perfect Key West memory.”

Sally grinned, adjusting her Gulfstream cap. “If every road trip is like this, I’m in.”

Theresa smirked, pulling the car back onto the road. “Oh, this is just the beginning, boss. Just wait until we hit the next adventure.”

As they drove off, the Southernmost Point marker faded in the rearview mirror, but the laughter lingered in the air, carried by the warm breeze and the endless blue skies.

The Aston Martin purred softly as Theresa found a shady parking spot near Duval Street. Sally stepped out, adjusting her Gulfstream cap against the sun. The streets of Key West bustled lightly with tourists, their relaxed energy infectious. Brightly painted storefronts and swaying palm trees created a picturesque scene straight out of a travel brochure.

“Time for the full Key West experience,” Theresa announced, locking the car and tossing Sally her phone. “And don’t forget—we need souvenirs.”

Sally grinned, slipping her phone into her pocket. “Fine, but only if we get ice cream first.”

Their first stop was a charming café nestled along a quiet side street. Sally rushed to the bathroom where she changed her pad and managed to use the bathroom. Her clothes were damp from the sea spray, but not really wet. It was a relief to freshen up. A pull-up would have worked better, she thought, wistfully.

They sat under an umbrella, enjoying freshly made sandwiches and cold drinks. Sally leaned back in her chair, soaking in the cheerful vibe of the island.

“This is exactly what I needed,” she said, taking a long sip of her lemonade.

“Recharge the batteries before tomorrow,” Theresa agreed, finishing the last bite of her wrap. “And don’t forget, we’ve got to find something for Stella. She’ll never forgive you if you come back empty-handed.”

Next, they found a small ice cream parlor with a colorful menu board that boasted every flavor imaginable. Sally opted for Key lime pie ice cream, while Theresa went for coconut. They wandered through the streets, cones in hand, admiring the quaint shops and occasional street performers.

Sally stopped at a boutique filled with handcrafted jewelry and beach-themed trinkets. She picked out a delicate shell bracelet for Stella and a quirky magnet for Olivia. Theresa found a sleek leather wallet embossed with the island’s name, a souvenir for herself.

At another store, Sally spotted a brightly colored sarong and laughed as she held it up. “Think Stella would wear this?”

“She’d wear it ironically,” Theresa said with a smirk. “Which means yes.”

As they exited the shop, Sally’s phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and laughed softly. “It’s Katrina.”

Theresa raised an eyebrow. “Already?”

Sally opened the message and found a photo of her and Theresa at the Southernmost Point marker—Theresa must have sent it earlier. Katrina had captioned it: ‘Southernmost Point?! What next, space travel? You better be back soon, Miss Jetsetter!’

Another message followed quickly: ‘I hope you weren’t wearing your diaper, princesita, cause if you did, it’s soaked! Clara’s here with me. Dice hola and wants to know if you’re bringing back anything cool.’

Sally grinned, typing back quickly: ‘Hi to both of you! And yes, souvenirs are covered. Les extaño—be back soon!’

“Trouble?” Theresa asked, noticing Sally’s amused expression.

“Es Katrina,” Sally replied, pocketing her phone. “She’s teasing me about being a jetsetter. Clara’s with her and says hi.”

Theresa chuckled. “They’re not wrong, you know. This is jetsetter territory.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head as they continued down the street, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the colorful pavement.

--

 

Rayando el sol, desesperación

Es más fácil llegar al sol que a tu corazón

Oh, me muero por ti, viviendo sin ti

Y no aguanto, me duele tanto estar así

Rayando el sol

 

From the car speakers, Maná’s Rayando el Sol played softly, the familiar chords filling the air. Sally, her cap tilted back and sunglasses still on, sang along softly in perfect Spanish, her voice blending effortlessly with the music.

Theresa glanced over, her hands relaxed on the steering wheel. “Your Spanish is really good, you know. I’m impressed.” Theresa’s half Mexican heritage vibrated.

Sally smiled, her voice still carrying the tune. “Thanks. Katrina’s been drilling it into me since we were kids. It’s basically her mission in life to make me fluent.”

“Well, mission accomplished,” Theresa said with a chuckle. “You’ve even got the accent down. That’s not easy.”

Sally shrugged, a hint of pride in her grin. “It helps that I’ve been surrounded by it for so long. Plus, I kinda fell in love with the language. And the music.”

Theresa tapped her fingers on the steering wheel as the song swelled. “Maná, huh? I grew up listening to this. My mom had their CDs on repeat. This was the soundtrack to every weekend in our house.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Really? For me, it’s, like, retro cool.”

Theresa froze for a second, then shot her a mock glare. “Did you just say retro?”

“What?” Sally laughed, tilting her head innocently. “It is! I mean, it’s classic, timeless… vintage, maybe?”

Theresa groaned dramatically. “Stop. You’re making me sound ancient. ‘Retro’ is what you call your dad’s record collection, not music I grew up with.”

Sally laughed, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay! Not retro. Just… cool, then?”

Theresa smirked, her eyes back on the road. “Much better. Let’s stick with that.”

As the final chords of Rayando el Sol faded, they both fell silent for a moment, the warmth of the music lingering in the air. Sally glanced out at the approaching town of Marathon, a contented smile on her lips. “You know, retro or not, this song? It’s a vibe.”

Theresa chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ll let that one slide.”

Theresa guided the car into the driveway with practiced ease, the deep blue paint gleaming under the golden hour light.

Sally leaned back in her seat, her Gulfstream cap tilted low, and her sunglasses perched on her nose. “I could get used to this,” she said, her tone breezy, though a spark of excitement still danced behind her words.

Theresa chuckled, cutting the engine. “I bet you could. But don’t get too comfortable just yet—we’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

Sally pulled off her cap, glancing over. “How early?”

“Wheels up at 8,” Theresa said casually, unbuckling her seatbelt. “The plane will be waiting for us in Marathon. Once we’re in the air, we’ll land at Teterboro, and from there, it’s a quick chopper ride home.”

Theresa’s tone was so matter-of-fact, so effortlessly professional, that for a moment, it didn’t even register. Sally stared at her, processing the words. Plane. Teterboro. Helicopter. It sounded like something out of a movie—a life so far removed from her old normal that she couldn’t help but marvel at it.

Sally tried to keep her voice light. “Ah, the usual, huh?”

Theresa smirked, catching the hint of awe in her tone. “The usual,” she echoed, stepping out of the car. “Better get used to it, boss. This is your world now.”

Sally climbed out, feigning a nonchalant shrug. “Oh, you know. Just another day in the life of a jet-setting billionaire’s kid.”

Theresa laughed, closing her door with a smooth click. “And don’t forget—this billionaire’s kid has homework. So don’t let all the glamour distract you.”

--

As they stepped into Olivia’s sprawling home, the subtle hum of the evening greeted them. Bridget was seated on the couch, a neat stack of papers and a tablet resting on the coffee table in front of her, evidence of a productive day. Olivia stood by the kitchen, pouring herself a tall glass of iced tea, her posture relaxed but her expression reflecting the focus of a day spent working.

Both women looked up as Sally and Stella entered. Bridget offered a warm smile, her hand pausing on the tablet. “You two look like you’ve had a fun afternoon.”

Olivia nodded, setting her glass down and gesturing toward the papers. “Meanwhile, your mom and I have been knee-deep in discussions—charities, the trust fund, upcoming events. You know, all the exciting stuff.”

Bridget chuckled softly. “Exciting for us, maybe. You’d have been bored stiff.”

Sally frowned slightly, crossing her arms. “You know, I actually am interested in anything involving the trust fund. It’s kind of my future, after all.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, her smile shifting to something more thoughtful. “Fair point. Maybe we’ll loop you in next time. But don’t say I didn’t warn you—it’s not all that glamorous.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Sally replied with a small grin, her curiosity evident.

“How was Key West?” Bridget asked, changing the subject.

Sally flopped onto the couch beside her mom, grinning. “Salty. Splashy. Perfect.”

Theresa shook her head, laughing as she headed toward the kitchen. “And photogenic. You should see the pictures.”

Bridget chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it. I’m glad you two had fun. But don’t forget—we’ve got an early day tomorrow.”

Sally nodded, her excitement bubbling beneath her calm exterior. She leaned back into the cushions, staring at the ceiling as her mind drifted to the morning ahead. A private jet waiting on the tarmac, the thrill of takeoff, and the thought of soaring through the clouds. Then landing in Teterboro and climbing into a helicopter, the blades slicing through the air as they hovered toward home.

It was a surreal life, thrilling—and hers.

--

Later, as she got ready for bed, Sally stood by the large window of her guest room, staring out at the dark expanse of the sea and the stars shimmering above it. The events of the day played through her mind—the laughter at the Southernmost Point, the exhilarating drive, and now the promise of more adventures ahead.

Her diaper ritual took place in the bathroom, after a slow soothing shower to clean off the salty spray and relax her period induced aches.

 

She pulled on her sleep t-shirt and slid into bed, the sheets cool and soft against her skin. For a moment, she let herself imagine the hum of the jet engines and the dizzying perspective of the world from above.

Her lips curved into a small smile. This was her life now, and she was starting to realize just how much she loved it.

As sleep began to claim her, she whispered to herself, “Tomorrow’s going to be amazing.”

--

The sharp knock on Sally’s door jarred her from her peaceful slumber. Theresa’s firm but cheerful voice followed immediately. “Rise and shine, boss! It’s six o’clock, and breakfast is almost ready. Wheels up at eight!”

Sally groaned, blinking against the dim light filtering through the curtains. The pleasant snugness of her sagging diaper reminded her of her usual relaxed mornings, but there was no time for indulgence today. With a sigh, she dragged herself out of bed, feeling the weight of the wet padding between her legs as she shuffled toward the bathroom.

The shower was quick but refreshing, washing away her sleepiness as the warm water cascaded over her. She stepped out, towel-dried her hair, and slipped into her travel outfit: comfortable blue jeans, a soft grey t-shirt, and her well-loved black Converse sneakers. After strapping on her Apple Watch, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Ready enough, she headed downstairs to join the others.

--

The kitchen was a bustling scene. Olivia stood by the coffee maker, pouring herself a fresh cup, while Ken leaned against the counter, scanning his phone. Stella was perched on a stool, already nibbling on a piece of toast, her blonde ponytail bouncing as she fidgeted with her phone. Bridget was seated at the table, calmly sipping her tea, while Theresa stood at the head of the room like a general preparing her troops.

“Morning, Sally,” Theresa greeted, motioning toward a plate piled with scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. “Eat up. We’ve got a tight schedule.”

Sally slid into a chair, her stomach grumbling as she grabbed a fork. “What’s the plan?” she asked, her voice still tinged with grogginess.

Theresa clapped her hands lightly, gaining everyone’s attention. “All right, here’s the rundown. We’re leaving the house in 30 minutes. The airport van will take us to Marathon’s airstrip. Wheels up at 8 a.m. sharp. Flight time is about two and a half hours, so we’ll touch down in Teterboro by 10:30. From there, Ken, Olivia, and Stella will take a chopper to the city, while Sally, Bridget, and I head to Hartford.”

Stella groaned. “Do we really have to leave so early?”

Ken smirked. “If you want to complain, try doing it with less toast in your mouth.”

The group chuckled, and Theresa continued, “Let’s make this smooth. Bags by the door in twenty minutes”.

--

The house buzzed with activity as everyone hurried to finish packing. Sally zipped up her carry-on and dragged it down the stairs, joining the growing pile of luggage near the door. The maid moved efficiently, collecting bags and ensuring everything was ready for the van’s arrival.

Olivia appeared with a leather travel tote slung over her shoulder, glancing at her watch. “Is the van here yet?”

“Should be pulling up any minute,” Theresa replied, her voice calm but commanding.

Sally took a moment to look around the organized chaos—the bustling energy of a house filled with travelers on the move. It struck her how natural this felt, a life of private jets and perfectly orchestrated schedules. Her father’s world, now hers too.

The low hum of an engine outside signaled the arrival of the airport van. Theresa opened the door, motioning for the driver to come in. “Let’s load up.”

With the luggage packed, everyone climbed into the van. Stella claimed a window seat, her nose pressed against the glass as the van rolled through the quiet streets toward the airport.

The airport came into view, small but efficient, nestled against the turquoise main highway. As the van turned onto the tarmac, Sally’s gaze locked on a gleaming matte grey jet parked proudly near the terminal. Her breath caught.

“Is that…?” Sally began, her voice trailing off.

Theresa followed her gaze, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Yep.”

Sally’s cool façade cracked as she leaned forward, her eyes wide. The sleek, futuristic lines of the her dad’s Gulfstream G700 glinted in the morning sun, its imposing presence making every other plane on the tarmac look like a toy. She hadn’t expected to be flying on it today. She assumed it would be another charter.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Sally asked, her excitement bubbling over despite her best efforts to play it cool.

“You didn’t ask”, was Theresa’s remark.

Ken chuckled from the seat behind her. “Surprise, Gulfstream Sally”.

Sally shook her head, her cheeks flushed. “I mean, I didn’t think dad was sending the jet over”

“Get used to it, kid,” Theresa said with a grin. “You’re officially traveling in style.”

As the van came to a stop near the jet, the door opened, and the driver began unloading the bags. Sally stepped out, the warm tarmac under her sneakers and the cool ocean breeze tousling her hair. The Gulfstream stood before her, a symbol of the life she was growing into.

Taking a deep breath, she adjusted her Gulfstream cap, her heart racing as she walked toward the jet. “Okay,” she murmured to herself. “I can get used to this.”

Theresa walked beside her, a knowing smile on her face. “Oh, you will.”

--

The sleek Gulfstream G700 stood ready on the tarmac, its matte grey finish catching the morning light. The plane exuded quiet power and sophistication, a symbol of Sally’s father’s world—a world she was slowly stepping into.

As the group stepped out of the van, the excitement in the air was palpable, especially from Stella, who stopped mid-step and gasped. “That’s our plane?” she asked, her voice pitching with disbelief.

“Sure is,” Theresa replied with a small smirk. “Pretty nice, huh?”

“Nice?” Stella squealed. “It’s insane! Can we go in? Can I sit anywhere?”

At the top of the stairs, Captain Henderson stood tall, dressed sharply in his navy captain’s uniform with gold accents and a crisp white shirt beneath his blazer. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, and his warm smile lit up his face as the group approached.

“Good morning, everyone,” he greeted, his tone cheerful yet professional. When his eyes landed on Sally, his smile broadened. “Miss Weiss! It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

Sally smiled back, feeling a flicker of pride at the familiar warmth in his voice. “Good morning, Captain. Thanks for having us.”

Captain Henderson’s gaze shifted slightly, and his smile turned playful. “And I see you’re wearing my Gulfstream cap.”

Sally blinked, confused for a moment, before she reached up and touched the brim of her hat. Her cheeks flushed as she realized she’d put it on automatically that morning. “Oh, this? I didn’t even think about it,” she admitted, laughing softly.

“Well, it suits you,” he said warmly. “I knew it would. Makes me look like I’ve got the best passengers in the skies.”

Theresa smirked from behind Sally. “She’s been wearing it like a badge of honor since Zurich.”

“It’s a good badge,” the Captain said with a wink before turning his attention to the others. “And who’s this?” he asked, extending a hand toward Bridget.

Bridget stepped forward with a polite smile. “Bridget. Sally’s mom. It’s nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” the Captain said warmly. “You’ve raised a remarkable daughter. It’s an honor to have her aboard.”

Bridget’s smile deepened, and she glanced at Sally with maternal pride. “Thank you. She’s a pretty good kid.”

Meanwhile, Stella was fidgeting at the base of the stairs, practically bouncing on her toes. “Can we go inside now? Please?”

Captain Henderson laughed, stepping aside to gesture toward the open cabin door. “Go ahead. Welcome aboard, everyone.”

As the group ascended the sleek stairs into the cabin, Nitaya stood just inside the doorway, her uniform impeccable and her smile bright. She radiated a natural warmth, the kind that instantly put passengers at ease. When her eyes landed on Sally, her expression lit up even further.

“Miss Weiss!” Nitaya exclaimed, stepping forward to greet her. “It’s so wonderful to see you again. Welcome back.”

Sally grinned, feeling an immediate sense of familiarity. “Nitaya! It’s great to see you too.

“Well,” Nitaya said, her tone light and playful, “when I heard you’d be aboard, I was very glad. It’s always a pleasure to have you.”

Sally laughed softly, touched by the sentiment. “The feeling’s mutual. Your presence makes flights way more fun.”

Nitaya gestured toward the cabin, her voice warm and full of pride. “You know where everything is, but if you need anything—anything at all—just let me know. I’ve made sure we’re well-stocked with everything you might want.”

Sally caught the subtle emphasis in her tone and raised an eyebrow, curiosity flickering in her expression. “Oh, should I be concerned or impressed?”

“Definitely impressed,” Nitaya replied with a wink, motioning her further inside. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The interior of the Gulfstream G700 was breathtaking, even for those familiar with luxury. The cream-colored leather seats, polished wood accents, and subtle recessed lighting gave the cabin a sense of warmth and elegance. Stella darted in first, her eyes wide as she spun around to take it all in.

Sally stepped in slowly, letting the familiar space envelop her. It was impossible not to smile as her eyes scanned the cabin—until they landed on the cupholders. A can of Pringles sat neatly in each one, perfectly placed like little edible treasures.

She turned to Theresa, raising an eyebrow.

Theresa gave her an innocent look but couldn’t hide the glint of mischief in her eyes.

Sally leaned closer, lowering her voice to a playful whisper. “Oh, you are good,” she said in her best Robert De Niro impression.

Theresa chuckled, patting her on the shoulder. “Figured you’d appreciate the touch.”

First Officer Gruber entered next, his posture brisk as he ensured the luggage was being stowed properly. He exchanged pleasantries with Olivia and Ken, whom he recognized from previous flights. Stella was still exploring the cabin with wide-eyed wonder, asking rapid-fire questions about everything from the buttons on the armrests to the snack selection.

Theresa turned to the group, her voice calm but directive. “Everyone, find your seats. We’re departing soon. Captain Henderson and I will make sure we’re squared away.”

Sally made her way toward the rear of the cabin, gravitating to her father’s usual seat at the four-seat dining table. It felt natural to sit there when he wasn’t onboard, like she was claiming a small piece of his world. She slid into the plush seat and leaned back, running her fingers along the smooth tabletop. It was a quiet reminder of the life she was stepping into, one luxurious detail at a time.

Across the cabin, Bridget settled near Olivia, their conversation soft and easy. Ken reclined in a forward swivel chair, while Stella, finally settling down, claimed a window seat with a perfect view of the wing.

Theresa took her seat near Sally, buckling herself in with practiced ease. “Comfortable?” she asked with a knowing smile.

Sally adjusted her cap, leaning back with a small grin. “Very.”

Sally shook her head, still smiling as she opened the can of Pringles in her cupholder. Theresa slid into the seat across from her, watching with an arched eyebrow.

“Good, huh?” Theresa asked, clearly enjoying the moment.

Sally popped a chip into her mouth, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “Oh, delicious. I’m lucky to have you on my team.”

Theresa smirked, leaning back with a satisfied expression. “Just keep that in mind when you’re the one making decisions someday.”

As the engines began to hum to life, Sally settled back into her seat, the laughter from her encounter with Nitaya still lingering. It was moments like these—small, thoughtful gestures—that made her feel at home in this new, extraordinary world.

As the final pieces of luggage were secured, Captain Henderson stepped into the cabin, his presence commanding but warm. He clasped his hands together, offering the group a reassuring smile.

“Good morning, everyone,” he began, his voice steady and confident. “We’re just about ready to depart. Our flight plan today takes us north along the coast to Teterboro, with an expected flight time of about two and a half hours. Weather looks clear, so it should be a smooth ride.”

He glanced around the cabin, his eyes lingering briefly on Sally, a flicker of pride in his expression before he continued. “I’ll be in the cockpit with First Officer Gruber, but if you need anything during the flight, Nitaya will be here to assist. She’s the best in the skies, so don’t hesitate to ask her for anything.”

At that, Nitaya appeared from the galley, her smile as bright and polished as the jet itself. “Welcome aboard,” she said warmly, her hands clasped in front of her. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to make your flight more comfortable.”

Captain Henderson nodded to her, then looked back at the group. “Seats should be buckled for takeoff, but once we’re in the air, feel free to relax and enjoy the flight. Any questions?”

Satisfied that everyone was ready, he tipped his head slightly and stepped back toward the cockpit. Nitaya moved to check that everyone was settled, her calm efficiency making the cabin feel like a five-star lounge.

As Sally buckled her seatbelt, she caught Theresa’s eye and leaned over. “He makes it sound so simple. Like, no big deal—just hop in the Gulfstream and take off.”

Theresa smirked, leaning back in her seat. “That’s because, for him, it is. You’ll get there.”

Sally grinned, glancing toward the front of the plane as the engines began to hum with a deep, powerful rhythm. She adjusted her cap again, feeling a thrill of excitement. The day was just beginning, and the skies were calling.

--

The Gulfstream G700 leveled off smoothly, the bright blue skies stretching endlessly beyond the cabin’s wide windows. The hum of the engines was a low, calming rhythm, the perfect backdrop for a flight that felt more like a five-star hotel stay than transportation.

Nitaya moved through the cabin with a practiced elegance, the scent of warm pastries and freshly brewed coffee trailing behind her. She carried a polished wooden tray laden with croissants, pain-au-chocolat, and small jars of jam and butter. On another tray, she balanced steaming pots of coffee and carafes of orange juice.

“Breakfast is served,” she announced cheerfully, setting the trays on the dining table near Sally. “Let me know if anyone would like anything else.”

Stella’s eyes widened as she spotted a small box of sugary cereal nestled among the options. “Is that Froot Loops?” she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Nitaya smiled, setting the box in front of her along with a small bowl and a bottle of milk. “It certainly is. Enjoy.”

“This is amazing,” Stella said, tearing open the box with giddy enthusiasm. “My parents never let me have this stuff at home.”

Olivia chuckled from her seat nearby, sipping her coffee. “Well, enjoy it while it lasts, Stella. I’m sure you’ll be asking for it every morning from now on.”

Ken, meanwhile, was admiring the coffee, a rich, dark brew that filled the cabin with its inviting aroma. He took a sip and sighed contentedly. “This is incredible. What roast is this?”

Nitaya answered with a touch of pride. “It’s a single-origin blend from Guatemala. One of Captain Henderson’s favorites.”

Ken nodded appreciatively. “I think I’ve been ruined for regular coffee.”

Sally leaned back in her seat, watching the others enjoy the breakfast spread. Stella’s delighted giggles, Ken’s satisfied coffee commentary, and Olivia’s relaxed demeanor all filled her with quiet pride.

Theresa leaned over from her seat near the window, her tone low but playful. “You know, Ken and Olivia are used to flying first class and business, but this? This is a whole new level for them.”

Sally glanced at her, smiling faintly. “It’s nice to give back a little after how well they’ve treated me this week. They’ve been incredible hosts in Key West.”

Theresa nodded. “And now you’re showing them what the Weiss family does best.”

As Sally stood to check on everyone, her mother caught her eye and winked. “This is heaven,” Bridget said, her voice soft but full of warmth. “Even better than the chartered jet that took me down to Florida. Don’t tell your dad I said that.”

Sally laughed quietly. “I won’t. But I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

Sally made her way forward, pausing to knock lightly on the door before stepping inside. Captain Henderson turned to greet her with his usual warm smile, his hands resting confidently on the controls.

“Miss Weiss,” he said, his voice light and cheerful. “Welcome to the cockpit!”

“Just wanted to say hi,” Sally replied, glancing at the array of screens. “And thank you for the smooth flight so far.”

“Always a pleasure to have you aboard,” Captain Henderson said. “And don’t hesitate to pop in anytime.”

First Officer Gruber gave her a quick nod and a smile. “It is a pleasure to have you on board, Miss Weiss. Anything you need, let us know.”

“Thank you,” Sally said, genuinely touched. She backed out of the cockpit just as Stella emerged from the front lavatory, her face lit up with excitement.

“Did you see the bathroom?” Stella asked, practically bouncing. “It’s tiny but so cool! Way better than any airplane bathroom I’ve ever seen.”

Sally smiled at her enthusiasm. “If you think that’s cool, check out the rear of the plane, past the partition. There’s more space to explore.”

Stella didn’t need to be told twice. She darted toward the back of the cabin, disappearing behind the sliding door. Minutes later, she returned, her expression a mix of awe and disbelief.

“There’s a bedroom back there! With a real bed! And the bathroom is huge—like, full-on hotel room huge. And there’s even a door to the luggage area!”

Sally chuckled, watching her flit back to her seat. Stella’s pure joy was infectious.

Returning to her seat at the dining table, Sally pulled out her laptop and opened her email. A list of assignments from her tutor stared back at her: math equations, a short history essay, and some physics problems. She sighed but figured she’d better tackle them now so she could relax later.

She set her coffee cup on the polished table, took a sip, and got to work. The warm, rich flavor paired perfectly with her concentration as she began typing, her fingers flying across the keyboard. Her face was serious, her brows furrowed as she worked through each problem methodically.

Occasionally, she glanced up, catching snippets of the lively conversations around her. Stella was still marveling at the cereal, Olivia and Bridget were discussing their plans for the week, and Ken was deep in conversation with Theresa about the logistics of their arrival in Teterboro.

Despite the lively energy in the cabin, Sally stayed focused, pausing only to sip her coffee or glance at her notes. The comforting hum of the engines and the occasional clink of glasses created a peaceful backdrop for her concentration.

As she finished her last assignment and clicked “Send,” Sally leaned back with a satisfied sigh. She closed her laptop and took another sip of coffee, savoring the moment. The others were still chatting and laughing, completely at ease in the luxurious space.

She glanced out the window, the clouds rolling by beneath them, and smiled. It wasn’t just the luxury of the jet that made this flight special—it was the sense of connection, the simple joy of sharing the experience with people she cared about.

For the first time in a long time, Sally felt completely in her element.

--

Bridget had been sitting near Olivia earlier, sipping tea and quietly observing the relaxed mood of the flight. Her eyes lingered on her daughter, noting the ease in Sally’s posture, the subtle but unmistakable confidence that had begun to emerge.

Unable to resist, Bridget stood and made her way to the dining table, sliding into the seat across from Sally.

Sally glanced up, a curious smile on her lips. “Hey, Mom.”

Bridget returned the smile, her eyes soft with affection. “Hey, sweetheart. Mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” Sally replied, sitting up straighter and closing her laptop fully.

Bridget rested her hands on the table, her tea cup cradled between them. She studied Sally for a moment, taking in her relaxed demeanor, the casual tilt of her Gulfstream cap, and the subtle smile playing on her lips.

“You look so much like your father,” Bridget said finally, her voice warm but tinged with nostalgia.

Sally blinked, slightly startled by the comment. “I do?”

Bridget nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “It’s not just the way you look, although you have his sharp cheekbones and that same twinkle in your eye when you’re up to something. It’s the way you carry yourself. Calm, collected—like you’re always thinking three steps ahead.”

Sally laughed softly, glancing down at her hands. “I don’t know about that. Half the time, I’m just winging it.”

Bridget reached across the table, covering Sally’s hand with her own. “Maybe. But you’re doing it with grace, and that’s what matters. Watching you this week, how you’ve handled yourself, how you’ve made everyone feel so welcome—even here on this flight—it makes me so proud.”

Sally felt her cheeks flush at the praise, her mother’s words sinking in deeply. “Thanks, Mom,” she said quietly. “That really means a lot.”

Bridget leaned back slightly, her smile growing. “You know, when I met your dad, he was still figuring things out too. He made mistakes, took risks, but what always stood out was his ability to adapt, to learn as he went. You’ve got that same ability, Sally. It’s part of what makes you so special.”

Sally looked up, meeting her mother’s gaze fully. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Bridget said firmly. “You’re stepping into this new world—private jets, responsibilities, expectations—and you’re doing it with more poise than most people twice your age. And the best part is, you haven’t lost who you are in the process. You’re still my sweet, thoughtful, funny girl.”

Sally smiled, a warmth spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the luxury of the jet. “I couldn’t do it without you, you know. You and Dad. Even if you’re not together, I feel like you’re both there for me in your own way.”

Bridget’s eyes glistened briefly before she squeezed Sally’s hand. “Always. And don’t ever forget that.”

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the noise of the cabin fading into the background. Then Sally leaned back, her grin turning playful. “You’re not just buttering me up because you want another croissant, are you?”

Bridget laughed, shaking her head. “No, but now that you mention it…”

Sally reached for the tray of pastries, pushing it toward her mother. “Help yourself. It’s a Weiss flight, after all—luxury all the way.”

Bridget chuckled, breaking off a piece of a croissant. “See? Poised, thoughtful, and witty. You’ve got it all, sweetheart.”

Sally shook her head, laughing softly as she leaned back in her seat, the pride in her mother’s eyes making her feel ten feet tall.

--

Sally sat back at the dining table, her mother still savoring her croissant with a blissful expression, while Stella and Theresa were perched on the sofa, watching something lighthearted on the TV. Olivia was working quietly in the forward cabin, jotting notes into her leather-bound planner.

Sally’s phone buzzed suddenly, vibrating against the polished tabletop. She glanced at the screen, her eyebrows lifting in surprise when she saw her father’s name. Adrian Weiss didn’t usually call unless it was important. Swiping to answer, she brought the phone to her ear.

“Hi, Dad,” Sally said, her tone warm but curious.

“Good morning, Sally,” Adrian replied, his voice steady and efficient as always. “How’s the flight so far?”

“It’s great,” Sally said, smiling. “We’re just finishing breakfast. Everything’s perfect.”

“Good to hear.” He paused briefly, and Sally could almost see him shifting his focus, his tone turning slightly more businesslike. “Sally, I wanted to confirm something with you about your plans today. Are you flying back to Hartford with your mother and Theresa, or will you be staying near Teterboro?”

Sally froze for a second, caught off guard. “Teterboro?” she echoed, her mind racing. “I thought we’d be leaving from Hartford tonight?”

Adrian let out a short breath, the faintest hint of impatience in his tone. “The jet will remain in Teterboro for scheduled maintenance. It doesn’t make sense to fly it to Hartford and back. I assumed you’d be nearby—perhaps even join me in Manhattan for the day. Unless, of course, you prefer to fly home and return later.”

Sally’s pulse quickened. She hadn’t pieced this together yet, and her father’s calm assumption made her feel momentarily disoriented. She glanced at Theresa, who was laughing at something Stella said. Theresa’s easy demeanor was a sharp contrast to the sudden panic rising in Sally’s chest.

“I—I just need to confirm something with Theresa,” Sally stammered, trying to sound composed. “Can I call you back in a few minutes?”

Adrian’s voice softened, though it retained its characteristic briskness. “Of course. Let me know what you decide.”

Sally hung up, exhaling slowly as she set the phone down. Across the table, Bridget was watching her intently, her brow furrowed slightly.

“Something wrong?” Bridget asked.

“Not wrong,” Sally said, her voice low. “Just… unexpected. I need to talk to Theresa.”

Sally gestured toward Theresa, summoning her with a tilt of her head. Theresa caught the signal immediately, murmuring something to Stella before rising and walking over. She slid into the seat next to Bridget, her posture attentive.

“Yes, boss?” Theresa said lightly, though her eyes were sharp with interest.

Sally explained the phone call, detailing her father’s question and her realization about the jet remaining in Teterboro. Bridget listened intently, her expression thoughtful, while Theresa’s eyes narrowed as she processed the situation.

“He’s right, it doesn’t make sense,” Theresa said, her voice calm but decisive. “If the jet’s in Teterboro, rushing to Hartford and back would be a waste of time.”

At that moment, Olivia appeared from the forward cabin. “Is something going on?” she asked, slipping into the seat beside Sally.

They quickly filled her in, and as Olivia listened, a small smile formed on her lips. “Well, Sally,” she began, her tone measured, “this might be the perfect opportunity to visit the SoHo apartment.”

Sally’s eyes widened. “The one in the trust fund? The apartment you told me about?”

Olivia nodded. “It’s ready to visit. I was actually going to suggest it soon. You’ve always wanted to see it, haven’t you?”

Bridget leaned forward, her interest piqued. “You’ve talked about this apartment before. It belongs to Sally’s trust?”

“Correct,” Olivia said. “It’s part of her real estate assets, but I think it would make a wonderful pied-à-terre for both of you. It’s centrally located, beautiful, and completely move-in ready. I can arrange for the real estate agent to meet us there, give you a tour, and hand over the keys.”

Sally’s initial confusion gave way to excitement. “You’re serious? We could use it whenever we’re in New York?”

 

“Absolutely,” Olivia said, smiling. “It’s yours to decide how to use it.”

Theresa chimed in. “This works perfectly. Bridget can take a helicopter home later, and Sally and I can meet Adrian at the apartment before she flies out to Zurich.”

Bridget nodded, her eyes gleaming. “I’d love to see it before heading back.”

“Great,” Olivia said, already reaching for her phone. “I’ll call the agent now. Theresa, can you handle Bridget’s helicopter arrangements?”

“On it,” Theresa replied, pulling out her phone.

Sally sat back in her seat, her heart racing slightly as she dialed her father. She pressed the phone to her ear, steadying her voice as it connected.

“Hi, Dad,” she began, her tone calm and businesslike. “I’ve worked out the plan with Theresa and Olivia. I’ll be staying in Manhattan today.”

Adrian paused, clearly surprised. “Oh? What’s the plan, exactly?”

Sally straightened, her voice confident. “Olivia has arranged for me to visit the SoHo apartment. I’ll tour the space and take care of any details with the real estate agent. Then I’ll meet you there this evening before we head to Zurich.”

There was a slight pause on the other end. “Efficient,” Adrian said, his tone thoughtful. “You’ve organized everything already?”

“Yes,” Sally replied smoothly. “Theresa and Olivia helped.”

Her father’s voice softened slightly. “Very well. I’ll see you this evening at the apartment.”

“See you then,” Sally said, hanging up and letting out a quiet breath of relief.

Before Sally could process everything, Nitaya appeared at the table with her signature warm smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be landing shortly in Teterboro. Please fasten your seatbelts.”

As the engines began to shift into descent mode, Sally glanced around the cabin. Her mother smiled at her reassuringly, Theresa was typing away on her phone, and Olivia sat poised and calm. Sally adjusted her Gulfstream cap, a small smile forming on her lips.

This day was turning out to be far more exciting than she’d expected—and it was only just beginning.

As the cabin settled into a quiet hum, Bridget leaned back in her seat, her gaze fixed on Sally. A small, proud smile played on her lips as she spoke, her voice calm but full of warmth.

“You handled that beautifully, Sally,” she said. “I’m impressed. You’ve come a long way.”

Theresa, just finishing her call, turned toward them and nodded enthusiastically. “Couldn’t agree more,” she said with a grin. “Boss, you nailed it. That was some top-tier decision-making.”

Sally’s cheeks flushed slightly at the unexpected praise, but she couldn’t help the small, confident smile that tugged at her lips. “Thanks,” she said softly, glancing between her mother and Theresa. “It means a lot.”

Chapter 73 – Soho Mojo

 

The hum of the helicopter’s rotors faded as Sally stepped onto the tarmac at the Manhattan heliport. The brisk city air carried a hint of energy and promise, a sharp contrast to the tranquil warmth of the Keys. Sally adjusted her sunglasses, scanning the compact terminal as Olivia led the group toward a sleek black 7 series BMW parked nearby. Beside the car stood a sharply dressed man, his tailored navy suit and calm demeanor exuding sophistication.

Olivia gestured toward him. “Sally, this is Philippe Moreau. He’s been managing the trust’s real estate portfolio since the 1990s. Philippe, these are the women of the Weiss family—and Theresa, their trusted assistant.”

Philippe stepped forward, his smile warm yet restrained. His French accent added a certain charm as he extended a hand to Sally. “Mademoiselle Weiss, it is a great pleasure to meet you. I have long anticipated this day.”

Sally shook his hand, meeting his eyes with curiosity. “Thank you, Philippe. It’s great to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot about your work.”

“Only good things, I hope,” he replied lightly, before turning to Bridget. “Madame Weiss, an honor. And Miss Theresa,” he added, nodding at her, “welcome.”

Olivia smiled briskly. “You’re in capable hands with Philippe. We’re heading off—see you soon!” With that, Olivia, Ken, and Stella disappeared into a waiting Uber, leaving Sally, Bridget, and Theresa with Philippe.

Philippe opened the car door with a flourish, motioning for Bridget and Sally to enter. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. It is not a long drive, but I trust it will be pleasant. Traffic shouldn’t be too bad”

Theresa took the front seat, while Sally slid into the plush leather seat behind her, Bridget settling in behind Philippe. As the car glided onto the road, Sally admired the quiet luxury of the BMW, her fingers tracing the soft stitching on the armrest.

Philippe’s voice broke the comfortable silence. “Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Philippe Moreau, and I have had the privilege of managing the Weiss family’s real estate holdings for over three decades. I began with your grandfather, Oskar Weiss, during a time when SoHo was merely a shadow of what it is now.”

Sally tilted her head, intrigued. “My grandfather bought the apartment back then?”

“Indeed, the whole building”, Philippe replied, his tone reflective. “At the time, few saw the potential in SoHo’s aging warehouses. But Oskar… he was a man of vision, albeit a demanding one. He recognized the possibilities, and together we transformed this building into what you will see today. It was completely renovated five years ago”

The sleek BMW cruised along the Hudson River Greenway, gliding smoothly alongside the scenic route. Outside the tinted windows, the shimmering river stretched wide, reflecting the late morning sun. Joggers and cyclists wove along the adjacent path, their movements brisk yet relaxed. Sally’s eyes were drawn to the contrast of nature and urban life—the vibrant blue water to her right and the rising Manhattan skyline to her left.

Traffic was moderate, the rhythm of the drive punctuated by the occasional honk and the distant hum of city life. A food cart stationed along the path released a faint wisp of steam, mingling with the crisp air that streamed faintly through the slightly cracked window.

“My grandfather sounds… complicated,” Sally said, choosing her words carefully.

Philippe smiled faintly. “Complicated is a fair word. He was exacting, with little patience for anything he perceived as less than perfection. But his decisions, however cold they may have seemed, were always calculated to benefit his legacy.”

Sally considered this, unsure how she felt about inheriting a legacy from a man she had never met. “And now that legacy is mine.”

“It is,” Philippe said, turning his head to look at her. “And while your grandfather and I never spoke of sentimentality, I believe he would have been pleased to see you here today.”

Sally smiled softly, her curiosity growing. “Thank you, Philippe. That means a lot.” Her mother squeezed her hand.

The BMW turned onto a quiet side street off a bustling avenue, the noise of the city fading into a more subdued hum. The Revell Building stood before them, its red-brick façade a testament to its industrial roots, with intricate stonework and a classic fire escape climbing its face.

Philippe brought the car to a careful stop by the curb and placed his hands lightly on the wheel, pausing for a moment before addressing the group. His tone shifted to one of measured seriousness.

“Before we step inside,” he began, turning to look at Sally, “there is an important matter to discuss. Mademoiselle Weiss, while you own this building—and the penthouse you are about to see—it is essential that we maintain discretion.”

Sally tilted her head, surprised. “Discretion?”

“Yes,” Philippe continued smoothly, turning slightly in his seat to face her. “For privacy and security, it is best that you and your family are known as tenants. The administration records will reflect this arrangement. Ownership is a powerful asset, but here in New York, discretion protects not only your anonymity but also your freedom.”

Bridget, seated behind him, nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense,” she said. “No need to draw unnecessary attention.”

Theresa, sitting in the front passenger seat, glanced over her shoulder to add her own perspective. “Exactly. It’s not just about privacy—it’s basic security. The fewer people who know about your ownership, the better. This way, you can live and enjoy the space without constantly looking over your shoulder.”

Sally nodded slowly, understanding the weight of the advice. “Okay. I’ll keep it quiet.”

As Philippe reached for the door handle to step out, Sally’s gaze was drawn to the floor-level space adjacent to the building’s entrance. Large glass windows framed an elegantly curated art gallery, its clean lines and subtle lighting highlighting a collection of contemporary pieces. She leaned slightly forward in her seat, her curiosity piqued. “Is that an art gallery?” she asked, gesturing toward the space.

Philippe paused, a faint smile forming as he followed her gaze. “Indeed, it is. That gallery is part of the Revell Building and one of its most sought-after commercial spaces. It is leased at a very handsome rate. Its central location, combined with the relative quiet of this street, makes it ideal for collectors and enthusiasts alike.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly. “It’s beautiful. I love that there’s an art gallery here. It makes the building feel… alive, like it’s part of the community.”

Philippe nodded, his smile deepening at her appreciation. “Your grandfather insisted on maintaining tenants who elevated the building’s prestige, and this gallery is no exception. But its value goes beyond the art on display—it is a prime piece of real estate.”

Sally tilted her head thoughtfully, absorbing his words. Though the financial aspect was still abstract to her, the idea of having an art gallery in her building delighted her. “Well, I think it’s perfect. Art always brings something special to a space.”

Philippe’s expression softened, seeing the spark of genuine interest in her eyes. “I think you’ll find, Mademoiselle Weiss, that this building holds many facets. Each with its own charm—and potential.”

Philippe stepped out first, opening the door for Sally. “Welcome to the Revell Building,” he said with a touch of pride. “It has been waiting for you.”

Sally stepped out, her gaze lifting to take in the building. There was something stately about its presence, a quiet strength that made her chest swell with pride. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

Philippe smiled faintly. “Wait until you see the inside.”

They entered through the main door, and Sally immediately noticed the contrast between the building’s historic exterior and its modernized lobby. The polished concrete floors gleamed under minimalist pendant lights, while the scent of fresh flowers from a sleek arrangement near the concierge desk added an elegant touch.

Behind the desk stood a well-dressed man in his 30s, his olive-toned skin glowing under the soft light. His welcoming smile grew as the group approached.

“Rafa,” Philippe said with a slight nod toward him, “these are your new tenants - The penthouse”.

Rafa straightened, exuding the natural charisma of someone who worked effortlessly with New York’s elite. “Welcome! I’m Rafa, the building concierge. If there’s anything you need, I’m here to help.”

Sally returned his warm smile. “Thank you, Rafa. I’m Sally Weiss, and this is my mom, Bridget Weiss, and our assistant, Theresa.”

Rafa gave a slight bow of his head, his tone enthusiastic. “A pleasure to meet you all. Welcome to the Revell Building.”

--

The polished floors of the Revell Building’s modernized lobby reflected the soft glow of the minimalist pendant lights above. Sally followed Philippe toward the bank of elevators at the far end of the space, her gaze wandering over the clean lines and elegant details. Rafa, the concierge, offered a warm farewell nod as they walked away, his smile lingering as he returned to his station.

At the elevators, Sally immediately noticed two distinct options. One was a standard elevator with a sleek silver door and a simple button panel. To the left, however, was another, far more discreet. Its door was matte black with a small chip reader embedded into the wall beside it, instead of buttons.

Philippe gestured toward the matte black elevator, a faint smile playing on his lips as he reached into his pocket and withdrew a slim key fob. “This,” he said, holding it up for emphasis, “is the penthouse elevator. The other elevator serves the five main apartments—one on each floor. But the penthouse? It has its own, private lift.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly, her curiosity piqued. “So this elevator goes directly into the penthouse?”

“Exactly,” Philippe replied. “It is entirely private and accessible only by key fob. A small touch of exclusivity for the penthouse residents—namely, you.”

Theresa tilted her head, a hint of admiration in her voice. “That’s some serious luxury. And security.”

Philippe inserted the key fob into the reader, and with a soft beep, the matte black doors slid open, revealing a spacious, plushly designed interior. The elevator’s walls were paneled in rich walnut wood, accented with subtle brass details, and the floor was covered in a smooth, muted marble.

Sally stepped in hesitantly, her fingers brushing over the cool surface of the wooden paneling. “It feels… surreal,” she admitted quietly, glancing back at her mother.

Bridget gave her a reassuring smile, stepping into the elevator after her. “It’s definitely a step up from your usual ride.”

Philippe entered last, pressing a single button labeled “Penthouse.” The doors closed with a soft hum, and the elevator began its ascent. The atmosphere felt almost reverent, the quiet hum of the motor underscoring the moment’s significance.

As they ascended, Sally looked at her reflection in the brass accents, her excitement bubbling just below the surface. Her fingers brushed over the wooden wall. She caught Philippe’s approving glance and gave him a shy smile.

When the elevator finally stopped, the doors slid open seamlessly, revealing a wide-open space bathed in natural light. The luxurious interior of the penthouse stretched before them, but for a moment, Sally could only stand there, frozen in awe.

The elevator had brought them not just to her new apartment—but to the beginning of something entirely new.

The space was breathtaking. The living area stretched before her, bathed in light from floor-to-ceiling windows that offered stunning views of the Hudson River and the rooftops of SoHo. Exposed brick walls and restored wooden beams gave the space character, while the sleek furnishings and high-end finishes added a modern touch.

The apartment was fully furnished, every piece thoughtfully chosen to create a polished, sophisticated space. Plush sofas in neutral tones were arranged in the living area, accented by sleek glass tables and modern artwork on the exposed brick walls. It was live-in ready, staged beautifully and exuding understated luxury.

Philippe gestured broadly as he stepped in behind her. “Everything you see is yours, Mademoiselle Weiss. However, I expect you’ll want to make it your own. If you need assistance with interior design, selecting new furniture, or reimagining the space, I am at your disposal.”

Sally ran her fingers lightly over the back of a sofa, her expression a mix of satisfaction and uncertainty. “It’s… really nice. I mean, it’s beautiful as it is. I don’t know about changing everything.”

Bridget, standing just behind her, smiled slyly. “One step at a time, Sally. You’ll know what feels right when you’re ready.”

Theresa leaned casually against the wall, her tone light but teasing. “Besides, it wouldn’t really be yours until you’ve added your own flair. And we all know you’ve got plenty of that.”

Sally shot Theresa a playful glare but couldn’t suppress her smile. “You all make it sound so easy.”

Philippe smiled warmly. “It doesn’t have to happen overnight, Mademoiselle. Take your time. This is your space to transform—whenever you’re ready.”

Sally nodded, her unease softening slightly as she looked around. The space felt inviting, even as it hinted at all the possibilities ahead.

Philippe gestured around the room. “This is your home, Mademoiselle Weiss. A blend of history and modernity, much like SoHo itself.”

Sally walked slowly through the space, running her hand along the smooth marble countertops in the kitchen. The appliances were state-of-the-art, gleaming under soft lighting. The open-concept design flowed seamlessly into the living and dining areas, creating a sense of space and elegance.

Philippe led them to the bedrooms, where large windows framed distant views of Manhattan’s skyline. Each room was spacious, bathed in natural light, and meticulously designed. But the master bedroom was the undeniable highlight.

As they stepped inside, Sally’s gaze swept over the expansive space. The neutral palette of soft grays and creams made the room feel both serene and luxurious. A king-sized bed with a plush, upholstered headboard sat in the center, flanked by sleek, minimalist nightstands. Across from the bed, a low-profile dresser matched the muted tones, and a wall-mounted television was discreetly placed above it.

Bridget glanced around approvingly before turning to Sally with a knowing smile. “This is yours,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Sally hesitated, looking back at the space as if she weren’t sure she belonged there. “It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “Almost too beautiful.”

“Nonsense,” Bridget replied with a chuckle, holding Sally on the shoulders. “You’re the one who belongs here. Get used to it.”

Philippe, standing near the doorway, gestured toward an adjoining door. “Allow me to show you the ensuite bathroom.”

They stepped through into a space that radiated opulence without excess. Sandstone marble covered the floors and walls, its natural patterns creating a soothing, organic elegance. A wide glass-enclosed shower dominated one corner, with rainfall fixtures gleaming under the soft lighting. In another corner, a clawfoot bathtub sat regally beneath a large, frosted window, inviting and timeless.

Sally approached the bathtub, running her fingers along its smooth porcelain edge. “This feels like a dream,” she said softly.

“Every detail was designed to provide comfort and refinement,” Philippe noted. “Of course, if there are any modifications you would like to make, we can arrange them.”

After the bedrooms and bathroom, Philippe led them back to the living room. He paused at the staircase tucked discreetly into one corner. “Now, for the pièce de résistance—the rooftop terrace. You have two options for access. The elevator we arrived in also extends to the rooftop. However, for convenience, you may also take this private staircase.”

Theresa leaned over the railing, peering upward. “Multiple ways to get there? Now that’s luxury.”

Sally smiled, her excitement building as they followed Philippe up the stairs. The ascent was short, and as they emerged onto the rooftop terrace, her breath caught.

The space was breathtaking. A wide expanse of seating areas, arranged for both privacy and entertainment, stretched out before them. Lush greenery framed the edges of the terrace, softening the industrial skyline in the distance. A plunge pool sat tucked into one corner, its clear water reflecting the city lights. The 360-degree views were unparalleled—on one side, the Hudson River sparkled in the sunlight; on the other, Manhattan’s iconic skyscrapers towered in the distance.

Sally turned from Bridget to Philippe, her eyes wide with wonder. “It’s… incredible.”

Philippe smiled, clearly pleased by her reaction. “It is yours to enjoy, Mademoiselle Weiss. A sanctuary above the city.”

Sally stepped toward the edge of the terrace, the soft hum of the city rising to meet her. For the first time, the reality of this space—her space—truly began to settle in.

After the tour, Philippe handed Sally a small, embossed envelope. “Here are the keys, fobs, and this is my direct contact information, including our VIP line. Should you need anything—anything at all—I am at your service.”

Sally took the card, meeting his eyes with gratitude. “Thank you, Philippe. For everything.”

“It has been a pleasure, Mademoiselle Weiss. I look forward to seeing what you do with this legacy.”

As Philippe departed, Sally stood on the terrace, the city stretching out before her. Her mother and Theresa joined her, their expressions a mix of pride and excitement.

“This is your world now,” Bridget said softly. “And it suits you.”

Sally smiled, the weight of her grandfather’s legacy suddenly feeling lighter. “I think so too.”

--

By the time they left the apartment, it was well past lunch. The streets of SoHo buzzed with a subdued energy, locals and tourists weaving between the stylish storefronts and quaint cafés that dotted the neighborhood. Sally held her phone up, navigating to “The Velvet Burger,” a spot she’d found just around the corner.

The cobblestone streets glistened faintly from an earlier drizzle, and the air smelled faintly of rain and city life. Bridget pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders as Theresa strolled beside Sally, scanning their surroundings.

“This place is so… alive,” Sally said, taking in the mix of boutique shops, art galleries, and the occasional graffiti mural peeking out between the chic facades.

Theresa nodded, her tone casual. “SoHo has its own rhythm. You’ll figure it out pretty quick.”

When they reached “The Velvet Burger,” the aroma of sizzling patties and fresh-cut fries wafted out, wrapping them in an inviting embrace. The restaurant was cozy, with dark wood accents, soft lighting, and a casual atmosphere. They slid into a booth by the window, and Sally couldn’t help but smile. For the first time, she felt like a local—not a tourist, not an outsider.

The server appeared with an easy grin, taking their orders. Bridget opted for a classic burger, while Theresa and Sally went full indulgence with loaded cheeseburgers and thick milkshakes.

As they ate, the rain began to pick up, tapping insistently against the glass. They watched as umbrellas popped open outside and passersby scurried for cover.

“Guess we’re not going anywhere soon,” Bridget said, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her iced tea.

Sally grinned. “Good excuse for dessert.”

They ordered pie and ice cream, sharing bites and laughing over stories. The rain didn’t let up—it only grew heavier, pounding against the windows in sheets.

Theresa glanced at her phone and frowned. “If we wait much longer, we’re going to need a canoe to get back.”

--

The three of them finally braved the downpour, pulling their jackets tight and laughing as they darted through the rain-soaked streets. Sally clutched her phone in one hand, shielding it from the rain, while Bridget held her cardigan over her head. Theresa led the charge, her long strides splashing through shallow puddles as they hurried back to the Revell Building.

By the time they reached the lobby, they were drenched, their shoes squeaking on the polished floor. Rafa looked up from his desk, his eyes widening with sympathy. “Oh no, ladies! You got caught in it, didn’t you?”

“Completely,” Sally replied, her voice breathless but amused.

Back in the penthouse, the three women peeled off their wet layers, grabbing the new, fluffy towels they found stacked in the master bathroom. Sally laughed as she wrung out her hair, wrapping herself in a towel and wandering into the living room. The rain continued to pour outside, creating a misty haze over the city.

They stood by the massive windows, watching the raindrops streak the glass. The view of SoHo below was muted and gray, yet it still held a charm Sally found irresistible.

“Well,” Bridget said, rubbing her arms with the towel, “at least it’s not freezing rain.”

“True,” Theresa replied, tossing her towel over a chair. “But a fireplace wouldn’t hurt.”

Sally’s eyes lit up. “We have one!” She crossed to the sleek gas fireplace along one wall and, after a few experimental taps on the control panel, managed to ignite a warm, flickering flame.

They gathered near the fire, the cozy heat seeping into their damp clothes. Bridget and Theresa settled onto the plush sectional while Sally fiddled with the enormous TV mounted above the fireplace. With Theresa’s help, she connected her streaming accounts, and soon Gilmore Girls was playing in the background, filling the space with familiar, lighthearted banter.

--

As the others relaxed, Sally wandered into the kitchen, her curiosity getting the better of her. Opening the pantry, she was greeted by shelves stocked with snacks—chips, crackers, and an assortment of soft drinks and sparkling water. She laughed softly, moving to the fridge and finding it equally well-stocked with fresh basics and a few indulgences.

Her eyes landed on a small box sitting on the marble countertop. It was an elegant package of French bonbons, tied with a silky ribbon. A handwritten card rested beside it.

Welcome to SoHo, Mademoiselle Weiss. Enjoy your new home. — Philippe

Sally grinned, holding the box in her hands as she returned to the living room. “You guys won’t believe this,” she said, holding up the bonbons. “Philippe left me a gift.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow. “Of course he did. He’s thorough.”

“Thorough is an understatement,” Theresa quipped, reaching for the box and plucking out a chocolate.

Sally popped one into her mouth, savoring the rich, velvety flavor. As twilight set over the city and the rain continued to fall, she felt a deep sense of comfort. This penthouse, this city, this new chapter—it already felt like home. If only she had her diapers here, she thought, wistfully.

--

Sally’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, interrupting the quiet hum of Gilmore Girls. She picked it up and glanced at the screen, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “It’s Dad,” she said, answering quickly. “Hi, Dad.”

Adrian’s voice was steady but carried an edge of urgency. “Hi, Sally. Change of plans. I’m coming to get you.”

Sally sat up straighter, confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”

Adrian replied, his tone clipped: “With this rain, all helicopter operations have been suspended. There’s a long delay, and I don’t want to miss the flight out of Teterboro. We’re driving there instead.”

Theresa, already sensing where the conversation was going, opened Waze on her phone and frowned. “Traffic’s a nightmare,” she murmured, showing the screen to Bridget. “One hour to Teterboro. Maybe more if it keeps raining.”

“How long until you’re here?” Sally asked her father, her voice calm despite the growing tension in the room.

“I’m about half an hour away,” Adrian said. “Traffic’s slow, but I’ll get there as soon as I can. Be ready when I arrive.”

“Don’t worry, Dad,” Sally said, her tone lightening. “We’re fine. We’ve got snacks to hold us over. Take your time.”

There was a pause on the other end before Adrian replied, his voice softening. “Good. I’ll see you soon.”

As the call ended, Sally set her phone down and sighed. “Well, that’s a twist.”

--

The next half hour passed in a mix of anticipation. Sally wandered between the living room and her bedroom, restless but trying to stay composed.

Rafa called through the intercom about twenty-five minutes later. Sally picked it up. “Miss Weiss, Mr. Adrian Weiss is here to see you.”

Sally’s heart skipped, and she glanced at her mother and Theresa with a grin. “He’s here.”

Bridget waved a hand. “You have to give him a tour. He’s your father. He needs to see what he’s entrusted to you.”

Theresa smirked. “And I want to see his face when he walks in. This place is something else.”

Sally laughed, “Hi, Rafa. Send him up, please.”

--

The elevator hummed softly as it ascended to the penthouse, and Sally stood near the doors, her excitement building despite the drizzle still streaking the windows. Bridget and Theresa lingered behind her, watching with quiet smiles.

The soft chime announced the elevator’s arrival, and the doors slid open to reveal Adrian Weiss. He stepped out, dressed in a dark trench coat, his hair slightly damp from the rain. His sharp blue eyes immediately scanned the space before landing on Sally.

“Dad!” Sally exclaimed, rushing forward to meet him.

Adrian’s arms opened instinctively, wrapping her in a firm, protective hug. For a moment, the rain, the delays, and the chaos melted away, leaving only the warmth of a father-daughter embrace.

“It’s good to see you,” Adrian said, his voice softer now, a hint of relief cutting through his usual composure.

Sally smiled up at him. “Come on, you have to see the place. You won’t believe it.”

Adrian glanced past her at the penthouse, his brows raising slightly in approval as he took in the luxurious surroundings. “I’m intrigued,” he said, his tone dry but amused.

With her arm linked through his, Sally began to lead him further inside. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”

--

The tour ended in the living room, where Sally stood for a moment, taking in the space that now felt so distinctly hers. Her father was impressed, Bridget was beaming, and Theresa was quietly taking it all in with her usual composed expression. But now it was time to leave.

Sally moved briskly through the apartment, tidying up. She crumpled empty wrappers from the snacks into the garbage and straightened the throw pillows on the sectional. A quick glance at the kitchen confirmed the countertops were clear and clean, and she turned off the gas fireplace with a practiced touch.

She hesitated by the windows, gazing out at the rain-speckled city for just a moment longer before heading to the bathroom. “I’m going to use the bathroom before we leave,” she announced sensibly. “Traffic’s probably going to be brutal.”

Bridget chuckled softly, watching as her daughter disappeared down the hall. “She’s already acting like a responsible tenant,” she said quietly to Adrian, her tone tinged with pride.

Adrian nodded, his expression thoughtful. “She’s definitely coming into her own. It’s good to see.”

When Sally returned, she glanced around the apartment one last time, making sure nothing was out of place. “It’s weird to visit my apartment and not even stay the night,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of wistfulness. “I feel like I’m leaving it too soon.”

Bridget placed a hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be here when you come back. And knowing you, it’ll feel even more like home next time.”

Sally smiled at her mother, the comment grounding her in the moment. “I guess you’re right. Let’s go.”

--

Sally thanked Rafa with a smile as they made their way to the front door. Outside, the black Sprinter van idled at the curb, its sleek, high-roof silhouette gleaming under the streetlights. The driver hurried to meet them, a massive umbrella in hand to shield them from the rain.

The driver greeted politely, ushering them toward the van. The sliding door opened as it of its own accord, with a smooth motion, and the driver held the umbrella steady as each of them stepped inside.

Sally’s eyes widened as she entered. Just like the van at Van Nuys, the interior was pure luxury—four leather captain chairs faced each other around a low table, a minibar glowed softly with ambient lighting, and shelves held more snacks. Plush carpeting cushioned her steps as she slid into one of the chairs, sinking into the buttery-soft leather.

Theresa climbed in after her, glancing around with a rueful smile. “Very nice,” she said, settling into a seat opposite Sally. “But sadly, no bathroom. So your earlier stop was very smart.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “Good to know I made the right call.”

Adrian and Bridget entered last, the driver closing the door behind them and returning to the front. The engine purred to life, and they pulled away from the curb, heading into the city streets.

The rain continued to fall as the van snaked its way through Manhattan’s traffic. The headlights of cars reflected off the slick pavement, casting shimmering patterns of light against the gray backdrop of the city. Inside the van, the mood was a mix of calm and anticipation.

Sally watched as they approached the Holland Tunnel, the steady crawl of traffic giving her plenty of time to take in the sights. The towering buildings gradually gave way to the industrial edges of the city as they crossed under the river and into New Jersey. The rhythm of the windshield wipers was a constant companion, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the journey.

--

By the time they reached the Fixed Base Operator at Teterboro, night had fully settled. The rain was still falling, casting shimmering reflections on the tarmac as they pulled up to the private terminal. The glow of the hangar lights revealed the sleek Gulfstream waiting patiently for its passengers, though the crew had yet to arrive.

The van came to a smooth stop, and the driver turned to Bridget. “Ready when you are, ma’am.”

Adrian, sitting across from Bridget, frowned. “You should be taking the helicopter back, not driving for two hours.”

Theresa stepped in before Bridget could respond, her tone calm but firm. “With the delays, she could end up waiting longer for the helicopter than it would take to get home by road. The van is ready, it’s comfortable, and it’s a safer bet.”

Adrian still looked unconvinced but relented with a heavy sigh. “Fine. But call me when you’re home.”

Bridget nodded, her voice gentle. “I will.”

Bridget turned to Sally, her expression softening. “I guess this is where we part ways.”

Sally frowned slightly, standing to hug her mother tightly. “I’ll miss you, Mom. A week feels like forever.”

Bridget smiled, brushing back Sally’s hair. “It’ll fly by, sweetheart. You’ll have plenty to keep you busy.”

Theresa gave Bridget a brief but warm hug as well. “Safe travels. And call if you need anything.”

“I will,” Bridget replied, stepping out into the rain with the driver holding the umbrella. Sally watched her go, her heart tugging slightly as the black van drove off into the night.

Back in the terminal, Adrian placed a hand on Sally’s shoulder. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get ready for the next leg.”

Sally nodded, taking a deep breath. The night wasn’t over yet.

--

The rain lashed against the large windows of Sterling Aviation’s private terminal, streaking the view of the apron where jets glistened under the muted tarmac lights. Inside the private lounge, Sally shifted restlessly, unable to ignore the weight of the delayed departure. Her father and Theresa were seated comfortably, engrossed in quiet conversation, while Sally wandered aimlessly.

“Rain or shine, wealth doesn’t change the weather,” she murmured to herself, watching a rivulet of water snake down the glass. She turned away and began strolling toward the main corridor, hoping for some distraction.

That’s when she saw her.

Vivienne Hart, unmistakable even with her casual attire—a tailored trench coat over slim black jeans, sunglasses perched on her head despite the gloom outside. She walked with the practiced ease of someone used to being watched, her glossy brown hair swinging just slightly as she approached.

Their paths converged near the entrance to one of the private lounges. Vivienne’s green eyes flicked briefly to Sally, offering the smallest smile, one of those half-acknowledgments celebrities give when they sense someone recognizes them. Sally hesitated for a split second, but then her feet moved of their own accord.

“Hi,” Sally said, her voice a touch breathless. “I’m sorry, but… you’re Vivienne Hart, right?”

Vivienne paused, tilting her head slightly as if to confirm. “That’s me,” she replied, her voice smooth and measured, with a trace of amusement.

Sally gestured around, trying to appear less starstruck. “Crazy weather, huh?”

Vivienne chuckled, her gaze drifting to the windows. “Tell me about it. But hey, if you’ve got to be stuck somewhere, better here than JFK, right? Can you imagine?”

Sally grinned, the ice broken. “No long lines, no people camping out in corners.”

“And no one asking for autographs while you’re buying gum,” Vivienne quipped, her lips curling into a wry smile.

Sally seized the moment. “Speaking of autographs… would you mind if we took a selfie?” She was suddenly shy and uneasy.

Vivienne seemed to consider this for a moment before shrugging lightly. “Sure, why not?”

Sally quickly positioned her phone, standing beside Vivienne and snapping a quick photo. The actress smiled effortlessly, even for an impromptu shot.

“Thanks,” Sally said, her grin wide. “This is… kind of surreal.”

Vivienne gave her a warm nod before stepping toward her private lounge. “Take care. And stay dry.”

“You too,” Sally called after her, watching as Vivienne disappeared into the discreet door.

--

Back in her lounge, Sally couldn’t resist pulling up the photo. She texted it to Katrina and Clara with a single caption:

“Guess who I just met?!”

 

The reply was immediate.

Katrina: “NO WAY!!!”

Clara: “SHUT UP THAT’S VIVIENNE HART???”

Katrina: “Sending to the group chat now. Everyone’s going to freak.”

 

Sally groaned, laughing despite herself. “Katrina, don’t—” But the damage was already done. Notifications started flooding in as her classmates lost their minds over the celebrity encounter. Most weren’t surprised #GulfstreamSally was rubbing shoulders with Hollywood actors.

--

Back in the lounge, the mood was growing restless despite the luxury surrounding them. Captain Henderson appeared periodically with updates, his demeanor calm and professional. “We’re looking at another hour, at least,” he informed them. “The maintenance team is wrapping up, and we’ll need clearance once the weather lightens up.”

Dinner was served soon after, a sophisticated meal set at the polished dining table in their lounge. Crisp linens, full silver service, and beautifully plated courses reminded Sally of the standards she’d never grown up with but would have to get used to. Despite the elegant surroundings, the hours dragged on.

Adrian sighed heavily, checking his watch. “If this goes on much longer, I’ll be tempted to walk to Zurich.”

Theresa chuckled, sipping her coffee. “I’ll pack the snacks.”

“I’m going to change,” she said casually, heading toward the private bathroom attached to the lounge. “These jeans are still damp, and this isn’t my idea of fun.”

Adrian nodded, absentmindedly.

--

The bathroom was elegant, with sleek marble finishes and a large vanity. Sally set her travel bag on the counter, unzipping it to fish out the comfortable lounge pants and hoodie she had packed for the flight. As she pulled out her neatly folded clothing, her hand brushed against something soft and unexpected—a stray pull-up from some of her previous trips.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and her heart skipped a beat. It was a Ninjama, a pull-up she had come to love for its snug fit, soft feel and design. The discovery sent a quiet thrill through her.

She glanced toward the closed bathroom door, ensuring her privacy, then picked up the pull-up, holding it in her hands for a moment. The smooth material felt familiar and reassuring, and as she turned it over, the sight of the playful design made her smile. She felt a giddy sense of anticipation—something about the simplicity of the ritual gave her a rare sense of peace.

Sally set it aside for a moment, stepping out of her jeans and carefully and shedding the rest of her clothes. Naked, her reflection caught her eye, and she allowed herself a small smile. The simplicity of being alone, of having this moment to herself, felt like a luxury all its own. She paused, studying the lines of her body in the mirror.

She turned slightly, catching her profile in the mirror, her figure framed by the soft glow of the vanity lights. The luxurious surroundings felt like a sanctuary, amplifying the quiet intimacy of the moment. She studied the curve of her silhouette, tracing her hand lightly along her body, feeling the warmth of her skin against the cool air.

Her gaze drifted to the Ninjama resting on the counter. Its simplicity juxtaposed with the opulence of the bathroom brought a subtle, playful thrill to her. The thought of slipping it on added an element of whimsy to her otherwise refined routine. She reached for it, her fingers brushing against the soft, pliable, absorbent material. So convenient for her period, she smiled, ruefully.

Sliding it up her legs slowly, she felt the smooth fabric glide against her skin, hugging her hips snugly as it settled into place. The design, with its understated charm, brought a faint smile to her lips. She adjusted it slightly, her movements deliberate and unhurried, appreciating how it made her feel—secure, grounded, and oddly free.

She turned back to the mirror, her eyes tracing the gentle lines and shapes. It was a contrast, the sense of playful rebellion against the polished sophistication of her life. A secret she kept for herself, one that brought her joy without explanation.

Sally let her hand rest on the edge of the counter, leaning slightly as she observed her reflection. There was a calm confidence in her gaze now, a quiet acknowledgment of the balance she struck between her outward image and her private moments. Pulling her lounge pants back on, she smoothed them over her hips, the pull-up disappearing seamlessly beneath the soft fabric. Her light blue hoodie followed suit, and the cozy material felt warm and comfortable.

With a final glance at her reflection, she gathered her things and left the bathroom, carrying the comfort of that private moment with her as she returned to the lounge.

Glancing at herself again in the mirror, she adjusted her hoodie, ensuring everything was perfectly concealed. No one would know, of course. This was her private ritual, something she indulged in when she needed a moment of grounding amidst the chaos of her increasingly hectic life.

--

Theresa glanced up from her phone as Sally returned from the bathroom in her lounge pants and oversized hoodie, looking noticeably more relaxed. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Well, someone’s ready for a cozy flight.”

Sally plopped into the chair opposite her, crossing her legs beneath her. “Flying in jeans is overrated. Besides, this hoodie is practically a blanket. I’m maximizing comfort.”

Theresa chuckled, setting her phone down. “Smart move. It’s going to be a long one, especially with this delay.”

Sally leaned back, sighing. “Do you think we’ll have time to jog when we get to Zurich? I feel like I’ve been sitting for days between the Keys and here.”

Theresa’s eyes lit up at the mention of jogging. “Zurich is the best city in the world for jogging,” she said with conviction, leaning forward slightly. “The air is clean, the scenery is stunning, and there are paths everywhere. You’re practically jogging through a postcard.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That good, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Theresa replied, warming up to her favorite subject. “You’ve got the lake, first of all—Zürichsee. It’s crystal clear, surrounded by these charming little villages and snow-capped mountains in the distance. There’s a path that runs right along the water, and it’s flat, so it’s perfect for an easy jog or a longer run.”

Sally smiled. “That sounds amazing.”

“And if you’re up for a challenge,” Theresa continued, “you can head up to Uetliberg. It’s a mountain just outside the city. There are trails all over it—steep enough to get your heart racing, but the views at the top? Unbelievable. You can see the entire city and the Alps stretching out beyond it.”

“Okay, now you’re just making me impatient,” Sally teased, though her excitement was evident.

Theresa grinned. “And the best part? It’s safe. I mean, it’s Zurich. You could jog at five in the morning or ten at night, and no one would bat an eye. Plus, the Swiss are super friendly. You’ll probably get a few nods and smiles along the way.”

Sally nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like heaven. I really hope we have time. I feel like I need it, especially with all this sitting and waiting.”

Theresa leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Trust me, once you’re there, you’ll make time. Zurich has a way of drawing you outdoors—it’s like the city’s built for it. Between the parks, the lake, and the mountains, you can’t help but get moving.”

--

Their conversation was interrupted by a soft knock on the lounge door. The concierge stepped in, his expression polite but efficient. “Mr. Weiss, Miss Weiss, Miss Theresa—your jet is ready. The van is waiting to take you to the tarmac.”

Sally exchanged a look with Theresa, a mix of relief and excitement crossing her face. “Finally,” she said, standing and stretching. “Let’s go.”

Theresa grabbed her carry-on, slinging it over her shoulder. “Time to leave the rain behind. Next stop, Zurich.”

They followed the concierge toward the exit, the anticipation of the trip ahead lifting the mood as they stepped into the sleek black van idling just outside.

--

The Gulfstream G700 cruised steadily at 41,000 feet, its cabin cocooned in quiet luxury. Outside, the darkness of the Atlantic stretched endlessly, dotted only by faint pinpricks of starlight. Inside, the mood was tranquil. The clock had just ticked past 10 PM when Nitaya appeared from the galley, carrying trays of steaming tomato soup accompanied by perfectly crisped Gorgonzola toast.

Sally cradled the delicate porcelain cup in her hands, the rich aroma of the soup filling the cabin. She sipped it carefully, its warmth soothing after the long wait at the FBO. On the side, a bottle of Vichy Catalan sparkled faintly in the cabin light, its mineral effervescence a refreshing complement to the comforting meal.

Theresa glanced over, leaning slightly in her seat. “You look like you’re ready to pass out.”

Sally smirked, but a yawn escaped her as if to confirm Theresa’s observation. “I’m fine,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction. Her Ninjama was already wet, and she felt her body relax as it took in the relaxed environment.

“You’ve been up all day,” Theresa countered, her tone gentle. “There’s a bed in the back. Go use it.”

Sally hesitated, glancing toward the rear of the cabin. “That’s Dad’s space. He’s supposed to sleep there. I’ll just use the sofa.”

Adrian, seated in his recliner with a tablet in hand, caught the exchange and spoke without looking up. “Sally, you take the bed. I’m fine here. Besides,” he added with a faint smile, “you’re the heiress. You should be well-rested.”

Sally opened her mouth to protest but caught the reassuring look Theresa was giving her. Reluctantly, she relented. “Fine. Thanks, Dad.”

--

Theresa followed Sally to the back, sliding the partition closed to give them privacy. The space was understated but elegant—a proper bed tucked neatly into the corner, with soft linens and ambient lighting creating a cozy atmosphere.

Theresa gestured toward the bed with a knowing smile. “Before you settle in, let me show you something.”

She lifted the mattress effortlessly, revealing the cleverly designed storage compartment beneath. Inside, neatly packed, was a discreet package of Sally’s diapers. Theresa turned to her, her expression both practical and warm. “Figured you might want to get comfortable before you sleep. It’s all set for you.”

Sally reached for the package and held it in her hands.

“Besides”, Theresa added, “the mattress has a protective sheet, the best kind. You won’t feel it”, she winked, running her hands under the bedsheets.

Sally’s cheeks warmed, and she offered Theresa a shy but genuine smile. “Thank you. For… everything.”

Theresa gave a small shrug, her professionalism tempered by her easygoing nature. “That’s what I’m here for. Sleep well, boss.”

With that, Theresa left, sliding the partition closed behind her.

--

Sally sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, listening to the faint hum of the engines. She reached for the package, her fingers brushing over the familiar material, and allowed herself a moment to breathe. This part of her life, so private yet integral, felt like a small act of self-care amid the whirlwind of responsibilities.

In the adjoining bathroom, she slipped out of her lounge pants and carefully removed the already damp Ninjama, setting it aside. She wiped herself gently, and with practiced ease, she unfolded one of the diapers and inspected it. It was a good brand, and wondered if Theresa had done any research prior to buying her diapers. She expertly unfluffed it and slid it on, the soft, snug fit bringing a sense of relaxed bliss.

Pulling her lounge pants back over it, she inspected the obvious bulge, and she was thankful for this private space in her father’s jet. She brushed her teeth and as she flossed, and she reflected on the day she had begun in Key West. Now, she was somewhere over Canada on her way to Switzerland. She let out a contented sigh and slipped out of the bathroom, settling onto the bed.

Propping herself up against the plush pillows, Sally opened her laptop. The glow of the screen illuminated her face as she logged into her email, her fingers moving deftly over the keyboard. The cabin was quiet, save for the gentle hum of the engines, and the rhythmic sound was almost lulling.

Though the day had been long and filled with unexpected moments, she felt an odd sense of peace. Wrapped in her soft blanket, nestled in the bed, and cocooned in the quiet luxury of her father’s jet, she allowed herself to unwind.

Her thoughts wandered briefly to Zurich and what awaited her there, but for now, this small moment of solitude felt like enough.

--

Dear Miss Weiss,

I hope this email finds you well. I’ve reviewed your recent submissions, and while your math exercises are satisfactory, I must express my concern regarding the quality of your essays. Frankly, they do not reflect the level of effort or engagement I have come to expect from you. 

I understand that you are currently traveling, and I accommodated your request to miss school under the condition that your assignments would remain up to standard. However, this work is far below your usual capabilities, and it is not acceptable for you to submit such mediocre work.

I am giving you one opportunity to reconsider your approach. You will need to redo all essays for this week and submit them by next Friday. Additionally, I expect the next set of assignments for the following week to be submitted on time, also by next Friday. This is non-negotiable.

Traveling can present unique challenges, and I understand if this situation requires an adjustment in your focus and efforts. However, I expect you to rise to the occasion. I know you are capable of much better work than this, and I trust you will take this seriously moving forward.

Please confirm receipt of this email and your commitment to completing these tasks.

Sincerely,

Mr. Harper

 

Sally stared at her laptop screen, the glow of the email burning into her retinas. Her stomach sank as she read and re-read the words, the disappointment in Mr. Harper’s tone hitting her like a cold slap. “Mediocre work,” he had said. She blinked hard, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.

She closed her laptop with more force than she intended, leaning back against the soft pillows of the bed. A weight settled on her chest as she let out a slow, shaky breath. The evening had been going so well—cozy, comforting, and calm—but now this email had shattered that peace.

Her mind raced with questions and self-recriminations. How had she let this happen? Why hadn’t she spent more time on the essays? She knew she had rushed them, but she didn’t think they were that bad. Had she really been so distracted by her travels?

Her gaze drifted to the dark window, the faint reflection of her face staring back at her. This wasn’t just a minor setback. This was a direct challenge from Mr. Harper—a reminder that no matter how far she traveled, her responsibilities wouldn’t wait.

Sally closed her eyes, the wave of defeat washing over her. Her chest tightened as the weight of the looming deadlines settled in. The idea of redoing all the essays on top of her regular workload felt impossible. She wrapped her arms around herself, wishing for a moment of clarity—or even just the strength to tackle what was ahead.

“I really screwed up,” she whispered to herself, the words hanging heavy in the quiet room.

--

Sally tossed and turned in the cozy bed, the soft hum of the Gulfstream engines a steady background rhythm. Her body was tired, but her mind refused to quiet. Mr. Harper’s email replayed in her thoughts, the weight of his disappointment clinging to her like a heavy blanket.

She shifted slightly, the soft padding of her diaper crinkling faintly beneath her lounge pants. Normally, the act of letting go and wetting her diaper would bring her a small sense of relief, a comforting ritual she leaned on in moments of stress. But tonight, it didn’t help. Her thoughts continued to churn.

Her mind wandered to the apartment in SoHo, the art gallery below it, and the streets of New York. She clung to those pleasant thoughts, trying to coax herself into a deeper sleep. But the slumber was restless, her dreams fragmented by lingering anxiety. After four hours of fitful dozing, she gave up.

Sally slid out of bed and padded to the bathroom. In the soft light, she peeled off her wet diaper, cleaned herself with the provided wipes, and managed to step into her padded panties – her period showed no signs of abating - and splashed cool water on her face. She stared at her reflection for a moment, feeling the need to do something—anything—to shake off the tension.

“If it’s 2 AM at home,” she whispered to herself, “it’s morning in Zurich. Might as well act like it.”

Pulling on her hoodie and tying her hair back into a loose ponytail, she decided to explore. The cabin was dimly lit, the soft glow from recessed lights casting long shadows. As she stepped through the bedroom partition, she noticed her father sprawled on the sofa, his breathing deep and even, while Theresa was curled up in one of the reclined armchairs, a blanket draped over her.

Sally’s eyes were drawn to the front of the cabin, where Nitaya sat quietly in her chair, a Kindle glowing faintly in her hands. As Sally approached, Nitaya looked up, startled, and quickly rose from her seat.

“Miss Weiss! You’re awake,” she said, her voice soft but surprised. “Is everything all right?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Sally replied with a shrug, her tone casual. “Thought I’d see the sunrise or something. Maybe get some coffee?”

Nitaya’s face softened into a smile. “Of course. I’ll brew some right away.”

Sally grinned faintly. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

While the coffee brewed, Sally wandered tentatively toward the cockpit, hesitating before poking her head in. Captain Henderson turned slightly, spotting her.

“Miss Weiss,” he said warmly. “Couldn’t sleep?”

She stepped inside, offering a small smile. “Not really. Figured I’d see what it’s like up here.”

First Officer Gruber gave her a friendly nod. “Welcome to the best view in the house.”

Nitaya stepped up from the galley and offered to unfold the jump seat.

Sally slid into it, gazing out at the horizon. The faintest glow of dawn was beginning to streak across the sky, a soft gradient of pink and orange that chased away the night.

She studied the screens before her, the rows of buttons and numbers both mesmerizing and overwhelming. “It’s so… complicated,” she murmured, her tone filled with quiet awe.

“It looks it at first,” Gruber said, gesturing to the primary flight display. “But it’s all about focus. Right now, we’re at cruise altitude, heading east-northeast. We’ll reach Ireland in about an hour, then it’s two more to Zurich.”

Sally nodded, her gaze lingering on the map overlay. “It’s kind of amazing how it all works.”

Henderson chuckled. “It’s been refined over decades. A mix of technology, experience, and a little intuition.”

Nitaya appeared a few minutes later with a steaming mug of coffee, handing it to Sally with a knowing smile. “Freshly brewed,” she said, setting it on a small holder beside the jump seat.

“Thanks,” Sally said, inhaling the rich aroma. The real coffee, brewed for her. She felt privileged. She sipped it slowly, savoring the warmth and flavor, feeling herself relax for the first time in hours.

From the corner of her eye, she noticed Nitaya already slipping croissants into the small oven in the galley. The sight made her smile. Nitaya always anticipated everyone’s needs, often before they were voiced.

Sally turned back to the sunrise, the vibrant colors now spilling fully across the horizon. For a brief moment, Mr. Harper’s demands felt distant, his criticism a faint echo against the beauty of the moment. The realization struck her: this was a challenge she could handle.

She would redo the essays, learn from her mistakes, and grow. The world wouldn’t stop throwing obstacles her way, but she could meet them head-on.

Cradling her coffee, Sally gazed out at the awakening sky, her mind clearer than it had been all night.

Chapter 74 – Zurich

The soft light of late morning filtered through the Gulfstream’s windows as Sally and Theresa sat at the dining table, their plates adorned with delicate croissants, fresh fruit, and scrambled eggs. The aroma of coffee mingled with the hum of the engines. Adrian, seated on the nearby sofa, was engrossed in his laptop, a cup of coffee in hand and Bloomberg TV murmuring on the pop-up screen in front of him.

Sally pushed a slice of melon around her plate, glancing at Theresa before finally speaking. “I got an email from my teacher,” she began in a low voice, careful not to disturb her father. “Let’s just say… it wasn’t good.”

Theresa arched an eyebrow, leaning slightly closer. “Oh? What happened?”

“He hated my essays,” Sally admitted, her cheeks coloring slightly. “He said they were mediocre, and he assumes it’s because I’ve been traveling. He’s giving me one chance to fix it—to redo all the essays by next Friday and submit the next batch on time.”

Theresa tilted her head, observing Sally with a mix of sympathy and curiosity. “And? Do you think he’s right?”

Sally nodded reluctantly, letting out a sigh. “I rushed them. I didn’t take it seriously, and now I’ve got to fix it. But I don’t know how to make him see that I’m willing to improve.”

Theresa placed her fork down thoughtfully. “You need to show him, not just tell him. Actions matter. Why don’t you request a Zoom call? Be upfront, explain the situation, and show him you’re serious about making this right. It’s not just about the essays—it’s about your attitude.”

Sally blinked, surprised. “A Zoom call? You think he’d even agree to that?”

Theresa smirked. “Why wouldn’t he? Teachers want to see their students succeed. And it’ll give you a chance to show him you’re taking responsibility, which will go a long way.”

Adrian’s voice broke into their hushed conversation. “What are you two plotting over there?” he asked, looking up with a bemused expression.

Theresa didn’t miss a beat. “Just discussing world domination, as usual,” she said with a sly grin. “Step one: good breakfast.”

Adrian shook his head, chuckling lightly, before returning to his laptop. Sally caught Theresa’s eye and mouthed a silent thank you.

--

The car pulled into Adrian’s expansive estate just after midday, the neatly manicured grounds glistening faintly from the morning dew. As the driver unloaded their luggage, Theresa stepped toward the waiting taxi.

Sally furrowed her brow. “You’re leaving already? Where are you going?”

Theresa raised an eyebrow, smirking. “To my apartment, of course.”

Sally blinked, surprised. “You have an apartment here?”

Theresa placed a hand on her hip. “What did you think? That I sleep under a bridge?”

Sally opened her mouth to respond, but Theresa continued with a grin. “Although, honestly, even a bridge in Zurich would beat some hotels I’ve been to. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Theresa winked, stepping into the taxi and waving as it disappeared down the driveway.

--

Adrian’s dining room was bathed in natural light, the large windows framing a view of Zurich’s picturesque hills. The table was elegantly set, but not overly formal—a reflection of Adrian’s understated style. The dishes were a feast for the senses: a chilled gazpacho in delicate ceramic bowls, a golden tortilla de patatas sliced perfectly, and a small plate of olives, jamón ibérico, and Manchego cheese as accompaniments.

Mia, Adrian’s trusted housekeeper, hovered nearby, her movements precise yet unobtrusive. She placed a basket of crusty bread on the table and stepped back, watching attentively for any sign that her services might be needed.

Adrian gestured for Sally to sit, taking the chair across from her. “This,” he said, indicating the spread, “is a little taste of Spain. It’s one of the places I spent time in, growing up. My father was fond of Spain, though he never said why. He spent years between Sevilla and Cadiz, and I ended up there often as well.”

Sally paused, her spoon halfway to her mouth, intrigued. “You never mentioned that before.”

Adrian’s lips curved into a faint smile. “I suppose it never came up. But the food—” He gestured to the gazpacho. “This was always a favorite. Simple, refreshing, but packed with flavor. It’s Andalusian to its core.”

Sally dipped her spoon into the chilled soup, the vibrant flavors of ripe tomatoes, cucumbers, and a hint of garlic awakening her senses. “It’s amazing,” she said, genuinely impressed. “I didn’t realize you had such a connection to Spain.”

Adrian leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “It wasn’t always easy there. My father was… let’s say, not the most approachable man, and traveling with him was often more about learning discipline than enjoying the scenery. But the culture—the music, the architecture, and especially the food—it left an impression.”

Mia appeared at Adrian’s elbow, clearing his soup bowl with practiced efficiency and replacing it with the next dish. Sally noticed the tortilla de patatas had been sliced into perfect wedges, the golden crust glistening slightly from the olive oil.

“I’ve always loved this,” Adrian said, cutting into a piece of the tortilla. “It’s humble food, but it’s hearty and satisfying. Eggs, potatoes, onions—it’s the kind of dish that reminds you of simpler times.”

Sally took a bite, savoring the soft, creamy texture and the subtle sweetness of the caramelized onions. “This is incredible,” she said, smiling at Mia as she refilled her sparkling water. “I might need to take lessons from Mia before I leave.”

Mia chuckled softly, retreating back toward the kitchen. “Anytime, Miss Sally.”

As they continued eating, Sally glanced at the table and grinned mischievously. “You know what’s missing?” she asked, leaning slightly forward. “Sangria.”

Adrian looked up, his expression turning serious for a moment. “You’re right. I should have thought of that. But we could open a bottle of Tempranillo—”

“Daddy!” Sally interrupted, laughing. “I’m kidding. Sparkling water is fine—for now.” She winked, her playful tone breaking the momentary tension.

Adrian chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re right. But I’ll keep the Tempranillo in mind for another time.”

--

As the meal wound down, Sally couldn’t avoid yawning. She pushed her plate aside, feeling full but content. “So,” she said, folding her arms on the table. “Spain wasn’t all bad, then?”

Adrian smiled faintly, his gaze distant. “Not at all. It had its moments—usually when my father wasn’t around. I suppose it’s why I keep coming back to the food. It reminds me of the parts I enjoyed, the pieces I want to hold on to.”

Sally nodded, understanding. “And now you’re sharing it with me.”

Adrian met her eyes, a flicker of warmth passing through his expression. “Exactly. I want you to experience the things that mattered to me, the things worth remembering.”

Sally smiled, leaning back in her chair. “Well, mission accomplished. This was amazing.”

Mia reappeared, collecting their plates and offering a small dish of almonds and dried figs to finish the meal. Adrian gestured to the tray, but Sally shook her head. “I’m so full. But thanks, Mia.”

Mia nodded, her smile kind. “There’s always tomorrow, Miss Sally.”

As Sally rose from the table, Adrian stood as well, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Go get some rest,” he said gently. “You’ve had a long journey, and there’s plenty of time to talk later.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she replied, feeling the quiet bond between them growing stronger. “For lunch—and for sharing a piece of your world.”

Adrian gave her shoulder a small squeeze. “It’s your world too, Sally. Remember that.”

With that, she headed toward the elevator, her heart lighter than it had been in days.

--

When Sally stepped out of the elevator into her apartment on the top floor, her tired eyes immediately widened. Resting elegantly on her neatly made bed was a stunning Birkin bag in rich caramel leather. It was unmistakable—the same bag she had admired in Hartford. Her breath caught as she stepped closer, her fingers brushing against the smooth, buttery leather.

For a moment, she just stood there, overwhelmed. It wasn’t just the extravagance of the gift—though she knew very well how expensive it was—it was the thought behind it. Her father had noticed her hesitation, her admiration, and now here it was. It wasn’t just a bag; it was a symbol of his attention, his care, and his desire to connect with her.

Clutching the bag close, Sally turned and headed back to the elevator. Tears were already making an appearance. As the doors slid open on the main floor, Adrian was already there, waiting for her, as though he’d known she’d come back down.

“Dad,” she began, holding up the bag, her voice trembling slightly. “I don’t even know what to say. Thank you… I mean, really, thank you.” She wiped her tears so she could look at him.

Adrian smiled warmly, stepping forward to embrace her. “You don’t need to say anything. I saw how you admired it in Hartford, and I wanted you to have it. You have excellent taste, Sally.”

She pulled back slightly, looking up at him. “But it’s… so much. I was just admiring it. I never thought…”

He cut her off gently. “That’s why I wanted to get it for you. You hesitated because you’re thoughtful, and that’s a good thing. But sometimes, Sally, it’s okay to indulge. You’re my daughter, and you deserve the best.”

Sally hugged him tightly, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Thank you for noticing. For always paying attention.”

Adrian stepped back, placing a hand on her cheek. “It’s more than a bag. It’s about appreciating craftsmanship, style, and the finer things in life. It’s something I want you to grow into. And,” he added with a playful glint in his eye, “it’ll look fantastic on you.”

Sally laughed softly, a mix of gratitude and happiness washing over her. “I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”

Adrian nodded, his voice softer now. “I know you will.”

With the bag still clutched in her hands, Sally felt an unspoken bond growing between them—a connection forged in moments like these, where the gestures carried more weight than words ever could. As she headed back to her apartment, she realized it wasn’t just about the gift. It was about being seen, understood, and loved.

--

Sally stepped into her apartment, the faint scent of lavender and cedarwood welcoming her back to her private retreat. The Birkin bag rested lightly in her hands, its caramel tones almost glowing under the soft lighting. She wandered into the open-concept living area, her bare feet sinking into the plush area rug, and placed the bag carefully on the glass coffee table.

For a moment, she just stood there, staring at it. The bag looked impossibly perfect against the backdrop of her minimalist décor—the caramel leather paired effortlessly with the muted earth tones of the furniture and the natural light streaming in from the large windows. It was as though the space had been designed for this exact piece.

Her fingers brushed over the handles, tracing the fine stitching and the smoothness of the hardware. Adrian’s words echoed in her mind: “It’s about appreciating craftsmanship.” Sally realized she wasn’t just admiring a bag—she was absorbing the intention behind it. It wasn’t simply a gift; it was a connection to her father, a reminder that he noticed the details about her, that he cared enough to surprise her with something so thoughtful.

She felt a faint smile tug at her lips as she marveled at how seamlessly the bag fit into her life, as if it had been meant to be hers all along. It was a symbol of her growing identity—an heirloom of sorts, but one she could carry with her, both literally and figuratively.

Her gaze lingered on the bag, her thoughts beginning to blur at the edges. The weight of exhaustion crept in, her body finally demanding rest after the long hours of travel and emotional highs of the day. Sally blinked, breaking out of her reverie. The Birkin bag could wait.

With a quiet sigh, she turned and headed toward the bathroom, ready to shed the day and embrace the comfort of her private rituals.

Sally stepped into her private bathroom, her shoulders heavy with exhaustion. The sleek marble counters and soft, ambient lighting welcomed her like an old friend, soothing her frayed nerves. She pulled her hair into a loose bun, glancing at herself in the mirror. Dark circles hinted at the toll of a restless night and a whirlwind morning, and she stifled another yawn as she opened the cabinet under the sink.

There it was—the open package of diapers Mia had thoughtfully left for her during her last visit. The sight brought a faint smile to her lips, a feeling of comfort settling over her like a familiar blanket. It was as if Mia had anticipated this very moment, knowing Sally would return worn out and in need of some extra care.

Sally closed the cabinet and turned on the shower, stepping under the warm stream of water. The sensation was blissful, washing away the fatigue and tension that clung to her body. She closed her eyes and let the water cascade over her face, her mind quieting for the first time in hours.

Once finished, she wrapped herself in a plush towel and dried off quickly, her body moving on autopilot. Opening the cabinet again, she reached for one of the diapers, its soft, pliable material bringing a small sense of anticipation. With practiced ease, she slid it on, adjusting it snugly around her hips. The familiar fit brought an immediate wave of relaxation, a physical manifestation of the comfort she craved.

She pulled on an oversized t-shirt, its soft fabric brushing against her skin as she yawned again, her eyes already heavy with sleep. Padding back into her bedroom, she remembered to set an alarm on her phone, her fingers fumbling slightly as her exhaustion deepened. “No sleeping until midnight,” she murmured to herself, a small smile tugging at her lips.

With the blackout blinds drawn, the room was enveloped in soothing darkness. Sally slipped under the cool sheets, her body sinking into the mattress as if it had been waiting for this moment all day. Her mind, now calm and at ease, reflected on the events of the past day—the connection she had shared with her father, the care she felt from those around her, and the quiet understanding that she was finding her way.

Protected, comfortable, and finally at peace, Sally let out a soft sigh as her body fully relaxed. For the first time in hours, her thoughts didn’t race; instead, they faded into the background, overtaken by the weight of sleep. Within moments, she drifted off into a deep, dreamless slumber, her spirit content and her body grateful for the rest it so desperately needed.

--

The afternoon sun cast a soft glow over the lush grounds of Adrian’s estate, the scent of freshly cut grass mingling with the crisp, cool air. Sally stretched her arms above her head as she wandered along the paved paths, her steps leisurely.

Two hours of sleep had done wonders to clear the fog from her mind, and now the fresh air was waking up her body. Her soaked siesta diaper was already a distant memory, and her tight jeans and loose blouse testified to her maturity.

As she neared the expansive garage, she spotted Roberto, Mia’s husband, diligently polishing the sleek black Mercedes-Benz S-Class parked just outside. The car gleamed under the sunlight, its finish so flawless that it reflected the surrounding greenery.

“Hi, Roberto,” Sally called out, giving him a friendly wave.

He looked up, straightening from his work with a warm smile. “Miss Sally, good afternoon. Enjoying the day?”

“I am,” she said, stopping a few feet away. Her eyes drifted past him to the open garage door, where she caught glimpses of other vehicles. “What’s in there?” she asked curiously, tilting her head toward the dim interior.

Roberto chuckled, gesturing toward the entrance. “It’s more like a mini-museum than a garage. Your father keeps a few of his treasures here—some modern, some classic.”

Sally took a hesitant step closer, peering into the shadowed space. Beside the polished Mercedes sat her father’s Porsche, its silver paint catching the faint light streaming in. Further back, the silhouettes of other cars loomed—one with a distinct vintage shape, another with sharp, modern lines.

“Want to take a look?” Roberto offered, setting his polishing cloth down on the hood of the Mercedes.

Sally hesitated, biting her lip. The garage was cavernous and dimly lit, the cars seeming almost like sleeping giants. “Maybe later,” she said with a shy smile, taking a step back. “Thanks, though.”

Roberto nodded understandingly. “Anytime, Miss Sally. The cars aren’t going anywhere.”

--

Sally continued her stroll, the crunch of gravel underfoot blending with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. She passed the pool and its covered counterpart, making a mental note to fit in some swimming during her stay. The clear, invigorating air made everything seem sharper—the blue of the sky, the vivid greens of the estate grounds, and the distant outline of the city below.

Reaching a small rise, she turned to take in the view. The Zurichsee sparkled like a jewel in the distance, its calm surface reflecting the surrounding hills and the beginnings of the Alpine foothills. For a moment, Sally stood still, her hands in her pockets, simply soaking in the serenity of the scene. It was a stark contrast to the bustling energy of New York, and she found herself grateful for the change of pace.

--

The grand foyer of the house greeted her with its polished floors and quiet elegance. As she made her way down the hall, she noticed the door to her father’s study slightly ajar. Peeking in, she saw Adrian seated at his large desk, speaking into the phone with his usual measured tone. He looked up as she appeared in the doorway, and a small smile softened his expression.

He waved her in, gesturing for her to sit in one of the leather chairs across from his desk. Sally stepped inside quietly, sinking into the chair as Adrian continued his conversation. She waited patiently, her curiosity piqued by the hints of business she overheard, and the familiar comfort of being in her father’s space settled over her.

The moment felt like the perfect pause, a quiet interlude before whatever was to come next.

--

Sally sat across from her father, watching him closely as he leaned back in his leather chair, the phone pressed to his ear. Adrian’s tone was casual but engaged, his deep voice carrying just enough amusement to pique her curiosity.

“Danny,” Adrian said, shaking his head slightly. “You’re always up to something. Monaco? And now Ventimiglia? Sounds like quite the itinerary.”

Sally tilted her head slightly, pretending to look at the bookshelf nearby, but her ears were trained on the conversation. Her father’s posture shifted slightly, signaling interest, though his expression remained composed.

“I’m here with my daughter,” Adrian said, glancing over at her. His words made Sally’s stomach flip. She sat up a little straighter, her curiosity fully engaged now.

He paused as Daniel spoke on the other end. Then Adrian chuckled, his gaze briefly meeting hers. “Bring her along? Are you serious?”

Sally blinked, her pulse quickening. Bring her where? she wondered, her mind racing.

“Danny, who else is even on board?” Adrian asked, leaning forward slightly, his tone more measured now. There was a long pause, during which Adrian’s eyebrows lifted slightly. He rubbed his temple, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“The Flying Fox? You rented the Flying Fox?” he repeated, his voice carrying a note of incredulity. Even Sally, unfamiliar with yachts, could tell this wasn’t just any boat.

Her father sat back again, listening intently. “Well, that explains it,” he muttered. “And it’s not too crowded? You’ve got your parents, a few friends…” His voice trailed off as Daniel listed names, and for a moment, Adrian’s expression turned thoughtful.

“You’re not trying to drag me into a business meeting disguised as a vacation, are you?” Adrian asked, though there was a warmth in his tone that hinted at the depth of his friendship with Daniel. He nodded slowly, more to himself than to Daniel’s unseen reply. “No, no… I see what you’re doing. This is about friendship, isn’t it?”

Sally’s curiosity reached its peak. Flying Fox? Monaco? Ventimiglia? What on earth is going on?

Adrian leaned forward, pressing a button on his phone to mute it. He turned to Sally, his sharp eyes softening slightly. “What do you think about spending a couple of days on a yacht in the Mediterranean?”

Sally blinked, momentarily stunned by the absurdity of the question. “A yacht?” she repeated, her voice a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Like… a real one?”

Adrian smirked. “A real one.”

Though she didn’t know the specifics, the name alone sounded impressive. She nodded quickly, her enthusiasm breaking through her usual poise. “Of course I’d like to.”

Adrian chuckled, unmuting the phone. “Danny, we’re coming,” he said, his tone decisive now. “But you’d better have space for us.”

Daniel’s reply made Adrian laugh, though Sally couldn’t hear the words. “All right, see you tomorrow off Ventimiglia,” Adrian said before ending the call.

He set the phone down on the desk and looked at Sally with a raised eyebrow. “Well,” he said dryly, “that was unexpected.”

Sally stared at him, a mixture of awe and curiosity flickering across her face. “We’re really going to the Mediterranean? On a yacht?”

Adrian leaned back, the faintest hint of amusement in his expression. “Apparently so.”

Sally nodded slowly, the name meaning little to her but carrying enough weight in her father’s tone to make her think it must be something special. The only yachts she had ever seen were the ones moored in marinas during vacations with her mom. She imagined something similar—sleek, with white railings and just big enough to sleep in. But she didn’t comment. Everything about this was new, and she didn’t want to reveal her lack of knowledge.

“So… how are we getting there?” she asked instead, leaning forward slightly.

Adrian stood, straightening the papers on his desk as though the question didn’t warrant much thought. “By helicopter, of course.”

Sally blinked, a tiny laugh escaping her lips. “Of course,” she repeated, her tone half-wry, half-awed. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say, but somehow the sheer ease with which he made it sound was the most surreal part.

Adrian smiled, standing up. “Get used to it, Sally. Life has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.”

Sally rose from her seat, her excitement barely contained as she followed her father out of the study, already imagining the adventure that awaited them.

Sally hesitated for a moment as her father walked toward the door, then called after him, “Wait! But… who’s going to be there? I don’t know anyone.”

Adrian stopped, turning back to her with a slight smirk. “Daniel, of course, and a few others. His parents will be there—they’re old friends of mine—and some close friends of his. A couple of business associates too, but it’s not a business trip.”

Sally furrowed her brow. “So… no one my age?”

Adrian raised an eyebrow, considering. “Not likely,” he admitted, his tone matter-of-fact. “But that shouldn’t matter. It’s an opportunity to meet people you wouldn’t otherwise cross paths with.”

Sally tilted her head, still unsure. “Are they… like, rich?”

Adrian’s smirk deepened, his amusement barely concealed. “Let’s just say no one rents the Flying Fox without being very, very comfortable.”

That didn’t exactly settle her nerves, but Sally decided not to press further. “Okay,” she said, folding her arms. “But if it gets awkward, you’re not leaving me alone.”

Adrian chuckled, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Sally. Trust me. They’re just people.”

Sally raised an eyebrow. “Just people? You mean just people who rent yachts?” she said, her tone teasing but still laced with doubt.

Adrian smirked, pulling out a chair and motioning for her to sit. “Fair point. But let me tell you about them, and maybe it’ll put you at ease.”

Sally hesitated, then perched on the edge of the chair, curious despite herself.

“Daniel and Susan,” Adrian began, his voice softening, “are some of the kindest, most genuine people you’ll ever meet. They live out in the Olympic Peninsula—near Aberdeen, actually. Beautiful place. Quiet, surrounded by nature. They’ve got a house with a view of the water and more trees than I can count.”

Sally blinked, trying to imagine it. “That doesn’t sound very… flashy,” she said cautiously.

Adrian laughed lightly. “It’s not. That’s the point. They’re incredibly grounded people, despite their wealth. Daniel’s an old friend—we met years ago through mutual business contacts. But it was never just about business with him. He and Susan have a way of seeing the best in people, of making you feel… understood.”

She tilted her head. “And their kids?”

“A son and a daughter, both in their twenties,” Adrian replied. “Good kids—bright, curious, a little spoiled maybe, but who isn’t in this world?” He gave her a pointed look, which earned a playful eye-roll from Sally.

“They’re very excited to meet you,” Adrian added, leaning forward slightly. “Daniel’s always been interested in my life, and now that you’re a part of it, he’s eager to get to know you. He and Susan have been asking about you for years.”

Sally flushed slightly at the idea of strangers knowing so much about her already. “So… mis amigos son tus amigos?” she asked tentatively, quoting the Spanish phrase for “my friends are your friends.”

Adrian’s expression softened, a rare warmth glowing in his eyes. “Exactly. And they’re more than friends. They’re family, Sally. They’ve been there for me through… everything.”

She noticed the faint edge in his voice, the way his tone dipped as though revisiting a heavy memory. “What do you mean?” she asked gently.

Adrian exhaled, sitting back. “If it weren’t for people like Daniel and Susan, I don’t know where I’d be. My father…” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oskar was a hard man. Cold, unyielding. He wanted everything to be perfect—his business, his family, his legacy. And I was part of that legacy, whether I liked it or not.”

Sally swallowed, sensing the gravity of his words. She’d heard stories about her grandfather but had never seen Adrian so candid about him.

“There was a time when I thought I had to be like him to succeed,” Adrian admitted. “I thought the only way forward was to become as calculating and detached as he was. But Daniel? Susan? They showed me something different. They reminded me that relationships—real, meaningful relationships—matter more than power or control. They helped me realize that I didn’t have to follow in my father’s footsteps.”

He paused, his gaze meeting hers. “And because of that, Sally, I became the man who could have you in his life. If I’d followed my father’s path… I don’t think I’d be here, sitting with you. You would still be wondering who your father was.”

Sally’s chest tightened at his words, her earlier nerves replaced by a swell of emotion. “Dad…”

Adrian smiled faintly, reaching out to clasp her hand briefly. “So when I say you’ll like Daniel and Susan, I mean it. They’re good people. They’re family.”

Sally nodded, her voice quiet but firm. “I’ll give them a chance. If they’re half as great as you say, I’m sure I’ll love them.”

Adrian chuckled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

For a moment, the room was silent, the bond between them feeling stronger than ever. Sally straightened in her chair, the hint of a smile returning to her lips. “And who knows,” she said lightly, “maybe their kids won’t think I’m too boring.”

Adrian laughed, his tone finally lightening. “I doubt that’ll be a problem.”

“Good,” Sally said with mock confidence, standing up. “Because I’m not boring.”

Adrian rose as well, shaking his head with a grin. “No, Sally. You’re far from boring.”

--

Sally nestled into her bed, her phone in hand, the soft glow of the screen illuminating her tired features. Her soft pajamas hugged her comfortably, and the diaper she wore underneath brought its familiar sense of security. Before slipping into bed, she had made sure to use the bathroom properly, a small step she hoped would help her gradually wean herself off relying on diapers for practical reasons.

I don’t really need them anymore, she thought, her gaze drifting to the shadows on the ceiling. At least, not for this. I just… like them. That thought brought a small smile to her lips, though she also knew it was time to work toward using them only for enjoyment and not as a fallback. If I can keep this one dry tonight, it’ll be a start.

Her mind wandered to the upcoming yacht trip, and she frowned slightly. She had no idea what to expect.

The logistics, though, puzzled her. Would she have her own cabin? Or would it be one of those situations where people shared tight quarters and ended up sleeping on cubby holes? She tried to picture how she would manage her bedtime routine, discreetly wearing a diaper in such close proximity to others. The thought made her cheeks flush slightly with embarrassment.

I’ll figure it out when I get there, she told herself, trying to push the uncertainty aside. Still, the idea of trying to maintain her privacy in such a new and unfamiliar setting left her feeling uneasy.

Sally sighed, placing her phone on the nightstand and rolling onto her side. The soft crinkle of her diaper reminded her of the balance she was trying to strike between comfort and practicality. She pulled the covers closer, letting the thoughts of the day and tomorrow’s uncertainties fade. For now, she let herself drift off, telling herself that things had a way of working themselves out—and they would this time too.

The day had been long and full of surprises, but now, in the quiet of her room, she felt the calm settling in. She had spent much of the afternoon catching up with her mother, texting updates about Zurich and her father’s unexpected plans for the Mediterranean. Bridget’s replies were warm and supportive, though Sally could almost sense her mother’s amused curiosity through the screen.

After finishing with her mom, Sally had turned her attention to Katrina’s messages. Her best friend was full of questions—about Zurich, her dad, and what she was up to. Sally replied carefully, avoiding specifics that might come across as boastful. Instead, she focused on light, casual updates, keeping the conversation easy. Katrina seemed satisfied but teased her about being “mysterious.” Sally smiled at the thought.

Almost asleep, Sally picked up her phone to see if Theresa had any pointers, still uncertain about what to pack for the trip. The idea of being unprepared gnawed at her, but Theresa’s reply was calm and reassuring.

“Don’t overthink it. Mia will take care of the essentials. For anything else, just ask Katrina. Or Clara. That pair can resolve anything.”

Sally frowned slightly, rereading the message. Katrina and Clara? It was surprising to hear Theresa casually mention her school friends, and she couldn’t quite figure out why. She considered pressing for clarification but stopped herself. Theresa deserves her time off, she reminded herself. Instead, she sent a quick thank-you and wished her a good night.

Theresa’s final reply was a gentle reminder: “Don’t forget to reply to your teacher’s email. Handle it first thing tomorrow.”

“I will,” Sally typed back quickly. “Good night, Theresa. Enjoy your evening!”

With the texts sent and her phone set aside on the bedside table, Sally shifted under the soft covers. Her mind felt lighter now, her earlier worries dulled by exhaustion. She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of sleep pulling at her, her diaper soft between her legs matching the pillow holding her head.

--

Hi Mr. Harper,

 I hope you’re doing well. I’ve been thinking a lot about the email you sent, and I wanted to say I understand where you’re coming from. The essays I turned in weren’t my best work, and honestly, I’m not proud of them either. I know I can do better, and I want to fix this.

I think part of the problem is that I didn’t manage my time well while I’ve been traveling. That’s not an excuse—I just underestimated how much focus it would take to keep up with everything while being on the move. I know I need to get more organized so this doesn’t happen again.

I was wondering if we could set up a quick Zoom call to talk about what you were hoping to see in the essays and how I can approach the rewrites. I really want to make them better, and I think having a clearer idea of your expectations would help a lot. I’m also trying to figure out how to keep up with my assignments better going forward, and your advice would mean a lot.

Thanks for giving me a chance to redo the essays. I promise I’m taking this seriously and will work hard to turn this around. Let me know if there’s a time that works for you to talk—I’ll make it work.

Best,

Sally

--

Sally hovered over the send button for a moment, rereading her words. It’s not perfect, she thought, but it’s me. She hoped Mr. Harper would appreciate the honesty, even if it wasn’t as polished as she would’ve liked.

With a nervous breath, she clicked “Send” and watched the email disappear into the void. A weight lifted from her chest, though her nerves still buzzed. I’ve done my part for now, she thought.

She grabbed her phone and started typing a quick text to Theresa:

Just sent the email. Fingers crossed he doesn’t hate me. Thanks for the advice!

She hit send and tossed her phone aside, flopping onto her bed. For now, all she could do was wait—and maybe start brainstorming how to make those essays way better this time around.

She glanced at the clock on her bedside table—5:15 a.m. Her father had mentioned taking off at 10, which meant she still had plenty of time before the day’s activities began.

Stretching lazily on the bed, Sally smiled to herself. Jetlag was always strange. She wiggled her toes and shifted slightly, the cozy, familiar sensation of her diaper making her pause.

It felt dry—well, mostly dry. She reasoned it was just the final stages of her period, a faint reminder that it hadn’t fully ended yet. The light staining during the night was hardly unexpected, but it still made her sigh softly. Nothing to worry about, she thought, brushing it off with ease. For the first time in what felt like ages, she’d gone through the night without wetting it. A success! she thought, a small surge of pride warming her chest.

Declaring the night a victory, she knew she could take it off now, maybe even start her day early. But as she lay there, lying lazily on the bed, a sly smile tugged at her lips. Or… I could just leave it on for a bit longer. There was no rush, after all.

Grinning to herself, she relaxed completely, letting go. The warm, comforting sensation spread through the diaper as her body released, and she felt her shoulders sink further into the pillows. It was a guilty pleasure, one she couldn’t quite explain but didn’t feel the need to. The coziness of the moment was unmatched, and she wasn’t about to ruin it by overthinking.

Reaching over to her laptop on the nightstand, she pulled it into bed with her and propped it next to her. The familiar YouTube homepage loaded, and Sally began scrolling through the latest music videos. A few flashy thumbnails caught her eye, but after watching a couple, she let out a small huff of disappointment. So much production, but no soul, she thought. None of it felt real, and she wasn’t in the mood for anything overly polished.

Her fingers hesitated as she scrolled, hoping to find something different. Janis Joplin. The video that popped up looked raw and grainy, promising exactly the kind of authenticity Sally was craving. She clicked play, and the raspy, powerful voice of Janis Joplin filled the room, paired with the electrifying energy of the live band. Sally closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her, her mind drifting.

 

And when you walk around the world, babe

You said you'd try to look for the end of the road

You might find out later that the road'll end in Detroit

Honey, the road'll even end in Kathmandu

You can go all around the world

Trying to find something to do with your life, baby

When you only gotta do one thing well

You only gotta do one thing well to make it in this world, babe

 

Lying on her back, she felt completely relaxed, the vibrations of the music mingling with the quiet hum of contentment in her chest. Her thoughts floated between the day ahead, the email she’d sent, and the little victories she could already claim this morning. For now, everything else could wait. It was just her, Janis, and the soft embrace of her warm, lazy morning. Even her wet diaper felt… right.

--

The helicopter soared gracefully above Zurich, the city’s patchwork of rooftops and green parks quickly shrinking into a miniature scene below. Sally sat back in her plush leather seat, the hum of the rotors a comforting constant. The early spring morning was crisp and clear, the kind of weather pilots dream of, offering perfect visibility over the rolling Swiss countryside.

Beside her, her father was relaxed, scrolling through something on his phone with the ease of someone completely accustomed to this mode of travel. Sally, however, was still taking it all in, her head turning every few minutes to marvel at the world outside the wide, curved windows.

The helicopter climbed higher, crossing into the Alps. Snow-capped peaks pierced the sky like jagged teeth, the sun glinting off their surfaces in dazzling flashes. Rivers snaked through the valleys below, their waters reflecting the brilliance of the day. Villages dotted the landscape, their red-roofed chalets clinging to the mountainsides like they’d been painted there.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” her father asked, glancing up from his screen.

“It’s incredible,” Sally said, not taking her eyes off the view. “I feel like I’m watching a nature documentary in real life.”

He chuckled lightly, nodding. “It never gets old.”

--

A small compartment on the side of the cabin held refreshments, and after about half an hour, Sally decided to grab something. The selection was modest but thoughtful—Pellegrino sparkling water, a few kinds of packaged nuts, and small bags of gourmet trail mix. She reached for a Pellegrino, its cold bottle refreshing against her palm, and a small bag of almonds.

“I’d take it easy on the drinks if I were you,” her father said with a knowing smile as he looked up. “Helicopters don’t exactly have restrooms.”

Sally smirked, twisting the cap off the bottle. “Yeah, I figured. I’ll sip slowly.”

True to her word, she only drank about half the bottle, savoring the crisp, sparkling water. She nibbled on the almonds, occasionally glancing out the window as the helicopter glided smoothly through the air. The cabin was quiet except for the muted hum of the rotors, and Sally found herself feeling unexpectedly relaxed.

After about an hour and a half of flying, the towering peaks of the Alps softened into rolling hills, and soon the turquoise ribbon of the Mediterranean came into view. The transition was so stunning that Sally leaned forward, her eyes widening as the landscape changed dramatically.

“Wow,” she murmured. The sea seemed to stretch endlessly, its sparkling surface blending with the pale blue of the sky on the horizon. The Italian Riviera was a breathtaking patchwork of cliffs, beaches, and charming towns, their pastel buildings glowing in the midday sun.

“We’re getting close,” her father remarked, leaning forward to glance out of his window. He pointed out Ventimiglia in the distance, a cluster of vibrant homes nestled between the hills and the coast. Sally could see tiny boats bobbing in the marina, their sails like specks of white against the blue-green water.

The helicopter flew past Ventimiglia, venturing farther out to sea. Sally frowned slightly, her curiosity piqued. “Aren’t we supposed to land there?”, she asked, assuming the yacht would be moored close by.

Her father smirked but said nothing, only tilting his head toward the window as if encouraging her to look. Sally followed his gaze, her heart skipping a beat as a colossal structure came into view on the endless blue canvas of the ocean.

It was a yacht—or at least, Sally assumed it was. But this was no ordinary yacht. This was a floating palace, its sleek white superstructure gleaming under the sun. The ship sprawled across the water, its multiple decks adorned with luxurious details she could only guess at. An "H" painted on the bow's flat surface told her all she needed to know. They were landing on it.

Her mouth fell open. “La madre que te parió,” she whispered under her breath, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Her father burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Quite the reaction. I’ll take it you’re impressed?”

“I—what—how—” Sally stammered, her words failing as her eyes roamed over the sheer scale of the yacht. “I didn’t even know things like this existed. This is insane!”

“Welcome to the Flying Fox,” her father said with a satisfied grin. “Not bad for a weekend getaway, huh?”

Sally could only nod, her mind reeling. She had seen photos of big yachts in magazines, but they had never prepared her for the reality. The Flying Fox was a marvel of design and extravagance, a world unto itself floating serenely in the middle of the sea.

As the helicopter descended, Sally’s exhilaration turned into a mix of awe and tension. The pilot guided the aircraft toward the yacht’s bow, the rotor blades whipping the air into a frenzy as the sea shimmered below. Sally gripped the armrest tightly, her knuckles whitening. The yacht loomed larger and larger in the window, its gleaming decks perfectly arranged like a scene from a dream.

Her breath caught as the helicopter slowed to hover just above the helipad. The transition was smooth, but Sally couldn’t stop the nervous thrill that ran through her body. She forced herself not to close her eyes as the craft inched closer, the water sparkling beneath the yacht, the deck crew below standing at attention.

Her father noticed her tension and leaned closer, his voice calm . “It’s like parking a car, Sally.”

Despite herself, she laughed weakly, unable to tear her eyes away from the spectacle outside. As the helicopter gently touched down on the bow, the whirring rotors slowed, and the craft’s vibrations eased. Sally exhaled, her muscles relaxing as she realized they had landed.

The door slid open, and a rush of sea air filled the cabin. A crewman in a pristine uniform stepped forward, extending his hand to help Sally disembark. She hesitated for only a moment before taking it, the warmth of his grip grounding her as she took her first step onto the Flying Fox.

The deck beneath her feet felt impossibly stable, the gentle rocking of the yacht almost imperceptible. She looked up, her heart still racing as the enormity of the ship surrounded her. The journey here had been exhilarating, but now, standing on the bow of this floating palace, she knew the adventure was only just beginning.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Weiss,” he said.

The gentle rocking of the yacht beneath her feet was barely noticeable, but the reality of where she was had her head spinning. The Flying Fox was larger, grander, and more surreal than anything she could have dreamed. And this—this was only the beginning.

Chapter 75 – Unpack

As the crewman led Adrian and Sally from the helipad toward the stern, Sally couldn’t stop marveling at the sheer size and grandeur of the Flying Fox. The teak deck stretched endlessly ahead, flanked by sleek, curved railings that gleamed in the sunlight. The faint, rhythmic hum of the engines vibrated through her feet, a gentle reminder that this was a vessel in motion.

She glanced over the edge as they walked, her breath catching at the expanse of turquoise sea stretching to the horizon. The sides of the yacht were lined with luxurious detailing—gleaming stainless-steel fittings, modern architectural accents, and an artful arrangement of potted plants that gave the open space a touch of nature.

This isn’t a yacht; this is a floating kingdom, she thought, her heart racing as they continued along the deck. Even the light breeze carried the faint, tantalizing aroma of something delicious cooking ahead.

Her father walked beside her, his demeanor calm and composed. Adrian’s Polo shirt and docksiders made him look more casual than usual, though the slacks betrayed his preference for a slightly more formal appearance. Sally felt relieved that her own outfit—practical cutoff jeans and her favorite stylish T-shirt from Rodeo Drive—was perfectly suited to the occasion. For once, she didn’t feel out of place.

“Take it in, Sally,” Adrian said, noticing her wide-eyed expression. “It’s something, isn’t it?”

“It’s… unreal,” Sally murmured. “I feel like I’m in a movie.”

“This is better”, retorted Adrian, laughing.

The closer they got to the stern, the livelier the atmosphere became. Laughter and the clinking of glasses floated through the air, blending with the sound of waves lapping against the hull. When they rounded the corner to the expansive rear deck, Sally was greeted by a scene straight out of a luxury travel magazine.

The open kitchen gleamed with polished surfaces as chefs in crisp white uniforms moved deftly, preparing what looked like an elaborate lunch spread. Grills sizzled, and the fragrant scent of roasting seafood mixed with the citrusy tang of freshly sliced lemons. Staff dressed in elegant, nautical-inspired attire carried trays of cocktails to a group lounging under wide umbrellas.

At the center of it all was Daniel, his easy charisma evident even before he turned to greet them. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore tailored khaki shorts and a crisp linen shirt unbuttoned at the collar, his damp hair slicked back. Beside him was Susan, radiating effortless charm in a flowing sundress, her blonde hair tousled from what looked like a morning swim.

Adrian stepped forward, his face lighting up with a genuine smile. “Daniel, Susan. You’re living the dream, I see.”

Daniel turned, his grin widening as he clasped Adrian’s hand in a firm shake. “Adrian! Finally, you’re here.” His gaze shifted to Sally, his eyes twinkling. “And this must be Sally. Welcome aboard.”

Susan stepped closer, taking Sally’s hand warmly. “It’s so wonderful to meet you, Sally. We’ve heard so much about you.”

Sally smiled shyly, her gaze flickering to the others lounging nearby.

Daniel gestured toward two young adults sitting at the edge of the seating area, their legs dangling lazily over the side of a cushioned bench. “That’s Mike and Darrel, our kids,” he said. “Don’t worry—they look spoiled, but they’re mostly harmless.”

Mike, who looked to be in his early twenties, had the confident air of someone who had traveled the world, his tanned skin and casual smirk betraying his privileged lifestyle. Darrel, his sister, was equally striking, her sun-kissed hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her eyes sharp with curiosity. Both offered friendly waves, their easygoing energy putting Sally slightly at ease.

“Hi, Sally!” Darrel called out. “You’re going to love it here.”

“Looking forward to it,” Sally said, her voice more confident than she felt.

Next to the siblings sat an older couple, their postures relaxed but their smiles warm and welcoming. Benjamin and Sarah, Daniel’s parents, were the kind of people who carried themselves with quiet confidence. Benjamin’s wiry frame and Sarah’s lively eyes spoke of their active lifestyle.

“Adrian’s daughter!” Benjamin exclaimed, standing to shake her hand. “Well, aren’t you a delight.”

Sarah followed with a hug that surprised Sally. “We’ve been dying to meet you. Adrian, you didn’t tell us she was this lovely!”

Sally laughed softly, feeling her cheeks warm.

Patricia stepped forward first, her poise and elegance immediately commanding attention. “I’m Patricia,” she began, her handshake firm but friendly. “But friends call me Patty,” she added with a warm smile, a playful glint in her eye.

Tim followed, his slightly chubby frame giving him a comforting, everyman British charm. He extended a hand, his grin as infectious as his wife’s grace was striking. “I’m Tim,” he said. “Friends call me… well, Tim. Guess I’m an easy read,” he quipped, his British accent making the joke land perfectly.

Their disarming humor and warmth made Sally feel like she’d known them for years, even though they’d just met.

“Good to meet you,” Sally replied, appreciating their down-to-earth energy despite their polished appearance.

Sally stepped aside to breathe and survey the scene.

Two women approached, their matching sunhats tilted just so, casting soft shadows over their elegantly curved faces. Their relaxed smiles hinted at a quiet confidence that immediately intrigued Sally. They moved with an effortless grace, their steps in sync, as if choreographed.

“Let me guess,” one of them said, her voice rich and teasing. “You must be Sally. Adrian’s daughter?”

“That’s me,” Sally replied with a small, slightly nervous laugh, glancing between them.

The other woman extended a hand, her fingers cool and soft against Sally’s. “Tamara,” she said, her voice a touch lower, carrying a sultry undertone. “And this is Janice. We’re… well, let’s say we’re the entertainment.”

Sally blinked shyly, her hesitation giving way to a sly smile. “Janice? As in Janice Joplin?” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Janice laughed, a hearty sound that filled the room. “Close enough,” she said with a wink. “Though I’ve got fewer guitars and more cocktails.”

Janice chuckled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Not that kind of entertainment, darling. Although,” she added with a wink, “we are known to liven things up around here.”

“Don’t scare her,” Tamara said, swatting lightly at Janice’s arm. “We’re the quiet ones. Most of the time.” She leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret. “But if things ever feel too stiff or dull, just find us. We’re excellent at escaping awkward situations.”

“Think of us as your allies,” Janice added with a sly grin. “Every ship needs a good mutiny or two.”

Sally laughed, the tension she’d felt earlier beginning to fade. “You know,” she said, tilting her head, “you two remind me of my best friends from school—Katrina and Clara. Katrina’s got this cheeky, lively energy, always stirring things up, and Clara’s more grounded and serious but just as fun. You’d get along with them.”

Tamara’s eyebrows lifted with interest. “Oh, we’d love to meet them. Sounds like Katrina might be my kind of troublemaker.”

“And Clara,” Janice chimed in, her grin widening, “definitely sounds like my kind of person. The calm ones usually have the best stories.”

Sally smirked. “You’d probably end up plotting something together. They’re impossible to keep out of mischief.”

Tamara leaned in slightly, her tone playful. “You don’t seem like the type to shy away from a little mischief yourself, Sally.”

Sally blinked, caught off guard, but then laughed. “Maybe. Depends on the company.”

“Well,” Janice said, stepping back with a dramatic flair, “we’ll consider that an invitation.”

“We’re always available for a bit of trouble,” Tamara added with a wink. “Carefully curated, of course.”

Sally shook her head, smiling despite herself. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do,” Janice said, giving her a mock salute. “And tell Katrina and Clara they’re missing out.”

Tamara gave Sally a warm pat on the arm. “We’ll see you at lunch, darling. We’re looking forward to it.”

Sally felt herself relax even more. She wasn’t sure if it was their playful banter or the reminder of her own friends, but she was glad they’d taken the time to chat. Somehow, this whole yacht adventure felt just a little less daunting.

She found herself laughing despite her initial shyness. Their easy banter was disarming, and the way they spoke to her felt more like an invitation than an introduction.

“Thanks,” Sally said, smiling. “I might take you up on that.”

“Oh, we hope you will,” Tamara said warmly, her tone laced with genuine affection. “You seem like good company. And don’t worry—we’re not nearly as dangerous as we look.”

Janice raised an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Speak for yourself.”

Sally laughed again, feeling a little more at ease. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do,” Tamara said, her sunhat tilting as she stepped back. “We’ll see you at lunch, darling. Save us a seat if you’re feeling brave.”

With that, the pair glided away, their playful energy lingering in the air and leaving Sally smiling to herself.

Sally smiled, already sensing she would be spending much of her time with them.

As the introductions wrapped up, Daniel, always the composed host, steered the conversation with ease, catching up with the group. Sally, meanwhile, couldn’t help but glance around the deck, taking in every detail. The yacht was impossibly vast, but the people on board, despite their evident wealth and sophistication, seemed genuinely warm and welcoming.

The aromas wafting from the kitchen pulled her attention, and her stomach growled softly, reminding her that lunch was just around the corner. For now, she let herself relax, feeling the sun on her skin and the ocean breeze in her hair, realizing that this was going to be an adventure unlike any other.

--

After a “sinful” lunch, Sally followed a petite young woman with an elegant ponytail and a crisp uniform into the yacht’s lavish interior. The cabin steward, Claudia, looked barely older than Sally herself, her pleasant Italian accent adding an extra touch of charm to her calm demeanor. Sensing Sally’s unease, Claudia slowed her steps slightly, gesturing around as they walked.

“Welcome aboard, Miss Weiss,” she said with a soft smile and an Italian flair. “This is your home for the next few days. You will find the yacht more comfortable than you expect—our team is here to make everything easy for you.”

Sally glanced around, her initial expectations of cramped corridors and tiny spaces completely dashed. The yacht’s interior felt more like a five-star hotel than a ship. Plush carpets muffled their footsteps, and the hallways were wide, with modern, minimalist furnishings that radiated understated luxury.

Claudia stopped at a door and opened it, motioning Sally inside. “This will be your cabin.”

Sally stepped in, her jaw nearly dropping. The space was larger than she had imagined—easily the size of her bedroom at home, if not bigger. The walls were adorned with tasteful artwork, and the bed looked like it belonged in a luxury suite, draped with crisp white linens and fluffy pillows. A built-in vanity and seating area added a touch of elegance, while the large window revealed a stunning view of the sea. Everything about the room was opulent but welcoming.

“Wow,” Sally murmured, setting her hands on her hips as she took it all in. “I didn’t think rooms like this existed on a yacht.”

Claudia smiled warmly. “The Flying Fox is not like most yachts, Miss Weiss. Here, we believe in spacious comfort. Your suitcase is already here,” she said, gesturing to the luggage stand where Sally’s case sat neatly. “I was about to unpack for you, but I noticed it was locked. If you like, I can help now.”

Sally’s face flushed. Her heart skipped slightly as she thought of the diapers she had packed. “Oh, uh… thanks, but I think I’ll handle it myself.”

Claudia tilted her head, her expression gentle. “Of course, as you prefer. But if you find it easier, leaving the suitcase unlocked allows me to unpack everything for you without disturbing your rest or privacy.”

Sally bit her lip, feeling the weight of the steward’s patience and professionalism. She forced a laugh, trying to play it cool. “I guess I’ll, um, think about it.”

Claudia smiled again, seeming to sense Sally’s hesitation. “Miss Weiss,” she said softly, her Italian lilt soothing, “you have nothing to worry about. Everything you bring on board is your own, and anything I see or handle goes no further than this room. Your secrets,” she added with a slight twinkle in her eye, “are safe with me.”

Sally’s cheeks reddened further. There was something in Claudia’s calm demeanor that made her want to trust her, even with something as sensitive as this. “Okay,” she said, almost in a whisper. “You can… unpack.”

Claudia nodded graciously. “I will make everything ready for you.”

Sally unlocked her suitcase. “I, um, need to use the bathroom,” Sally said quickly, escaping into the sleek ensuite. She closed the door, leaning against it for a moment to collect herself.

--

Sally took her time in the bathroom, using the facilities and washing her hands as she listened to the faint rustle of movement from the bedroom. She heard the soft opening and closing of drawers, the quiet shifting of clothes as Claudia worked methodically.

Her mind raced. What’s she going to think? What if she says something? No… she wouldn’t. She said everything’s confidential. Still, the thought of those neatly packed diapers being pulled out of her suitcase made her stomach twist.

After a few more moments, Sally decided she couldn’t linger any longer. She dried her hands, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the bathroom.

--

Claudia was standing by the wardrobe, hanging the last of Sally’s dresses with the same precision she’d shown with everything else. Sally’s toiletries bag sat on the bed, carefully unpacked, and next to it, there they were—a small, neatly stacked pile of five diapers.

Sally froze for a second, her lips pressed together as she tried to gauge Claudia’s reaction. The steward turned, her face perfectly composed, and gestured toward the items with a polite smile.

“I have placed your toiletries bag on the vanity in the bathroom,” Claudia said, her tone casual. “And these”—she nodded toward the diapers— “I will store in the closet next to your pajamas, if that is acceptable?”

Sally blinked, her heart pounding. For a moment, she wasn’t sure how to respond. But Claudia’s expression remained calm, her demeanor so kind and professional that it put her at ease.

“That’s… yeah, that’s fine,” Sally managed, giving a crooked smile.

Claudia nodded approvingly. “Very good, Miss Weiss. If you need anything else—laundry, organization, anything at all—please let me know. That’s what I am here for.” She gave Sally a knowing, sympathetic look. “You should enjoy your time here. Leave the details to me.”

Sally relaxed, her shoulders softening. “Thanks, Claudia. I appreciate it.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Claudia said warmly, before gathering the empty suitcase and stepping toward the door. “I will leave this stored in the luggage closet. If you need me, just press the call button by the bed.”

Sally glanced around the room, her eyes darting from one corner to the next. Something was missing. “Um, Claudia?” she called hesitantly.

The steward, who was just about to leave, turned back with her ever-patient smile. “Yes, Miss Weiss?”

Sally gestured vaguely toward the room. “I can’t seem to find the waste basket… you know, in case I need to, um, dispose of… things.”

Claudia’s smile didn’t falter for a moment, and she stepped gracefully back into the room. “Ah, of course. Allow me to show you.”

She walked into the bathroom, motioning for Sally to follow. With a light touch, she pushed a small, nearly invisible door just beside the toilet. The panel popped open to reveal a sleek, built-in compartment. As Claudia touched the edge, the covered garbage can inside lifted its lid automatically.

“Here you are,” she said warmly. “You can place anything in here. It’s sealed and emptied regularly. If you’d rather not handle it yourself, just leave it for me, and I’ll dispose of it appropriately.”

Sally’s face flushed slightly, but she nodded. “Oh, okay. That’s… really convenient. Thanks.”

Claudia gave her a reassuring look, her tone soothing. “It’s my job to make everything easy for you, Miss Weiss. No need to hesitate.” With that, she gently closed the panel and stepped back. “If there’s anything else you need, just call.”

“Got it,” Sally replied, managing a small smile. “Thanks, Claudia.”

Claudia nodded once more before leaving the room, leaving Sally both impressed by the yacht’s discreet luxury and relieved by Claudia’s tactful professionalism.

With that, she disappeared, leaving Sally standing in the room, staring at the neatly organized pile on the bed. She let out a long breath, feeling both relieved and oddly reassured. Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all, she thought, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

--

As Claudia closed the door behind her with a polite nod, Sally stood in the center of her cabin, turning slowly as she took it all in. The room was enormous—much larger than anything she’d expected on a yacht. The polished wood floors gleamed under the soft lighting, the plush sofa in the corner looked like it belonged in a luxury penthouse, and the massive bed, dressed in pristine white linens, seemed to beckon her to sink into its comfort.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her hands resting on her hips. The grandeur of it all was almost too much to process. For a moment, she felt out of place—like a visitor in someone else’s life.

Her suitcase sat neatly on its stand, the contents unpacked with meticulous care by Claudia, save for a few personal items she’d kept locked away. This is my cabin, she thought, the words both thrilling and daunting. This is my life now.

She wandered over to the window, leaning against the sill as she gazed out at the endless expanse of ocean. The low hum of the engines was soothing, and the sight of the waves rolling gently beneath the yacht calmed her nerves slightly. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being an outsider, even here.

Sally settled herself at the elegant desk in her cabin, the smooth, dark wood cool beneath her fingertips. The chair was plush and perfectly positioned to catch the soft sea breeze drifting through the partially open window. She powered on her laptop, connecting to the yacht’s surprisingly fast Wi-Fi network. A small smile crossed her face; she hadn’t expected such reliable connectivity in the middle of the sea. Of course, she thought, it’s a mega yacht. Why am I even surprised anymore?

The familiar ping of incoming emails brought her back to the moment. As she opened her inbox, she noticed one from Mr. Harper, her teacher. Her stomach fluttered nervously as she clicked it, half-expecting more criticism about her previous essays. Instead, her brows lifted in surprise at the tone of his words.

 

Hi Sally,

 

Thank you for your thoughtful email and for taking the time to reflect on our previous discussion. Your positive attitude and willingness to address these challenges are commendable, and I’m looking forward to seeing the progress you’ll make.

 

To help get things back on track, I’d like to schedule a quick online meeting to discuss the rewrites and any questions you might have. Would 8 a.m. tomorrow work for you?

 

Let me know, and we’ll go from there.

 

Best regards,

Mr. Harper

 

Sally read it twice, letting the words sink in. 8 a.m. That would mean 2 p.m. for her, right in the middle of what would likely be a bustling afternoon on the yacht. The thought made her wince slightly—she could already imagine someone walking in with a cocktail or a chef announcing hors d’oeuvres while she was trying to focus.

Still, she didn’t hesitate. She had already committed to taking her schoolwork seriously, and this was her chance to show she meant it. The awkwardness of the timing didn’t matter; she’d find a way to make it work.

She hit “Reply” and quickly typed out her response:

 

Hi Mr. Harper,

 

Thank you for your email and for your understanding. I really appreciate the opportunity to meet and discuss how I can improve.

 

8 a.m. works perfectly for me. I’ll be ready and looking forward to our chat.

 

Best regards,

Sally Weiss

 

 

Sally clicked “Send” and leaned back in her chair, exhaling a quiet breath. There. Done. She felt a small surge of pride at her decision. If I can balance school and… whatever this yacht trip is turning into, I can handle anything.

The soft hum of the air conditioning and the gentle rocking of the yacht seemed to encourage her. Sally made a mental note to carve out a quiet corner for the call tomorrow, no matter what distractions the day might bring. She glanced at the time on her laptop and smiled faintly. For now, she had the rest of the afternoon to enjoy the adventure ahead—and prepare for her next steps.

--

A sharp knock at the door pulled Sally from her thoughts. She stood, brushing her hands against her cutoff jeans as she walked over and opened it.

Janice stood on the other side, her cheerful smile as bright as ever. “Mind if we come in?” she asked, holding up a cocktail glass like it was her ticket to entry.

Sally stepped aside, and Janice breezed in, followed closely by Tamara, who had a towel draped over her arm and wet hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders. Their matching grins seemed to fill the room with warmth, instantly chasing away the solitude Sally had been lost in.

“Wow,” Janice said, spinning slowly as she took in the cabin. “This is bigger than my first apartment.”

Tamara chuckled, running a hand along the edge of the sofa. “No kidding. Sally, darling, you hit the jackpot with this room.”

Sally smiled nervously, stepping away from the window. “It’s… pretty amazing.”

“Pretty amazing?” Janice echoed, arching a brow. “Understatement of the century. This room screams elegance.”

“You deserve it, though,” Tamara added, her tone softening as she turned to Sally. “You’ve had a whirlwind few days, haven’t you?”

Sally nodded, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her t-shirt. “Yeah, it’s been… a lot to take in.”

“Well,” Janice said, plopping onto the corner sofa and patting the cushion beside her, “we’re here to help. Come sit.”

Sally hesitated for a moment, then joined them, sitting stiffly at first before relaxing against the plush fabric.

“Let me guess,” Tamara said, sitting on the armrest of the sofa with an easy grace. “You’re feeling a little overwhelmed.”

Sally laughed softly. “How could you tell?”

“Because we’ve been there,” Janice said, her expression warm. “New experiences, new places—it can feel like you’re supposed to have it all figured out right away. But here’s the secret: no one does.”

“Exactly,” Tamara agreed, leaning forward slightly. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, Sally. Just enjoy it. This is your time.”

Sally’s shoulders relaxed a little more. Their sincerity was comforting, like older sisters she hadn’t known she needed.

--

As they sat in Sally’s cabin, Janice and Tamara made themselves comfortable on the corner sofa, their energy light and teasing.

“You should join us by the pool,” Janice said, brushing her damp hair back over her shoulder. “It’s too beautiful a day to stay cooped up in here.”

Sally hesitated, twisting the edge of her t-shirt nervously. “I would, but… I’m still dealing with my period. Hopefully, tomorrow I’ll be fine.”

Tamara waved a hand dismissively, giving her a warm smile. “Oh, please, darling. That’s no excuse. Style is a must, even when a woman is confronting her curse.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, half-amused, half-unsure. “Style?”

“Absolutely,” Janice said, crossing her legs and leaning back. “Periods don’t mean you can’t look fabulous. The cutoffs are darling, but lose the t-shirt. Put on your bikini top, and come hang out with us. You’ll feel better, trust me.”

Sally laughed softly, shaking her head. “You two are relentless.”

“Because we care,” Tamara teased, giving her a playful nudge. “Honestly, it’s not always about loose tops and hiding away. Sometimes, it’s about showing up for yourself, even when you’re not feeling 100%.”

Sally thought for a moment, then stood with a small smile. “Alright. I’ll change.”

“That’s the spirit,” Janice said, giving her a mock cheer. “We’ll wait.”

As Sally rummaged through her suitcase, she found her new white string bikini top and hesitated for a moment, debating whether to change in the bathroom. But with a small shrug, she decided there was nothing to fear and casually swapped her t-shirt for the bikini top right there in the cabin, turning to face the other way as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She paired it with her comfortable cutoff jeans, then glanced at herself in the mirror, adjusting the strings and smoothing her hair. Not bad, she thought, feeling a little more confident.

When she turned back, Janice and Tamara gave her an approving once-over.

“There she is,” Tamara said with a grin. “Effortless and chic.”

“Exactly,” Janice added, standing and gesturing toward the door. “Now, come on. The sun’s waiting.”

Sally grabbed her sunglasses and followed them out of the cabin, feeling more at ease with their encouragement. By the time they stepped onto the pool deck, she was ready to relax and enjoy the afternoon in style.

--

As Sally stepped out onto the pool deck with Tamara and Janice flanking her – clad in their bikinis -, she immediately felt all eyes turn in her direction. The warm sun hit her skin, and the sound of waves against the yacht’s hull set the scene, but it was the sudden burst of playful whistles and claps that truly made her freeze for a moment.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Tamara announced, throwing an arm around Sally’s shoulder with dramatic flair, “may I present to you, Miss Sally Weiss, the star of the day.”

Janice stepped ahead, gesturing as though showcasing a prized gem. “Look at her, folks! Effortlessly chic, confident, and rocking those cutoff jeans like they belong in Vogue.”

Sally laughed nervously, her cheeks flushing crimson as a few of the other guests joined in the clapping and teasing whistles. Mike grinned, raising his glass. “Looking good, Sally! You’re putting the rest of us to shame.”

“Alright, alright,” Sally said, waving a hand and shaking her head, though she couldn’t stop herself from smiling. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously right,” Janice quipped, stepping aside and sweeping a hand toward an empty lounger. “Now, take your throne, your highness.”

Tamara gave her a little nudge forward, whispering with a smirk, “Own it, darling. You deserve the spotlight.”

Sally finally settled into a lounger, slipping on her sunglasses to partially hide her embarrassment. The sun warmed her skin, and she began to relax despite the playful attention.

“See?” Tamara said as she dipped into the pool, glancing back at Sally. “I told you—you just needed a little nudge.”

“And a standing ovation,” Janice added with a laugh, lounging in the chair beside her. “Nothing like being admired to lift the spirits.”

Sally shook her head, her smile lingering. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention, but she had to admit, it felt good to be part of the fun. The playful energy of the group was contagious, and for the first time in a while, she felt truly at ease. She missed Katrina and Clara, though. They would fit right in.

--

As Sally lounged on the sun chair, the faint hum of conversation and the rhythmic sound of the waves surrounding the yacht created a peaceful backdrop. She heard the soft shuffle of footsteps beside her and looked up, surprised to see her father, Adrian, in casual khaki shorts and a fitted polo shirt, a sight she rarely witnessed.

“Mind if I join you for a moment?” he asked, gesturing to the lounger next to hers.

“Sure,” Sally said with a smile, adjusting her sunglasses. She shifted slightly to make room as Adrian sat down, leaning back with a relaxed ease she wasn’t used to seeing.

He glanced around the deck for a moment, taking in the sunlit scene—the distant horizon, the glimmering water, and the soft chatter of the other guests. “This is quite the setting, isn’t it?” he said.

“It really is,” Sally replied, her voice light. She gestured toward him with a teasing grin. “I never thought I’d see you in shorts, though.”

Adrian chuckled, glancing down at his bare legs. “Rare sight, I know. I figured I might as well embrace the occasion. This isn’t exactly a suit-and-tie environment.”

“Not even close,” Sally agreed, a small laugh escaping her.

Adrian turned his gaze to her, his expression softening. “So, are you having fun?”

Sally nodded, pushing her sunglasses up onto her head. “Yeah. It’s been… different. I didn’t know what to expect, but everyone’s been really nice.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Adrian said, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “This kind of lifestyle—it can be overwhelming. But you seem to be finding your way.”

“I guess,” Sally said, shrugging. “It’s still all a bit surreal. Like, a few days ago, I was in school, and now I’m on this yacht. It’s a lot.”

Adrian nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Life can change quickly, especially in our world. But you’re handling it better than most would.”

“Thanks,” Sally said, her cheeks warming under his praise. “It helps that you’re here.”

He smiled at that, a rare, genuine expression of pride crossing his face. “Good. And remember, I’m always here if you need me. If you have questions, concerns—anything—you can count on me.”

“Got it,” Sally replied with a grin. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Adrian leaned back, letting out a content sigh. “Alright, I should probably check in with Daniel before he starts planning another grand idea without me.”

Sally smirked. “Something tells me you’d enjoy that.”

“Maybe,” Adrian said with a knowing smile as he stood, brushing his hands on his shorts. “I’ll be around if you need anything. Enjoy yourself.”

He gave her one last glance, a brief nod, before turning to join Daniel, who stood waiting near the base of the stairs. The two exchanged a few words before ascending together, their laughter fading as they disappeared onto the upper deck.

Sally watched him go, a warm sense of comfort settling over her. For all the newness and uncertainty of her surroundings, her father’s steady presence reminded her that she wasn’t navigating it all alone. She leaned back into the lounger, a small smile on her lips, and let herself enjoy the moment.

--

As Sally reclined on her lounger, the soft breeze from the sea ruffled her hair, and she found herself lost in thought. The day had been a whirlwind, and the newness of her surroundings felt like a lot to take in. She stared out at the horizon, her mind drifting between the chatter of the other guests and the shimmer of the Mediterranean.

Her reverie was abruptly interrupted by a cool splash of water across her body. She gasped, sitting up quickly, only to find Tamara and Janice laughing near the edge of the pool, their hands dripping as they grinned mischievously.

“You looked way too serious over there,” Janice teased, flicking another playful splash in her direction. “We had to do something about it.”

“Yeah,” Tamara chimed in, smirking. “This is a yacht, not a boardroom. Lighten up, Sally!”

Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Oh, really? This is how you treat guests?”

“Only the ones we like,” Tamara quipped, winking before splashing her again.

Just then, Darrel and Patty appeared, their laughter carrying across the deck as they walked toward the pool. Both women were dressed in elegant bikinis, Darrel’s a sleek black number that highlighted her athletic figure, and Patty’s a vibrant coral ensemble that complemented her sun-kissed skin.

“Troublemakers,” Darrel said with a grin as she tossed her towel onto a nearby chair. “Who’s your next victim?”

“Maybe you, if you don’t get in here,” Janice called, already floating effortlessly on her back.

“Challenge accepted,” Patty said with a laugh, tying her hair into a quick bun before stepping onto the pool’s edge. She turned to Sally, her smile warm. “You sure you don’t want to join us? The water’s perfect.”

Sally shook her head, adjusting her sunglasses. “I wish I could. But, you know… it’s not the best timing for me.”

Patty gave her a sympathetic nod. “Ah, got it. Well, we’ll keep your spot open for tomorrow.”

With that, both women dove gracefully into the pool, their movements smooth and practiced. Sally watched them, a pang of envy tugging at her. The water glistened on their skin as they surfaced, laughing and flicking droplets at each other. They seemed so carefree, so effortlessly confident, and Sally couldn’t help but admire them.

She leaned back, resting her chin on her hand, her gaze following their movements. The playful splashing, the laughter, the sunlit ripples in the water—it all felt like a scene from a movie. She let out a wistful sigh. Maybe tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow, I’ll dive in too.

Tamara, still floating lazily, caught Sally’s expression and called out, “Stop looking so wistful, Sally! You’ll be in here soon enough.”

Janice added, “And when you are, we’re dunking you first!”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

“Just keeping you on your toes,” Tamara replied with a wink before turning her attention back to the others.

Sally settled back into her chair, letting the sun warm her skin as she listened to the laughter and splashing around her. For now, she was content to watch and enjoy the moment, knowing that tomorrow, the pool would be hers as well.

--

Sally stood in her cabin, the white dress hanging on the wardrobe door like a beacon of elegance. She fingered the soft fabric, her reflection in the mirror catching her eye. The yacht swayed gently beneath her feet, the ocean breeze filtering faintly through the open window. She felt a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling up—tonight’s formal dinner was not just any meal. It was her debut of sorts, a chance to show everyone that she belonged in this world of grandeur and elegance.

She laid out her sapphire jewelry on the small vanity—a pair of teardrop earrings, a delicate pendant necklace, and her charm bracelet glinting under the cabin lights. The jewelry felt more like armor than decoration, each piece a reminder of her father’s faith in her.

As she slipped off her bikini top and shorts, she caught sight of herself in the mirror, standing in just her panties. She frowned thoughtfully, her eyes landing on her open cabinet and the faint glimpse of the diapers neatly stacked beneath her folded pajamas. The idea flashed in her mind: What if?

She crossed the room, her fingers brushing the soft plastic of one of the folded diapers. No one would know. Under the flowing white dress, it would be completely invisible. She bit her lip, the thought strangely thrilling. Just a small indulgence. No one would ever find out…

But as quickly as the thought came, it fizzled. Sally shook her head and smirked at herself in the mirror. “This isn’t the time,” she muttered. Tonight wasn’t about comfort or secrecy; it was about poise and presence. With a decisive nod, she set the diaper aside and focused on getting ready.

Sliding into the white dress, she carefully fastened the sapphire necklace and earrings, the cool touch of the gems grounding her. She clipped on the charm bracelet last, its tiny gold and sapphire charms tinkling softly as she moved. Taking a final look in the mirror, she adjusted her hair and smoothed the fabric over her hips.

Alright, Sally, she thought, squaring her shoulders. Time to shine.      

--

The dining area on the main deck was breathtaking, an elegant table set with fine china and crystal, surrounded by panoramic views of the ocean. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the waves shimmered under the moonlight, and a soft sea breeze wafted through the open space.

Sally took her seat next to her father, her heart fluttering as she noticed the attention she was drawing. Janice winked at her from across the table, while Tamara gave her an approving nod. The guests began to settle in, their voices mingling with the clink of silverware as the stewards served the first course.

Adrian sat back, clearly proud of his daughter, his hand resting casually on the arm of his chair. He watched as Benjamin and Sarah, Daniel’s parents, turned their warm attention to Sally.

“So, Sally,” Sarah began, her voice kind but inquisitive, “we’ve heard so much about your mother. She sounds remarkable. When do you think we might get the chance to meet her?”

Sally froze, her fingers tightening slightly around her fork. She glanced at her father, her eyes pleading for support.

Adrian cleared his throat, his usual composure faltering for just a moment. “Bridget is… quite busy with her work,” he said, his tone even. “But I’m sure we can arrange something soon.”

Sally nodded quickly, adding, “She’s really dedicated to her work with charities. I think she’d love to meet you, though.” She offered a nervous smile, and Benjamin chuckled, sensing her discomfort.

“Well, we look forward to it,” he said kindly. “You’re lucky to have such an accomplished mother.”

Before the conversation could linger, Tamara leaned forward with a bright smile. “Sally, tell us about your recent travels. I hear Beverly Hills and Key West have been on your itinerary.”

Sally smiled, leaning back in her chair as memories flooded her mind. “Beverly Hills was incredible,” she began. “I had a meeting for the fundraiser my dad’s organizing, but I managed to squeeze in a little fun. Rodeo Drive was like stepping into another world—glamorous, intimidating, and exciting all at once. I bought some stuff, but just walking those streets and visiting the boutiques felt surreal. And Key West? Completely different vibe—laid-back, colorful, and full of life. I stayed with my mom and a friend, and we took this road trip in an Aston Martin. We explored little cafés, art galleries.... It felt like two completely different universes, but I loved both in their own way.”

Darrel chimed in. “And is it true you’re going to be a spokesperson for a fundraiser? That’s impressive.”

Sally blinked, caught off guard, but quickly composed herself. She set down her fork and began explaining, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke about the vision for the fundraiser. She described the focus on underprivileged teens and bringing awareness to philanthropy among younger wealthy individuals.

Darrel nodded approvingly. “That’s commendable, Sally. Really. If there’s anything I can do to help, just let me know.”

Her offer startled Daniel and Susan, even Mike, who exchanged curious glances. Darrel had never shown much interest in estate activities before, and Sally’s calm conviction seemed to have sparked something in her.

“Thank you,” Sally said, her cheeks warming at the unexpected encouragement. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.”

--

As dessert was served—delicate sorbet paired with petit fours—the atmosphere grew more relaxed. The sea breeze drifted through the space, carrying the faint scent of salt and summer air. Sally savored her sorbet, the cool sweetness refreshing after the rich meal.

“How old are you, Sally?” Sarah asked suddenly, her tone curious but gentle.

“Fifteen,” Sally replied, setting down her spoon. “I just turned fifteen a few months ago.”

Tim, who had been quietly enjoying his dessert, perked up. “Fifteen? You’re lucky! In the US, you can start driving at sixteen. You must be looking forward to that.”

Sally smiled, feeling a flicker of excitement. “I am. I’d like to get a Mustang.”

Tim let out an impressed whistle. “A Mustang? Good choice. Very American, strong character. I hope you’re thinking about a V8?”

Sally grinned slyly. “And a manual.”

The men at the table chuckled in approval, while Patty, leaning back with her wine glass, added, “That’s the way to do it. And a Mustang has personality. Tim used to have a G-Class, but he got rid of it. I miss that car.”

Adrian, amused, joined the conversation. “A G-Class is what I think Sally should have. It’s safe, reliable, and versatile.”

Patty nodded enthusiastically. “It’s an excellent car. I loved it.”

Tim laughed. “It was great, but I needed something different. Now I’m enjoying my Ferrari SF-90.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “An SF-90? Interesting choice. How do you like it?”

Tim launched into a detailed description, his enthusiasm palpable. The conversation turned to cars, with Adrian asking pointed questions that showcased his deep knowledge. When Tim mentioned Adrian’s F-40, the group lit up with admiration, even the women chiming in. Sally listened, curious but unsure what an F-40 was, though she decided not to ask. She might Google it later.

--

The deck of the Flying Fox was transformed into a dazzling party under the stars. The pool shimmered with underwater lights that cast a kaleidoscope of colors onto the deck, and soft lanterns were strung along the railings, adding a touch of magic to the scene. A DJ booth had been set up near the bar, and the crew was in full swing, serving drinks and snacks as nineties disco beats pulsed through the night air.

Sally stood near the edge of the gathering, sipping a mocktail and taking it all in. The crowd was relaxed, their laughter blending with the steady thrum of the music. Tamara, Janice, and Darrel returned to the deck, now back in their bikinis, their damp hair pulled into loose buns. Without missing a beat, they slipped into the pool, their silhouettes glowing against the colorful water as they floated lazily, laughing and chatting.

“You’re too quiet, Sally!” Tim called out from where he was spinning a bottle of sparkling water on a table. “Come on, let’s see those dance moves!”

Darrel chimed in from the pool, leaning on the edge. “Yeah, Sally! Show us what you’ve got!”

Sally hesitated, glancing at the small dance floor that had been set up near the pool. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, but the encouraging cheers from the group made her smile. She took a deep breath, set her mocktail aside, and stepped onto the makeshift dance floor.

As Finally by CeCe Peniston blared through the speakers, Sally started moving to the beat, her arms swaying and her feet tapping. The others joined her, creating a lively circle of dancers. Tim tried a dramatic spin, nearly tripping over his own feet, earning a round of laughter. Patty pulled him back up, shaking her head with a grin as she twirled herself.

Sally let herself get caught up in the rhythm, her nerves melting away with every step. The cool sea breeze swept across her face, and for the first time in a while, she felt completely carefree.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted her father standing at the top of the stairs, leaning casually against the railing. His expression was unreadable at first, but then he caught her eye and gave her a small smile and a nod. It wasn’t a gesture of control or direction—it was approval, quiet and understated. Without a word, Adrian turned and disappeared back inside, leaving her to enjoy herself.

The music shifted to a slower tempo, and Tamara, Janice, and Darrel climbed out of the pool, water dripping from their bodies as they wrapped themselves in towels. Instead of disappearing, they threw on oversized t-shirts and joined the dancing, their laughter mingling with the soft hum of conversation.

Janice grabbed Sally’s hand, pulling her into a playful spin. “You’ve got moves, kid!”

“Thanks,” Sally said, laughing. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

The music shifted again to What Is Love by Haddaway, prompting a loud cheer from the group. The entire deck seemed to come alive, with even the crew swaying to the beat as they cleared plates and refilled glasses.

Sally glanced around the intimate gathering—the glowing pool, the shimmering horizon, the laughter of her new companions. It was surreal, and yet, she felt completely at home in this moment.

As the night wore on, the music softened further, and the party began to wind down. The deck grew quieter, with small groups chatting near the bar or lounging by the pool. Sally felt a wave of exhaustion hit her, both physical and emotional, as the events of the day caught up with her.

She excused herself quietly, slipping away from the group and heading to her cabin. The soft hum of the engines was a comforting backdrop as she stepped into the cool, luxurious space. Her feet ached slightly from dancing, and her muscles felt pleasantly tired.

As she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment, letting out a deep breath. Her gaze drifted to the stack of diapers in the cabinet, and she felt a small smile tug at her lips. The thought of putting one on—of that familiar, comforting security—felt like the perfect end to a long, exhilarating day.

--

Sally changed quickly, savoring the simple routine of unwinding after such a whirlwind day. Standing before the vanity, she unclasped the delicate sapphire earrings her father had given her and placed them carefully in their case. Next came the pendant necklace, its weight leaving a faint coolness against her collarbone. She ran her fingers over it one last time before setting it down, marveling at the craftsmanship. The charm bracelet was last, its tiny tinkling sound a comforting accompaniment to the stillness of the room.

She slipped out of her elegant white dress, the fabric whispering softly as it pooled at her feet. Hanging it neatly in the closet, she was left standing in her underwear, her skin warmed by the day’s activities and the faint glow of the cabin lights. Her gaze shifted toward the cabinet where her stack of diapers rested, neatly arranged. She unclasped her bra, and bent over to slip her panties off. As she cleansed herself with a wet wipe, she was satisfied to notice her period had run dry.

With deliberate care, she opened the cabinet and selected a diaper. The familiar rustle of the plastic cover sent a ripple of anticipation through her. She sat on the edge of the bed, running her fingers over the soft material, fluffing it gently. The scent, faintly powdery, was comforting in its own way. It was a ritual, she thought, but one that never failed to help her feel grounded.

Sally lay back on the bed, positioning the diaper beneath her, her movements practiced and methodical. As she pulled the diaper up to her waist and fastened the tapes snugly, she let out a deep breath, feeling the tension in her body melt away. The weight of the day’s social pressures, the endless questions, and even the underlying pangs of self-doubt—all of it seemed to vanish. In this moment, she was just herself, stripped of pretense and expectation.

Standing, she admired the cozy fit in the mirror. She gave a small, private smile as she adjusted the waistband and the leg gathers slightly. Then, clad in her diaper, she padded into the bathroom to complete her evening routine.

Under the bright bathroom lights, she washed off her makeup, letting the cool water refresh her tired face. She brushed her teeth thoroughly, flossing with care, her mind wandering through the evening’s events. As she stared at herself in the mirror, her reflection felt… honest. A young woman, comfortable in her own skin, despite the world swirling around her.

A sudden knock on the door broke the moment. It was timid, almost hesitant.

“Who is it?” Sally called, surveying her diaper clad state in the mirror.

“Just us,” came Tamara’s voice, light and teasing. “Wanted to say goodnight.”

Janice’s voice followed, equally playful. “If you’re already in bed, don’t worry. We’ll catch you tomorrow.”

Sally hesitated for a moment, then an idea struck her. She grabbed her silk robe from the back of the chair, and wrapped it around herself, tying it loosely at the waist. The fabric skimmed her shoulders, soft and luxurious against her skin, as she moved to the door and opened it, the silk robe flowing softly around her, covering her diaper. “Come in,” she said with a shy smile. “Sorry for my… state. I’m winding down.”

The women stepped in, their faces lighting up as they took in Sally’s relaxed, natural appearance. “You look wonderful,” Tamara said sincerely, her gaze kind.

“Even more alluring than earlier,” Janice added, giving a cheeky grin that made Sally laugh nervously.

“Come, sit,” Sally said, gesturing to the small sitting area. She took a seat on the sofa, while the women sat on the opposite sofa. Despite her self-consciousness—aware of the faint crinkle whenever she moved—she felt at ease in their presence.

“This yacht is incredible,” Tamara said, her gaze wandering around the room before landing on the coffee table. An open leather-bound sketchbook sat there, its edges slightly worn. “Oh, is this yours?” she asked, pointing to it.

Sally hesitated, her cheeks warming. “It is. Just a personal thing. I like to sketch sometimes.”

“May we look?” Mara asked, already leaning forward, her curiosity unmistakable.

“Sure,” Sally said softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But, um, don’t expect much. It’s just… little things I do in my free time.”

Tamara picked up the sketchbook gently, opening it to the first page. A delicate pencil sketch of a flower greeted them, its petals detailed with intricate shading. “This is lovely,” she said, flipping through the pages. “You’re really talented.”

Mara leaned over to get a closer look. “Is this Key West?” she asked, pointing to a sketch that captured the tranquility of the ocean. The view was drawn from the shore, with the soft ripples of turquoise water stretching out to meet the horizon. Palm trees lined the distant shore, and the warm hues of a setting sun painted the sky in shades of amber and pink. In the foreground, the faint outline of a railing hinted at the vantage point, a peaceful moment frozen in time.

Sally nodded with a smile. “It’s from the view at Olivia’s place in key West – a friend. The colors that evening were just… perfect.”

“This is more than just a hobby,” Tamara said, looking up at her with admiration. “These are beautiful. You have such an eye for detail.”

“It’s something I’ve always enjoyed,” Sally admitted, her voice still quiet but more confident now. “Sketching helps me slow down and really see things.”

“Well, I hope you keep at it,” Mara said warmly. “You have a gift.”

Sally ducked her head slightly, feeling both shy and pleased. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

As Tamara carefully closed the sketchbook and set it back on the table, she smiled. “You know, I think this might be my favorite part of the yacht. It’s so personal. Thank you for sharing it with us.”

Sally glanced down at her hands, her smile widening. “I’m glad you liked it.”

Tamara and Janice surveyed Sally. For a moment, Sally thought they could see right through her robe and say something about the diaper she was concealing. She blushed under their friendly stare.

“You were stunning tonight,” Tamara said warmly. “Really, you had everyone’s attention.”

“Totally,” Janice agreed. “But I think this,” she gestured at Sally lounging in her robe, “this is the real magic. You’re just… you. And it’s lovely.”

Sally blushed, unsure how to respond. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Sorry if we’re embarrassing you,” Tamara said with a smile. “We just wanted you to know how much we admire you. You’re handling all of this so gracefully.”

As the women stood to leave, Sally shifted, the faint sound of her diaper unmistakable in the quiet room. Tamara paused, giving her an encouraging smile. “You’re a beautiful young woman, Sally. Never forget that.”

“Careful,” Janice teased, nudging Tamara. “Don’t make me jealous.”

Sally laughed, though her cheeks flushed. “Thank you. And you didn’t make me uncomfortable. I appreciate it.”

Tamara nodded. “Good. Just remember, tomorrow’s a new day. There’s so much to enjoy here. Swimming, sunbathing, Jet-skiing, or even just wandering the decks.”

“Except tomorrow afternoon,” Sally interjected, her tone more serious. “I have schoolwork to catch up on. I’m way behind and I have deadlines.”

The women exchanged a knowing look, clearly impressed by her determination. “That’s admirable,” Tamara said. “Work hard, but don’t forget to enjoy yourself too.”

“Balance,” Janice added. “That’s the key.”

With that, they bid her goodnight and slipped out of the room, leaving Sally alone in the cozy stillness of her cabin. She let out a small sigh, the crinkle of her diaper reminding her of the strange comfort she found in it. She disrobed and pulled a t-shirt on.

As she climbed into bed and pulled the covers around her, she felt a mix of exhaustion and contentment. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but for now, she was at peace.

And as she drifted off, her mind flickered with images of dancing, laughter, and the stars shining over the Mediterranean—a night she would never forget.

Chapter 76 – Play hard, Work Hard

The first blush of dawn painted the horizon as Sally stirred in bed, her body stretching lazily against the crisp sheets. The soft glow of early morning light spilled through her cabin windows, and a quick glance at the clock told her it was just past 6 a.m. Perfect, she thought. She had promised herself the morning to unwind before diving into her overdue schoolwork in the afternoon.

Sitting up, she instinctively ran her hand along the waistband of her diaper. It was dry, a rarity that put her in an immediate good mood. “See?” she said softly to herself with a small laugh, “using the toilet before going to bed does make a difference. Big girl points for me.” Still chuckling, she slid out of bed and walked to the bathroom, stripping off her diaper and taking care of her morning routine like any “big girl” would. The thought amused her as she splashed cold water on her face, the freshness waking her up fully.

Throwing on a loose t-shirt over her bikini, Sally stepped out of her cabin and into the quiet corridors of the yacht. The stillness of the early hour wrapped around her like a blanket, the gentle hum of the yacht’s engines the only sound. She relished the solitude, her bare feet padding softly against the polished wood floors as she made her way to the gourmet deck.

When she stepped outside, the crisp morning air greeted her, carrying the faint scent of salt and sea. The sky was a soft gradient of lavender and gold, and the water stretched out endlessly, calm and glittering. She loved this time of day—peaceful, almost magical.

The moment she appeared, the chef and two stewards, who had been standing quietly nearby, straightened and offered her polite smiles. “Good morning, Miss Weiss,” they greeted in unison.

Sally blinked, momentarily surprised at their readiness, but recovered quickly. “Good morning,” she replied, her voice warm but quiet, not wanting to disturb the serenity of the hour.

She made her way to the sleek kitchen bar opposite the grill and perched on one of the tall chairs. As if by magic, the stewards sprang into action, setting a place for her with a placemat, plate, and gleaming silverware. One of them approached her with a slight bow. “What may we prepare for you this morning?”

“Just coffee to start, please,” Sally said, brushing her hair over one shoulder. “Black, no sugar.”

The steward nodded, retreating gracefully to prepare her coffee, while the chef approached with a professional yet warm demeanor. “And for breakfast, Miss Weiss?”

Sally thought for a moment, enjoying the novelty of being asked. “Surprise me,” she said with a smile. “Something with eggs”.

The chef’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “Very well,” he said, bowing slightly before retreating to his station.

As the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted toward her, Sally sat back and took in the view. She sipped her coffee, savoring its bold, earthy flavor, as the chef moved with practiced precision, his every movement deliberate and elegant. She watched in fascination as he worked—cracking eggs effortlessly, flipping a pan with a flourish, and adding garnishes with an artist’s touch. It was like watching a performance, and Sally found herself smiling into her coffee cup.

The chef finally plated her breakfast, turning toward her with a flourish. “Voilà!” he declared, setting a perfectly arranged dish before her: a fluffy omelet with delicate herbs, sliced avocado and accompanied by golden brioche toast and a side of fresh fruit. A small vase with a single red rose was placed next to the plate, the final touch of elegance.

Sally’s eyes widened with delight. “This is beautiful,” she said sincerely.

“Bon appétit,” the chef replied with a small bow, stepping back with the stewards to give her space.

She picked up her fork, cutting into the omelet and marveling at its softness. The flavors burst onto her tongue—light, savory, with a hint of freshness from the herbs. She let out a small hum of appreciation and caught the chef smiling faintly, clearly pleased with her reaction.

As she ate, she couldn’t help but feel a quiet gratitude for the luxury of the moment. The attentive service, the stunning view of the endless sea, the gentle breeze that carried the day’s promise—it was almost surreal. She took her time, savoring each bite, sipping her coffee in between, and allowing herself to fully enjoy the peaceful morning.

The chef and stewards stood nearby, ready but unobtrusive, their quiet presence adding to the sense of being cared for. Sally felt a pang of curiosity—how did she end up here, on a yacht in the Mediterranean, being served like royalty? She shook her head lightly, smiling to herself. Life had certainly taken an unexpected turn, but for now, she was content to simply live in the moment.

--

The morning sunlight danced off the pool’s surface as Sally sliced through the water with smooth, practiced strokes. The yacht swayed gently beneath her, a comforting rhythm as she propelled herself through the expansive deck pool. She paused at the edge of the pool, resting her arms on the side, and looked up.

At a nearby table, her father was seated with Benjamin and Sarah, Daniel’s parents. They were deep in conversation, their expressions relaxed as they sipped coffee and nibbled on pastries. Sally caught snippets of their talk—something about taking it easy for the day, enjoying the sun and the breeze. Benjamin gestured with his cup, laughing lightly, and Adrian nodded, his face soft with the ease that only old friends could bring.

Pulling herself out of the pool, Sally grabbed a towel and began drying off, the sun glinting off her white bikini. Her hair clung damply to her shoulders as she approached the table, prompting the trio to look up and greet her warmly.

“Good morning, Sally!” Sarah said with a bright smile, her voice tinged with maternal warmth.

“Morning, kiddo,” Benjamin added with a wave of his hand.

“Good morning,” Sally replied, returning their smiles as she continued drying her hair. A steward appeared with a tray, offering her a glass of Coke with ice and lemon. She accepted it gratefully, taking a refreshing sip before slipping onto the chair next to her father.

Adrian gave her a half-hug, his arm briefly brushing her damp midriff. “Careful, you’re wet,” he teased, though his tone carried more affection than reproach.

Sally grinned. “It’s a pool, Dad. Kind of hard to stay dry.”

As the group chatted casually, Benjamin’s gaze softened, and he leaned slightly forward. “Sally, you’re a wonderful young woman. We can see how much you’ve grown since we first heard about you.” He smiled kindly, then turned to Adrian. “But I must ask again… where is Bridget?”

Adrian’s easy posture stiffened, and he hesitated, visibly caught off guard. “Bridget?” he repeated, as though buying time to formulate a response. “Well… she’s busy. Work, you know. She has her responsibilities, and, uh…” His voice trailed off.

Sarah tilted her head, her tone gentle but firm. “Adrian, you’ve done an incredible job with Sally. But don’t you think it’s important for her mother to be more present? Not just for Sally’s sake but for all of us to know her better?”

Adrian opened his mouth to speak but faltered. It was clear the question struck a nerve. “Bridget and I… we’ve always been separate. We’re not a couple. We never were,” he finally said, his voice quieter now. “I didn’t think… I didn’t imagine this setting would be…” He stopped, visibly struggling to articulate his feelings.

Benjamin raised a hand to gently interrupt. “We understand, Adrian. Truly. But consider this—not bringing Bridget along can feel like you’re compartmentalizing Sally’s life. And in a way, it’s not entirely fair to her or to the rest of us who care deeply about both of you.”

Sarah chimed in, her voice full of compassion. “We only bring this up because we love you, Adrian. And we care about Sally. This isn’t criticism—it’s counsel from people who have known you for decades.”

Adrian nodded slowly, his face a mixture of gratitude and unease. “I appreciate that,” he said finally. “I’ll think about it.”

Sally, who had been quietly sipping her Coke, felt a lump form in her throat. Benjamin and Sarah’s words were so earnest, so full of care, that they brought a tear to her eye. But she couldn’t ignore the discomfort written on her father’s face.

The group lapsed into a thoughtful silence, the only sounds the gentle clink of plates being cleared by the crew and the soft hum of the yacht’s engines.

--

The quiet was soon interrupted by the arrival of Tim and Patty, who ambled onto the deck with groggy expressions. Tim was rubbing his temples, and Patty had a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on her nose.

“Morning, all,” Tim said with a weary grin. “What’s this? Early risers and serious discussions?”

Patty groaned as she slid into a chair. “Please tell me there’s coffee.”

Benjamin chuckled, waving toward the stewards. “You’ll find it over there. Help yourselves.”

Mike and Darrel followed shortly after, their laughter subdued but cheerful as they exchanged pleasantries with the group. Sally glanced at them and smirked.

“Rough night?” she teased.

Darrel flopped into a chair, letting out a dramatic sigh. “We’re not all morning people like you, Sally. Some of us like our sleep.”

Sally grinned and shrugged. “Well, some of us like to start the day right.”

Tim glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “You’ve already been in the pool? You’re making the rest of us look bad.”

“Hey, someone’s gotta set the example,” Sally quipped, taking another sip of her Coke.

The light banter eased the tension, and the group settled into a relaxed camaraderie. As the stewards began to serve fresh coffee, eggs, toast and pastries, the sun climbed higher, casting a warm golden glow over the deck. Sally leaned back in her chair, letting the peaceful rhythm of the morning wash over her, already feeling a sense of calm before the busy day ahead.

--

The yacht floated like a dream, anchored in the middle of a serene Mediterranean cove. The morning sun was already warming the decks, and the turquoise water shimmered with a promise of adventure. The cliffs of Corsica loomed rugged in the distance, and Genoa’s charm whispered from the horizon.

On the sun deck, the remnants of last night’s revelry were still evident. Patty, Darrel, and Mike sprawled lazily on cushioned loungers, sunglasses perched precariously on their noses, nursing coffees with more desperation than delight. Sally, however, was the picture of vitality. She sliced through the pool water in clean, practiced strokes, her white bikini gleaming in the sun, her movements unhurried and serene.

“Look at her,” Patty groaned, waving a limp hand toward the pool. “Swimming laps like it’s some kind of morning show. I can barely lift my coffee.”

Darrel grunted. “That’s what sobriety looks like. Not sure I recommend it.”

Mike chuckled weakly; his voice raspy. “She’s making us all look bad.”

--

A commotion from the aft deck broke the lazy stillness. Tamara and Janice arrived in full force, both clad in chic cover-ups that barely concealed their colorful bikinis, sunglasses perfectly in place, and the energy of two women who had somehow bypassed the effects of last night entirely.

“Good morning, sunshine squad!” Tamara called out, her voice a mix of teasing and challenge. She waved dramatically at the loungers before turning her attention to Sally in the pool. “And good morning to our clever cookie, Miss Weiss! Look at you, already seizing the day!”

Janice followed with a laugh. “You’re putting us all to shame, Sally. Show-off.”

Sally paused mid-stroke, propping herself on the pool’s edge. “Good morning, ladies. Someone’s in a good mood.”

“We’re always in a good mood,” Tamara quipped, tossing her hat onto a nearby chair. “Even when surrounded by zombies.” She gestured broadly to the hungover loungers.

Patty lifted her head, groaning. “Go easy on us, Tamara. Some of us had a really good time last night.”

“Clearly,” Janice said dryly, plucking Patty’s nearly empty coffee cup from her hand and replacing it with a bottle of chilled sparkling water. “Hydrate. You’ll thank me later.”

Tamara clapped her hands together with a wicked grin. “Alright, sleepyheads, it’s time to shake off the cobwebs. The crew has turned the sea into our personal playground, and we’re not wasting another minute. Jet skis, slides, paddleboards—you name it. Let’s go!”

Darrel squinted at her. “You have way too much energy.”

“And you have way too little,” Tamara shot back, pulling the sunglasses off his face. “Get up, get a drink, and get moving!”

“Don’t fight her,” Janice advised with mock solemnity. “Resistance is futile.”

Sally watched the scene unfold with an amused smile, climbing out of the pool and reaching for her towel, her damp hair glinting in the sun. “You two really know how to rally a crowd.”

“Someone’s got to,” Tamara said, flashing a grin. “Otherwise, this deck will turn into a nap zone.”

“I wouldn’t mind a nap zone,” Mike muttered, only to be met with a light smack from Janice as she walked past.

--

Within minutes, the deck was buzzing with activity. The crew prepped the jet skis on the swim platform, inflatables were ready, and the slide loomed temptingly over the sea. Tamara and Janice had somehow managed to drag the reluctant loungers into the mix, and the first challenge of the day—a jet ski race—was underway.

Sally stayed back, sipping a cold drink and watching the chaos unfold. Darrel and Mike were the first to take off, spraying water everywhere as they veered wildly toward the buoy. Patty and Tamara followed, the latter shouting encouragement (or possibly taunts) as they sped through the waves.

Janice dropped onto a chair next to Sally, her cheeks flushed from laughter. “You’re missing out, you know.”

Sally gave a half-smile and took a sip of her drink, letting the coolness settle her nerves. “Honestly?” she said after a pause, lowering her glass. “I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to stuff like this. I’ve never been around yachts or jet skis before. It’s all a little… overwhelming.”

Janice tilted her head, her expression softening. “Really? You could’ve fooled me. You seem so at ease.”

“That’s the plan,” Sally said with a small laugh. “Fake it till you make it, right? But the truth is, I’m a bit intimidated. I mean, what if I fall off? Or I can’t even figure out how to steer the thing?”

Janice smiled warmly. “You’d be surprised how intuitive it is once you get on one. And falling off? That’s part of the fun. Besides, you’ve got a life vest—it’s practically an invitation to splash around.”

Sally chuckled, but her nervousness lingered. “Maybe. It just feels like everyone else already knows what they’re doing, and I’d be the rookie holding everyone up.”

Janice reached out and gave Sally’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Sally, trust me. No one’s going to care if you’re new to this. They’ll be too busy cheering you on—or laughing when you soak them with a well-aimed wave. Come on, take a chance. It’s what being out here is all about.”

Sally glanced at the jet skis, then back at Janice, feeling a flicker of confidence at her friend’s encouragement. “Maybe,” she said thoughtfully, setting her glass down. “But only if I can take you down in a splash war.”

“Deal,” Janice said with a grin, leaning back as the sound of laughter and roaring engines filled the air.

--

But that all changed when Mike, already soaked and grinning mischievously, pulled his jet ski up near the edge of the deck.

“Hey, Sally!” he called out, his voice carrying over the water. “Want a ride?”

Sally hesitated, glancing down at her bikini and then at the lively scene around her. Before she could respond, Adrian chimed in from his lounge chair, a faint smile on his face. “Go on, Sally. Live a little.”

Claudia, her cabin steward, appeared almost instantly at her side, as if summoned by some unspoken need. “Miss Weiss, let me help,” she said in her lilting Italian accent. With practiced efficiency, she slipped a life vest onto Sally and cinched the straps tight. “There, perfect,” she said, stepping back and nodding approvingly.

Sally approached the edge of the deck, where the jet ski bobbed gently in the water. Mike held out a hand, steadying the craft as she carefully climbed down. “Alright, hop on!” he said, patting the seat behind him.

She settled in behind Mike, her hands resting tentatively his waist. “Don’t worry,” Mike teased, glancing back at her. “I don’t bite.”

Before she could respond, Mike revved the engine and eased the jet ski away from the deck. Sally barely had time to adjust before he gunned it, the sudden acceleration pulling a surprised yelp from her. Her grip on him slipped, and before she knew it, she was tumbling backward into the water with a loud splash.

--

The laughter from the deck was immediate and boisterous. Tamara, lounging on an inflatable nearby, called out, “Sally, you’ve got to hold on tighter than that!”

Janice chimed in, her voice full of mock encouragement. “Lesson one, Sally: Don’t be shy! Grab on Mike like your life depends on it!”

Mike circled back around, his grin as wide as the horizon. “Need a hand, Sally?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Sally paddled toward the jet ski, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. “You did that on purpose,” she accused, though she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Maybe a little,” Mike admitted, leaning over and grabbing her arm. With surprising ease, he hoisted her back onto the jet ski, as if she weighed nothing. “Come on, let’s try this again.”

This time, Sally wrapped her arms firmly around his waist. “Don’t even think about it,” she warned, though her tone was playful.

“Hold tight, then!” Mike called out as he took off again, the jet ski bouncing over the waves. Sally clung to him, laughing uncontrollably as he zigzagged and spun, clearly trying to shake her off. She could hear the cheers and whistles from the deck, and for a moment, she forgot her shyness completely.

But her laughter betrayed her focus. When Mike made a sharp turn, Sally’s grip loosened, and she tumbled into the water once more, almost dragging Mike with her as her hand instinctively grabbed at his swimming trunks. “Whoa!” he exclaimed, steadying himself as she splashed into the sea.

The water was colder than she expected, the spring chill biting against her skin. Sally shivered as she floated, buoyed by her vest. She glanced up to see Mike laughing so hard he could barely sit upright or steer properly.

Before Mike could turn around and scoop her back up, Tim pulled alongside on his own jet ski. “Need a lift?” he asked, his tone far gentler.

Sally nodded, her teeth chattering slightly. “Please. It’s freezing in here.”

Tim reached out and helped her onto his jet ski, careful not to rush her. “Let’s take it easy,” he said as she settled in behind him. “We’ll just do a lap around the yacht.”

As they cruised at a leisurely pace, Sally finally had a chance to admire the yacht from a new perspective. From the water, it looked even more impressive, its sleek design towering above the waves. The sunlight glinted off its pristine surface, and the expansive decks teemed with life as their friends continued to play and lounge.

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Tim said, noticing her gaze.

Sally nodded, her awe unmistakable. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s like a floating palace.”

Tim smiled. “Glad you’re enjoying it. And don’t worry about Mike— he’s a show off, he does that to everyone.”

Sally laughed softly, the warmth returning to her as the jet ski hummed along. By the time they circled back to the swim platform, she felt at ease again, her earlier embarrassment fading into the humor of the moment.

As she climbed back onto the deck, dripping wet but smiling, Tamara tossed her a towel with a wink. “Welcome to the club, Sally. You survived your first jet ski initiation.”

--

The sun hung high in the sky as the Mediterranean waves lapped gently against the yacht. Sally stretched out on one of the large inflatable platforms anchored just off the swim deck. The soft, rhythmic rocking of the water and the warm sun on her skin were a soothing balm after the excitement of the jet ski antics.

Janice lay beside her, her calm presence a welcome contrast to the high-energy activities happening around them. Sally slipped off the edge of the inflatable, diving into the cool water. The chill was bracing but refreshing, and she stayed submerged as long as she could stand, letting the sea’s embrace clear her mind. When the cold became too much, she surfaced and climbed back onto the inflatable, lying back to let the sun dry her skin.

“It’s beautiful here,” Sally murmured, her voice soft and thoughtful.

“It really is,” Janice agreed, propping herself on one elbow to look out over the turquoise expanse. “Days like this remind me why I love the Mediterranean so much. It’s so peaceful, isn’t it? Warm enough to enjoy it, early enough in the season that we’ve got the sea to ourselves. It can get busy out here”, she admitted.

Sally nodded, her gaze drifting to the rugged cliffs in the distance. “It’s perfect. I feel like I’m in a dream sometimes.”

“You deserve it,” Janice said warmly. “Life can be overwhelming at your age—sometimes it’s good to just breathe and enjoy moments like these.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics as Sally lounged on the inflatable, occasionally diving back into the sea when the sun became too hot. Eventually, Janice asked, “So, what’s your summer looking like? Any exciting plans?”

Sally tilted her head thoughtfully. “Well, besides this trip, I’ll be spending some time in New York. We have an apartment in SoHo, and I’m really looking forward to it.”

Janice’s eyebrows rose slightly, a smile tugging at her lips. “SoHo, huh? That’s a fantastic neighborhood. I spend time in New York now and then too—my place is by Central Park.”

Sally’s eyes lit up, and she sat up straighter. “Really? That’s amazing! I’ve been to Central Park a few times when we’ve visited, but I’ve never thought about actually living near it.”

“It’s a great spot,” Janice said. “Peaceful when you need it to be, but you’re still right in the middle of everything. Sounds like SoHo will be the same for you—a little oasis in the city.”

Sally smiled brightly, her excitement palpable. “I can’t wait to explore more of the city. We were at the apartment just a few days ago, but it wasn’t long enough to really enjoy the city. The apartment is incredible, though.

Janice chuckled. “You’re going to love it. New York has this energy—it’s chaotic, but also magical in its own way. It’s a good place to grow into yourself, to figure out what you want.”

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Sally said, her voice soft with anticipation. “It feels like there’s so much waiting for me there.”

The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence, both women basking in the sun and the rhythmic sound of the waves. Sally felt an unexpected connection to Janice—calm, grounded, and wise in a way that made her feel both understood and inspired.

Eventually, Sally climbed back into the water, savoring the cold against her heated skin before returning to the deck. She dried off and stretched out on one of the loungers, letting the sun warm her again. It was a cycle of sun, sea, and quiet conversation, and for once, the world felt like it had slowed down to her pace.

--

The soft hum of the yacht’s air conditioning was the only sound as Sally sat at the desk in her cabin, her laptop open and ready. Her damp hair clung to her shoulders, and the light tan she had acquired during the morning’s adventures was visible against the fresh white of her clean t-shirt. It was 2 PM on the yacht, and she had precisely blocked out this time for her online meeting.

Sally clicked on the meeting link, her nerves tingling slightly. As the screen lit up, her teacher’s familiar face appeared. Mr. Harper sat at his desk, the morning sun spilling through a window behind him. His blazer hung on the back of his chair, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up—a casual but professional look.

“Sally! Good morning—well, at least for me,” Mr. Harper began with a smile, adjusting his webcam slightly. “For you, it looks like it’s anything but morning. That’s quite the glow you’ve got there. Is that a tan I see?”

Sally chuckled nervously, brushing a damp strand of hair over her shoulder. “Uh, yeah. It’s… pretty sunny here.”

“And where exactly is ‘here’?” Mr. Harper asked, his tone light but curious. “This doesn’t look like Connecticut.”

Sally hesitated for a moment before deciding to be honest. “I’m, um, between Genoa and Sardinia, I think. On a yacht.”

Mr. Harper raised his eyebrows, his smile widening. “A yacht, huh? Well, I must say, you’re certainly not in the usual study environment. But as long as you’re balancing the fun with your responsibilities, I don’t see why not.”

“I am, I promise,” Sally said quickly, her tone earnest. “I’ve set aside the afternoon for homework. I know I’ve got a lot to catch up on, but I’m really trying.”

Mr. Harper leaned back in his chair, nodding thoughtfully. “That’s good to hear, Sally. I have to say, I appreciate how you’ve handled this. A lot of students might have ignored my email or gotten defensive. Instead, you’ve been upfront and proactive. That says a lot about you.”

Sally felt a rush of relief at his words, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you. I just… I know I messed up, but I want to do better. I really appreciate you giving me another chance.”

“You’ve earned it,” Mr. Harper said firmly. Mr. Harper leaned forward slightly, his tone becoming more instructional. “Alright, Sally, let’s talk specifics. First, your essays—what you submitted missed the mark in a few areas. The ideas were there, but they weren’t fully developed. You rushed through your arguments, and there was a lack of depth in your analysis. For instance, in your history essay, you mentioned the economic impact of the Great Depression but didn’t expand on how it reshaped government policies. That’s the kind of deeper connection I’m looking for. Take the time to outline your thoughts before you start writing—it’ll help you stay focused. For the rewrites, I want you to break each essay into clear sections: introduction, body paragraphs with evidence and analysis, and a strong conclusion that ties it all together. Keep your points concise but thorough. It looked like you did things in a hurry.”

He paused, giving her a chance to absorb the information before continuing. “The second thing is time management. I understand you’ve had a lot going on, but setting aside dedicated, uninterrupted time for your work is crucial. Use that planner of yours—or any app, whatever works—and block off chunks of time for brainstorming, writing, and revising. If you have questions about structure or content, don’t hesitate to email me. I’d rather clarify now than see you struggle unnecessarily.”

Sally nodded, jotting down mental notes as he spoke. His clear, constructive feedback was helpful, and she felt a spark of motivation to approach the essays with renewed focus. This time, she’d get it right.

“Now, about your workload. I know it can be overwhelming, especially with your schedule. Have you considered reaching out to Katrina and Clara for help? They’re your best friends, right? I’m sure they’d be happy to give you some tips or guidance.”

Sally blinked in surprise. “Katrina and Clara?”

“Yes,” he said with a small chuckle. “Friends help each other. Sometimes it’s easier to tackle a challenge when you’ve got people in your corner. They know you well, and they might even have some clever strategies for managing your time.”

Sally nodded slowly, her expression softening. “That’s… a really good idea. I think I’ll do that.”

Mr. Harper glanced at the time and offered her an encouraging smile. “Well, I won’t keep you. You’ve got work to do, and I’ve got a stack of essays to grade. Just remember, I’m here if you need clarification on anything. And keep this momentum going, Sally. You’re doing well.”

“Thank you, Mr. Harper,” Sally said sincerely. “For understanding and giving me this chance.”

“You’re welcome. Good communication goes a long way, and you’ve proven you’re willing to put in the effort. Many of your classmates would’ve shrunk away or even gotten bitter about the feedback. That’s not you, and it’s a good sign for the future.”

Sally felt a warm glow at his words. “I really appreciate that. Thanks again.”

With a final exchange of good wishes, the call ended, leaving Sally staring at her screen for a moment. A weight seemed to lift from her chest, and she let out a deep breath. Mr. Harper’s understanding and advice had given her the boost she needed to tackle her work.

--

Sally sat back in her chair, staring at the now-blank screen of her laptop. Mr. Harper’s words echoed in her mind: Friends help each other. It wasn’t just Mr. Harper—Theresa had said the same thing just a couple days ago. Both of them had pointed to Katrina and Clara, her best friends since childhood. They were the kind of friends who knew everything about her, who had been by her side through every awkward, joyful, and painful moment of growing up.

But lately… lately she’d been pushing them away. She hadn’t meant to—it wasn’t like she didn’t care about them anymore. She did, deeply. But something had changed, and now she had to admit the truth she’d been avoiding: she had changed.

Her life had shifted so dramatically. The extreme wealth, the private jets, the new apartment in SoHo, the constant travel—it all felt like a whirlwind, and in trying to adjust, she’d lost her footing. She didn’t know how to talk about her life with Katrina and Clara anymore. Would they understand? Would they judge her? Or worse, would they pretend to understand and secretly resent her? She had avoided those questions by keeping them at arm’s length.

But as she sat there, reflecting, a new thought struck her: If it were someone else—someone acting the way I’ve been acting—I’d think they were a snob. A false friend.

Her chest tightened as the realization hit. She had always prided herself on being genuine, loyal, and true to the people who mattered to her. But was she still that person? Or had she let all these changes turn her into someone else—someone she didn’t want to be?

Sally ran a hand through her damp hair and exhaled deeply. Katrina and Clara deserved better. They had always been there for her. It wasn’t fair to leave them out of her life just because her circumstances had shifted. She wasn’t a different person. She was still Sally Weiss, their friend—the same girl who laughed too hard at their inside jokes and shared late-night snacks during sleepovers. Who showed off her diaper and teased Katrina.

She needed to fix this. She needed to show them that she hadn’t forgotten who she was, or who they were to her. And she couldn’t do it with a few texts or a vague update. She needed to call them, hear their voices, and rebuild the trust she had let slip away.

Sally checked the time. It was still early afternoon in the Mediterranean, which meant it was mid-morning back in Hartford. Katrina and Clara would still be at school, but they’d be home later in the afternoon. By tonight, she would call—she hoped they’d be together, maybe hanging out at Katrina’s house like they often did after school. It would be the perfect time to reach out.

She stared out the window of her cabin at the endless expanse of sea and sky. The stillness felt grounding, a perfect backdrop for her racing thoughts. She had made a lot of mistakes recently, but this was one she could fix. She had to fix it.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Sally leaned back in her chair, letting her resolve settle over her like a calm wave. Tonight, she would call her friends. She would tell them everything—about her struggles, her excitement, her fears. And she would make them understand how much they still meant to her.

It wasn’t just about rebuilding trust with Katrina and Clara. It was about rebuilding herself, the person she wanted to be: genuine, loyal, and true.

Sally closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair, a determined smile on her face. The day was still young, and she was ready to make the most of it.

--

The sun dipped lower into the horizon, painting the Mediterranean waters in shimmering golds and soft blues. Sally sat at the shaded deck table, her laptop open, fingers dancing over the keys as she focused intently on her homework. Her glass of Orangina sat frosty and inviting beside her, frequently topped off by the attentive stewards, who exchanged curious glances as they passed by the unusual sight of a teenager in a bikini diligently working amid the luxurious, carefree atmosphere.

The warm breeze kissed her skin, and the distant murmur of waves against the hull provided a calming backdrop. Sally adjusted her position, stretching her neck, before resuming her task. She had promised herself she’d get through this—no distractions, no excuses.

--

The shadows lengthened, and the deck grew quieter as the group’s earlier water games wound down. Janice, with her effortless grace, approached Sally, holding a bottle of after-sun lotion in one hand.

“Still at it, clever cookie?” she asked softly, her voice breaking Sally’s focus.

Sally blinked, her mind momentarily caught between the historical analysis she was crafting and the present moment. She looked up, slightly dazed. “Oh, hey. Yeah, just trying to finish this essay.”

Janice smiled knowingly. “You’re doing great, but it’s time for a break. Trust me—you’ll think better after some fresh aloe on that sun-kissed skin. You’ve been out here all day.”

Sally hesitated for a moment, then closed her laptop, exhaling. “Okay, you win.”

Janice motioned for her to lean back on the lounge chair. “This won’t take long. Just relax.” She poured the cooling gel into her palms and began smoothing it over Sally’s shoulders with a practiced touch.

The sensation was both soothing and stimulating, and Sally bit her lip to suppress a small smile as the aloe worked its magic on her warm skin. Janice’s hands moved with a perfect mix of precision and care, never crossing into anything that felt too personal, yet still creating a deep sense of comfort.

“This is how you avoid peeling,” Janice said lightly, working her way down Sally’s arms. “And next time, remember to reapply sunscreen more often.”

Sally chuckled softly. “Noted.”

Tamara perched on a nearby lounger, sipping her drink and observing with amusement. “Janice should moonlight as a spa therapist. She’s too good at this.”

“She’s hired,” Sally said with a laugh, leaning back and letting herself enjoy the moment.

--

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the yacht lit up once more, the warm glow of its lights contrasting beautifully with the soft blues of the sea and sky. The group began to gather on the deck, the pre-dinner ambiance one of relaxed camaraderie. Stewards circulated with trays of cold drinks and expertly crafted cocktails, the clink of glasses and murmur of conversation adding to the tranquil atmosphere.

Sally had pulled on her T-shirt over her bikini, the lightweight fabric sticking slightly to her still-cool skin. She was sipping her Orangina when Tim approached, beer in hand. With a playful grin, he raised his glass in a toast.

“To Orangina and serious work on holiday.”

Sally laughed and clinked her glass with his. “To beer and people who think vacation is all play.”

Tim leaned back on the lounger next to her, grinning. “You know, you’re allowed to have a drink in Switzerland at 16. Same with most of Europe.”

Adrian, who had just appeared with Daniel in tow, nodded in agreement as he took a seat nearby. “It’s true. Different cultures have different thresholds for these things.”

Daniel chuckled, gesturing with his glass. “And yet, in the U.S., you can carry a gun at 18 but can’t drink until you’re 21. Go figure.”

The group erupted into chuckles, shaking their heads at the peculiarities of the laws across the world.

“I’ll stick with Orangina for now,” Sally said, her tone dry but her eyes twinkling.

“Good choice,” Adrian said, smiling at his daughter, a rare moment of relaxation crossing his usually serious face.

“But after I get my Mustang, I’m coming to Europe to celebrate it!”, she stated, eliciting cheers and laughter.

As the laughter subsided and the conversation continued to meander, Sally felt herself sinking into the warmth of the group. The evening breeze was perfect, the company lively, and the contrasts of culture and conversation made her feel surprisingly at home in this eclectic gathering.

--

Sally sat cross-legged on the bed in her cabin, her damp hair falling loosely over her shoulders, her sun-kissed skin glowing even in the soft cabin lighting. She wore a loose sleep T-shirt, her tan lines just visible on her shoulders.

She had sent two essays to Mr. Harper, fruit of an intense afternoon of concentration and hard work. Now, it was time to resolve another issue. Her phone rested on a pillow, the screen bright as it connected to the video call.

After a few rings, Katrina’s face appeared, her loose curls a little disheveled and her T-shirt slightly askew. There was a faint blush on her cheeks and a certain hesitation in her smile that didn’t go unnoticed by Sally. “Hey, Sal!” Katrina greeted, her usual enthusiasm slightly tempered, though her happiness at seeing Sally was genuine.

Sally smiled knowingly. “Did I call at a busy time?”

Katrina winked, brushing her curls out of her face. “Clara’s here.” From somewhere offscreen came a faint, “Give me a sec!” followed by a giggle from Katrina.

Sally smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “I’m guessing I interrupted something?”

Katrina shrugged dramatically. “You could say that.”

Clara’s face appeared a moment later, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen, but she waved enthusiastically at the screen. “Sally! It’s so good to see you!” she exclaimed, though her appearance left little doubt as to what Sally had barged in on.

Sally raised an eyebrow, a crooked smile tugging at her lips. “Sorry for interrupting… whatever that was.”

Katrina, recovering her usual flamboyant energy, shot back with a wink. “You should have seen us.”

Clara added in a sly tone, “Wish you were here.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “Maybe I’m better off where I am. You two are trouble.”

Katrina tilted her head, curiosity lighting up her expression. “And where exactly are you, Miss Weiss? It’s been too long.”

Sally took a deep breath, the weight of the conversation she had been preparing for settling over her. “That’s actually why I’m calling. It has been too long, and I’m sorry. Things have been… kind of crazy. But that’s no excuse.”

The girls shuffled to Katrina’s bed, propping the phone up so it framed both of them. The camera jostled slightly, giving Sally brief glimpses of bare legs and T-shirts before settling. Meanwhile, Sally sat patiently, the gentle hum of the yacht in the background as she collected her thoughts.

Once they were settled, she began. “Okay, so… where do I even start?” She explained her time in Beverly Hills: the fundraiser meeting, staying at the fancy hotel, and shopping on Rodeo Drive.

“Rodeo Drive?” Katrina cut in, her voice rising with excitement. “That’s, like, peak luxury! What’d you get?”

Sally smiled shyly. “Just some clothes, bikinis, sunglasses, you know. It was fun.”

She moved on to describe her chartered jet to the Keys and meeting her mother and Olivia there. Katrina interrupted again. “Wait, wait—Olivia? As in the trust fund… director? We met her at your birthday party.”

“That’s her. Trust fund manager,” Sally corrected with a laugh. “She’s kind of amazing, honestly. She’s been helping me figure out my responsibilities.”

They both nodded, impressed, and Sally continued. She told them briefly about the fundraiser planning in the Keys, the road trip in the Aston Martin with Theresa, and how much fun she had.

Katrina clapped her hands. “I love that for you! Fancy cars, the Keys, Beverly Hills—are you living your best life or what?”

Sally laughed softly. “It’s been great, but it’s also been… a lot.”

Sally paused, taking a deep breath before sharing the next part. “And then, after all that, we flew to New York in my dad’s jet.”

Katrina and Clara exchanged wide-eyed looks. “Nice!” Clara echoed, her voice tinged with awe.

“Yeah, and…” Sally hesitated, feeling shy but knowing she needed to be honest. “I have an apartment there now. In SoHo.”

“Wait, what?” Katrina sat bolt upright. “You have an apartment in SoHo? Like, your own place?”

Sally nodded, trying to keep her voice casual. “Yeah, it’s… part of the trust, I guess. It’s been sitting empty, so now I have access to it.”

Katrina and Clara stared at her in stunned silence, then burst out laughing in disbelief. “Your own apartment?” Katrina exclaimed. “That’s insane. You’re basically independent!”

Sally chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. “I mean, kind of. Not yet. But it’s amazing, but it’s also a little overwhelming. That’s actually why I’ve been so distant… I’ve been shy about it. Shy about everything that’s happening.”

The girls went quiet, listening intently as Sally continued. “I’m having a great time, I really am. But it’s a lot to take in, and I don’t always know how to talk about it. I didn’t want you to think I was showing off or anything. It’s made me uncomfortable, and… I think I ended up pushing you guys away. And I’m really sorry for that.”

Katrina huffed dramatically, her Colombian flair on full display. “Bueno, at least you have something to brag about! And, girl, you can include us in your bragging. We don’t mind.”

Clara leaned forward, her voice softer but no less warm. “Sally, we get it. It’s a lot. But you’re still you. We know that.”

Sally felt a lump rise in her throat at their words. “Thanks. I just… I didn’t want to hurt our friendship.”

Clara smiled. “You didn’t. We’re here, okay?”

Katrina tilted her head, her curiosity piqued again. “So, where are you now? What’s next on the luxury world tour?”

Sally made a face, knowing what was coming. “Well, I guess this is where the bragging continues…”

She detailed her father’s study, the phone call that led to the yacht invitation, and her helicopter ride to the yacht. As she described her first impressions of the enormous vessel, Katrina and Clara’s jaws dropped.

“Girl, you’re living the dream!” Katrina said. “I hope you fit right in. I bet they all admire you.”

Sally shook her head modestly. “Not really. But I’m trying to enjoy it.”

She told them about the food, the fun on the water, and even Mr. Harper’s criticism of her essays and their follow-up meeting. The girls listened, wide-eyed and impressed, as Sally shared her revelations.

Katrina and Clara exchanged a glance, then looked back at the screen. Even though they came from wealth themselves, Sally’s experiences were on a whole other level. Still, they could see that their friend was genuine, humble, and doing her best to stay grounded.

“Thanks for sharing all this,” Clara said softly. “It means a lot.”

Sally nodded, feeling lighter than she had in weeks. “I missed you guys.”

--

Sally laughed softly at Katrina’s command, “Send us pictures.” It wasn’t a request; it was a demand.

Clara, ever the softer voice of reason, added, “Don’t worry, Sally, we won’t share them. At least the bragging will stay in-house.” She nudged Katrina, coaxing her, “Promise, Katrina.”

Katrina tilted her head theatrically, leaving the question hanging in suspense. “Hmm, I don’t know…”

Clara leaned closer, whispering something softly, almost seductively, into Katrina’s ear. Whatever it was, it had an immediate effect—Katrina’s eyes popped open. “Deal!” she exclaimed, grinning.

Sally’s curiosity piqued instantly. “Wait, what did she say?”

Clara brushed it off with a knowing smile. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

Katrina, never one to miss an opportunity for teasing, leaned into the camera. “Oh, something kinky. You wouldn’t understand.” She paused dramatically, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Well, actually… maybe you would.”

Sally rolled her eyes, trying to play it cool, but her cheeks flushed. “Alright, enough of that.”

“Speaking of kink,” Katrina started, leaning closer to the camera with an exaggerated smirk, “how’s the Pampered Princess doing? Are there premium diaper changes offered on board?”

Sally groaned, her face turning bright red. “I put on my diapers myself, thank you very much. And for your information, my cabin steward saw them and was completely professional about it.”

Her blunt honesty sent her friends into an uproar, both of them laughing so hard they had to clutch their sides. Katrina clapped her hands. “Oh my God, Sally, you’re unbelievable. Only you could make that sound so normal.”

Clara managed to catch her breath, wiping a tear from her eye. “Seriously though, that’s bold. And kind of awesome. I bet your cabin steward thinks you’re the coolest.”

Sally rolled her eyes but smiled, their laughter infectious.

“It must be late over there,” Clara said, her tone softening.

“Yeah, almost midnight,” Sally replied, glancing at the clock.

Katrina, of course, jumped in with a sly grin. “Are you ready for bed?”

Sally nodded, already knowing where this was going. “I am, actually.”

Katrina’s grin widened. “Are you all snuggly and comfortable in that beautiful cute diaper?”

Sally’s blush deepened, but she couldn’t help the rueful smile that tugged at her lips. “You’re impossible,” she muttered.

Clara elbowed Katrina playfully, but Katrina just kept grinning. Sally shook her head, and in a moment of exasperated affection, lowered the camera briefly, just long enough to flash them a quick view of her diaper peeking out from under her T-shirt.

Both girls squealed in delight. “You look adorable!” Katrina declared, while Clara nodded in agreement, her grin wide but warm.

Sally buried her face in her hands for a second, laughing despite herself. “You two are ridiculous.”

As the laughter subsided, Sally glanced at the clock again. “Alright, I need to sleep. You two enjoy… whatever it was I interrupted.”

Katrina’s grin turned sly. “Oh, we will. Don’t worry about that.”

Sally turned her attention to Clara, who was blushing but still smiling, looking at Katrina warily. “And you, Clara—whatever you promised Katrina, you’d better follow through.”

Clara’s face turned a deeper shade of red, her playful fear evident as she laughed nervously. Katrina leaned over and kissed her on the lips, murmuring something Sally couldn’t hear but could guess.

Sally shook her head, amused. “Good night, you two. Behave yourselves—or don’t. Either way, have fun.”

She ended the call, the laughter and warmth lingering as she set her phone aside. Snuggling into her bed, Sally felt lighter, grateful to have reconnected with her friends.

--

Sally had noticed Janice and Tamara snapping pictures and taking videos throughout the day, their laughter and playful energy a constant backdrop to the yacht’s festivities. As the night wound down, she heard their muffled voices and footsteps pass by her cabin door. They were still awake, which meant it was the perfect time to ask for the photos. She hastily wrapped herself in her silk robe, already feeling cozy and secure in it over her diaper, and shuffled out into the corridor.

Knocking on their door, Sally waited nervously. A moment later, Tamara opened it, her eyebrows lifting in playful surprise as her gaze swept over Sally. “Well, look who’s come to join the fun,” she teased, glancing over her shoulder toward Janice, who was just walking up.

Janice smiled warmly. “What’s this? A midnight visit from Miss Weiss? Come on in!”

“Oh, no, it’s just a second—” Sally started, her protest cut off as they gently ushered her inside.

“Don’t be silly,” Tamara said, placing a hand on her back and steering her toward the plush sofa. “Sit. Relax.”

Sally hesitated but complied, perching on the edge of the sofa. The room was a mirror image of hers, albeit smaller, and it had a cozier vibe with Tamara’s sandals kicked off near the door and Janice’s book on the coffee table. The women sat beside her, Tamara cracking open a beer as Janice grabbed one for herself.

“Drink?” Janice offered.

“Just a Sprite, thanks,” Sally replied, a little shy.

Tamara chuckled as she passed Sally a frosty can. “A Sprite for the responsible one. Fitting.”

--

Sally sipped her drink as she got to the point of her visit. “I noticed you two taking pictures and videos earlier. Do you think I could get some of those? They’re great memories, and I’d love to share them with my friends.”

Janice reached for her phone on the table, already scrolling through her gallery. “Of course. I’ll send them to you now.”

Sally nodded her thanks, trying to focus on the conversation but feeling hyper-aware of her diaper. The soft crinkle when she moved, the way her robe brushed against her skin—it was as if every sound was amplified in the quiet cabin. Still, she managed to chat about her day, the homework she’d worked on, and even her conversation with Katrina and Clara.

“They were definitely… busy when I called,” Sally added with a sly grin, watching for their reaction.

Tamara raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell.”

Sally chuckled, taking another sip of her Sprite. “Let’s just say I interrupted something potentially… private.”

The women laughed, exchanging amused glances. “Sounds like you’ve got some colorful friends,” Janice said, with a knowing smile, sliding her phone toward Sally. “Here. Pictures are sent.”

As Sally leaned back into the soft cushions, relaxing for the first time all day, Janice placed a gentle hand on her knee. The gesture was warm and casual, but Sally stiffened slightly, her heart skipping a beat as she heard the faintest crinkle from her diaper. Was it that obvious?

Janice noticed her reaction and spoke softly, her voice kind. “You don’t have to be shy about wearing diapers, Sally. At least not with us. We understand.”

Sally blinked, her cheeks heating. “You… know?”

Tamara leaned forward with a reassuring smile. “We noticed. It’s not a big deal, I promise. Lots of people wear them, whether they need to or just like the comfort. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Sally stared at them, surprised by their casual tone. After a moment, she managed to nod. “I mean… I do sort of need them, but…” She hesitated, then decided to be honest. “I also like them. They make me feel comfortable and secure.”

Tamara’s smile widened. “I thought so. I bet they look cute on you.”

Sally’s blush deepened, but she found herself smiling back. “Thanks… I guess so... It means a lot.”

Janice patted Sally’s knee gently. “There’s no judgment here, Sally. Not from us. Ever.”

Sally sat still for a moment, their kindness wrapping around her like a warm blanket. Then, she stood and turned to face them, her silk robe swishing lightly around her legs. Her hands fidgeted with the fabric, but she lifted her chin slightly, looking at them with a mix of gratitude and vulnerability.

Tamara, still seated on the sofa, reached out gently, placing her hands on Sally’s waist. Her touch was light and reassuring, but Sally could tell Tamara felt the faint crinkle of her diaper beneath the robe. Their eyes met, and Tamara’s expression was tender, almost protective, as she looked up at her.

“Sally,” Tamara began softly, “just be yourself. Be free. There’s nothing wrong with you—nothing to hide, nothing to feel ashamed about. If wearing diapers makes you feel good, comfortable, or even happy, then embrace it. The less you worry about what others think, the more you’ll shine.”

Sally felt a lump in her throat, her emotions threatening to spill over. The sincerity in Tamara’s voice, the way she spoke as though Sally’s feelings truly mattered, brought a tear to her eye. She blinked quickly, but one escaped, rolling down her cheek. She wiped it away with her fingers, nodding slowly.

“Thanks, Tamara,” she said, her voice quiet but steady. Her gaze shifted to Janice, who was smiling warmly from the sofa. “And thank you, too, Janice. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Tamara squeezed her waist lightly before letting go. “Anytime, sweetheart. That’s what we’re here for.”

Janice nodded in agreement. “Exactly. You’re amazing just as you are, Sally. Don’t forget it.”

Sally smiled, her heart lighter. “Good night, you two. Have fun”, she said, winking.

“Oh, we will”, said Tamara, reaching for Janice’s knee.

“Good night, Sally,” said Janice, her voice soft but full of warmth.

--

Sally hesitated for a moment outside Tamara and Janice’s cabin after their heartfelt conversation. As she walked down the wide corridor back to her own room, she spotted her father at the far end, just about to step into his cabin. He looked up, startled to see her, then smiled warmly and waved her over.

Caught off guard, Sally froze. The presence of her diaper beneath her silk robe felt all the more prominent after her discussion with Tamara and Janice. It was as though the crinkle was echoing in the silent hallway, and the thought of walking toward her father filled her with sudden apprehension. Should she retreat to her room? But she reasoned with herself—her father wouldn’t notice, and he certainly wouldn’t interpret her movements the way Tamara and Janice did. No, this was fine. This was safe.

Summoning her courage, Sally walked toward Adrian, her steps deliberate and hesitant. He interpreted her reluctance as shyness for being up so late and chuckled softly. “It’s okay to be up late,” he said gently. “You’re on holiday, after all.”

He ushered her into his cabin, which was slightly larger than hers, though similarly decorated with tasteful luxury. Adrian motioned for her to sit on the sofa, and Sally perched on the edge, still feeling self-conscious. He crossed the room to the minibar and picked up a bottle of her Vichy Catalan, pouring it into a crystal goblet.

“I know you love this,” he said, handing it to her. “I made sure it was stocked for you.”

Touched by the thoughtfulness, Sally smiled and took the glass. “Thanks, Dad. That was really nice of you.”

Adrian nodded with a small, pleased smile and excused himself. Taking his folded pajamas and dressing gown, he disappeared into the bathroom. Sally sat alone, fidgeting slightly as she sipped the sparkling water, hyper-aware of the faint crinkle of her diaper with every shift. Her bladder nudged her, and she decided to use her diaper while she had a moment alone, relaxing into the sensation and letting go. As the last drops fizzled, she sighed in relief, her shoulders dropping. She felt more at ease just as Adrian re-entered the room, now clad in elegant pajamas and a matching dressing gown.

“Classy,” Sally quipped, a teasing smile lighting her face.

Adrian laughed, walking to the corner of the room where a bottle of brandy stood on the minibar. He poured himself a generous measure and then added a small amount to a second snifter. Returning to the sitting area, he handed the smaller glass to Sally and took the armchair across from her.

“I want you to try this,” Adrian said. “Under parental supervision, of course. When you’re older, I don’t want you to be overwhelmed by it. Better to learn now.”

Sally hesitated but took the glass. “Thanks… I think?” They clinked glasses, and she tentatively sipped the amber liquid. The warmth spread through her chest, unexpected but pleasant.

“St. Rémy,” Adrian said, nodding approvingly. “One of the best.”

As Sally swirled the brandy in her glass, Adrian’s voice took on a different, serious tone. “I got a phone call from Mr. Harper tonight.”

Sally nearly choked. “Mr. Harper?” she echoed, panic flashing across her face.

Her heart plummeted. The mention of Mr. Harper’s name sent a wave of dread crashing over her. Why would he call Dad? Her mind raced, piecing together the worst-case scenarios. Had Mr. Harper betrayed her confidence? Had all his kind words in their meeting been a facade? Had her efforts, however flawed, been so embarrassing that he felt the need to inform her father?

What will Dad say? she thought, her throat tightening. She imagined his disappointment—the frown, the lecture about taking things seriously, and the inevitable comparison to his own rigorous discipline when he was her age. Her father had always emphasized responsibility, even subtly, and she’d been so certain that keeping her struggles from him had been the right decision. Was contacting Mr. Harper a mistake? Was trying to fix things on my own just naive?

Her fingers tightened around the snifter in her hand. For a fleeting moment, she felt a pang of anger at Mr. Harper. Hadn’t he seen her genuine effort, her willingness to improve? She had exposed her vulnerabilities to him, believing he understood her situation. Now, she felt betrayed, as though her teacher had used her honesty against her. A flush of embarrassment warmed her cheeks. What am I going to say? What is Dad going to say?

Adrian’s calm voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, but she barely registered his words at first.

Adrian smiled. “Yes. He called to tell me how proud I should be of you. He said you’re producing some fantastic work, even while traveling.”

Sally blinked in surprise, relief washing over her. “Oh… he did?”

Adrian nodded, his eyes warm with pride. “He mentioned that he’d expected it to be more of a challenge for you, but you’ve handled it brilliantly. He said you’re dedicated, articulate, and hardworking. I couldn’t ask for more.”

Sally felt a mix of emotions—relief, pride, and a sudden flood of gratitude. She smiled crookedly, shrugging her shoulders. “Well, it wasn’t easy or anything, but… I tried.”

Adrian leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “I’m glad I brought you on this trip, Sally. It’s a learning experience for both of us.”

Sally tilted her head, watching as her father’s gaze drifted to the distant lights of Genoa. “Both of us?” she echoed.

Adrian smiled faintly but didn’t elaborate. “For both of us,” he repeated quietly, lost in thought.

Sally shifted slightly on the sofa, hoping the faint crinkle of her diaper wasn’t audible. She remained silent, unsure of what her father meant but feeling the weight of his words, nonetheless.

Adrian snapped back to the present and smiled at her again. “Tomorrow, we’re hosting a few guests for dinner. It’s an opportunity for networking and friendship.

Sally furrowed her brows and interrupted him, “Wait, weren’t you planning on leaving tomorrow?” She tilted her head, trying to recall his earlier plans. “You said something about meetings in Zurich…”

Adrian chuckled, shaking his head. “Change of plans. Daniel convinced me to stay a couple more days. He thinks it’ll do me good to unwind for a bit, and I have to admit, he’s probably right.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised. “You? Unwinding? That’s new.”

He smirked at her teasing but nodded. “I know. It’s a rare occurrence. But the meetings can wait a day or two, and honestly, I’d like to spend more time with you here. Unless, of course, you’d rather I leave.”

Sally quickly shook her head, her voice softening. “No, I don’t mind at all. I like having you here.

“Good,” Adrian said with a genuine smile, leaning back in his chair. “Because I have a feeling these next few days are going to be memorable.”

Sally smiled back, her earlier doubts fading. “They already are.”

Adrian nodded, satisfied. “And you don’t need to worry about mingling. Just enjoy yourself. Stick close to Tamara and Janice—they’re good women, and they’ll look out for you.”

Sally nodded, grateful for his reassurance. “Thanks, Dad.”

Adrian swirled the brandy in his snifter, his gaze thoughtful as he watched the amber liquid catch the light. “Sally,” he began, his voice steady but warm, “I don’t know if I’ve said this enough, but I have big plans for you. Not in a ‘your life is already planned out’ kind of way—I wouldn’t do that to you—but in a ‘you have so much ahead of you’ kind of way.”

Sally tilted her head, watching him intently. His tone carried weight, but not pressure, and she appreciated the distinction.

“You’re at the start of something most people can’t even imagine,” Adrian continued, his eyes meeting hers. “A life where opportunities are endless, yes, but where the responsibilities can feel just as heavy. It’s not about money or the things it can buy. It’s about the influence you’ll have, the decisions you’ll make, and the legacy you’ll leave behind.”

Sally took a slow sip of her brandy, the warmth spreading through her chest matching the warmth of her father’s words. “That sounds… overwhelming,” she admitted softly, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass. “It’s like… I don’t even know where to start.” Sally thought of her mom, so far away. She couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to juggle her father’s expectations and her mother’s encouragement separately.

Adrian smiled, setting his glass down on the table. “You don’t have to know everything right now. The truth is, no one does when they’re your age—or even my age, for that matter. But what you do have is time and a willingness to learn. And Sally, that’s more than enough.”

She nodded, his words sinking in, but a flicker of doubt still lingered. “It just feels like… such a big deal. Like, how do I even begin to balance everything? I’ve been learning from Olivia, and Mom’s been incredible with all her advice, but it’s still scary.”

Adrian leaned forward, his expression softening as he placed a reassuring hand on her knee. “It’s okay to be scared. Fear means you care. And trust me, Sally, you’re already on the right path. You’ve got a great mom. She’s a great help. You’ve been listening, observing, and asking the right questions. That’s how you grow into your role—step by step.”

She sighed, warming up to her father’s inclusion of her mother. Leaning back in her chair as she finished the last sip of her brandy. “I’ve learned a lot, but there’s so much I don’t know. And I want to learn from you too.”

Her words made Adrian pause, his expression softening even further. “Sally, you’re already doing the most important thing: you’re trying. And as for learning from me, well…” He chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not perfect, but I’ll teach you what I can. And more importantly, I’ll be here for you, no matter what.”

Sally smiled, a genuine warmth spreading through her chest. “Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.”

Adrian stood, picking up both their glasses and setting them aside. “Get some rest, Sally. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow will be just as full.”

Sally nodded, leaning forward slightly in her seat. For a moment, she forgot about the snug diaper under her silk robe, or the doubts that had plagued her earlier. She hugged her father. “Goodnight, Dad,” she said softly.

Adrian smiled and ruffled her hair gently. “Goodnight, kiddo. You’re going to do great.”

As he walked out of the room, Sally sat for a moment, reflecting on their conversation. The daunting expectations of her future still lingered, but they felt lighter now, softened by the warmth of her father’s belief in her.

Adrian took another sip of his brandy, then stood. “Get some rest, Sally. It’s been a long day, and tomorrow will be just as full.”

When Sally returned to her cabin, it was past midnight, exhaustion overtaking her. She slipped into bed, and before long, she drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep. Her last thought was how she missed her mother giving her that good night hug.

--

Tuesday morning, Sally woke to the sight of soft raindrops tracing paths down the window, the Mediterranean stretching calm and glassy beyond. The gray hues of the rainy day painted a serene, peaceful picture—perfect, she thought with a sigh, for catching up on homework.

She reached for the interphone on her bedside table and requested coffee from the steward.

In the bathroom, Sally splashed her face with cool water, shaking off the last remnants of sleep. As she dried her face, her eyes drifted downward to her reflection in the mirror. Beneath her loose t-shirt, the bulk of her wet diaper was unmistakable. She had definitely lost the battle, even before she had got to bed. Memories of her wetting her diaper in her father’s cabin made her blush a bit. But it could definitely take more, she thought slyly.

A light knock at the door made her pause. Hurriedly slipping into a terry robe, she opened the door to find Claudia, the ever-attentive steward, standing there with a tray.

“I brought the coffee you requested, Miss Weiss,” Claudia said warmly, setting the tray on the small table by the sofa. “And a small assortment of pastries—just in case.”

Sally’s gaze fell on the flaky croissants and golden pastries, her stomach growling faintly. As she reached for a croissant, Claudia, ever attentive, spoke up gently. “Miss Weiss, might I suggest something more substantial for breakfast? The chef would be delighted to prepare something warm and nourishing”, she said in her characteristic Italian accent. Sally paused, considering, then relented with a smile. “That sounds perfect, actually. Thank you, Claudia.”

Claudia’s smile widened, and she nodded. “Of course. I’ll let the chef know immediately.” She glanced at the cabin’s tidy arrangement before adding, “Are you planning to stay in your cabin this morning? It’s quite pleasant on the main deck, even with the rain.”

Sally hesitated for a moment, then waved toward her open laptop. “I’ve got some overdue homework I really need to focus on. I’ll head up later.”

Claudia inclined her head respectfully. “Very good, Miss Weiss. I’ll return shortly with your breakfast. And if there’s anything else you need, don’t hesitate to call.”

With that, Claudia left, and Sally settled at the desk by the window. She picked up one of the croissants and bit into it, savoring the buttery layers. As the first sip of strong, hot coffee warmed her, her mind wandered briefly to Katrina and her irrepressible imagination.

She chuckled to herself, thinking about Katrina’s joke from the night before—the idea of a “premium diapering service.” The memory brought a rueful smile to her lips. If such a thing existed, she thought wryly, it’d probably be on some exclusive yacht like this. She shook her head, dismissing the thought as she opened her laptop and brought up her assignments.

With Mr. Harper’s recent praise still echoing in her mind, she let her focus narrow onto her work, fueled by a quiet determination. The soft patter of rain outside and the warm glow of the cabin created the perfect cocoon for concentration.

--

Sally’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, her thoughts forming into words as she crafted her essay on the United States’ response to the 2007–2009 recession. She leaned into her research, analyzing how the U.S. government’s swift implementation of relief programs stabilized the financial sector, and how the Federal Reserve’s unconventional monetary policies, like quantitative easing, influenced the broader economy.

Pausing, she reached for her coffee, savoring the bold flavor as she reread a paragraph on the American Recovery and Reinvestment Act of 2009. She thought about how its mix of tax cuts, expanded unemployment benefits, and infrastructure spending aimed to jumpstart growth and cushion the blow to struggling households.

A bite of her omelet followed, its warm, savory taste a brief comfort before she adjusted her phrasing in the next section.

Her fingers flew again as she considered the recession’s human toll—record unemployment rates and widespread foreclosures—and juxtaposed them with the eventual recovery, driven by consumer confidence and increased government oversight. She paused, tapping her chin thoughtfully, then typed a new heading: “Lessons Learned and Long-Term Impacts.”

Her hand rested between her legs on her diaper. She released her bladder into it and felt herself relax as she enjoyed the solitude in her cabin.

As she worked, Sally’s thoughts drifted briefly to her ninth-grade economics class, where these concepts seemed abstract, just diagrams in a textbook or topics for pop quizzes. But now, as she wrote about fiscal stimulus and regulatory reform, she realized how directly they applied to her own future.

Expensive private schools had their uses, after all. It wasn’t only the nun uniforms, she thought, ruefully.

One day, she would be responsible for her family’s estate, making decisions about investments, philanthropy, and business ventures that could be shaped by economic cycles like the one she was analyzing. The weight of that realization pressed on her for a moment, but it also spurred her determination. This essay wasn’t just a school assignment—it was a step toward preparing for the responsibilities waiting for her.

With her laptop screen glowing in the rain-dimmed cabin, Sally felt a surge of determination. She sipped her coffee, corrected a typo, and allowed herself a small smile. The essay was taking shape, and with each keystroke, she felt closer to mastering the challenge. If only Mr. Harper could see her now, busy typing away in her desk, with a wet – very wet – diaper between her legs.

 

Sally didn’t know it, but someone special was approaching.

 

[FlyingFox]

Chapter 77 – Mediterranean Blue

As the sun broke through the clouds, bathing her cabin in soft, golden Mediterranean light, Sally turned her attention to one final task for the morning: outlining her essay on the Triple Bottom Line. This concept, which emphasized the interconnected pillars of economic growth, social equity, and environmental stewardship, intrigued her deeply. It was more than a framework for businesses—it was a philosophy that could redefine success in a rapidly changing world.

Her mind buzzed with ideas as she jotted down notes, exploring how sustainable practices could not only enhance profitability but also uplift communities and preserve the planet. With each line she wrote, she felt a growing connection to the material, recognizing how it aligned with her own future aspirations to balance the responsibilities of wealth with a commitment to positive impact.

--

Sally sighed, reluctantly saving her progress and shutting her laptop as Darrel’s firm knock echoed through her cabin door. “Get your ass on deck, Weiss. You’re needed,” she called, her tone somewhere between teasing and commanding.

“I’m coming!” she called back, rolling her eyes but smiling. She could only imagine what they had planned now—probably more antics in the water. Still, the interruption was welcome; she had been staring at her screen for hours.

She stood, feeling the heaviness of her wet diaper as she moved. With a wry smile, she unfastened it carefully, folding it discreetly and placing it in the hidden bathroom bin. Stripping off her oversized t-shirt, she stepped into the shower, letting the warm water wash away the morning’s efforts and reinvigorate her. She scrubbed quickly, her mind already shifting to the fun ahead.

Once clean and refreshed, she toweled off and slipped into her birthday bikini—a sleek and vibrant piece that had been a hit at her poolside party. The bright colors popped against her sun-kissed skin, making her feel confident and ready for anything. She pulled on a Key Largo t-shirt over the bikini and quickly combed through her damp hair, leaving it loose and wavy.

Grabbing her sunglasses from the vanity, she took one last glance in the mirror and smirked. Ready for anything. She opened the door and stepped out, her excitement building as she heard the distant sound of laughter and animated conversation coming from the deck.

--

As Sally stepped onto the main sunny deck, she automatically shed her t-shirt, heading for the pool. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a man at the center of the gathering. His presence commanded attention, even among the already elegant company. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wore a perfectly tailored blazer over an open white shirt, the look somehow both casual and commanding. His dark hair was neatly styled, and a generous, impeccably groomed mustache framed a smile that radiated warmth and authority.

The yacht’s powerboat was moored just off the side. Sally quickly pieced together that this man must have arrived in it, perhaps as a guest for the evening festivities.

Daniel stepped forward and introduced the newcomer in his usual jovial manner. “Sally, meet Otto Steinberg. A good friend of mine—and one of the most interesting people you’ll ever have the pleasure of meeting.”

Otto turned toward Sally as Daniel gestured to her. His deep-set eyes gleamed with interest as he offered her a subtle bow of his head. “And you must be Sally,” he said, his voice rich and smooth, carrying a faint accent Sally couldn’t place. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Sally felt heat rise to her cheeks, suddenly hyper-aware of her bikini-clad figure under his assessing yet kind gaze. She wasn’t sure if it was his towering stature, his air of refined authority, or the sharp contrast between his polished attire and her casual swimwear, but she felt unusually small, almost childlike, in his presence. She tucked a damp strand of hair behind her ear and forced a smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Steinberg,” she replied, her voice a little softer than she intended. She shifted her weight nervously, the warm deck beneath her feet only amplifying her awareness of her surroundings.

Otto smiled, his expression as kind as it was commanding. “Please, call me Otto,” he said gently. “And let me assure you, the pleasure is entirely mine.” His tone carried an unspoken sincerity, a warmth that set her at ease despite her self-consciousness.

For a moment, Sally forgot how out of place she felt. Otto had a way of making her feel seen—not as a teenager in a bikini, but as an equal worth his full attention. She nodded shyly, tucking away the lingering awkwardness and allowing herself to relax under his steady, reassuring gaze.

Sally stared at Otto, her cheeks flushing as his eyes briefly blinked and swept over her in her bikini. His reaction wasn’t inappropriate, just the natural surprise of meeting someone so informally dressed in such a formal context. She fidgeted slightly, feeling self-conscious, then reached out to shake his hand. His grip was firm but warm, exuding the same trust his demeanor suggested.

“I’ve heard so much about you, Sally,” Otto said, his deep, German-accented voice carrying an air of warmth and familiarity, softened by unmistakably American mannerisms. “Your trip to Key West sounded like quite the adventure.”

Sally blinked in surprise, a polite smile tugging at her lips. “It was beautiful,” she admitted. “Very different from anything I’ve done before.”

“And Rodeo Drive,” Otto continued with a knowing look. “I imagine that was an experience all its own.”

Sally chuckled softly, feeling slightly off-balance but humoring him. “It was definitely something else. I found some really nice pieces there,” she said, gesturing vaguely as if to reference her current outfit, although she hadn’t bought this one there.

Otto nodded appreciatively, his grin widening. “Ah, and then there’s the Aston Martin. I can only imagine how much fun you had in that car. I have one myself – although not convertible.”

Sally’s polite composure faltered, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Okay, now that was a lot of fun,” she admitted, her smile growing. “I’d never been in anything like it, but… wait a second.” She leaned forward slightly, narrowing her eyes at him. “How do you know about the Aston Martin?”

Otto chuckled, raising his hands as if caught red-handed. “Ah, well, it’s no grand mystery,” he said, his grin teasing. “Someone told me. On our way over.”

Sally blinked. “Someone? Who—?” Otto turned his head, scanning the deck, then pointed toward a figure stepping gracefully into view.

“She did,” he said simply.

Sally’s eyes followed his gesture—and froze. There, smiling softly and looking radiant despite the travel, stood her mother, Bridget. For a moment, Sally couldn’t process it. Then, as the realization sank in, she gasped, tears springing to her eyes. Her hands flew to her mouth, muffling an emotional shriek, before she darted forward and threw her arms around Bridget.

“Mom!” Sally cried, her voice cracking with emotion as she buried her face in her mother’s shoulder. Tears spilled freely now, mixing with laughter as she clung tightly, Bridget’s soothing voice grounding her.

“I’m here, baby,” Bridget murmured, stroking Sally’s damp hair. “I’m here.”

Though they’d only been apart for days, Sally realized how deeply she’d missed her mother. Navigating this whirlwind of luxury, new responsibilities, and unfamiliar faces had left her feeling unmoored. She had felt like a stool missing a leg. Having her mother there now felt like the missing leg snapping into place, a weight she hadn’t fully acknowledged lifting off her shoulders. For the first time in days, Sally felt fully herself—carefree, young, and utterly at peace.

When Sally finally pulled back, still sniffling, she turned to her father with a questioning look. Adrian stood nearby, smiling warmly.

“Everyone wanted to meet her,” he explained, his voice light. “And Otto, being the gentleman he is, offered to escort her over. He was flying in from New York anyway.”

Sally glanced at Otto, who stood with a grin that had grown even warmer. Without thinking, she hugged him, her gratitude overflowing. “Thank you,” she said, her voice choked with emotion. “Thank you so much.”

Otto, already feeling like a beloved godfather, patted her back gently. “It was my pleasure. Truly.”

As the group settled back into their camaraderie, Sally noticed Tamara and Janice waving Otto over. She smiled as they embraced him like an old friend, their laughter infectious. Bridget led Sally to the lounging area, and they sat together, catching up.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Sally admitted, still clutching her mother’s hand.

“Well, I didn’t know I’d be here either,” Bridget said with a laugh. She gave Sally an appraising look. “But you look radiant. A bikini suits you.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “I didn’t know you were coming. I was going to swim.”

“Then go ahead,” Bridget urged, smiling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Will you come in?” Sally asked, hope lighting her face.

Bridget grimaced playfully. “Not today. It’s my period”, she whispered.

Sally winced in sympathy and gave her mother another hug before reluctantly making her way to the pool. Tamara and Janice greeted her enthusiastically, and Sally joined them, splashing and laughing like a child.

A ripple of amusement spread through the group when Otto reappeared, now clad in a bright yellow speedo that left no doubt about his confidence. Sally’s eyes widened as she stared at the scene, unable to suppress her laughter.

“I came for the fun!” Otto declared grandly, diving into the pool to the sound of cheers and claps from Tamara and Janice. Sally followed him, mimicking his dive with exaggerated flair, and joined the joyful commotion.

As Sally floated in the pool, she caught sight of her father sitting next to her mother on the deck, deep in amiable conversation. For the first time in days, Sally felt utterly carefree. She was where she belonged, surrounded by people who loved her. Tamara and Janice exchanged knowing glances, marveling at the shift in her demeanor.

Even Adrian noticed, his brow furrowing slightly as he observed his daughter’s laughter and light-heartedness. Something had changed, and while he didn’t fully understand it, he was quietly pleased.

--

The afternoon sun glinted off the pool’s rippling surface as laughter echoed through the yacht’s deck. Sally, perched atop Otto’s broad shoulders, tightened her grip for balance. Across from her, Janice swayed precariously on Tamara’s shoulders, her mischievous grin fixed on Sally.

“Come on, Sally, show her what you’ve got!” Otto urged, his booming voice laced with amusement as he planted his feet firmly against the pool’s floor.

“You’ve got this, Jan!” Tamara bellowed, roaring encouragement while simultaneously provoking her teammate to be more aggressive. “Knock her into next week!”

Sally could hardly keep a straight face as she leaned forward to meet Janice’s attempts to wrestle her down. Lighter than her opponent and perched atop Otto’s unyielding strength, Sally had better leverage. But Janice’s sheer determination and physical strength made it a real contest. Water splashed wildly as the two grappled, both laughing uncontrollably.

The atmosphere was charged with playful energy, and everyone around the pool stopped to watch. Bridget clapped enthusiastically from the lounge area next to Adrian, who grinned while sipping a drink. Sally caught her mother’s applause in her peripheral vision and felt a surge of joy, her spirits soaring higher.

With one swift maneuver, Sally tilted her weight, catching Janice off balance. The next moment, Janice tumbled backward into the pool, pulling a laughing Tamara in with her. Cheers erupted as Sally raised her arms in victory, water dripping from her fingertips.

“You’re unstoppable!” Otto said with mock reverence as Sally slid off his shoulders into the pool.

Still catching her breath, Sally turned toward the edge of the yacht, where a powerboat was drifting into view, and a crew member tied it securely to the yacht. Sally wiped the water from her face and squinted toward the newcomers.

“Looks like the first guests are arriving,” she said to no one in particular, her curiosity piqued.

The entire pool area paused, everyone glancing toward the boat. Tim and Patty, lounging with cocktails at the far side of the pool, turned their heads. Even Daniel, Susan, Mike, and Darrel, splashing in the shallow end, paused their play. Sally treaded water, wondering who the new arrivals could be.

Benjamin and Sarah stood alongside Adrian and Bridget in the shaded lounge area, their conversation momentarily interrupted. As the powerboat’s passengers stepped aboard the yacht, the hosts rose to greet them.

The figures coming into view were striking. At the forefront stood Lorenzo Ferrano, tall and distinguished in a crisp white linen shirt and stylish trousers. His wife, Isabella, glided beside him, exuding effortless sophistication in a flowing, vibrant summer dress. They both looked every bit the part of a world-renowned designer family.

Following them were their children. Giorgio, the third son, looked youthful yet composed at twenty, his dark curls ruffled slightly by the breeze. His sharp blazer over a casual shirt betrayed a hint of European charm.

And then there was Erika. Sally’s eyes lingered on the youngest Ferrano, who stood out with her confident poise and unique style. Her flowing blonde curls caught the light, with a bright pink lock peeking through when she tilted her head. Sally noticed the buzzed side of her hair subtly revealed beneath the curls as Erika turned to speak to someone. Her bold fashion choices—red fingernails, except for one green and one blue, matching the vibrant patterns on her stylish high-heeled sandals—made a striking impression.

Sally pulled herself up onto the pool’s edge, water dripping off her as she dried herself. She watched as the Ferrano family made their way toward the lounge area where Adrian and Bridget were waiting, standing to meet them with welcoming smiles.

This was going to be interesting.

--

Sally patted herself dry hastily, discarding her towel on a nearby lounger. Her heart beat with a mix of nervousness and determination as she approached the Ferrano family. This wasn’t her usual style—being bold and diving into introductions—but something about Erika called to her, perhaps the quiet hope of finding someone her own age amid this adult-filled world.

Catching Erika during a pause in her parents’ conversation, Sally stuck out her hand, her voice laced with playful desperation. “Please say you’re my age,” she said with mock pleading. “I need backup here.”

Erika blinked, startled for a moment, then broke into a grin that lit up her face. “I’m fourteen,” she said, her Italian accent lilting her words, “but almost fifteen. Does that count?”

Sally clasped her hands together dramatically. “Thank goodness. I was starting to think I was the only one. I just turned fifteen!”

Erika laughed, the sound warm and melodic. “And you are… Sally Weiss?” she asked, though the question was more a confirmation.

Sally nodded with a crooked smile. “Guilty as charged.”

Erika tilted her head, taking in Sally’s damp hair, slightly flushed cheeks from the sun, and her casual ease in the bikini. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Good or bad?” Sally teased, raising an eyebrow.

“Good,” Erika said, her tone sincere. “I thought… maybe a little more—what do Americans call it? Snobby?”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “Well, I’ve been called a lot of things, but I try to steer clear of that one. So… Milano?”

“Milano,” Erika affirmed, her eyes sparkling with pride. “The chaos, the fashion, the food. And you? You’re from?”

“Connecticut, mostly,” Sally said, pulling a face. “Not quite as glamorous. But I’ll take it.”

The two girls exchanged smiles, an unspoken understanding beginning to form.

“By the way,” Sally said, gesturing toward Erika’s outfit. “You might be a little overdressed for this crowd. Everybody’s in the pool.”

Erika glanced toward the water, where Tamara and Janice were floating leisurely, and Darrel was laughing with Mike. Her gaze softened with longing before she turned back to Sally, shrugging lightly. “I didn’t know what to expect, so I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

Sally’s eyes lit up with an idea. “I’ve got you covered,” she said, already heading toward her cabin. “Come on, I have plenty of bikinis, and one of them’s got to work for you.”

Erika hesitated, looking toward her parents for reassurance. Isabella gave her an encouraging nod, and Lorenzo smiled. “Vai a divertirti, Erika!”, her father said warmly.

Erika hurried after Sally, falling into step beside her as they navigated the deck. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Impose?” Sally scoffed, opening the door to her cabin and ushering Erika inside. “You’re doing me a favor. I’ve barely touched half of these.”

Erika looked around the luxurious cabin, her eyes widening slightly. “This is where you’re staying? It’s like a hotel suite.”

Sally grinned, pulling open a drawer and rifling through her swimwear. “Pretty cool, right? Here, try this one.” She held up a vibrant turquoise string bikini, the adjustable ties making it perfect for Erika’s curvier frame.

Erika took it hesitantly, running her fingers over the soft fabric. “It’s beautiful. Are you sure?”

“Totally,” Sally said, waving off her concern. “It’ll look amazing on you.”

Erika took it, holding it up appraisingly. “It’s cute. Thanks.” Without hesitation, she began to undress, chatting as she moved to slip off her dress. “This yacht is incredible. Do you spend a lot of time on boats?”

Sally, slightly flustered, couldn’t avoid staring at her new friend’s boldness – and body. “Not really,” she admitted. “This is all pretty new to me.”

Sally’s cheeks grew warm as Erika slipped out of her dress with ease, pulling off her underwear and chatting casually as if nothing unusual was happening. The golden fabric pooled at her feet, revealing her toned, curvy frame, as she laid her underwear on Sally’s bed. Sally pretended not to stare, but her blush betrayed her.

“Like what you see?”, Erika raised an amused eyebrow, stepping into the bikini bottoms. She replied confidently, adjusting the strings at her hips with practiced ease. Then, catching Sally’s awkwardness, she smirked. “What? Never seen a friend change before?”

Sally fidgeted, brushing a strand of hair over her ear and licking her suddenly dry lips. She met Erika’s gaze. “Not… really,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not like this.” Granted, she had seen Katrina and Clara, her volleyball team – but that was practice shower, it didn’t really count. This was a bit too bold for Sally. Not that she didn’t like it.

Erika let out a soft laugh, the sound light and teasing. “Americans,” she said, shaking her head with a playful roll of her eyes. “So polite about everything. In Europe, this is nothing. We’re all women, Sally. What’s the big deal?”

That was the problem, Sally thought. But she gave a sheepish shrug, her lips curling into a reluctant smile. “I guess… we don’t really do this much back home.”

Erika tied the last knot of her bikini top and spun around toward the mirror, her curls bouncing as she struck a playful pose. “Maybe you should try it sometime,” she said winking at Sally through the mirror. “Freedom is the best outfit, no?”

Despite herself, Sally laughed, her earlier embarrassment melting away. “I’ll think about it,” she said, her smile now genuine.

“Really? You seem like you belong here,” Erika said, checking herself in the mirror, as Sally looked on. “I mean, everyone’s talking about you. ‘Sally Weiss this, Sally Weiss that.’ It’s like meeting a celebrity.”

Sally laughed nervously, looking Erika over as she adjusted the bikini. Her confidence was almost infectious. “Trust me, I’m just figuring all of this out as I go.”

Erika turned to face Sally, smoothing the bikini’s ties. “Looks good, right?” she asked, posing with mock flair.

Sally grinned. “Perfect. You look like you’ve been lounging on yachts your whole life.”

“Well, technically, I have,” Erika said, laughing. “But thanks.”

--

Back at the pool, Erika drew plenty of attention as she rejoined the group. Tamara and Janice clapped teasingly. “Work it, Ferrano!” Tamara called, and Erika struck a pose before joining Sally by the edge of the pool.

“See?” Sally said, nudging Erika with her elbow. “You fit right in.”

Erika leaned closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “You’re the one they’re all watching, you know.”

Sally shook her head. “Hardly.”

“Trust me,” Erika said, her tone warm but firm. “You’ve got this thing—this vibe. You’re polished, but not fake. Friendly, but not trying too hard. People notice that.”

Sally blushed, unsure how to respond. Before she could find the words, Erika nudged her again. “C’mon, let’s get in the pool.”

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of laughter and splashing. Erika’s boldness began to rub off on Sally, who found herself diving off the edge with less hesitation and joining in on impromptu games. The two girls floated side by side, sharing stories about their families and teasing each other about their cultural quirks.

--

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, Sally felt an unexpected warmth—not just from the Mediterranean sun, but from the easy camaraderie she was building with Erika. The Ferrano girl, with her bold humor and unapologetic demeanor, was like a refreshing sea breeze. For the first time in weeks, Sally felt like she could simply be herself.

The girls toweled off, their laughter carrying through the deck as they walked toward the cabins. Erika stopped just outside Sally’s door, her expression softening. “Thanks for making me feel welcome,” she said sincerely. “I was kind of nervous about this trip.”

Sally blinked in surprise, then grinned. “You? Nervous? You seem like you’re at home everywhere.”

Erika smirked, brushing her damp curls over her shoulder. “Appearances, cara. We’re all good at pretending sometimes.” She motioned toward the cabin door. “Come on, lead the way. I need to rinse this chlorine off before dinner.”

Sally rolled her eyes but smiled. She unzipped her bag to retrieve her evening outfit while Erika wandered curiously around the room, inspecting the decor.

“I call first shower,” Sally declared, eyeing Erika’s curiosity. “You can explore”, she said, walking into the spacious bathroom. She turned on the water, watching as the rainfall showerhead came to life, steam curling up almost instantly. She took off her bikini and stepped into the shower.

Just as she adjusted the temperature and stepped back to grab her toiletries, Erika appeared in the doorway, grinning mischievously. “This shower is massive. You could fit a football team in here,” she joked. She untied her bikini with a flourish.

Sally laughed nervously, unsure of where Erika was going with this.

Before Sally could protest, Erika sauntered into the shower with effortless confidence. “Plenty of room for two,” she said, stepping under the cascading water. “Besides, we’ll save time.”

Sally froze, her cheeks flaming. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Of course,” Erika replied, tilting her head back as water poured over her curls. “It’s just a shower, Sally. We’re both women—it’s no big deal. Relax.”

Sally hesitated, feeling flustered but strangely reassured by Erika’s nonchalant attitude. Finally, she stepped into the warm spray, standing a careful distance apart. The sound of water filled the space, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

“See? Totally normal,” Erika said with a wink, reaching for the body wash. “You Americans. So much modesty.”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh at Erika’s boldness. “Maybe it’s a cultural thing,” she admitted, glancing sideways at her friend. “But you’re definitely good at making things… less awkward.”

Erika grinned, rubbing shampoo into her hair. “That’s my specialty. And hey, if we can’t be ourselves around friends, then what’s the point?”

As the water washed over them, Sally found herself feeling lighter, her earlier unease melting away. Sharing the space with Erika felt less like an invasion and more like a gesture of trust.

Sally hesitated for a moment, watching Erika work the shampoo into her hair with effortless grace. She seemed so at ease, so completely herself. A sudden boldness sparked within Sally—a desire to push past her usual hesitations, to match the carefree confidence Erika exuded.

Without a word, Sally filed her palms with soap, lathered her hands, and turned to Erika. Gently, she placed her soapy palms on Erika’s shoulders and began to wash her back.

Erika flinched slightly in surprise, glancing over her shoulder with a raised brow. “Davvero? This is new.”

Sally chuckled nervously but kept going, her touch light but deliberate. “Friends help each other, right? Besides, you did say we should relax more.”

Erika laughed softly, her voice mingling with the sound of the water. “Fair enough. You’re full of surprises, Sally Weiss.”

Sally worked her way down Erika’s back, her movements unhurried, tracing over the curves of Erika’s shoulders and down her spine. The tension in Erika’s posture melted away as Sally’s touch lingered just above the small of her back. Erika sighed, her voice tinged with both pleasure and curiosity. “Sei piuttosto brava in questo. Hidden talent?”, she asked softly.

Sally smirked faintly but didn’t answer, her own heartbeat thudding in her ears as her hands reached the edge of Erika’s bottom. She thought of Katrina’s constant advances on her and how she had always resisted her, albeit playfully. Suddenly, this felt just right. The moment felt charged, a mix of something unspoken and something she wasn’t sure how to name. Her fingers hesitated, hovering for a second too long.

Then, with a sudden shift in demeanor, Sally pulled her hands back, handing the soap to Erika with a crooked smile. “You can finish off yourself.”

Erika turned slightly, her expression caught between surprise and bemusement. “Oh?” she asked, her tone almost teasing but tinged with genuine curiosity.

Sally shrugged, trying to play it cool as she stepped back under the spray. “I figured I’d leave the best part to you,” she quipped, her voice light but her eyes betraying a flicker of shyness. She watched Erika.

Erika stood there for a moment, soap in hand, the anticlimax of the gesture lingering in the air. Her lips curled into an amused smile, though something more contemplative lingered in her gaze. “You’re an enigma, Sally Weiss.”

As the water continued to cascade over them, Erika suddenly took the soap and stepped closer to Sally, her movements deliberate. Sally blinked, caught off guard as Erika’s hands began to glide over her shoulders, warm and lathered.

“Your turn,” Erika said lightly, though her voice carried a teasing undertone that made Sally’s cheeks flush.

Sally hesitated, her body stiffening slightly under Erika’s touch. “You don’t have to—” she started, but Erika shushed her softly with a playful smile.

“Friends help each other, remember?” Erika murmured, echoing Sally’s earlier words. Her fingers moved slowly but confidently, working down Sally’s back, the soap suds trailing behind like a silky veil. “Relax, Sally. I promise I don’t bite.”

Sally let out a shaky laugh, the warmth of Erika’s touch sending a strange mix of nervousness and exhilaration through her. As Erika’s hands reached the curve of her lower back, Sally’s breath hitched, her body hyper-aware of every movement.

Erika paused just briefly, her hands lingering at the edge of Sally’s bottom before sliding over it casually, washing over her hips and continuing to her thighs. Her fingers moved expertly, tracing each leg with care, her touch lingering slightly longer than necessary as she reached Sally’s knees.

Sally’s breath grew uneven as Erika crouched slightly, now tending to her calves and feet. Erika’s grip was firm but gentle, washing each foot meticulously, her fingers sliding over the arches and smoothing across the soles.

“You’re ticklish,” Erika remarked with a grin as Sally squirmed slightly, and Sally let out a breathless laugh, trying to regain composure.

But Erika wasn’t done. She moved back up Sally’s legs, her touch slower this time, as if savoring each inch of skin. The warm lather and careful motions sent a jolt through Sally’s body, her pulse quickening. Erika’s hands finally stopped just below Sally’s cleft, her lips curling into a sly smile.

“I’ll leave the juiciest bits to you,” Erika said cheekily, her voice soft and teasing as she straightened up. Her eyes sparkled mischievously as Sally turned to look at her, wide-eyed and breathless.

Sally swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling visibly as she struggled to find her voice. “That was… wow,” she finally managed, her voice a mix of emotion and nervous laughter.

Erika winked, stepping back under the spray to rinse the soap from her hands. “I think you mean unforgettable,” she said with a smirk, her tone light but layered with meaning.

Sally turned away quickly, reaching for the soap with trembling fingers. The air felt charged, the intimacy of the moment leaving her heart pounding and her mind racing. As the water continued to pour over them, Sally tried to calm herself, grateful for the cover of steam and the noise of the shower masking her flustered state, and the water to cool down her… juicy bits.

The two fell into an easier rhythm as they finished up, chatting casually about dinner and the evening ahead. But the lingering warmth of Erika’s touch stayed with Sally, a quiet echo of a moment she wasn’t sure she fully understood but wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

--

As the two stepped out of the shower, steam curling around them in the spacious bathroom, Sally handed Erika a fluffy towel, her own already wrapped snugly around her torso. They moved in sync, drying their damp hair and brushing off droplets clinging to their skin, the earlier tension easing into comfortable silence.

Erika, her curls tousled and damp, glanced at Sally with a warm smile. She stepped closer, her expression soft, her eyes twinkling with unspoken words. “Sally,” she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper in the humid air. “Thank you… for today. For everything. I feel like I’ve known you forever.”

Sally looked up, her cheeks flushing faintly under Erika’s gaze. “You don’t have to thank me,” she murmured. “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Without a word, Erika leaned in, her lips brushing gently against Sally’s in a feather-light kiss. The moment was soft, fleeting, like the last note of a delicate melody. But before Erika could pull away, Sally instinctively leaned forward, holding Erika’s head closer, pressing her lips against Erika’s with more intensity, the unexpected fervor catching both of them off guard.

“Whoa!” Erika exclaimed, laughing softly as she stumbled back, her towel slipping from her grasp and falling in a heap at her feet. “Wow, Sally!”

Sally gasped, her eyes widening as she realized what had just happened. “Oh my god,” she stammered, her hands flying up to her mouth. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

Erika, still smiling, bent down to pick up her towel, her movements unhurried as she straightened up, her cheeks glowing with warmth. “Relax,” she said with a teasing grin. “You’ve got some fire in you, huh? I wasn’t expecting that, but…” She tilted her head, her expression softening into something more sincere. “Mi... è piaciuto molto.”

Sally’s face burned as she fumbled for words, her heart pounding. “I—I’m sorry if I startled you. I don’t know what came over me.”

Erika chuckled, draping the towel loosely over her shoulders. “Don’t apologize. It was… nice. Just unexpected.” She stepped closer, her gaze steady, her tone playful. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Sally Weiss?”

Sally bit her lip, a crooked smile tugging at her mouth. “Guess I am.”

Erika reached out and tapped Sally lightly on the nose. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she said, turning back toward the mirror to finish drying her hair.

Sally stood there for a moment, still flustered but feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and exhilaration. As she prepared to leave the bathroom, she caught Erika’s reflection in the mirror, the easy smile on her face putting her at ease.

“C’mon, Weiss,” Erika said, her voice light and teasing as she gestured toward the door. “We’ve got a dinner to get ready for. Can’t keep everyone waiting. Loose that towel. Get pretty for me”

Sally nodded, following Erika out of the bathroom, her mind still replaying the moment as her lips tingled faintly with the memory of their kiss.

--

As Erika slipped into her effortlessly stylish, braless white short dress, exuding Roman elegance with her tousled hair and glowing confidence, Sally busied herself fastening the sapphire drop earrings and pendant necklace her father had gifted her. The deep blue dress she chose—a touch of formality balanced by youthful charm—felt perfect for the evening ahead, though Erika’s enthusiastic admiration for her jewelry made her blush.

“Your dad gave you these? He’s got impeccable taste,” Erika exclaimed, leaning close to help Sally clasp the necklace. “You’re like a goddess or something, honestly.”

Sally laughed softly, trying to downplay it. “They’re beautiful, but I don’t know about a goddess.”

“Well, I do,” Erika said with a grin, stepping back to admire her handiwork. “All you need is a chariot and some minions to follow you around.”

Sally chuckled, smoothing her dress, but Erika’s playful flattery warmed her more than she let on.

As they were about to leave Sally’s cabin, Erika paused by the door, her tone shifting to something more contemplative. “You know,” she said, turning to Sally, “it’s kind of a pity I’m leaving tonight. I would’ve liked to see you in those diapers.”

The words hit Sally like a bolt of lightning. She froze, her face flaming red, her entire body stiffening. “W-what?” she stammered, barely able to look Erika in the eye.

Erika immediately raised her hands in apology, her voice calm and soothing. “Hey, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just… well, I may have done some accidental exploring earlier,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I was looking for extra towels, and I, uh, opened a closet near the bathroom. I found them there, next to your things”.

Sally’s heart raced, her mind scrambling for an explanation. “I—it’s not what you think,” she began, but Erika cut her off with a soft smile.

“You don’t have to explain,” Erika said, stepping closer. “Seriously. I mean it.” Her voice was low, comforting, and tinged with amusement. “If it makes you feel better, I bet you look cute in a diaper.”

Sally felt the blood rush to her face again, her defenses crumbling under Erika’s calm, unbothered demeanor. “Everybody says that” she mumbled almost inaudibly, her gaze fixed on the floor.

Erika tilted her head, her bright blonde curls cascading over her shoulder, and gently placed a hand on Sally’s arm. “È perché probabilmente è vero,” she whispered with a small, mischievous grin before leaning in and pressing her lips softly to Sally’s. The kiss was confident, warm, and deliberate, and when Erika pulled back, her smile widened.

“Relax, Sally. We all have our quirks. Yours just makes you cuter,” she teased, reaching for the door handle. “Now, are we going to dinner, or are we staying here all night talking about your secret wardrobe?”

Sally stood there, flustered but strangely comforted by Erika’s candid acceptance. With a deep breath and a small, wry smile tugging at her lips, she followed Erika out into the corridor. “You’re something else, you know that?” Sally muttered as they walked side by side.

“And you love it,” Erika quipped with a wink, her confidence infectious as the two girls made their way to join the others.

--

Sally lounged on the plush sectional in the main deck’s sitting area, her deep blue dress shimmering in the soft glow of the Mediterranean sun dipping below the horizon. She cradled a mocktail in her hand, savoring its tangy sweetness. Beside her, Erika was perched elegantly with a martini in hand, her sharp eyes darting between Sally and Bridget, who sat across from them with her signature poise.

Bridget wore a simple yet chic white linen jumpsuit, exuding effortless elegance. She swirled the sparkling water in her glass as she watched her daughter with a fond smile. “So,” she began lightly, “how are you settling into all of this? The yacht, the trip… everything?”

Sally chuckled softly, brushing a strand of damp hair off her sun-kissed face. “It’s… surreal,” she admitted. “Honestly, I’ve been kind of flying by the seat of my pants since Soho.”

Bridget’s smile widened. “Well, you seemed perfectly composed in Key West and Soho. But I imagine this yacht adds a whole new layer to things.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Sally said with a laugh. “I mean, it’s incredible, but it’s also overwhelming. I’m just glad you’re here now. It feels more… grounded when you’re around.”

Bridget leaned forward slightly, her expression softening. “I’m glad I’m here too. I’ve been thinking about it, and your father and I already decided—I’m staying with you until the end of the trip.”

Sally blinked, her mocktail forgotten for a moment. “Wait, really? You’re staying?”

Bridget nodded. “I’ll be staying at the Baur au Lac in Zurich. Your father insisted on making the arrangements.”

A genuine smile spread across Sally’s face, lighting up her features. “That’s amazing. I’ve been missing you, Mom. Everything’s been so new, and I didn’t realize how much I rely on you until now.”

Erika, lounging beside Sally, chimed in with a playful smirk. “I mean, no offense, Bridget, but your daughter is pretty impressive on her own.”

Bridget chuckled. “Oh, I know. But even the most impressive people need their support system.”

Sally gave a small laugh, her cheeks coloring slightly. “Well, it helps. And I really want you to see the apartment in Zurich, Mom. It’s… incredible.”

“So,” Erika began, a sly smile playing on her lips, “this Zurich place you’ve got—what’s it like? Is it a full-on penthouse?”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “Not exactly. It’s actually the top floor of my dad’s house, so technically, it’s more of an apartment. But it’s still amazing—my own space, with a killer view of the Alps.”

“Of course,” Erika said with a dramatic eye roll, “because casual Alps views are just standard for you.”

Sally grinned. Sally felt a bit strange being so open with Erika, having just met her. But Erika seemed to open up her heart. “It’s nice, but it’s not like my Soho penthouse. That place feels like it’s straight out of a magazine. The terrace, the skyline—it’s unreal.”

Erika gasped, her eyes lighting up. “Wait, back up. You have a penthouse in Soho? Like, New York SoHo? You’ve been holding out on me!”

Bridget chuckled, watching the exchange with amusement. “That’s Sally for you—downplaying everything.”

Sally shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “It’s not like I’ve spent much time there yet. But yeah, it’s a cool spot. Maybe someday you can visit.”

Erika clasped her hands together dramatically. “Someday? Sally, I’m already mentally packing my bags. Don’t be surprised when I show up at your doorstep.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “You’re welcome anytime, Erika.”

Bridget leaned forward, her voice warm. “That’s what I’ve always loved about Sally—she takes everything in stride. She may have all these incredible opportunities, but she’s still grounded.”

Erika nodded, smirking. “Yeah, grounded enough to share a string bikini with me. That’s how you know she’s the real deal.”

Sally rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “It was literally the least I could do.”

Erika nudged Sally with her shoulder. “Seriously, though, you’ve got the perfect mix going on. You’re fancy, but not stuck-up about it. It’s refreshing.”

“Thanks, I think?” Sally teased,

Erika smiled warmly, nudging her with her elbow. “Well, you make it look easy. And I’m glad you’re sharing it with me. Friends, right?”

“Friends,” Sally agreed, her voice soft but sure.

Bridget, who had been observing quietly, spoke up. “You know, Sally, it’s rare to find a connection like this so quickly. Erika, you seem like someone who truly gets her.”

Erika tilted her head, her blonde curls bouncing. “I like to think so. Lei è fantastica —anyone with eyes can see that.”

Bridget nodded thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on her daughter. “I think this could be one of those rare friendships—something powerful. Don’t take it for granted, Sally.”

“I won’t,” Sally said, looking at Erika with a small smile.

Erika winked. “Not a chance. She’s stuck with me now.”

As the sun dipped lower, Sally felt a warmth she hadn’t expected. Not just from the glowing Mediterranean sky, but from this budding connection. Something about Erika’s easy confidence felt like a gift—one she hadn’t realized she needed.

--

As the conversation continued, a tall, handsome figure appeared at the edge of the lounge, casually holding a bottle of beer. Giorgio Ferrano, Erika’s older brother, exuded an effortless charm that matched his easy smile. He leaned casually against the railing, his gaze settling on the group before landing on Erika with a teasing glint.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding,” Giorgio said, his voice rich with a light Italian accent. He turned to Sally with a conspiratorial grin. “You know, Erika is always going on about Americans—how empty-headed they are.”

Erika gasped dramatically, leaping to her feet. “Stai zitto!”, she exclaimed, her hands gesticulating wildly. Her voice rose, switching rapidly to Italian. “Il mio fratello stupido sta facendo il cretino di nuovo!”

Giorgio chuckled, clearly enjoying the scene he’d provoked. “Tranquilla, sorellina,” he said with a mock-surrender gesture, looking at Sally apologetically. “I just wanted to see her flare up. She’s cute when she’s mad, don’t you think?” He winked playfully at Sally, who couldn’t help but laugh.

Erika huffed, mumbling under her breath, “Sta sempre cercando di farmi accoppiare.”

“È una bugia!”, answered her brother, waving at her in a dismissive laugh.

“Non è una bugia!”, Erika hissed back, albeit with a glint in her eye.

Sally, unable to hold back her amusement, reached for Erika’s arm and laughed. “Whatever that was, it was adorable.”

Erika sighed, her cheeks flushing a deeper pink as she sat back down. “He’s always trying to make me… pair off,” she said in exasperation, her words clipped but not without a hint of humor.

Sally blushed at the implication, her reaction catching Bridget’s sharp, raised-eyebrow glance. Bridget’s knowing look was not lost on Sally, who quickly stammered, “He’s got a way with words.”

“I’m harmless,” Giorgio assured, placing a hand to his heart with a grin that suggested otherwise. “Just trying to keep things interesting.”

At that moment, the stewards appeared with impeccable timing, stepping into the lounge with polite smiles. “Ladies and gentlemen,” one announced, “dinner is ready to be served.”

Relieved for the change in focus, Sally stood and smoothed her dress, gesturing for Erika to join her. “Shall we?” she asked, her tone light, though the color still lingered on her cheeks.

“Let’s,” Erika said, her usual boldness returning as she looped her arm through Sally’s. Behind them, Giorgio smiled knowingly, but Sally was already walking away, her heart racing in a strange but exhilarating rhythm.

--

As Sally and Erika strolled arm in arm toward the dining area, the elegant forms of Tamara and Janice appeared in their path. The couple paused mid-conversation, their attentive gazes landing on the two girls with amused curiosity.

“Well, well,” Tamara said, her smile tugging knowingly at the corners of her mouth. “Aren’t you two quite the pair? It’s like a Dolce & Gabbana ad just walked off the page.”

Janice chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “They do have that fresh, youthful glow, don’t they? Fashionably close, too.”

Sally felt a surge of heat rise to her cheeks, and Erika’s face split into an easy grin. “Tentiamo,” Erika quipped with her typical flair, though her arm stayed linked with Sally’s. She looked at the couple appraisingly.

Sally, gathering her composure, took a step forward, her free hand gesturing toward Erika. “Tamara, Janice, this is Erika Ferrano. She just arrived. Erika, these two are Tamara and Janice, probably the coolest people you’ll meet on this yacht.”

Erika extended a hand confidently, her golden curls catching the warm light. “Piacere,” she said, her Italian adding an elegant lilt to her words. “You seem like trouble in the best way.”

Janice laughed lightly as she took Erika’s hand. “Oh, we try, darling. And trouble has a way of finding us too.”

Tamara added with a playful glint in her eye, “Don’t let the grace fool you. We’ve been known to stir things up. Welcome aboard.”

Erika tilted her head, her grin widening. “Sounds like my kind of company.”

Sally watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and relief. It felt good to see her worlds connecting, the threads weaving together into something vibrant and new.

--

The formal dining room aboard the yacht was an opulent masterpiece, its rich mahogany walls and intricate gold accents glowing under the ambient light of the crystal chandelier overhead. A long, polished table gleamed with pristine white linens, polished silverware, and intricate floral arrangements that complemented the soft flicker of candlelight. Every seat was filled, the room abuzz with laughter and lively conversation.

As the first course arrived, it was a symphony of colors and textures. Plates of lobster bisque garnished with crème fraîche and a delicate chive oil drizzle were set before the guests. The velvety aroma filled the air as stewards moved gracefully, topping up glasses with chilled Sauvignon Blanc.

The conversation began light, with Daniel recounting a humorous story about a business dinner gone awry. Tamara and Janice chimed in with their own tales, effortlessly steering the mood into cheerful territory. Erika leaned over to Sally, whispering a sly comment about the impossibility of eating soup elegantly in such a setting, causing Sally to suppress a giggle behind her napkin.

The second course was a Caprese salad, artfully arranged with heirloom tomatoes, fresh mozzarella, and a basil-infused olive oil drizzle. Adrian shared anecdotes from his travels in Italy, and Erika’s father, Lorenzo, passionately described the art of selecting the perfect olive oil, gesturing animatedly.

By the time the main course arrived, a stunning beef Wellington with sides of truffle-infused mashed potatoes and honey-glazed heirloom carrots, the room was enveloped in a warm camaraderie. Bridget shared fond memories of her culinary experiments with Sally during their time in Key West, prompting Erika to tease, “Maybe you can give me cooking lessons someday, Sally.”

The wine flowed freely, each course paired expertly with selections from the yacht’s extensive cellar. Dessert arrived on silver platters: delicate mille-feuille layered with silky vanilla custard and topped with edible gold flakes. Conversations turned more personal, with Benjamin and Sarah asking about Sally’s plans for the future. Adrian interjected with pride, recounting Sally’s recent accomplishments.

As the dessert plates were cleared, stewards entered with flutes of chilled Moët & Chandon. Erika leaned over, a mischievous glint in her eye, and slid a flute in front of Sally. “Tonight, you can,” she said softly, her voice both daring and encouraging. Sally hesitated, her hand hovering near the glass until she caught her mother’s nod of approval. With a small smile, she lifted the glass and let it rest in her hand.

Adrian stood, his commanding presence quieting the room. “Friends,” he began, his voice steady but warm. “It’s a rare thing to gather so many of the people I hold dear in one place. Tonight is special for many reasons, but one of the most important is the presence of Sally’s mother, Bridget.”

He turned toward her, a genuine smile lighting his face. “At popular demand, I brought Bridget here, and I have to say, I’m very glad I did. For most of our lives, Bridget and I have walked separate paths. But the passing of my father, Oskar, has planted the seeds of change in my mind. It has reminded me of the importance of family and the people who shape our lives.”

Adrian raised his glass, his gaze sweeping over the table. “Each of you here tonight has played a role in the changes I’m making—your kindness, your advice, your influence. I owe so much to all of you. And so, with immense gratitude, I present to you, the wonderful mother of my daughter, Sally—Bridget.”

The room erupted into applause, glasses clinking in celebration. Sally watched as her mother, flushed with emotion, nodded her thanks and exchanged a smile with Adrian. Erika nudged Sally, whispering, “Your parents are such a vibe.”

Sally laughed softly, her heart full as she clinked her glass with Erika’s, feeling an unexpected sense of contentment in the warm glow of the moment.

Adrian’s smile deepened as he glanced toward Otto, raising his glass slightly in acknowledgment. “And, of course, I must thank our dear Otto, who not only delivered Bridget to us in impeccable style but also has an unparalleled knack for bringing people together—whether it’s business, friendship, or, apparently, delivering mothers to daughters.”

Laughter rippled through the room, and Otto gave an exaggerated bow from his seat, his mustache twitching with amusement. “It’s my greatest pleasure, Adrian,” he said warmly, his voice rich with sincerity. “Anything for family.”

Adrian nodded, his expression turning more serious but no less warm. “You have a way of weaving yourself into all our lives, Otto, and making us feel like we belong. For that, and so much more, we’re lucky to have you.”

The room hummed with murmurs of agreement, and Sally couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie that Otto’s presence seemed to inspire. It was a moment that felt both grand and deeply personal, a testament to the bonds forming and strengthening around the table.

--

Sally and Erika found themselves tucked away in a quiet corner of the lower deck, far removed from the lively chatter and clinking glasses of the formal dining room above. The ambient hum of the yacht’s engines vibrated faintly through the luxurious space, and the occasional lap of water against the hull added a soothing rhythm to the moment.

Erika leaned casually against the curved wall, her blond curls slightly disheveled from the evening’s festivities. She turned to Sally, her bright eyes glinting with mischief and warmth. “So, how does it feel to be the center of everything? Everyone here seems to orbit around you.”

Sally chuckled nervously, tucking a loose strand of her damp hair behind her ear. “It’s not like that,” she said softly. “I think they just… care about me. Maybe a little too much.”

Erika tilted her head, her playful smirk softening. “That’s not a bad thing, you know. It just means you matter. To all of them.”

Sally shifted closer, feeling a strange pull toward Erika’s calm confidence. “I guess I’m still getting used to it. Everything’s happening so fast, and I feel like I’m always catching up.”

Erika reached out, brushing her fingers lightly against Sally’s wrist. “You’re doing fine, Sally. More than fine.” Her voice was quiet, the words carrying an intimacy that made Sally’s heart flutter.

For a moment, neither girl spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was charged, like a moment suspended in time. Erika’s hand slid up, resting gently on Sally’s arm. “You know,” she began, her tone teasing yet tender, “you’re a lot cooler than I expected.”

Sally laughed, her cheeks warming. “And you’re not as intimidating as I thought.”

Erika grinned. “I can be, if you want me to.”

The air between them felt heavier, and Sally realized how close they had gotten. Her breath caught as Erika leaned forward, their faces mere inches apart. The first brush of Erika’s lips was tentative, almost questioning. Sally responded instinctively, her heart pounding as she closed the gap, their kiss deepening slightly but still shy and exploratory.

Erika’s hand moved to Sally’s waist, her touch light and hesitant, as if gauging Sally’s comfort. Sally felt a rush of warmth, but also a nervous excitement she hadn’t anticipated. When Erika’s hand brushed the small of her back, Sally pulled away gently, her breath uneven but her smile genuine.

“That was…” Sally started, her words trailing off as she met Erika’s gaze.

“Yeah,” Erika agreed, her voice soft but steady. “It was.”

They shared a quiet laugh, the tension diffusing into something more comfortable, almost playful. Erika leaned back against the wall, her expression thoughtful. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Sally blushed, feeling both seen and exposed. “I’m just… figuring things out.”

“Aren’t we all?” Erika replied with a wink, brushing her fingers lightly against Sally’s hand before stepping back. “Come on, let’s not keep them wondering where we’ve disappeared to.”

Sally nodded, her pulse still racing but her heart lighter. As Erika made her way back upstairs, she couldn’t help but glance at Erika, feeling a connection she hadn’t experienced before—a mix of curiosity, comfort, and something new she wasn’t quite ready to name.

Sally paused at the base of the staircase leading back up to the main deck, her heart hammering in her chest. Erika was a few steps ahead but turned when she noticed Sally hadn’t followed.

“Something wrong?” Erika asked, tilting her head, her blond curls catching the faint light.

Sally hesitated, then shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No, I just… I don’t want this moment to end.”

Erika’s expression softened, her usual boldness giving way to something gentler. She stepped closer, her sandals clicking faintly against the steps. “It doesn’t have to,” she said, her voice almost teasing, but her eyes were serious.

Before she could second-guess herself, Sally stepped forward, her fingers brushing against Erika’s arm. She looked up, her dark eyes searching Erika’s for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she leaned in, pressing her lips to Erika’s in a kiss that was firmer, bolder than before.

Erika responded instantly, her hands sliding to Sally’s waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, their movements instinctive and unpracticed, yet somehow perfect. Sally felt her nerves melting away, replaced by a thrilling sense of connection. She didn’t care about anything else—just the warmth of Erika’s lips, the steadying touch of her hands.

But as Erika’s fingers wandered just slightly, grazing the small of Sally’s back and pressing against her sides, Sally surprised herself by leaning further into the moment, pulling Erika even closer. Their breaths mingled as the kiss grew more fervent, both girls testing boundaries neither had intended to explore.

Erika suddenly pulled back, her cheeks flushed, her blue eyes wide. “Sally,” she began, her voice shaky but not alarmed. “I… I’ve never done anything like this before.”

Sally blinked, her own breath uneven. “You haven’t?”

Erika shook her head, a nervous smile tugging at her lips. “No. I mean, I’ve kissed people, sure, but… not like this.”

Sally bit her lip, her gaze dropping for a moment. “I get it,” she said softly. “I mean, I’ve been kissed before, but I’ve never… kissed back. Not like this.”

Erika exhaled a quiet laugh, brushing a strand of Sally’s hair behind her ear. “Well, you’re a natural.”

Sally couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing between them. “Thanks, I guess.”

Erika’s expression softened further, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against Sally’s in a final, deliberate kiss. It was slower this time, more deliberate—a seal to their shared moment, a silent understanding between them.

When they finally pulled apart, Erika rested her forehead against Sally’s briefly, her voice barely a whisper. “Whatever this is… it’s pretty amazing.”

Sally nodded, her heart still racing. “Yeah, it is.”

They stood there for a moment longer, savoring the stillness before Erika finally stepped back, her playful smirk returning. “Come on, before they send out a search party.”

Sally laughed, her nerves settling into something warmer, steadier. As they climbed the stairs side by side, she couldn’t help but glance at Erika, knowing something between them had changed—but also feeling like it was just the beginning.

--

Sally stood by her bed, rummaging through her suitcase for her nighttime essentials. Her mother, Bridget, reclined comfortably on the cabin’s plush sofa, a flute of champagne in her hand as she watched her daughter with a soft smile.

“It was a lovely evening, wasn’t it?” Bridget began, her tone conversational but warm. “Adrian outdid himself with the dinner. And you…” She gave Sally a pointed look. “You were radiant tonight.”

Sally smiled, pulling out her diaper and t-shirt. “Thanks, Mom. It was a good night. A lot of attention, though,” She missed getting ready for bed in her mother’s presence, so tonight felt like a treat.

As Sally began to change, slipping into her familiar nighttime routine, Bridget observed her daughter quietly for a moment before continuing, “That Erika girl seems lovely. Bold and spirited, like a lot of young Europeans. I couldn’t help but notice you two seemed to hit it off.”

Sally froze for a fraction of a second, adjusting her diaper snugly around her hips before pulling her t-shirt over her head. “Yeah, Erika’s great. She’s… fun,” Sally said, avoiding her mother’s gaze as she tidied up the bed.

Bridget chuckled softly, a knowing note in her voice. “More than just fun, I’d say. There’s some chemistry there, isn’t there?”

Sally turned sharply, her cheeks flushing. “Mom! What—no, I mean…” She paused, fiddling with the edge of her blanket. “Maybe… a little? She did kiss me.”

Bridget arched an eyebrow, sipping her water. “And how did you feel about that?”

Sally shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though her pink-tinged cheeks betrayed her. “I didn’t exactly kick and scream,” she admitted quietly, her voice tinged with nervous humor. “But it’s not like… I mean, it’s not a big deal.”

Bridget placed her glass down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Sally, it’s okay to feel something. You don’t have to downplay it for my sake.” Her voice was gentle, supportive. “But I think it’s important to take things slow. You’re young, and everything is still new—feelings, experiences, relationships. There’s no rush to figure it all out right now.”

Sally sat on the edge of the bed, her hands clasped in her lap, listening intently. “It’s just… she’s so confident, Mom. Like, she knows who she is, and I admire that. But me? I don’t know if I’m ready for any of that. Whatever ‘that’ is.”

Bridget smiled softly, getting up and crossing the room to sit beside her daughter. She placed a comforting hand on Sally’s knee. “That’s exactly why it’s okay to take your time. You’re figuring out who you are, too. Erika seems like a wonderful friend, and if there’s more there someday, you’ll know when the time is right. For now, just enjoy getting to know her—and yourself.”

Sally nodded slowly, leaning into her mother’s embrace. “Thanks, Mom. You’re always good at making things feel less complicated.”

Bridget kissed the top of Sally’s head, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “That’s what I’m here for.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the soft hum of the yacht’s engines a soothing backdrop. Sally finally pulled back, giving her mother a small smile. “I guess it’s bedtime for me.”

Bridget stood, smoothing her dress. “And for me, too. But don’t be surprised if I peek in tomorrow morning to see how you’re doing.”

Sally grinned. “I’ll try not to sleep through it.”

As Bridget exited the cabin, Sally lay back on her bed, her thoughts swirling with memories of the evening and her mother’s words. She felt a sense of peace settle over her as she pulled the blanket up and closed her eyes, ready for sleep.

--

Sally woke to the soft glow of dawn filtering through the curtains, the hum of the yacht’s engines steady and soothing. She stretched lazily, feeling the warmth of her diaper as it crinkled slightly with her movement.

The memory of Erika’s playful words drifted back to her: “I bet you look cute in a diaper.”

Her cheeks flushed deeply as the words echoed in her mind, each syllable lighting a spark of warmth that spread through her. She kicked off her bed sheets, as if to uncover the intensity of her own thoughts. Erika’s mischievous smile, the way she had leaned in confidently to kiss her, her unapologetic boldness—it all came rushing back with vivid clarity.

Sally’s hand brushed over the front of her diaper, and she froze for a moment, startled by her own reaction. The thick, soft padding felt so comforting, almost grounding, and yet her thoughts were anything but calm. She closed her eyes tightly, but that only seemed to make Erika’s voice louder, her teasing words looping in Sally’s head.

She tried to redirect her mind, but the more she tried to push the thoughts away, the more they seeped back in, stronger and more vivid. Erika’s laugh, the way she had looked at Sally like she was the only person in the room, the casual confidence that seemed to challenge every part of Sally’s reserved nature—it all left her feeling dizzy and exhilarated.

Sally shifted in bed, the gentle warmth of the diaper acting as a catalyst, amplifying every memory. Erika’s words weren’t just playful—they were like a permission slip, a quiet encouragement to be more at ease with herself, to embrace who she was without hesitation or judgment.

She exhaled shakily and opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling. What’s happening to me? she thought, her heart racing. It wasn’t just Erika’s teasing—it was the way Erika had made her feel seen, understood, even admired. Sally felt her fingers brush the edge of her diaper again, and she pressed her legs together, a mix of embarrassment and curiosity swirling within her.

Sally sat up abruptly, shaking her head to clear the haze. She needed to get up, get moving, and distract herself. But as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she couldn’t help the shy smile tugging at her lips. Erika’s words lingered, and for the first time, Sally didn’t mind the idea of looking cute—not just in a diaper, but in her own skin.

Erika’s words had unlocked something in her, and now Sally wasn’t just imagining how others might see her—she saw it in herself. The curve of her smile, the strength in her gaze, the way her laughter lit up a room. She felt alive in her own skin, no longer shying away from her reflection but leaning into it.

Sally was discovering herself, not just as someone admired, but as someone who could revel in her own beauty, her own spark. It wasn’t about anyone else. It was about her. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of that thought settle over her, and smiled.

Today, she thought, I’ll be exactly who I am. And that’s more than enough.

 

Chapter 78 – Triple Bottom Line

Sally sat cross-legged on her plush bed, her laptop open beside her, and her phone glowing in her hands. Her diaper crinkled softly as she adjusted her position, the faint sound lost in the serene ambiance of her cabin. Clad in her oversized t-shirt, she felt relaxed, the warmth of her voluntarily wet diaper adding an oddly comforting sensation. She had just returned from washing her face, but instead of changing, she had given in to the simple pleasure of laziness.

Her thumb swiped across her phone screen as she scrolled through the pictures Janice had shared with her. The previous day had been a whirlwind of laughter, connection, and candid moments, and now, as she sifted through the photos, Sally found herself grinning at the memories they stirred.

She paused on a picture of herself and Erika, standing at the edge of the pool. Erika was mid-gesture, her hands animated as she spoke, and Sally was leaning toward her, her head tilted in interest. It looked like a deep, meaningful conversation. In reality, they had been debating the merits of Italian rock bands versus American pop, but the photo captured something deeper—a budding connection, a friendship that felt both natural and extraordinary. Sally tapped the photo, saving it as a favorite.

Her fingers hovered over the screen as Erika’s words echoed in her mind, “I bet you look cute in a diaper.” Sally’s cheeks flushed slightly, and a smile crept onto her lips. Her hand instinctively rested over her diaper, pressing gently against the warmth as she shook her head at herself. Erika had such a way of turning everything into a playful compliment, and it lingered in Sally’s mind, filling her with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

She resumed scrolling, her attention caught by another picture. This one was a candid shot taken from above, capturing her and Erika waist-deep in the pool, their heads close together. The sunlight glistened off the water around them, and their expressions were thoughtful, almost serious. Sally remembered the moment vividly—they had been comparing their favorite food, teasing each other about their tastes. The photo made it look like they were sharing a secret, and Sally couldn’t help but smile. She saved it too, marking it as another favorite.

Finally, Sally finished curating her selection. She opened her group chat with Katrina and Clara, the two people who knew her best, and uploaded the photos she had picked. She included some light-hearted shots of herself in the pool, Tamara and Janice’s antics, and the gorgeous sunset from the deck. But before hitting send, she added one more: a portrait of herself and Erika, both smiling brightly at the camera, their hair still damp from the pool. Sally’s arm was casually draped around Erika’s shoulder, an unconscious but possessive show of friendship.

She added a short caption: “Making friends. This is Erika.”

Satisfied, she hit send and leaned back against the headboard, a smile tugging at her lips as she imagined Katrina and Clara’s reactions. It felt good to share, to let them in on her world, even if it was just through a few pictures and captions. Sally took a deep breath, feeling content and connected, her hand briefly brushing against her phone before settling back into the moment.

--

As Sally lounged in her cabin, scrolling idly through her phone, a notification popped up. It was a message from Erika. Her heart gave a little leap, and she opened it eagerly. The attached photo was their farewell selfie, taken moments before Erika had departed with her family. They were cheek-to-cheek, grinning brightly, the sunlight glinting off the waves behind them.

Erika: “Milan is gold and grey. Beautiful in its way, but not like yesterday. My sunshine is far away… or perhaps it’s a comet, lighting up everything it touches?”

Sally felt a lump rise in her throat. She stared at the message, her emotions swirling. A part of her wished Erika were still here, that they could share one more laugh, one more moment by the pool. But she also felt a sense of warmth, of gratitude. Erika had seen her, really seen her, in a way that few others had. And that message—poetic and a little dramatic, in true Erika style—made her feel deeply cherished.

Sally hugged her knees to her chest, her mind wandering to her current reality. She thought of the connections in her life, the people who formed her support system. Her father, mother, and herself. Three distinct individuals, each with their own quirks and challenges, but together they created a sturdy triangle—a structure that had become her foundation. Sometimes wobbly, yes. But complete.

She smiled softly, thinking about how her parents, despite their differences, had come together in recent days for her sake. Adrian, with his reserved but steady affection, and Bridget, with her warmth and unwavering presence. They anchored her, giving her a sense of stability she hadn’t always realized she needed.

And then there was the new triangle forming around her. Erika, Tamara, and Janice. Three people who, in their unique ways, had shown her kindness, care, and understanding. They were creating a safe space for her to explore who she was, to be bold, to be vulnerable. A structure of three, gently guiding her forward.

Her eyes misted over as she let the thought settle. She wasn’t alone. Her life was full of connections, each one strengthening her, supporting her. She took a deep breath and typed a reply to Erika.

Sally: “Maybe I’m a comet. But you’re the sun. You brought light when I needed it. Thank you for yesterday—and for being you. Milan will be gold and grey, but the sun always shines somewhere.”

She sent the message, set her phone aside, and leaned back into her pillows, her heart full. Sally felt more confident, more grounded, and for the first time in a long while, truly at peace.

--

The late morning sun sparkled on the Mediterranean waves, the breeze carrying just enough warmth to make lounging by the pool idyllic. Sally lay stretched out on a cushioned chaise, the turquoise of her bikini catching the light as she scrolled through her phone. It was the same bikini Erika had worn.

Her father, Adrian, reclined nearby, a bottle of beer in hand, his sunglasses hiding the rare relaxation in his eyes. Bridget sat elegantly with a steaming cup of coffee, her wide-brimmed hat shielding her face as she observed the serene scene.

It was a peaceful tableau, and Sally couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her father in swimming trunks. She suppressed a smile, finding it endearing that he had allowed himself to be so casual. She snapped a quick picture of her feet propped on the edge of the lounge chair, the pool glistening beyond, and captioned it simply: Morning vibes.

As her parents chatted quietly about logistics for the afternoon helicopter trip to Zurich, Sally’s phone buzzed with a series of messages. It was Katrina, predictably early and already fired up.

Katrina: “Who’s Erika, and why haven’t I been properly introduced? You’re hiding secrets, Weiss!”

Clara: “That candid of you two by the pool is stunning. She seems lovely. What’s her story?”

Sally smirked, imagining Katrina practically bouncing in her chair as she typed furiously while Clara calmly added her input. Sally fired back a response.

Sally: “Calm down, both of you. Erika’s… different. We just met yesterday. She’s Italian, super cool. Daughter of some famous designer family. You’d like her.”

The reply came almost instantly.

Katrina: “Super cool? How cool are we talking? Like, leather-jacket-and-sunglasses cool or untouchable-diva cool?”

Clara: “Or the quietly confident type? She has a glow in that picture. And I like her hair”

Sally grinned, shaking her head. Her mother noticed. “What’s so funny?”

“Katrina and Clara are dissecting the pictures I sent them,” Sally said, turning the phone toward Bridget, who leaned in to look. “They’re obsessed with Erika already.”

Bridget chuckled. “Well, I can see why. She’s charming. And she brought something out in you, I think.” Her tone was gentle, thoughtful.

Adrian tilted his head. “Who’s Erika?”

“Erika Ferrano,” Sally said, keeping it vague. “She’s amazing. Very European.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow but let it go, sipping his beer. “I know her. Nice kid. Sort of a tomboy, I was surprised to see her in a dress”

Sally rolled her eyes playfully. “She’s… just really nice.”

Bridget smirked. “Really nice, hmm? That’s an upgrade from ‘super cool.’” Sally blushed, turning her attention back to her phone to avoid further teasing.

As Katrina continued her bold questioning— “Is she hotter than Clara? I need to know.”—Clara’s more measured input came through.

Clara: “I think it’s great you’re making new connections, Sal. It’s not easy for you to open up like that. I’m happy for you.”

Sally paused, reading Clara’s message twice. Her lips curved into a soft smile. Clara always had a way of seeing straight through her. She glanced at her parents, her heart swelling with gratitude at this unexpected, calm moment together. For now, her thoughts of Erika, Katrina, and Clara could wait. Sally tucked her phone into her towel and leaned back, letting the sun’s rays warm her face as the peaceful sound of waves filled the air.

--

As Sally lounged by the pool with her parents, her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t Katrina’s bold, teasing comments. Instead, a new notification popped up: Clara - Direct Message. Sally glanced at her parents, who were now engaged in their own quiet conversation, before opening the message.

Clara: Hey, I know Katrina can be a little… well, Katrina. But I wanted to message you privately. Just us.

Sally smiled softly. Of course she would, she thought. Clara always balanced out Katrina’s wild streak with her own quiet wisdom.

Sally: What’s up?

Clara: I was looking at those pictures again. The ones with Erika. And, well… it’s kind of obvious there’s something there. Am I wrong?

Sally hesitated, her fingers hovering over the screen. She glanced at her parents again, her mother now laughing softly at something her father said. Then she replied.

Sally: You’re not wrong. But it’s… I don’t know. Complicated? It just sort of happened.

Clara: These things usually do. And they feel intense when they’re new. I’m guessing Erika made the first move?

Sally flushed, remembering the feel of Erika’s lips and the softness of her touch. Her stomach fluttered at the memory, and her heart raced as she typed.

Sally: Yeah… but I didn’t exactly stop her. It felt… nice. Right, even?

Clara: That’s good. It’s supposed to feel nice. You looked comfortable in the pictures, but I could see it in your face—you were thinking about her. I know Katrina jokes, but I just wanted to say… take your time. Explore how you feel. Don’t force it or rush anything.

Sally felt a wave of gratitude for Clara’s understanding. She typed back quickly.

Sally: Thanks, Clara. That’s what I needed to hear.

Clara: Of course. Also… if you’re ever unsure or need advice on, you know… the physical stuff, just ask me. Kissing can be a little awkward at first, but it’s all about relaxing and feeling the moment. Touch is the same way. Light, gentle, and slow. Follow what feels natural, not what you think is expected.

Sally felt a warmth spread through her body, her mind flashing to her moments with Erika. Her heart raced as she imagined what Clara described, and she shifted slightly on her lounge chair, feeling both embarrassed and appreciative of her friend’s candor.

Sally: You’re so much better at this than me, Clara.

Clara: Not true. You’re figuring it out, and that’s the point. You’re brave for exploring this at all. Just don’t let Katrina push you too far with her jokes. She means well, but I’m here if you need to talk about anything serious.

Sally smiled and tapped out her reply.

Sally: I’m lucky to have you. And yeah… I’ll try to keep Katrina in check. But I kind of love her for being exactly who she is.

Clara: We both do. She’s chaos, but she’s our chaos. Anyway, enjoy the rest of your day. And Sally? You looked happy in those pictures with Erika. I think she’s good for you.

Sally sat back, her smile widening as her chest swelled with appreciation for Clara’s insight. A fresh wave of thoughts about Erika washed over her—her smile, her laugh, the way she’d teased Sally gently but always made her feel seen.

As her phone buzzed again with another Katrina group text filled with gifs and emojis, Sally felt more centered, confident, and understood, thanks to Clara.

--

Sally leaned further back in her lounge chair, feeling more at ease after Clara’s earlier message. She hesitated for a moment, her fingers hovering over her phone. Then she typed:

Sally: Hey… can I ask you something?

The response came quickly.

Clara: Of course, anything.

Sally hesitated again, then wrote: How was it for you? I mean… your first kiss with Katrina?

The typing bubble appeared, paused, then appeared again. Finally, Clara’s reply came through.

Clara: Ah, my first kiss with Katrina. It feels like forever ago now. But I remember it so clearly. It was… magical, in a way. Unexpected but magical.

Sally smiled as Clara continued.

Clara: It happened in her room. She was teasing me about something—probably my ‘quiet, bookish ways,’ as she used to say. I remember she had this mischievous smile on her face, and she leaned in closer. I thought she was just joking, but then… she kissed me. So gently. So perfectly.

Sally’s heart fluttered as she imagined the scene, Clara’s words painting a vivid picture.

Sally: Were you nervous?

Clara: So nervous I could barely breathe. But Katrina… she has this way of making you feel safe, you know? She pulled back after the kiss and just looked at me, waiting, like she wanted me to make the next move.

Sally’s fingers trembled slightly as she typed: And… did you?

Clara: Eventually. But it took a minute. That’s the thing, Sally. It’s okay to take your time. Katrina understood that. She always does. When I kissed her back, I was shaking, but she was so patient. Gentle.

There was a pause before another message popped up.

Clara: The first time I let her touch me, though… that was something else.

Sally’s breath caught, and she quickly glanced around the pool deck to ensure no one was watching her intently. Her parents were deep in conversation, oblivious to her flushed cheeks.

Sally: What was it like?

Clara: It was… overwhelming in the best way. I remember her asking first, so softly, ‘Is this okay?’ And when I said yes, she didn’t rush. Her touch was so light, almost like she was afraid to hurt me. She started at my shoulders, just tracing her fingertips, and worked her way down. By the time she cupped my breasts, I was so comfortable, so… ready, I didn’t even think about it. It just felt right.

Sally swallowed hard, her heart racing.

Sally: Did it… feel good?

Clara: Incredibly. Not just physically, though that was part of it. It was the way she made me feel… cherished. Like I was the only person in the world she cared about in that moment. The trick, Sally, is to go slow. Extra slow if you’re just starting out. Build the trust and the connection, and the rest will come naturally.

Sally felt a warmth spread through her, not just from Clara’s words but from the tenderness they conveyed. She hesitated, then replied:

Sally: That sounds… amazing. I’m not sure I’m ready for all that, though.

Clara: And that’s perfectly okay. You’ll know when you are. And if Erika’s anything like what I’ve seen in those pictures, she’ll wait for you. Just take it slow, Sally. You’ll get there when you’re ready.

Sally exhaled deeply, a soft smile tugging at her lips.

Sally: Thanks, Clara. I needed to hear that.

Clara: Anytime. And remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, always.

As Sally read through Clara’s messages, her curiosity got the better of her. She quickly typed:

Sally: But… were you already naked?

There was a pause longer than Sally expected. The typing bubble appeared and disappeared a few times before Clara finally replied.

Clara: Not at first. That came later.

Sally leaned forward, her heart pounding a little. She typed:

Sally: So… how did it happen?

Clara’s response came, more detailed than before:

Clara: It was gradual. We were lying on her bed, just talking. I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and she had on her panties and this oversized t-shirt. We’d been kissing for a while, and I guess it just felt… natural? Katrina moved so slowly, giving me all the time to stop her if I wanted. When her hand slipped under my shirt, I froze for a second—not because I didn’t want it, but because I was nervous.

Sally read with wide eyes, her face warm.

Sally: What happened next?

Clara: She noticed right away. She stopped and asked me, ‘Is this okay?’ And when I nodded, she kept going. She didn’t rush. Eventually, she helped me out of my t-shirt, and then… well, things progressed from there.

Sally stared at the screen, her fingers trembling as she typed.

Sally: And you weren’t embarrassed?

Clara: Not with her. She made me feel safe, like I could be completely myself. I think that’s the most important part, Sally. Feeling safe. Feeling like the other person cares about you, about how you’re feeling. And Katrina… she always made sure I knew I could say no at any time.

Sally’s heart swelled, both at Clara’s candor and the tenderness of her story.

Sally: That sounds… really nice.

Clara: It was. And it will be for you, too. If you ever get to that point with someone, just remember to take it slow and trust your instincts. You deserve someone who makes you feel safe and wanted, Sally.

Sally stared at the screen, feeling a mix of emotions—curiosity, hope, and a little nervous excitement.

Sally: Thanks, Clara. I’m glad I can talk to you about this.

Clara: Always. And hey, Katrina’s the wild one, but I can be your level-headed guide anytime you need me.

Sally smiled, a deep sense of gratitude filling her. Clara had a way of grounding her, even when her thoughts were swirling.

--

As Sally finished reading Clara’s heartfelt advice, her phone buzzed again. A private message from Katrina popped up, her usual playful tone unmistakable:

Katrina: What are you and Clara talking about? She’s turned all mushy and needy all of a sudden! I can’t get her off of me!!!

Sally couldn’t help but laugh, imagining Katrina’s exaggerated gestures and faux exasperation as Clara likely cuddled up to her. She typed back quickly:

Sally: Oh, just girl talk. You know, deep, meaningful, emotional stuff.

Katrina: Ugh, she’s being so sentimental right now. Keeps telling me how much she loves me and how lucky she is.

Sally grinned, deciding to tease her.

Sally: And you’re complaining? You’re literally living the dream, Kat. Own it.

Katrina: Okay, true, but she’s so soft right now. I just said I was hungry, and she kissed me and said, “I love your hunger for life.” What does that even mean?! It’s not even six AM here! I need coffee, not philosophy!

Sally burst into laughter, shaking her head.

Sally: It means you’re dating a poet. Lucky you.

Katrina: You’ve unleashed something, Sally. I hope you’re proud of yourself.

Sally: Oh, I am. Now go be a good girlfriend and deal with it. Clara’s amazing, and you know it.

Katrina: Fine, fine. But if she starts quoting Shakespeare, I’m blaming you.

Sally rolled her eyes affectionately and set her phone down. It was comforting to know that, no matter how serious things got, Katrina would always bring humor and lightness to the mix. That was just who she was.

--

Sally stretched out on the lounge chair, the Mediterranean breeze warm against her skin, her phone buzzing softly in her hand. A message from Erika lit up the screen.

Erika: Ciao, Sally. So, about… everything. I’ve been thinking.

Sally bit her lip, already smiling. She could imagine Erika’s thoughtful, slightly mischievous tone. She quickly typed back.

Sally: Oh no, should I be worried?

Erika: Not at all! Just—what a way to start a friendship, huh? Intense, to say the least.

Sally chuckled softly, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. She was glad Erika was bringing this up—it had been on her mind too, but she wasn’t sure how to start the conversation.

Sally: Yeah, definitely. But I’m glad it happened. You’re already one of my favorite people.

There was a pause before Erika’s next message arrived.

Erika: Same here. But maybe we take it easy from now on? Build the fire slowly, like a proper Italian meal—you don’t rush perfection.

Sally let the words sink in, feeling a warmth in her chest. Erika always had a way of putting things into perspective, even with her playful tone.

Sally: Agreed. No more whirlwind showers…

Erika: Though, to be fair, that steamy shower? Bellissimo. Definitely a highlight.

Sally laughed aloud, shaking her head. Erika had a knack for turning even the simplest moments into something memorable.

Sally: You’re funny.

Erika: Sometimes a cold shower is fun too. Keeps things… refreshing.

Sally’s smile lingered as she scrolled back through their conversation. The intensity of their first encounter still buzzed faintly in her mind, but Erika’s message felt like a grounding force—a promise of balance and growth.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with a selfie from Erika. She was seated at a school lunch table, her golden curls pinned back, her buzzed head uncovered, the signature Ferrano confidence shining through in her casual pose.

Erika: Lunch break! Soccer practice after. What about you? Are you just lounging in paradise?

Sally quickly snapped a picture of herself, leaning slightly to capture the turquoise sea in the background.

Sally: Pretty much. Your bikini, by the way.

Erika’s reply came immediately.

Erika: That bikini! It looks even better on you than it did on me. Che invidia!

Sally laughed, her cheeks warming. She typed the words she learned from Erika: È uma bugia!

Erika: But seriously, did you actually do any homework today? Or are you playing hooky in that beautiful setting?

Sally blinked, her laughter fading. Homework. Her stomach dropped slightly as she realized she hadn’t done a thing since morning.

Sally: Uh… about that. I kind of got… distracted. But I’ll work on it tonight, I promise.

Erika: Brava. I don’t doubt you, Sally. You’re the perfect mix of fun and focus. Just don’t let me distract you too much.

Sally leaned back, her phone resting on her stomach. Erika’s words lingered in her mind, filling her with a renewed sense of determination. She’d make time tonight, once they returned to the villa, to focus on her essays. For now, though, she allowed herself to savor the easy connection they were building—a friendship that already felt like it had endless potential.

Sally: Thanks, Erika. A slow fire of friendship, sì?

Erika: Sì. Don’t forget to send me your essays for approval!

Sally grinned, imagining Erika’s teasing tone. Their dynamic was natural and comforting, and as she stared out at the Mediterranean horizon, she felt a warmth beyond the sun—a sense of belonging, of being truly understood.

Erika’s friendship was already something special, something she hadn’t fully anticipated. They’d started with intensity, but now, as they found their rhythm, it felt like a steady, comforting flame—a fire she was eager to nurture.

As she opened her eyes, she smiled to herself. Tonight, she’d sit down with her laptop and tackle those essays. She’d make Erika proud. And Katrina. And Clara. And her parents. But for now, she let herself relax, savoring the sun, the breeze, and the knowledge that she wasn’t navigating this journey alone.

--

Sally felt a little awkward as she stood at the dining table on the yacht, watching her father fish out a bill from his pocket. “Here,” Adrian said, placing a crisp €100 note on the table. “That should be more than enough.” Sally nodded, murmuring her thanks, and took the bill, folding it carefully before heading to her cabin.

When she entered, Claudia was meticulously finishing packing her suitcases, smoothing the fabric of Sally’s folded dresses as if each crease mattered. Sally’s eyes darted to the side pocket of one of the bags, where she noticed the two leftover diapers neatly tucked in. She felt a twinge of embarrassment, but she quickly shifted her focus.

Claudia turned with her usual warm smile. “Miss Weiss, I hope everything was acceptable?” Her Italian accent gave the words a lilting quality that made Sally feel both at ease and slightly shy.

Sally nodded, clutching the bill. “It was more than acceptable. I had an amazing time, and you made everything… perfect.” She held out the folded bill with both hands, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

Claudia glanced down, then back at Sally with a gracious nod. “Thank you, Miss Weiss. That is very kind.” She tucked the tip into her pocket with a small smile. “Your luggage will be taken to the helipad shortly. The helicopter is arriving any moment.”

Sally nodded and stepped out onto the deck just as the black helicopter approached, its sleek body gleaming in the Mediterranean sun. She instinctively pulled out her phone and began filming as the helicopter circled the yacht in a breathtaking display of precision before descending onto the bow helipad. The spinning blades caused a whirlwind and landed with near-military precision. Sally smiled and sent the video to Patricia with a quick note: “Show Charlie! He’ll love this!”

But there wasn’t much time to linger. The crew ushered her toward the helipad, where she ducked instinctively under the blades as the wind whipped her hair. Her parents followed close behind, and soon they were strapped into the plush cabin seats of the helicopter. Sally glanced out the window, her heart tugging as the yacht grew smaller beneath them, its grandeur now a dot on the endless expanse of blue sea. As the helicopter banked, she caught one last aerial view of the Flying Fox, a tiny jewel surrounded by turquoise.

The flight back was mostly quiet, punctuated only by the gentle hum of the rotor blades. The Italian plains stretched below them, dotted with picturesque farms and winding roads. Bridget leaned toward the window, letting out a gasp as the Alps appeared in the distance, their snowy peaks rising like majestic guardians of the horizon. Sally couldn’t help but mirror her mother’s awe, even though she’d flown this route once before.

“This is incredible,” Bridget murmured, her eyes wide as the helicopter began its ascent over the towering mountains.

“It really is,” Sally agreed, sipping from the small bottle of Pellegrino provided by the crew. The cool, sparkling water paired perfectly with the breathtaking scenery. Adrian, however, remained focused on his laptop, his fingers flying across the keys.

When they finally descended into Zurich, the city’s orderly streets and elegant architecture came into view. The helicopter touched down smoothly, and Sally spotted a familiar figure waiting at the airport landing area—Theresa. A wide grin spread across Sally’s face as she hopped out of the helicopter, the rotor blades still spinning above.

“Theresa!” Sally exclaimed, running over to greet her. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed her until now.

“Miss Weiss,” Theresa said teasingly, giving Sally a mock bow before hugging her. “You survived.”

“Oh, the boat was nice”, Sally said with a laugh, shaking her head. “It was… cool, I guess.”

“Don’t call it that,” Theresa smirked. “You’re so nonchalant about spending a week on a mega yacht most people can only dream about.”

As they walked toward the waiting cars, Adrian pointed to Roberto standing by the Mercedes. “I’m heading to the office,” Adrian said, kissing Bridget on the cheek. He turned to Sally with a smile. “Be good. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Sally waved as he climbed into the Mercedes and turned to Theresa, who was motioning toward a pristine black Range Rover. “New car?” Sally asked, raising an eyebrow.

Theresa grinned, opening the front passenger door for her. “Your father thought it was time to expand the Weiss fleet. Since the Mercedes is usually busy with him, this is for you. I picked it—an homage to your love of British cars.”

Sally climbed in, admiring the white leather interior and light wood finishes. “It’s perfect,” she said, running her fingers over the smooth dashboard. “Thanks, Theresa.”

Theresa shrugged. “It’s Weiss money. Don’t thank me, just enjoy it.”

As they drove through Zurich, Sally took in the familiar sights—the pristine streets, the elegant shops, and the serene lake in the distance. When they pulled up to the Baur au Lac hotel, Bridget let out an audible gasp. “It’s stunning,” she said, her eyes scanning the grand façade.

Theresa smiled as they stepped out of the car. “You’ll love it, Bridget. It’s just as elegant inside.”

The bellhop opened the grand doors, and Bridget walked in, her face alight with excitement, as if a new chapter of their adventure had just begun.

--

Bridget settled into her suite at the Baur Au Lac with an audible sigh of contentment. The suite was stunning, even by her standards, with floor-to-ceiling windows that framed an unobstructed view of Lake Zurich. The soft pastel tones of the room, combined with luxurious furnishings and tasteful floral arrangements, exuded a quiet elegance. Even Sally, who had recently stayed at the Beverly Hills Hotel, had been awed by the place.

As Bridget perched on the edge of the plush sofa, sipping the glass of chilled sparkling water provided by the butler, she hugged Sally tightly. “I need a nap and a proper shower, but I’ll see you tonight for dinner,” she said warmly.

Sally nodded, inhaling her mother’s familiar perfume as she held on for a moment longer. “Rest well, Mom. I’ll see you at home.”

Bridget smiled and gestured for Sally to go, watching her leave before she leaned back into the soft embrace of the sofa, closing her eyes for a brief moment.

--

Outside, Theresa sat in the driver’s seat of the sleek Range Rover, her laptop balanced on her lap as her fingers flew across the keyboard. Sally opened the passenger door and slid in, causing Theresa to pause and glance up with a smile.

As Sally buckled in, Theresa closed her laptop, tucked it neatly into a side compartment, and turned the engine on. The seat slid forward automatically, adjusting to her driving position. “Where to, boss?” she asked with her usual good-natured tone.

Sally smirked crookedly. “I’m still not used to you calling me boss.”

Theresa chuckled softly. “Well, get used to it. You’re the boss.”

Sally shook her head with an amused sigh. “Let’s go home. Mom’s going to freshen up and rest, and then she’s coming for dinner. I’ve got four hours.” She muttered the last part as though reminding herself of her timeline.

Theresa glanced at her as she pulled out of the hotel driveway. “Do you have plans for those four hours?”

“Homework,” Sally admitted, her voice tinged with both resignation and determination. “I’ve got a lot to catch up on, and I can’t fall behind again.”

Theresa nodded approvingly. “That’s responsible and organized of you. Good on you, Sally.”

The drive through Zurich’s charming streets and into the quieter suburban areas was smooth and pleasant, and the pair fell into an easy conversation. Sally gave Theresa an overview of her time on the yacht, describing the grand dinners, the water sports, and the whirlwind of people she’d met.

When she mentioned Erika, her tone shifted, becoming just a bit more formal. “I also made a new friend,” she said, testing the waters. “Her name’s Erika Ferrano.”

Theresa’s eyebrows arched slightly in recognition. “Erika Ferrano? Cute kid. Bit of a tomboy.”

Sally tilted her head, intrigued. “You know her?”

“I know of her,” Theresa clarified with a grin. “She’s the youngest of four, with three very adult brothers who spoil her endlessly. Her parents are fantastic people, but I’d imagine raising Erika has been… an adventure.”

Sally laughed. “She sounds dangerous.”

Theresa smirked. “Not if you influence her positively.”

Sally leaned back in her seat, considering that. She liked the idea of being a good influence. Erika was bold and daring in ways Sally wasn’t, but maybe they could balance each other out. “Maybe,” she said thoughtfully, staring out at the Zurich scenery passing by.

Theresa’s smile deepened as she maneuvered the car into the driveway of Adrian’s house. “Well, boss, if anyone can handle a Ferrano, it’s you.”

--

As the Range Rover pulled smoothly up the ramp to the front porch, Sally leaned back in her seat, reluctant to move. Her fingers traced the soft leather armrest as she glanced at Theresa, who had just shifted the car into park.

“I really like this car,” Sally said, her tone casual but sincere. “I think I like it more than the Mercedes back home.”

Theresa laughed softly, throwing her a knowing glance. “Don’t tell your dad. He wasn’t too pleased when he saw it. Sent me a message complaining just now.”

Sally’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He complained? Why?”

Theresa smirked. “Because it’s not German. Read!”, she said, handing her phone.

“Warum hast du ein britisches Auto gekauft? Du weißt doch, dass deutsche Autos besser sind, und ich will nur das Beste für Sally.” An emogi created a context of humor, and Sally was relieved.

Sally burst into laughter, shaking her head. “Of course. Typical.”

They shared a moment of amusement before Sally hesitated, her hand resting on the door handle. “Um… do you think you’ll have time tomorrow? To go jogging with me, I mean. Not as my assistant,” she added quickly, a shy smile creeping onto her face.

Theresa grinned, reaching over to lightly punch her shoulder. “Sure thing, Sally! I’ll come by at 5:30. You know the drill.”

Sally gulped, suddenly remembering the early start and grueling pace Theresa had set last time. “Thanks,” she said, her voice almost resigned. “I’ve been cooped up on a boat, and I really need to stretch my legs.”

--

Sally entered the quiet house, the faint sound of the Range Rover’s engine fading as Theresa drove off. The stillness wrapped around her like a heavy blanket. There was no sign of Roberto, and Mia was probably out shopping. The emptiness of the sprawling space made her feel oddly small. She shuffled across the marble-tiled hall to the elevator and stepped inside. The familiar hum of the elevator carried her to the top floor, where her private apartment awaited.

The doors slid open, revealing the serene space that she had quickly come to cherish. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long, golden beams across the wooden floor. Sally paused, her eyes catching on the view of Zurich’s skyline below. Her gaze shifted to the Birkin bag resting elegantly on a nearby table, exactly where she’d left it. She bent down, running her fingers over the soft, buttery leather. It felt luxurious, solid, and reassuringly hers.

After a moment of quiet admiration, she placed the bag back on the table and wandered into her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and stripped down, leaving her travel clothes in a neat pile on the bed to fold later. Clad in only her underwear, she padded to the bathroom. The sight of her diapers stacked neatly on the countertop gave her pause.

Her hand hovered over them for a moment as she debated internally. She frowned, shaking her head slightly. “Discipline mode,” she muttered under her breath. “I need to concentrate.”

With that decision made, she grabbed a fresh pair of simple cotton panties from her drawer. After a quick shower to wash off the day’s travel, she dried herself, slipped into her underwear, and pulled on a loose t-shirt. She tied her damp hair into a messy ponytail and made her way to her desk.

The sleek surface of her laptop glowed softly as she opened it, quickly navigating to the file she needed. “Triple Bottom Line,” the title read. Her eyes scanned the opening lines, recentering her thoughts and sparking her determination.

“The Triple Bottom Line framework evaluates a company’s performance not solely through financial profit but by integrating social responsibility and environmental sustainability. Often referred to as the ‘three Ps’—Profit, People, and Planet—this approach has gained traction among businesses seeking to align their goals with global sustainability trends. By balancing these pillars, organizations aim to create long-term value while addressing ethical and ecological challenges.”

Sally read the words again, letting them sink in. She sipped some water from the glass she’d brought to her desk and adjusted her posture.

“Focus,” she murmured to herself, her fingers poised over the keyboard. Then she began to type, diving into her next paragraph.

--

Sally stretched her arms out wide, her fingers brushing the edge of her headboard as she lay face down on her bed, thoroughly spent but deeply satisfied. Two essays done, her physics and math exercises completed, and her study goals for the day more than exceeded. She felt the sweet relief of accomplishment, which had made chatting with Patricia all the more enjoyable.

Patricia had called earlier, responding to the video Sally had sent of the helicopter descending onto the yacht’s helipad. “Charlie is absolutely obsessed!” Patricia exclaimed, her voice full of amusement. “He keeps asking me if I know what kind of helicopter it is and how fast it goes. Honestly, you’ve made his week.”

Sally laughed, shifting to rest her chin on her arms. “Tell him it’s an Airbus H145. Or at least, I think that’s what Dad said it was. It felt like flying in a private jet, but… smaller. You know.”

Patricia chuckled. “I don’t know, but it sounds amazing. And… I hate to admit it, but I’m a little jealous. That yacht looked incredible.”

Sally smiled, recalling the sparkling waters and the laughter-filled deck. “It was. A whole different world. I mean, it was almost surreal, like stepping into a movie.” She hesitated for a moment, then added with a grin, “Maybe next time, you’ll come with me.”

Patricia snorted. “You’d never get me to leave! I’d cling to that yacht like a barnacle.” Their laughter filled the line until Patricia sighed. “Okay, I’ve got to head back to class. But tell me more about your trip later. And give Charlie some details; he’s driving me crazy.”

“I will,” Sally promised, and with a final goodbye, Patricia ended the call.

Still lying on her stomach, Sally turned her attention to her laptop, scrolling lazily through YouTube. Her mind drifted as she clicked on random videos, her body relaxed and warm in her t-shirt and underwear.

Suddenly, the sound of the door to her apartment opening broke her reverie. Her head shot up, her heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t the elevator—it was the door from the staircase. A moment later, Mia appeared, stepping in with a few shopping bags and a stack of freshly folded towels in her arms.

“Oh! Miss Sally!” Mia exclaimed, stopping abruptly, her face a mixture of shock and apology. “I didn’t know anyone was home. I’m so sorry!”

Sally blinked, looking back from her bed, still processing. At first, her gaze was on Mia, but then she noticed Mia’s eyes darting downward. Following her line of sight, Sally glanced at herself—her bare legs stretched out, the hem of her t-shirt resting just above her hips. Heat rushed to her face as she swiftly sat up and crossed her legs, pulling her laptop over them in an attempt at modesty.

“It’s… fine,” Sally managed, her voice a touch higher than usual. “I just… wasn’t expecting anyone.”

Mia’s face flushed with equal embarrassment. “I was just restocking the bathrooms,” she explained hurriedly. “I didn’t think anyone would be here. I’ll just leave these and go.”

“No, it’s okay,” Sally said quickly, though her voice betrayed her discomfort. She fidgeted slightly, keeping the laptop firmly in place as Mia set down the towels and shopping bag before retreating to the door.

“Really sorry, Miss Sally,” Mia added, almost stumbling over her words as she left. The door clicked shut behind her, and the apartment was silent again.

Sally sat there for a moment, her cheeks still warm. Then her eyes drifted toward the door, where the lock stared back at her accusingly. ““Note to self: Always lock the door,” she muttered.

She stood and padded over to the door, twisting the lock into place with a definitive click. Then, she turned and grabbed a pair of jeans and her sandals. She wasn’t going to let this moment linger unaddressed.

--

When she found Mia in the laundry room, the housekeeper was meticulously folding towels, her face still faintly red.

“Mia?” Sally called softly.

Mia turned, looking up with wide, slightly apprehensive eyes. “Miss Sally, I…”

“It’s okay,” Sally interrupted gently. “I should’ve locked the door. I didn’t think about it either.”

Mia’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and she nodded. “I’ll make sure to knock from now on, just in case.”

Sally smiled, the tension easing. “Thanks, Mia. And… sorry for the awkwardness.”

Mia returned the smile, a hint of amusement in her expression now. “No problem at all, Miss Sally.”

Satisfied, Sally returned to her apartment, vowing to be more mindful of her privacy in the future. As she locked the door behind her, she exhaled, brushing the incident aside. Now dressed, she felt much more in control—and ready to finish the rest of her day.

-- 

Sally wandered into the foyer, her fingers brushing against the polished banister as she peered through the glass panes of the front door. The low hum of an engine reached her ears, and moments later, her father’s Mercedes glided up the ramp, its headlights illuminating the driveway. She stepped outside, her sandals clicking softly against the stone steps, and smiled as Adrian stepped out of the car, looking more relaxed than she had seen him in days.

“Hey, Dad,” Sally greeted, walking up to him.

Adrian smiled warmly, loosening his tie as he approached her. “Hello, Sally. Everything good here?”

She nodded. “All good. How about you? You look… less stressed.”

He chuckled, draping his jacket over one arm. “Banking issues resolved. Nothing earth-shattering, but it feels good to have it sorted. Now, I can focus on dinner and relaxing.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Sally replied with a grin. “Mia says it’ll be ready in an hour.”

Adrian nodded and squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “Perfect. I’m going to freshen up. See you in a bit.”

As he disappeared up the staircase, Sally meandered into the living area, where Mia was busy setting out an assortment of snacks and appetizers on the coffee table. The faint clinking of plates and glasses punctuated the tranquil atmosphere. Mia noticed Sally and smiled warmly.

“Something light to hold you over until dinner, Miss Sally,” Mia said, her Italian accent as smooth as ever. She gestured toward the table. “Cheese, olives, a little charcuterie.”

Sally grinned, taking in the neatly arranged platters. “It looks amazing. Thank you.”

“Would you like something to drink?” Mia asked. “Perhaps a Coke?”

Sally nodded. “Yes, please.”

Mia nodded, retrieving a chilled glass bottle of Coke from the nearby bar cart. She deftly opened it, poured it into a glass filled with ice and a slice of lemon, and handed it to Sally with a small smile. “Here you are, Miss Sally.”

Sally took a sip, savoring the cool, crisp taste. She smiled at the little luxury and settled onto the sofa, turning on the television. Flipping through the channels, she landed on the local news. The presenter’s measured German filled the room, and Sally leaned back, listening intently, trying to tune her ear to the nuances of Swiss German. The stories felt different from the chaos of U.S. news—calmer, more measured, almost serene.

A few minutes later, her father reappeared, now in a comfortable pair of pressed jeans and a light shirt. He sat next to Sally on the sofa, grabbing a few olives from the platter.

“Swiss news, huh?” Adrian said, glancing at the screen. “Getting in some practice?”

Sally smiled. “Trying to keep my German sharp. It’s so different here… even the news feels peaceful.”

Adrian chuckled softly. “Switzerland does give off that image. But even here, we have problems—immigration tensions, sky-high living costs. It’s not paradise.”

Sally tilted her head, intrigued. “But it seems so… perfect. How do they handle those problems?”

Adrian leaned back, resting his arm on the back of the sofa. “It’s not just about money, Sally. It’s about the people. Swiss society is organized, respectful, and conscientious. We’re a small country, and that gives us a sense of closeness, almost like a big family. Being surrounded by mountains doesn’t hurt either—it makes you feel secure, grounded.”

Sally nodded thoughtfully, taking another sip of her Coke. “So it’s more about the mindset than the wealth.”

“Exactly,” Adrian said. “Wealth can solve many problems, but it’s the culture and values that keep a country running smoothly.”

Before Sally could respond, the sound of a car engine echoed through the driveway. She turned to see Mia appear in the doorway, her expression bright.

“Your mother has arrived, Miss Sally” Mia announced.

Sally jumped up, a wide smile spreading across her face as she hurried to the foyer, ready to greet her mother. 

--

[Dirty Boy]

ultra-realistic versions with AI 

Sally

Clara and Katrina

Adrian

Bridget

Erika

Theresa

[erik_hamburg]

Thank you so much for posting the story again. Really curious where this is going. One of my favourites already. 

[FlyingFox]

2 hours ago, Dirty Boy said:

ultra-realistic versions with AI 

Sally

Clara and Katrina

Adrian

Bridget

Erika

Theresa

Wow, I’m impressed! 

35 minutes ago, erik_hamburg said:

Thank you so much for posting the story again. Really curious where this is going. One of my favourites already. 

Thanks! Already working on the next chapter.

[Dirty Boy]

4 hours ago, FlyingFox said:

Wow, I’m impressed! 

Note the accuracy of the fact that Adrian and Sally resemble each other in features as in the story.

Bridget, maternal instinct shines through

Katrina and Clara are there. Erika also has that sly look

P.S. I would like to be spanked says that Theresa 🤣

[FlyingFox]

Chapter 79 – The Zurich Connection

As the rain pattered gently against the cobbled driveway, Sally peered through the glass-paneled door, her breath fogging the surface slightly. Her heart gave a small leap when the black Mercedes station wagon taxi glided up the drive, its wipers swishing rhythmically.

A taxi? Sally’s brows lifted in surprise. She had expected Theresa to drive her mother from the hotel, but Bridget had clearly opted for practicality. Sally chuckled softly to herself, already imagining her father’s inevitable reaction. Adrian Weiss, taking a taxi? Perish the thought!

The back door opened, and Bridget stepped out gracefully, despite the drizzle. She pulled her camel-colored coat tightly around her and gave the driver a polite nod as he held the door open for her.

Sally swung open the door and rushed out barefoot, not caring about the rain. “Mom!” she called, grinning widely.

Bridget turned, her face lighting up at the sight of her daughter. “Sally, sweetheart!” she replied, holding out her arms.

Sally practically flew into her mother’s embrace, the chill of the rain forgotten. “I didn’t expect you to take a taxi!” she laughed as Bridget squeezed her tightly.

Bridget pulled back, brushing a damp strand of hair from Sally’s face. “I thought Theresa deserved a night off. Besides, I survived taxis in New York. Zurich’s a breeze.”

Sally giggled, but her grin grew mischievous as she whispered, “Dad’s going to have a fit.”

“Oh, I know,” Bridget replied, her eyes sparkling with playful defiance.

Right on cue, Adrian appeared at the door, eyebrows furrowed. His sharp gaze immediately clocked the taxi, and he raised a hand in bemused frustration. “A taxi? Bridget, really?”

Bridget, ever composed, gave him an amused smile as she handed her coat to Mia, who appeared silently to take it. “Relax, Adrian. I didn’t hitchhike,” she teased.

Sally stifled a laugh as Adrian sighed, shaking his head. “It’s just… impractical,” he muttered under his breath.

“Yes, heaven forbid something practical happens in Zurich,” Bridget replied breezily. She turned to Sally, ignoring Adrian’s exasperated groan, and pulled her into another hug. “I missed you already, even though it’s only been a few hours.”

Sally’s heart swelled. Having her mother here, in her father’s house—her house—felt surreal. She had spent days on the Flying Fox with her mother, but there was something uniquely special about seeing Bridget in this space that had always been her father’s domain. It was like her worlds were finally overlapping in the most unexpected, wonderful way.

As Adrian took Bridget’s suitcase upstairs, muttering about “Swiss efficiency” and “better transportation,” Bridget winked at Sally. “He’ll get over it,” she whispered.

Sally chuckled. “Anyways, a Mercedes is not too bad for a taxi, huh?.”

The two shared a conspiratorial laugh, and Sally’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “Come on,” she said, tugging her mother’s hand. “Dinner’s almost ready. Mia’s outdone herself.”

Bridget nodded, letting Sally lead her into the dining room where the warm glow of candles and the aroma of freshly baked bread filled the air.

Adrian reappeared, now sans jacket, and glanced between the two most important women in his life. “I see you two are already plotting against me.”

“Oh, darling,” Bridget teased as she sat down, “if we ever plotted against you, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Exactly,” Sally chimed in with a cheeky grin.

Adrian gave a long-suffering sigh but smiled despite himself. “I’m outnumbered.”

“Welcome to my world,” Sally quipped as she reached for a bread roll.

--

Roberto, ever the picture of grace, stepped forward with the prosecco bottle in hand, his movements fluid and precise. Sally watched him curiously—she had always seen him as the reliable driver and caretaker, but tonight, he moved with a quiet sophistication that made him seem more like an experienced maître d’.

Mia served the risotto, each plate perfectly arranged with creamy rice flecked with mushrooms and a hint of truffle. Roberto followed behind, filling glasses with prosecco. As he approached Sally’s place setting, he glanced discreetly at Adrian, who, after a moment’s thought, gave a subtle nod of approval.

Sally’s eyes lit up as Roberto poured her a modest half-glass. She caught her mother’s amused expression from across the table. Bridget winked at her playfully. “Under parental supervision,” she said, her voice dry but her eyes sparkling, “and only in Europe.”

Sally grinned, raising her glass slightly. “Cheers to loopholes,” she whispered with a smirk.

Adrian chuckled, shaking his head. “Let’s not make this a habit.”

“No promises,” Bridget teased, clinking her glass gently against Sally’s. “But I will say, this is better than sneaking sips when you think no one’s looking.”

“Mom!” Sally groaned, laughing despite herself. “I’ve never done that.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, sweetheart, you forget I was fifteen once too.”

Adrian sighed dramatically. “I’m outnumbered again.”

Roberto, suppressing a smile, served Adrian last. “Sir,” he said smoothly.

“Thank you, Roberto,” Adrian replied. “And may I say, you’ve been hiding your talents.”

Roberto gave a slight bow. “One learns a few things along the way, sir.”

Sally, still marveling at Roberto’s ease, whispered to her mother, “Since when did Roberto become a James Bond side character?”

Bridget chuckled softly. “I know. I half expect him to pull out a silver tray with top-secret documents.”

Roberto, overhearing, turned to Sally with a sly smile. “Miss Weiss, I assure you, my only secret is ensuring everyone’s glass is never empty.”

Sally grinned, impressed. “Mission accomplished.”

As the conversation flowed, Sally felt warmth fill her chest. Her parents, laughing together. Roberto, charming them all. Mia, bustling gently around the table. And Sally herself, savoring every moment. She leaned back slightly, smiling to herself, and thought, Maybe loopholes aren’t so bad after all.

--

Sally took a small sip of her prosecco, feeling quite pleased with herself as the bubbles tickled her nose. She glanced at her mother and grinned. “So, are we doing our usual Bahamas trip this summer? Two weeks at the resort, lazy mornings, and way too much sunscreen?”

Bridget smiled fondly. “Of course. Same place, same routine. You know me—I like tradition.”

Adrian, who had been enjoying his risotto quietly, raised an eyebrow. “Is it… that resort again?” He said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “A ‘normal’ resort?”

Bridget chuckled knowingly. “Yes, Adrian. A normal resort. With normal people. Shocking, I know.”

Adrian shook his head, already looking displeased. “Not this time. If you’re going to do it, do it properly. I’ll take care of everything for you.”

Bridget set down her fork gently, giving Adrian a soft but pointed look. “We can take care of ourselves perfectly well, Adrian. But thank you.”

Before Adrian could respond, Sally raised her hand suddenly, eyes sparkling with inspiration. “On one condition.”

Both parents turned to look at her. Adrian leaned forward, intrigued. “And what might that condition be?”

Sally, feeling bold, grinned mischievously. “Come with us.”

Bridget blinked, caught off guard. “Oh—”

“You come with us,” Sally repeated, more firmly this time. “Then you can do whatever you want.”

Bridget hesitated, clearly taken aback, but as she looked at Sally, she understood. This wasn’t about Adrian’s interference. It was about his absence. With a small, resigned smile, she nodded and turned to Adrian. “Well? Are you up for it?”

Adrian, momentarily speechless, looked between Bridget and Sally. Finally, he let out a slow breath. “Okay,” he said, almost to himself. Then, with more certainty, “Okay. But then I am going all out.”

He leaned back, his mind already racing. “There’s a villa I’ve had my eye on—never had the chance to rent it, though. Huge rooms, panoramic ocean views, stunning infinity pools, jet skis, water skiing—”

Sally let out a very inelegant huff, almost a grunt.

Adrian paused, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“Water skiing?” Sally groaned. “My skiing is bad enough as it is. Two weeks a year in the Rockies has proven that. My water skiing? Non-existent.”

Adrian smirked, unfazed. “Then private lessons with the best instructors are in order. And as for your skiing… we’ll take care of that, too.”

Sally blinked, stunned into silence.

Adrian smirked, unfazed. “As in water skiing, where falling down is part of the fun, skiing requires skill and precision.”

Bridget, amused, quipped, “Well, at least you’ve got six months to prepare her for the slopes.”

Adrian, fork halfway to his mouth, paused. “Six months? Why six months?”

Sally, still processing her father’s ambitious plans, opened her mouth to point out that it was almost summer—but Adrian interrupted, entirely nonchalant.

“Whakapapa is already open.”

Sally nearly choked on her prosecco. “Waka—what?!”

Adrian, cool as ever, replied, “New Zealand. Early snow this season. You can go after the Bahamas.”

Sally stared at him, speechless. Bridget, shaking with laughter, added, “You know, darling, when your father decides to go all out, he really goes all out.”

Sally, still wide-eyed, muttered, “I need a moment.”

Adrian grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Don’t worry. A quick intensive skiing session with a great instructor I know, and you’ll be carving down slopes like a pro.”

Sally, head in her hands, groaned, “This escalated so quickly.”

Bridget chuckled, patting Sally’s hand. “Welcome to your father’s world.”

Sally sighed dramatically. “Next time, I’m keeping my conditions to myself.”

--

Sally padded softly through the quiet halls of her father’s house, the faint sound of rain tapping gently against the windows as she ascended in the elevator to her private apartment on the top floor. Her mind was still buzzing from the evening’s dinner—the warmth of having both her parents together, the laughter, the teasing, and, of course, her father’s grand plans for the summer.

Bahamas, she thought with a soft smile. And New Zealand… Waka-something… She shook her head in amused disbelief. Only her father could casually drop such a wild idea over risotto and prosecco.

As she stepped into her apartment, the familiar comfort of her space embraced her. The soft glow from her bedside lamp cast a warm hue over the room, highlighting the cozy haven she had created here. The rain, now slightly heavier, pattered rhythmically against the floor-to-ceiling windows, a soothing soundtrack to the evening’s memories.

Her thoughts flickered back to the moment her mother left. Bridget had been driven away in Adrian’s S-Class Mercedes, of course—her father wouldn’t have it any other way. Roberto had already anticipated it, the car idling quietly near the door, windshield wipers swaying steadily. He stood ready, holding an umbrella aloft to shield Bridget from the rain as she stepped into the car with her usual grace. Sally had watched from the window, smiling wistfully as she noted the brief but telling exchange between her parents—Adrian’s subtle nod, Bridget’s gentle smile in return. It wasn’t grand or dramatic, but it was their way, and for Sally, that quiet acknowledgment between them was more comforting than any words could ever be.

She sighed contentedly, running her fingers through her hair as she headed to the bathroom and opened the drawer. The sight of the neatly stacked disposable diapers inside gave her a flicker of warmth. After the whirlwind of emotions that her days often brought, this nightly ritual had become one of comfort and reassurance. 

Sally reached for one, feeling the soft crinkle as she unfolded it. She took it into the bedroom and as she placed it on the bed, her mind wandered back to Adrian’s determined look as he spoke about their summer plans. Private lessons… jet skis… slopes in July… She chuckled softly to herself. Her father never did anything halfway, and though his intensity could be overwhelming, she couldn’t deny how deeply he cared.

She gently peeled off her jeans and top, the room’s warmth wrapping around her like a soft blanket. Clad only in her underwear, she sat on the edge of her bed and carefully fluffed the diaper. She slid her underwear off, and sat on the diaper, eventually lying down. The familiar routine was almost meditative — raising the front flap, smoothing the sides, fastening the tapes snugly, ensuring everything was just right.

As she adjusted the waistband, her thoughts drifted to her mother’s amused smile at dinner. Bridget had always been the grounded one, the voice of reason, but tonight, even she seemed caught up in the whirlwind that Adrian created. Sally felt a swell of gratitude that her parents, so often on separate pages, were now finding common ground—if only for her sake.

She stood up, running a hand over the diaper to ensure it was secure, and reached for her favorite long sleep t-shirt from the nearby armchair. The soft fabric slipped over her head, falling just past her hips, covering the top of her diaper. She ran her hands down the front, smoothing out the creases.

The rain against the windows grew steadier, a soft, comforting percussion. Sally hesitated for a moment, then opened another drawer, pulling out a pair of warm pajama bottoms. It wasn’t that she was cold—the house’s heating system ensured the perfect temperature—but something about the rain made her crave that extra layer of coziness.

She slid the pajama bottoms on, the fabric soft against her skin, and padded over to the window. Her diaper was snug beneath the layer of fabric, which bulged out. But she didn’t mind. She felt grounded, safe. She leaned her forehead against the cool glass, watching the raindrops race each other down the pane. Her reflection stared back at her, and she smiled softly. Bahamas and New Zealand, she mused. What a summer this will be.

Sally hugged herself, feeling the softness of her t-shirt and the slight crinkle beneath her pajama bottoms. The night felt full of promise. Her father’s ambitious plans, her mother’s steady presence, and her own quiet excitement all mingled in her chest, warming her more than any layer of clothing could.

She climbed onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and checking her phone. The rain continued its gentle serenade as she nestled deeper into her pillow. Tonight, she felt at peace—safe, loved, and ready for whatever adventures awaited her.

Maybe I’ll even learn to ski properly, she thought sleepily, a small grin tugging at her lips. As her eyelids grew heavier, one last thought flickered through her mind:

Waka… whatever-it-is… here I come.

--

Sally had barely drifted into a light doze when the sharp ring of the inter-phone on the wall jolted her back to full consciousness. Blinking against the soft glow of her bedside lamp, she felt a strange sense of déjà vu. 

The last time she had stayed at her father’s house, he had called her before bed, inviting her for a late-night chat. She stretched lazily, the quiet crinkle of her diaper amplified in the stillness of her room, and padded over to the wall-mounted phone.

“Hello?” she answered softly, stifling a yawn.

“Still awake?” came her father’s familiar voice, warm and slightly amused.

Sally smiled, already anticipating his request. “Yeah, I’m still up,” she replied, trying to sound casual despite the sudden flutter in her chest.

“Good,” Adrian said. “Felt like some father-daughter bonding before turning in. What do you say? Up for a nightcap?”

Sally hesitated, biting her lip. “Uh… you’re coming up?” she asked tentatively, the thought making her hyper-aware of the crinkly padding beneath her oversized t-shirt.

“No,” Adrian chuckled lightly. “Now it’s your turn to come down. Join me in the study.”

Her mind raced. She wanted to spend time with him, but the thought of going down in her current state, diaper and all, made her cheeks flush. Adrian, ever perceptive, sensed her hesitation.

“Come as you are,” he said reassuringly. “I’m already in my pajamas. Nothing fancy. Just us.”

Sally let out a soft breath. “Okay,” she agreed.

Hanging up, she stood in the middle of her room, her mind still buzzing. She couldn’t go down like this, with the bulge of her diaper clearly visible under her pajama pants. But the thought of taking it off felt like an anticlimax—something about the ritual of her nighttime protection brought her a sense of comfort she wasn’t ready to part with just yet.

Besides, she had already been with her father in her hidden diaper before, even on the Flying Fox. He hadn’t known, of course—nor was he ever going to—but she had, and that had been enough. There was something about being around him that made her feel safe, accepted, and entirely herself, no matter what.

Her gaze darted around the room until it landed on her closet. An idea sparked. She crinkled softly as she moved across the room, opening the door and rifling through the hangers until her fingers found what she was looking for: her soft, plush housecoat. Slipping it on, she tied the belt snugly around her waist and inspected herself in the mirror. Perfect. The robe draped modestly, concealing everything, leaving her looking entirely appropriate for a casual night chat with her father.

Satisfied, Sally turned toward the elevator. She pressed the button, and with a soft chime, the doors slid open. Taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, her heartbeat steadying as she prepared for another unexpected but welcome moment with her father.

--

The elevator ride down felt longer than it should have, each soft crinkle of her diaper making Sally hyper-aware of herself. By the time the doors slid open onto the ground floor, she had smoothed down her housecoat three times, ensuring everything was hidden. She padded softly across the marble floors toward her father’s study, the warm glow from inside spilling gently into the hallway.

Stepping through the door, Sally immediately took in the cozy yet refined space. Adrian was already seated on one of the dark leather sofas that formed an inviting angle in the room, the matching coffee table between them gleaming under the soft lighting. His study corner, with shelves of neatly arranged books and a mahogany desk, sat just behind him, but he looked far more at ease here in the lounging area. He wore elegant dark blue pajamas with a matching housecoat draped effortlessly over his shoulders, the rich fabric catching the light subtly. He looked like a gentleman straight out of a style magazine, his dark hair neatly combed, a glass of cognac in hand, exuding quiet sophistication.

Sally hesitated for a moment, feeling the presence of her diaper more than ever as she carefully walked over, conscious of every movement. She tried to sit as gently as possible on the opposite sofa, hoping to avoid any betraying sounds, but the soft leather cushions cradled her with an audible whisper. She bit her lip, silently willing herself to relax.

Adrian noticed her shift and smiled warmly. “Comfortable?” he asked lightly, already standing up.

“Uh-huh,” Sally replied with a quick nod, tucking her legs to the side and settling in.

He gestured toward the minibar in the corner. “Vichy Catalan?”

Her eyes lit up despite her nervousness. “Yes, please.”

Adrian moved with the kind of grace that came naturally to him, opening the small refrigerator tucked beneath the bar. He retrieved the distinctive bottle of mineral water, its label familiar and comforting to Sally. She watched as he selected two ice cubes from a crystal tray, their sharp edges clinking softly against the glass. He sliced a thin wedge of lemon with effortless precision, placing it delicately in the glass before pouring the effervescent water in a smooth stream. Bubbles fizzed quietly as they settled, and Sally couldn’t help but marvel at how even the simplest tasks seemed elegant when her father did them.

As she adjusted her position, feeling the soft padding beneath her as she shifted on the leather sofa, she accepted the glass he offered with a grateful smile. Adrian refilled his snifter of cognac, the amber liquid swirling gently as he moved. Then, settling down beside her, he leaned back comfortably, holding his glass with casual poise.

--

Adrian took a sip of his cognac, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirled it gently in his glass. He glanced at Sally, his expression softening. “I owe you an apology, Sally.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, surprised. “For what?”

“For my… eagerness,” he began, choosing his words carefully. “In wanting to provide you with the best of everything. The Bahamas vacation, the skiing trip in New Zealand—”

Sally’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “What’s the name of that place again? Waka… something?”

Adrian chuckled softly. “Whakapapa. It’s one of New Zealand’s premier ski resorts.”

“Right,” Sally nodded, the unfamiliar name rolling off her tongue awkwardly. “Whakapapa.”

Adrian smiled, then his expression grew serious again. “I realize I might have overwhelmed you with all these plans. That was never my intention. I suppose I’m trying to make up for lost time, to ensure you have all the advantages and experiences you deserve.”

Sally listened intently, sensing the sincerity in his words. He continued, “You have considerable wealth and prospects ahead of you. With privilege comes responsibility. I want to prepare you for that, to guide you.”

She appreciated his desire to connect, but she could see he was struggling to articulate his thoughts. Gently, she asked, “Dad, what’s really on your mind?”

Adrian paused, then stood up, walking over to the minibar. “Would you like something to snack on? Chips, perhaps?”

Sally nodded absently, her mind still processing their conversation. She felt the pressure of her bladder, activated after the cool sparkling water, and seized the moment of her father’s distraction to let go in her diaper. 

Adrian retrieved a bag of chips, opened it, and poured the contents into a bowl. With a meditative look on his face, he returned to the sofa, placing the bowl on the coffee table between them. Sally, now more relaxed and comfortable, picked up a chip, nibbling on it as she waited for him to continue.

Adrian leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his gaze steady and intent. The amber glow of the lamp cast soft shadows across his face, highlighting the seriousness in his expression.

“Sally,” he began softly, yet there was a quiet intensity behind his words. “There’s something I’ve been thinking about for a long time. And tonight feels like the right time to share it with you.”

Sally sat still, her fingers curled around her glass of Vichy Catalan, the faint clink of ice against the rim the only sound in the room. She could feel the weight and the warmth of the diaper between her legs, and the weight of what was coming, her father’s tone unmistakable.

“You’re in a position most people can’t even imagine,” Adrian continued, his voice calm but deliberate. “The world calls people like us ‘the mega-rich,’ ‘the billionaires.’ Labels that often come with assumptions—some fair, many not. But what people rarely see is the responsibility that comes with it. It’s not just about enjoying luxury, Sally. It’s about influence. Power. Legacy.”

He paused for a moment, as if measuring each word before speaking it aloud. Sally’s breath caught in her throat. She had heard similar sentiments before, but never from him so directly. Not like this.

“I’ve worked hard to build what we have,” Adrian said, gesturing vaguely to the elegant room around them, though his meaning extended far beyond it. “But wealth, true wealth, isn’t just built. It’s maintained. Nurtured. Protected. And that’s where you come in.”

Sally blinked, trying to absorb the gravity of his words.

“I want you to have every advantage,” he said, his voice softening, though the intensity never wavered. “Not just the best vacations or the finest things—but the best education. The sharpest mentors. People who will challenge you, guide you, and help you become the person I know you can be.”

He stood, walking slowly to the bookshelf, running his fingers lightly along the spines of neatly arranged books. “Normal schools,” he continued, almost to himself at first, then turning back to her, “as good as they are, won’t prepare you for the world you’ll inherit. You need something else. A tailored education. One designed specifically for you.”

Sally’s heart pounded in her chest. Something else? The idea of leaving her school, her friends, her familiar routines—it felt almost too much to consider. But there was something about her father’s words, the sheer conviction behind them, that made her listen closely

“I’ve already started thinking about it,” Adrian admitted, his voice quieter now. “Private tutors—experts in finance, diplomacy, leadership. The best minds, handpicked to help you grow into someone formidable. Someone who not only manages their wealth but thrives within it.”

Sally felt her throat tighten. The scale of what he was proposing was overwhelming, yet oddly exhilarating. She had always known her father wanted the best for her—but this… this was something else entirely.

“And more than just education,” Adrian continued, returning to his seat but leaning forward once more, his eyes locking with hers, “I want to introduce you to the world I’ve navigated for years. The boardrooms, the negotiations, the people who shape industries and make decisions that ripple across continents. You won’t just read about these things in books—you’ll experience them firsthand.”

Sally’s fingers tightened around her glass as her mind raced. She tried to steady herself, focusing on her father’s words, trying to grasp the full magnitude of what he was laying out before her. Even her wet diaper was forgotten under her pajamas.

“This isn’t just about preparing you for the future,” Adrian said, his voice now barely above a whisper, though it resonated deeply. “It’s about giving you the tools to shape it. To ensure that the Weiss legacy—your legacy—doesn’t just endure, but flourishes.”

He paused, watching her carefully. Sally felt a whirlwind of emotions within her—pride, fear, excitement, uncertainty. She knew her father believed in her, but this level of expectation was daunting. She leaned back into the soft leather of the sofa, taking a slow sip of her water, letting the silence settle between them.

Adrian, now seated across from her, observed her quietly, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t pressing her for an answer, not yet. He was giving her time, space, to absorb it all.

Sally placed her glass down gently, her mind still buzzing. She met her father’s gaze, feeling both the weight of the world he was offering and the unspoken love behind it.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The rain continued its gentle patter against the windows, a soft backdrop to the life-altering conversation they had just begun.

--

Sally sat perfectly still, her father’s words echoing in her mind like ripples on a still lake. A tailored education. Private tutors. Each phrase felt heavier than the last, pressing down on her, demanding her attention. She could still hear the rain against the windows, but it felt distant now, as if the world outside had faded into the background.

Still, the weight of it all was staggering. She glanced at her father, whose steady gaze reflected both confidence and anticipation. He believes in me, she thought, feeling a mixture of pride and fear. But do I believe in myself?

She needed to say something. Anything. But where could she even start?

“Have you…” she began softly, almost unsure if she wanted the answer. She swallowed, then asked more clearly, “Have you talked to Mom about this?”

The question hung in the air like a delicate thread. Adrian’s expression shifted ever so slightly—his confident exterior momentarily faltering. He hadn’t expected that. Not from Sally.

He shook his head slowly, almost apologetically. “No,” he admitted. “Not yet, anyway. I wanted to talk to you first. To see what you thought about it.”

He hasn’t talked to her? They talk about everything regarding her. Sally’s mind flickered to her mother, to the quiet strength Bridget always carried, and to how she had always been Sally’s anchor when life felt chaotic. What would she say about all this? Sally couldn’t quite imagine her mother’s reaction—but she knew it would be measured, thoughtful, and, above all, protective of her. Would she even agree to this? Would she worry it’s too much?

Sally took a deep breath, trying to organize her swirling thoughts. “What about school?” she asked quietly. “Would this… all be on top of my normal schooling?”

Adrian shook his head again, this time more resolutely. “No. You’d leave school. This would be your education. Tutors, mentors, experiences that a traditional school could never offer.”

The words hit Sally like a wave, and she blinked rapidly, processing the enormity of it. No more classrooms, no more school hallways, no more sharing notes in the back row with Katrina during boring lectures, or laughing with Clara over her chess team. Gone. Her familiar world would be replaced with something entirely new. Uncharted territory.

Her thoughts raced, tangling together faster than she could make sense of them. Leave school? Leave everything I know? Katrina, Clara, the routine of classes, the simplicity of just being a teenager… gone? And yet, there was another part of her—one that had been growing steadily since the day her father reentered her life—that felt… intrigued. Challenged, even. Wasn’t this what her father had been preparing her for all along, in subtle ways? Weren’t the lessons, the endless dinners with important people, and the whirlwind trips just hints of this moment?

Could I really do this? she wondered. Would I even want to?

Her voice was quiet, hesitant, as she asked the next question, already dreading the answer. “So… is this going to happen? Have you already decided?”

Adrian’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward, his tone gentle but firm. “No, Sally. It’s up to you. I haven’t made any decisions yet. I wanted to hear from you first.”

It’s up to me. The thought was both liberating and terrifying. The choice—this monumental, life-altering choice—was hers to make. She felt a lump rise in her throat, the pressure building in her chest. What if she made the wrong decision? What if she disappointed him? What if she disappointed herself?

“I…” she started, then stopped, her mind still racing. She needed time. Time to think. Time to breathe. Time to weigh the dream her father was offering against the life she already knew.

“Can I… think about it?” she asked, her voice almost a whisper.

Adrian’s face remained composed, but there was a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. He was waiting. Hoping.

“Of course,” he said softly, though there was a quiet expectancy in his tone. “Take all the time you need.”

Sally swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “A couple of days?” she asked, her voice steadier now. “I’ll have my answer before I leave Zurich.”

Adrian’s shoulders seemed to relax, and he gave her a small, understanding nod. “That’s all I can ask for.”

He stood, crossing the short distance between them, and placed a firm, reassuring hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I’m proud of you, Sally,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “No matter what you decide.”

Sally nodded, offering a faint, grateful smile, though her mind was still a storm of conflicting emotions. As she leaned back into the sofa, her thoughts continued to whirl. This could change everything.

--

Oooh! Ah!
Well, a-here-ee-yup, a-here-ee-yup, a-here we go,
Four in the mornin', justa hittin' the road,
Here we go-oh! Rockin' all over the world! Yeah.

Well, a-geedeeup, a-geedeeup, a-get away,
We're goin' crazy, and we're goin' today, here we go-oh!
Rockin' all over the world!

It took a couple of seconds for Sally to remember where she was. She turned her phole alarm off. Zurich. Bed. Wet diaper. Shit, that diaper was wet. It was five AM, and she was meeting Theresa for running.

She had made it to bed after the nightcap with her father – such a common and unpretentious name for a meeting that would shape her life – only to slide under the covers and fall fast asleep. She had been worried she wouldn’t sleep a wink. But she had. Now, she pushed the weight of that conversation as she pulled the covers off. 

Her diaper had already been a bit wet, as she had wet it in her father’s study. But not as much as this. The cozy pajama pants pressed the bulk of the diaper against her, and she slid off the bed and pulled her pants down. The diaper sagged and she slid her fingers around the lukewarm plastic, and breathed a sigh of relief. No leaks. 

But still, the fact she couldn’t remember wetting lay a worry on her mind. She brushed it away for now. 

She tugged the pants off her ankles and waddled toward the bathroom. She gingerly untaped the heavy diaper and rolled into a ball, putting it into the garbage bin. She took a quick shower, taking care not to wet her hair. After sliding on her yellow shorts and tank top, she slipped on her warm black track suit over – Theresa had suggested it as it would be cold – and tied on her running shoes. 

She grabbed a bag with some clothes to change into later – she was meeting her mother at the hotel after running. As she stepped toward the elevator, she frowned at the irony of going off to exercise and using an elevator, and stepped to the door so she could use the stairs. The house was quiet. She was barely familiar with the second floor. She went past the bedrooms, her father’s bedroom, the library… As she made her way downstairs, she had a sense of adventure being up this early, all alone in this new setting. Her father’s home. So many expectations, but so much love, she could tell.

Sally checked her Apple Watch. 5:29. She opened the front door, and there was Theresa, sitting in the black Range Rover tapping her fingers on the steering wheel. 

Sally pulled the door shut behind her and let out a small breath, adjusting the sleeve of her lightweight running jacket. The morning air was crisp but not cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves. She glanced at her watch—5:29 AM. Right on time.

--

“Late,” Theresa sentenced, her expression unreadable but the glint in her eye giving her away.

Sally huffed, sitting on the leather seat and closing the door. “Excuse me? It’s still 5:29.”

Theresa gave an exaggerated glance at her own watch. “Which means you’re cutting it close. I was here at 5:25. A respectable level of early.”

“Being early isn’t part of the deal. We agreed on 5:30.”

“We also agreed you needed to build discipline.” Theresa started the car and slid into gear.

Sally rolled her eyes. “Next time, I’ll sleep in and make you come upstairs to wake me up. Let’s see how you like that.”

Theresa smirked, starting the car. “If you do, I’ll pour ice water on your face. We’ll call it cryotherapy.”

Sally snorted, leaning back against the seat as they drove through the quiet Zurich streets, the city still in the final moments of sleep before the morning bustle began. 

She let her gaze drift out the window, watching the dim streetlights flicker against the smooth pavement, the lake just barely visible in the distance. This was nice. Easy.

With Theresa, there were no expectations to meet, no silent pressure looming over her like there was with her father. She didn’t have to prove anything, didn’t have to perform. She could just be.

Theresa poked at her, sure—but never in a way that felt like a test. Never in a way that made her feel like she was one wrong step away from disappointment.

Sally exhaled, a small smile tugging at her lips. She didn’t mind waking up early for this.

--

They stepped out of the car, the air cooler by the lake, carrying the scent of damp earth and the faint briny freshness of water. A few early risers were already moving—runners gliding along the path, dog walkers clutching their coffee cups, a cyclist adjusting his gear before taking off. The city was waking up slowly, but here, it felt like they had a pocket of quiet before the day truly began.

Sally stretched her arms overhead with a sigh. “Alright, coach. Let’s get this over with.”

Theresa arched an eyebrow, amused. “You’re acting like we haven’t done this before.”

“I have, which is why I know what’s coming.” Sally rolled her shoulders, already mirroring Theresa’s warm-up sequence without waiting for instructions.

Theresa smirked. “Good. Maybe you’re finally becoming trainable.”

They started with joint activation—rolling shoulders forward and back, tilting their necks side to side. Sally moved through it without complaint, shifting her weight from foot to foot as Theresa took them into arm swings.

“Bigger circles,” Theresa corrected. “Loosen everything up.”

Sally obliged, exaggerating the movement. “So, if I fall over, that’s your fault.”

“Exactly. And I’ll make you run twice as far.”

Sally snorted but kept going. They moved into hip rotations, then knee circles, before transitioning into high knees.

Theresa glanced over. “Pick up the pace a bit.”

Sally shot her a look but complied. “Are you just making this harder because I’m not complaining?”

“I’d never,” Theresa said, entirely unconvincing.

They moved into lunges, stepping forward deliberately. Sally kept her form steady, already knowing the drill.

“Foot placement’s better than last time,” Theresa noted.

“Wow. A compliment before sunrise? This is a rare event.”

Theresa ignored her, shifting into leg swings—front to back, then side to side. Sally followed her lead, focusing on balance.

By the time they finished ankle rolls, Sally was bouncing lightly on her feet, her body awake and ready.

Theresa gave her a final once-over. “Alright, ready?”

Sally took a deep breath, shaking out her arms. “Let’s go before you come up with more ‘suggestions.’”

Theresa laughed, and with that, they took off, moving toward Quaibrücke as the city stirred around them.

--

Their footsteps pattered against the pavement in steady rhythm, the cool morning air brushing against their skin. The city was waking up around them—trams humming in the distance, cyclists zipping by, and the faint aroma of fresh bread drifting from a nearby bakery.

Sally had fallen into step beside Theresa, breathing a little heavier than she’d like, but keeping up. For now.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, she glanced over. “So… what have you been up to?”

Theresa shot her a sideways glance. “What do you mean?”

Sally shrugged, eyes ahead. “You had a few days off. You’ve got an apartment in town. You do things. I just realized I never ask.”

Theresa’s pace remained even, but something in her expression softened. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Sally pressed.

“Just—funny. You’ve never asked before.”

Sally smirked. “Well, I’ve been reflecting. Growing as a person. Realizing you know everything about my life, and I know next to nothing about yours. It’s very unfair.”

Theresa exhaled a quiet laugh. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” Sally said, dodging a puddle. “I know your coffee order, your general stance on my questionable life choices, and that you have a strange and unnatural enthusiasm for making me run before sunrise. That’s about it.”

Theresa shook her head, but there was a trace of something—fondness, maybe—in her expression. “Alright. Since you’re suddenly so curious. I spent my days off with some old friends.”

Sally raised an eyebrow. “Old friends?”

“From my time in the Marines.”

Sally blinked. “Wait—you actually hang out with people?”

Theresa exhaled through her nose, a half-smirk forming. “Believe it or not, yes.”

Sally grinned. “That’s surprising. You strike me as the ‘solitary warrior’ type.”

Theresa shook her head. “Maybe now. But when you serve, especially as a woman in the Marines, you make bonds that don’t break. It’s different.”

Sally glanced at her, intrigued. “Different how?”

Theresa hesitated for a beat, adjusting her pace. “Life in the Marines is… not the easiest place to be a woman. It’s not easy now, but back then? You had to prove yourself every single day. Work twice as hard. Be twice as sharp. And still, sometimes, it wasn’t enough.”

Sally frowned. “That sounds exhausting.”

Theresa gave a small shrug. “It was. But that’s why we stuck together. The women I served with—there weren’t many of us, but we had each other’s backs. No questions, no conditions. You don’t forget people like that.”

Sally was quiet for a moment, absorbing that.

Theresa continued, voice steady but tinged with something softer. “Some of them are still in. Some, like me, moved on. But whenever we’re together, it’s like no time has passed. There’s no explaining yourself. No pretense. Just… trust.”

Sally nodded slowly. “Sounds like family.”

Theresa’s smirk returned, though smaller this time. “In a way, yeah. A chosen one.”

Sally considered that, kicking at a loose pebble on the pavement. “Must be nice.”

Theresa glanced at her. “It is.”

For a while, they jogged in silence, the bridge coming into view. Then, Theresa gave Sally a look. “Alright, enough chit-chat. We actually run back. No more soft jogging.”

Sally made a wheezing sound. “Soft? You call this soft? I’m dying.”

Theresa picked up the pace. “You talk too much.”

Sally groaned but pushed forward, following her lead, their footsteps quickening as the city unfolded before them.

The rhythmic beat of their footsteps filled the air as they pushed forward, the cool morning breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth building in Sally’s limbs. She wasn’t sure if it was the endorphins or the exhaustion, but something about running here felt… different.

Back home in Hartford, she wouldn’t get this—this easy, unspoken camaraderie among strangers. People there were either in their own heads or actively avoiding eye contact. Even in New York, runners had an edge—determined, efficient, too focused on pace to acknowledge anyone else.

But here? Here, joggers offered small nods as they passed, a silent acknowledgment, as if to say, we’re in this together. There was a blend of respect and warmth, a quiet sense of shared purpose. Even the early morning dog walkers stepped aside with a polite smile, not the annoyed glances she was used to in other cities.

Switzerland had a way of making outdoor life feel… pleasant. Welcoming, even. The way people moved through the world here—unhurried, considerate—was a stark contrast to the constant, restless energy she was used to.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t completely hate this early morning torture session.

By the time they reached the car, Sally was sucking in deep breaths, hands on her hips as she slowed to a stop. Theresa, of course, barely looked winded.

Sally grabbed the bottle of mineral water from the passenger seat and took a sip. Then frowned slightly.

Theresa glanced over, smirking. “What? Not fancy enough for you?”

Sally sighed. “No bubbles.”

Theresa shook her head. “Tragic. I forgot to bring you Vichy Catalan in a crystal glass.”

Sally took another sip. “It’s not like Evian is bad.”

“Uh-huh.” Theresa tugged on her track jacket. “I’ll try to do better next time.”

Sally grinned. “You should.”

Theresa rolled her eyes, climbing into the SUV. “Get in before I make you run back.”

Sally groaned but slid into the seat, still smiling. Sally wiped her forehead with her sleeve and took another sip, reluctantly accepting the hydration. “Where are you off to, anyway? I thought today was my designated suffering day.”

Theresa leaned against the SUV, adjusting her sleeves. “Technically, it’s my day off. Meeting up with my friends.”

Sally raised an eyebrow. “The ex-Marine crew?”

Theresa nodded, opening the car door. “Yeah. Probably just coffee and a long walk somewhere.”

Sally smirked. “You do know you’re allowed to do fun things, right?”

Theresa gave her a flat look. “Walking is fun.”

Sally shook her head, tossing her empty bottle into the car. “You know, for someone who’s supposedly retired from the military, you really do commit to the lifestyle.”

Theresa just chuckled, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Says the one who voluntarily signed up for a run at 5:30 in the morning.”

Sally groaned as she pulled on her seatbelt. “Yeah, well. Poor life choices.”

Theresa started the engine. “Good thing I’m here to make sure they don’t get worse.”

Sally rolled her eyes but smiled, watching the city roll past as they drove toward the hotel.

Maybe mornings in Zurich weren’t so bad after all.

--

Theresa pulled up in front of the Baur-au-Lac, the grand hotel standing pristine against the morning light. Sally unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her duffel bag from the floor.

“Enjoy your luxurious morning,” Theresa teased as Sally swung the bag over her shoulder.

Sally smirked. “Enjoy your day off.”

Theresa gave her a look. “I intend to.”

Sally shut the car door and watched as the SUV pulled away before turning toward the entrance. She stepped into the lobby, still in her tracksuit, sweaty but bright-eyed from the run. The air inside was cool, scented with fresh flowers, the soft murmur of morning activity drifting through the space.

As she approached the concierge desk, the man on duty straightened slightly, offering a polite but professional smile.

Sally decided to use her German. “Guten Tag! Ich gehe zu dem Zimmer meiner Mutter, ich kenne den Weg bereits. Darf ich hinaufgehen?”

The concierge responded smoothly, putting her at ease. “Absolut, Fräulein Weiss! Bitte gehen Sie direkt nach oben. Willkommen im Baur-au-Lac, lassen Sie es uns wissen, wenn wir Ihnen irgendwie behilflich sein können.”

Sally blinked. He knew her name. That caught her off guard.

As she walked toward the elevator, she couldn’t help but wonder—was this just how things worked when you had money? Not just having money, but belonging to it? She’d always known her father was wealthy, but growing up with her mother in Hartford, she had never really felt the weight of it. It had been something distant, abstract, a fact about her family rather than a reality in her daily life.

But here? Here, it was different. In Zurich, in her father’s world, wealth wasn’t just about comfort—it was recognition. It was walking into a five-star hotel and being greeted by name, no introductions needed. It was a concierge knowing exactly who she was before she even spoke.

How many times had her father stayed here? How often did people like him, people like her, move through places like this, where doors opened before they even reached them?

She wasn’t sure if it made her feel important or just… exposed.

Shaking off the thought, she stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for her mother’s floor. Whatever it was, she’d figure it out eventually.

The ride in the elevator was quiet, and by the time she reached her mother’s floor, the scent of her shampoo, the familiar mix of coffee and hotel linens, greeted her before she even knocked.

Bridget opened the door almost immediately, stepping aside to let Sally in. There was something effortlessly warm about her presence—she never needed to say much to make a place feel like home.

Sally dropped her bag near the sofa. “Mind if I use the shower? I brought some clothes to change into.”

Bridget waved her in without hesitation. “Of course.”

Sally padded toward the bathroom, leaving her bag on her mother’s bed as she went. “Went jogging with Theresa,” she added over her shoulder. “Hence the early hours.”

Bridget smiled knowingly. “She warned me she’d drop you off.”

Sally glanced at the small table near the window. A pot of coffee sat steaming next to an open laptop, the faint glow of the screen illuminating notes and emails. Her mother had been up for a while, already working.

Bridget returned to her seat, fingers poised over the keyboard as she took another sip of coffee. Sally disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space.

And just like that, the morning continued.

--

Sally, on her end, was happy to pull her tracksuit off and peel her sweaty running gear. The damp, clingy material was a bit tricky, but she managed to get it off and breathe. She took in her surroundings. Being in a new bathroom – nude – offered new sensations, and this high-end hotel bathroom had nothing but comfort and luxury in mind. 

She tested the shower, and was quickly introduced to the soothing sensation of a gentle but firm cascade of perfectly temperature-adjusted water. She turned the temperature controller to just a bit cooler, and basked in the feeling as she scrubbed her body using the premium shampoo and body lotions. As she worked her hands across her body, she noted a razor wouldn’t be amiss. That was a job for her own bathroom, she decided. She needed her own space for that. 

As thoughts of “her own space” floated in her mind, she realized she’d left the duffle bag on her mother’s bed. Slightly frowning, instead of calling out for her mother – it would have sounded a bit childish, to her reasoning – she dried her hair and wrapped herself in a towel, marveling at the magnificent hotel towels. She would have to look up how to buy those kinds of towels, she thought. 

She stepped into the bedroom, to see her mother had already taken her clothes out and laid them on the bed. Sally frowned.

The white thong.

It lay there on top of her clothes.

She had decided to treat herself to her birthday thong – the white one –, as she was going to wear the same jeans and grey t-shirt from the photo shoot. 

But she never intended for her mother to know. It was, after all, sort of a private thing.

Bridget, catching the look on Sally’s face, quickly got up from her chair. “Sorry, Sally, I wasn’t trying to snoop. I was just laying out your clothes…” She trailed off, suddenly unsure.

Sally arched an eyebrow, then smirked. “Oh, please. It’s not like you don’t already know. Honestly, at this point, you probably know my secrets better than I do.”

Bridget, her mother, gave a pointed look and chuckled. “Well, I certainly hope I don’t know all of them.”

Sally’s cheeks flushed as she fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. “Maybe… not all,” she admitted with a sheepish grin.

Bridget broke the moment with a lighthearted smile. “Well, I ordered breakfast for two, so you’d better be hungry.”

Sally nodded, seizing the excuse to shift gears. “Perfect. I’ll get dressed,” she said, and undid her towel. 

Bridget smiled lovingly as her daughter figured the mechanics of the thong and slid it up, and she turned around as Sally finished getting dressed. “You are growing up beautifully”, called out Bridget from her place in front of the computer, as she typed away. 

Sally smiled as she adjusted her bra. “Well, I had a pretty solid role model,” she said, then added with a playful grin, “Give or take a few questionable fashion choices in the early 2010s.”

As Sally hurriedly finished dressing, a firm but polite knock sounded at the door. Bridget stood, smoothing her blouse before opening it to reveal a uniformed server from the Baur au Lac, wheeling in a gleaming silver trolley adorned with a pristine white tablecloth. The soft clinking of fine china accompanied the rich, warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee as the server gracefully set the table near the window, where the morning light streamed in.

The spread was nothing short of indulgent. A silver pot of dark, aromatic Swiss coffee sat beside two delicate porcelain cups, accompanied by a small pitcher of steamed milk and a bowl of raw sugar cubes. Freshly squeezed orange juice glowed golden in crystal glasses, while a second carafe held pressed apple juice, crisp and fragrant.

A basket of assorted pastries—buttery croissants, flaky pain au chocolat, and delicate fruit Danishes—was placed at the center, their golden layers glistening slightly from the morning’s warmth. Next to it, a plate of crusty artisanal bread and small pots of homemade jams—apricot, raspberry, and blackcurrant—along with a pat of creamy Swiss butter.

For the main breakfast, there were two elegant plates: one featuring a classic Swiss rösti, its crisp, golden exterior giving way to tender grated potatoes beneath, served with silky scrambled eggs and garnished with fresh chives. The other held a light smoked salmon platter, accompanied by capers, finely sliced red onions, and a dollop of horseradish cream.

The server, impeccably trained, remained poised and attentive, ensuring the coffee was poured and each plate was placed just so before offering a polite, “Enjoy your breakfast, madames,” and discreetly exiting the room.

Sally, already reaching for a croissant, exhaled in admiration. “Well, if this is growing up, I think I’m finally sold.”

--

The morning passed in a warm blur of conversation, laughter, and easy companionship. There was something about being in this new setting—the elegant comfort of the Baur au Lac, the unhurried pace of a long breakfast—that made their time together feel both intimate and refreshingly different.

Bridget leaned back in her chair, coffee cup in hand, and observed her daughter with quiet admiration. “You know, Sally, I’ve noticed something about you—you don’t let embarrassing situations knock you down. You handle them better than most adults I know.”

Sally smirked, but her expression softened into something thoughtful. “Well… I had a bit of practice recently,” she admitted. “There was this awkward moment with Mia, the housekeeper.”

Bridget arched a brow. “Oh?”

Sally took a sip of her juice before continuing. “She walked into my apartment unannounced. No knocking, nothing. Just came right in. I was in my t-shirt and panties, on the bed”

Bridget frowned. “That’s not great.”

“Yeah, but in her defense, I hadn’t locked the door,” Sally admitted, running a hand through her hair. “And she had every reason to think nobody was home. She apologized and left so fast, but I could tell she felt awful about it.”

Bridget studied her daughter’s face. “So, what did you do?”

Sally shrugged, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks. “I went to find her afterward. I told her it wasn’t a problem, that I should’ve locked the door if I wanted privacy. I just… I didn’t want her feeling bad about it, you know?”

Bridget smiled, a deep, proud warmth in her eyes. “That’s exactly the kind of person I want you to be, Sally. Someone who takes charge but also considers how other people feel. That’s rare.”

Sally ducked her head, playing it off with a small laugh. “I guess I just figured she didn’t deserve to feel bad over something that was kind of my fault, too. But look at it this way, at least I wasn’t wearing my diapers!”

Bridget laughed heartly and reached for another croissant, her eyes still twinkling with admiration. “You amaze me sometimes.”

Sally, eager to steer the conversation away from herself, grinned mischievously. “Oh, speaking of embarrassing moments… there was another one. Remember when we were on the Flying Fox?”

Bridget set down her coffee. “What happened?”

Sally sighed dramatically. “The steward came to unpack my suitcase for me.”

Bridget nodded. “That’s what they do.”

“Yeah, well, that’s the thing. I didn’t know. So, this one found my… uh, diapers.” Sally winced, recalling the moment. “And she didn’t even flinch. Claudia, the cabin steward, just carried on like a total pro. Even when she packed my suitcase at the end of the trip, she packed my leftover diapers, and she acted like nothing happened. Well, she was obviously aware she had found something I felt uneasy about, but she was… smooth.”

Bridget’s expression turned amused as she tilted her head. “Wait a second. Is that why you asked your dad for extra money to tip the steward?”

Sally gave a sheepish grin and nodded. “She deserved it.”

--

Sally and Bridget made their way downstairs to meet Adrian. The Baur au Lac’s elegant lounge exuded quiet luxury, with plush seating and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the lush gardens.

There, standing near a marble-topped console table, was Adrian—impeccably dressed as always in a tailored navy suit, crisp white shirt, and effortlessly polished leather shoes. His presence was as composed as ever, an aura of quiet authority softened by a subtle warmth in his gaze.

Bridget, equally poised in her understated but sophisticated style, stepped forward with a smile. Sally, on the other hand, felt suddenly aware of her jeans and Converse sneakers—casual, comfortable, and just a little out of place between them. Still, the moment she saw them together—amicable, friendly, effortlessly falling into a familiar rhythm—it made her heart swell. Seeing her parents like this, in sync despite everything, never failed to warm her.

Adrian’s greeting was typically terse but affectionate. He gave Bridget a brief nod before turning to Sally, a slight smirk playing on his lips. If there was any tension regarding their conversation last night, Sally thought, he certainly didn’t act like it.

“So, how did the ‘running’ go?” he asked, hands casually in his pockets.

Sally blinked. “You heard me?”

“I heard you go down,” he replied smoothly. “I, however, was just getting up.”

Sally huffed in mock offense. “Well, at least one of us is dedicated.”

Bridget chuckled, and Adrian, his expression unreadable but amused, gestured toward the exit. “Let’s talk over lunch. There’s a place just a couple of blocks from here you’ll like.”

With that, they made their way outside, where Roberto stood patiently by the black Mercedes, the morning sun glinting off its polished surface. Adrian exchanged a few quiet words with him, dismissing him for now since they’d be walking.

They took a leisurely stroll through the elegant streets, moving toward the Kongresshaus, the crisp lake breeze making the walk even more pleasant. It was one of those effortlessly charming Zurich days—clear skies, just the right amount of warmth, and a city buzzing with life yet never feeling rushed.

The restaurant Adrian had in mind was just as stylish as expected—a bright, open space with panoramic windows overlooking the lake, minimalist yet warm in its decor, where natural wood tones and soft lighting created an atmosphere of relaxed sophistication.

Sally took it all in, still feeling full from her indulgent breakfast—a fact Bridget guiltily admitted to Adrian. “I may have overfed her this morning,” she confessed with a sheepish smile.

Adrian gave a knowing nod but said nothing, merely raising an eyebrow in amusement.

As they settled into their seats, lighthearted banter floated between them, easy and familiar. Sally, scanning the beautifully curated menu, sighed dramatically.

“I’m not even hungry,” she declared. Then, after a beat, she pointed at the menu with exaggerated seriousness. “But the sound of this hamburger is more than I can stand.”

Adrian looked at her, clearly entertained. “A hamburger?”

Sally met his gaze without hesitation. “There’s more to hamburgers than McDonald’s, you know.”

Bridget laughed softly, while Adrian leaned back in his chair, still bemused.

Sally, with the air of someone unveiling a great secret, added, “In fact, the best hamburger I’ve ever had in my life was aboard your Gulfstream. Nataya served it to me.”

Adrian gave a small nod, clearly appreciating the acknowledgment. “She does take her job seriously.”

Sally grinned. “And I take my hamburgers seriously.”

Bridget, smiling at the exchange, opted for one of the restaurant’s elegantly composed salads, while Adrian made his selection—a carefully chosen combination of entrees and fresh fish. His attention then turned to the wine list, where he perused with an expert eye, selecting a crisp white wine that would complement both his and Bridget’s choices perfectly.

As they settled in, the waiter took their orders, and the moment stretched into something effortlessly enjoyable—three people, linked by history, comfortable in each other’s presence, sharing a meal and easy conversation in a city that always seemed to suit them.

--

As their meal wound down, conversation naturally turned to the afternoon’s plans.

Adrian leaned back slightly, adjusting the cuff of his sleeve. “I have some work to do—a meeting online—but after that, I thought we could go for a drive, maybe do some sightseeing.”

Bridget, dabbing her lips with her napkin, shook her head with a knowing smile. “I wish I could, but I have way too much work. I wasn’t even supposed to be on holiday, remember? I need to catch up.” Then, with a glance toward Sally, she added, “Besides, you should take advantage of some alone time with your daughter.”

Sally perked up at that. She loved spending time with her dad when it was just the two of them—those moments were always different, special in their own way.

Bridget, her tone turning just slightly mischievous, added, “And maybe you should take her out in the F-40.”

Sally’s brow furrowed at the mention of that name. She had heard of her father’s F-40 before, but it had always been a vague, elusive thing, something that existed in conversation but never in real life. She had never actually seen it. And, oddly enough, she had never thought to look it up.

She turned to Adrian. “Okay, seriously. What is the F-40?”

Before Adrian could answer, Bridget smirked and said, cryptically, “You’ll see.”

That was enough to seal the plan.

As their desserts and coffee arrived, the conversation meandered, but Adrian eventually returned to the topic of the F-40, casually mentioning, “It’s a unique sports car. A classic. My father had one, but he never drove it—just kept it as a collector’s item.”

Sally, stirring her coffee, tilted her head. “Like the Porsche?” she asked, referencing his 911, which she had always associated with him.

Adrian gave a thin smile and shook his head. “No,” he said simply. “It’s another level.”

--

Chapter 80 – Talk in Corners

As Roberto pulled the car up to the driveway, the ride smooth as ever, Adrian turned to Sally.

“Let’s meet in two hours,” he suggested. “That should give you more than enough time to rest, and I’ll get some work done. Then, we’ll hit the road.”

Sally nodded, already feeling the delicious pull of relaxation after a long morning. “Deal”, she said, setting her alarm just in case she managed to actually fall asleep.

She made her way upstairs, stepping into the cool, quiet space of her bedroom. The moment the door clicked shut behind her, she turned the lock, the soft metallic sound reminding her of Mia’s accidental intrusion. She grinned to herself, shaking her head as she toed off her Converse and made her way to the bathroom.

She almost used the toilet like a “big girl” – she smiled as she grinned at herself in the mirror -, but reached into the closed and pulled a white, pristine diaper from the package. The pull was irresistible. Two hours to lounge, relax. The door was locked. 

She brushed her teeth as she felt the tension mount within her. After a few seconds mouthwash, she felt new and fresh, albeit with an overall tiredness she was soon going to remedy. 

On the way to her bed she pulled off her pants and thong, giggling at the transformation she was about to perform. She wiggled out of her t-shirt and bra, and got onto the bed as she opened and expertly fluffed her diaper. She laid on the open diaper and felt the softness of it on her skin. Gingerly, she raised the front of the diaper between her legs and fastened the tabs, happy to let herself get lost in the sensation of comfort and security the diaper offered her. It was time to relax, be her.

She stretched out as comfortably as possible, sinking into the plush, perfectly made sheets. The crisp, fresh scent of the linens wrapped around her skin as she sprawled across the mattress, letting out a sigh. After the delicious hamburger, with which she had half a glass of her father’s proudly selected white wine, besides her Orangina and sparkling water, it was no wonder her bladder was in such a rapture about its release. 

Sally slowly flooded her diaper as the events of the day flowed in her mind, pleasing her in the aftermath of her father’s plans. She would have to think about that. But not now. Later.

With a few lazy movements, she pulled the pillows into a makeshift cocoon, tucking one under her arm and nudging another under her legs, finding that perfect balance between comfort and weightlessness.

Her phone was in her hand at first, but she barely scrolled before her eyelids grew heavy. The early morning jog, the long breakfast, the walk, the big lunch, the laughter, the conversation—had all settled into her bones like a lullaby. The soft hum of the lake breeze, the faint rustling of the trees outside, the distant sound of Zurich’s slow afternoon pace—all of it blurred together into a soothing backdrop.

Her breath slowed, her body sank deeper into the mattress, and before she knew it, her phone slipped from her grasp onto the bed.

She drifted off into a deep, heavy doze, the kind where time becomes fluid, where thoughts melt into dreams before she even realizes she’s asleep.

--

Something stirred her from the depths of sleep.

Groggily, Sally shifted, her mind struggling to pull itself from the heavy fog of her nap. She blinked against the soft afternoon light filtering through the curtains, her limbs feeling like lead as she slowly assessed her situation—sprawled across the bed, pillows askew, one leg half-draped over the blanket. Wet diaper.

Then, there it was again. A faint buzz.

Her phone.

With a lazy groan, she reached out, fumbling for it in the tangle of sheets. The screen lit up as she tapped it, revealing a missed call from Katrina.

Just as she registered the call, a text message arrived.

Katrina: Missed me, sleeping beauty? Don’t tell me it’s not siesta time. Do they do siestas in Switzerland too? I was calling before practice, but no worries—off to volleyball now. Will miss you in the showers! Clara says hello. We miss you! Hope we see you soon.

 

Sally smiled sleepily, rubbing her eyes. It was always so Katrina—quick, warm, and effortless.

She stretched lazily, yawning as she typed a reply. “Miss you guys too! Call me later?”

Then, still half in a daze, she flopped back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling for a moment, letting reality settle around her again. Her diaper was wet, but comfortable. She felt relaxed and at ease. She checked her diaper for any sign of leak, but it was dry. She sat up as her mind started working, assessing the day ahead.

Her father’s proposition.

She turned onto her side, diaper crinkling. She frowned slightly. She had pushed it to the back of her mind earlier, avoiding it like a to-do list she didn’t want to acknowledge. But she couldn’t ignore it forever. She needed to face it.

Then, a thought surfaced—something she had done before, something she had learned from Gilmore Girls. Rory, in moments of big decisions, would sit down, make lists, put everything in writing. When she had to decide what college to go to, she had made detailed pros and cons lists, mapping out every angle.

Sally could do that now.

With newfound determination, she sat up and reached for her laptop on the bedside table. She pulled it onto her lap, crossing her legs beneath her as she opened a blank document. Her fingers hesitated for a moment above the keyboard before she started typing.

She suddenly felt cold and exposed, sitting there on her bed in just her wet diaper. She bent down and retrieved her t-shirt from the floor, and put it on, smoothing her hair with her hand. Felling a little bit more appropriate, she turned to the computer.

First, the facts.

She wrote out, in detail, the basics of what her father had said. His words, the way he had looked at her, the way the air in the room had felt heavier as he spoke. He wanted her to leave school. To train, to prepare for a future that she hadn’t yet envisioned for herself. To step into his world, take control of her assets – their assets - and become something more than just a student.

She typed it all out, mechanically at first, then with more intent. Seeing it in words made it feel more structured, less overwhelming. The edge of the laptop rested against her diaper, and she felt in control, grounded. She released her waiting bladder and felt herself relax as she typed, feeling the warmth pool around her. 

She let her thoughts drift to the people she trusted—the ones she would instinctively turn to for guidance. She knew, in the end, the decision was hers alone, but she could already imagine their reactions, hear their voices in her head.

She created a list, typing each name carefully.

Olivia.

Her trust fund manager and advisor. Her confidant. Olivia would be annoyed at the way Adrian had sprung this on her—too direct, not enough empathy. Sally smiled remembering the episode at Trum tower in new York. But Olivia would also admit he had a point. If Sally ever wanted to take full control of her assets, she would need special training. Not just academically, but as a person. Learning to move in that world. 

But that didn’t necessarily mean leaving school.

Sally could almost hear Olivia saying that.

Compromise.

The word stuck with her. She wrote it again. Then she bolded it.

Now, Theresa.

Her assistant. Driver. Bodyguard. Trainer

Sally smiled a little at the thought. Theresa would say to follow her gut. She was fiercely loyal to her father, would never outright criticize him. But there would be a flicker of reservation, a careful choice of words, a subtle hesitation when it came to the way Adrian wanted Sally to drop everything, uproot her life.

What about Katrina. Clara. Patricia.

Her friends. She thought about them, about what it would mean to leave them behind. The casual laughter, the shared late-night talks, the normalcy of it all. Would they understand? Would they support her?

Charlie.

Her fingers hovered over the keys.

Charlie?

For some reason, she could picture his face, brows drawn together in that way he had when he was thinking too hard about something. You’re leaving? he would ask, confused. Maybe even hurt.

She didn’t know why that thought had come, why it stuck with her more than the others. On the other hand, being in Zurich more often would have her closer to Erika. Sally frowned at these conflicting thoughts.

Her mother.

Sally sat back, staring at the screen.

Her mother would be cautious and loving. She would listen, try not to interfere, try to give Sally the space to decide for herself. But at the same time, she would want what was best for her daughter.

Sally imagined herself asking, out of the blue, “What if I left school to train as Dad’s heiress?”

The first answer that came to mind was immediate:

“Don’t be silly.”

She tried to reason another possible answer. Tried to imagine a scenario where Bridget was neutral, detached, offering strategic advice. But the first response remained.

Her mother was her mother. She wasn’t detached. She wasn’t neutral. And she never would be.

Sally exhaled, pressing the laptop shut with a quiet click. She let her hands rest on top of it for a moment, her mind still turning, working through everything she had written.

She wasn’t any closer to a decision.

But at least now, she knew where she stood.

It was time to return to real life. Maybe get some coffee.

As she stretched and got out of bed, Sally surveyed herself in the mirror. Sleepy eyes, sagging diaper. Relaxed girl. She smiled. She reached down to pull the tabs and gingerly slid the loose diaper between her legs, rolling it shut and taping it into a ball. She took it into the bathroom and opened the garbage bin. It was empty, as Mia had already been in to clean.

She had a sudden thought. Mia would find two diapers the next morning when she came in to clean. She knew she wore them at night – out of necessity, she had been made to assume -, but now this would imply... she wore them other times as well. Sally bit her lip as she thought about what to do. 

She recalled Mia’s non-judgmental approach to her diapers and had even offered to get those for her. Sally though about mentioning to Mia the fact that she might wear them sometime during the day. This made more sense than being sneaky about it, like a sort of dirty diaper contraband. No, she would tell Mia. She had proved herself more than worthy of her trust. 

Sally cleaned herself quickly and got dressed, ready for the drive with her dad. She decided not to google the F-40, and let herself be surprised. 

--

Sally descended the wide staircase, feeling refreshed but still a little groggy from her unexpected nap. She was early, so instead of heading straight to the study to meet her dad, she turned towards the kitchen, deciding to say hello to Mia.

The kitchen, as always, was warm and inviting, the air rich with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. Mia stood by the table, pouring a cup just as Sally stepped in.

“Hey, Mia,” Sally greeted with a smile.

Mia turned, her face lighting up. “Ah, there you are, Miss Sally. I just made coffee. Your father said you’d be coming down soon.”

Sally paused, pleasantly surprised. Her dad wasn’t exactly the type to fuss, but little things like this—the quiet, thoughtful gestures—never went unnoticed by her.

She smiled, settling into a chair at the kitchen table as Mia placed a steaming cup in front of her.

“Thanks,” Sally murmured, wrapping her hands around the warmth of the mug.

Mia busied herself with small tasks, but her sharp eyes flicked toward Sally. “So, how is it, getting used to the house?”

Sally exhaled a little laugh. “It’s a process. But I like it. I guess I should start figuring things out—you know, like how things work around here.”

Mia nodded, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you—do you have any preferences for hygiene products? Like toothpaste, shampoo, conditioner? I just refill whatever’s usually stocked, but if you have a favorite, I can get that for you. I’m going shopping this afternoon”

Sally hadn’t even thought about that. “Oh—uh, yeah, actually. I like a specific shampoo, but I never really paid attention to what’s here.”

Mia smiled knowingly. “That’s okay. You’ll get used to it. I’ll make a note of what you like.”

They moved on to a frank conversation about laundry—how often she’d like her clothes washed, whether she preferred to fold things herself or have them put away, even little things like how she liked her towels arranged in the bathroom.

“By the way”, began Sally, hesitantly, “About the bathroom, I’d like to thank you for the... for the diapers you got for me” – she decided to be direct. “They are very good”. 

Mia’s gave a small surprised look and nodded. “Of course, Miss Sally. I am glad you are pleased. If there is anything you need, even if it sounds very... private, never hesitate to ask”.

Sally smiled, a bit red. “About that, maybe I should let you know something”. Sally resorted to a hesitant speech. “As much as I need them during the night, well, sometimes I use them during the day too”. Sally breathed. “Not for need, just... for comfort, I guess. To relax”. She froze as she waited for Mia’s reaction.

Mia blinked, then nodded, empathetic. “Of course, Miss Sally. They are supposed to be comfortable”. Mia frowned a little and then said: “Maybe, you would like me to buy something lighter for you to wear during the day, like those... underwear style?”, Mia’s helpul manner shone as she sat down next to Sally.

Sally nodded timidly. She wouldn’t mind some pull-ups. 

She appreciated Mia’s directness. There was something oddly satisfying about taking charge of her new life here, making little decisions that made the house feel more like her space, not just her dad’s.

Mia, ever practical and warmly efficient, took everything in stride, offering helpful suggestions and making Sally feel like she belonged—not just as a guest, or as a teenager with a strange quirk, but as someone with a say in how things were run.

By the time she finished her coffee, she felt just a little more settled, a little more at home.

--

Sally wandered outside, letting the crisp afternoon air wake her up completely as she followed one of the winding garden paths. The family grounds stretched around her, manicured but not overly rigid—nature was allowed to breathe here, with ivy trailing over stone walls and bursts of wildflowers softening the perfectly trimmed hedges.

As she rounded a curve, she spotted her dad, walking toward her from what she guessed was the garage.

Adrian, always composed, gave her a small nod. “Rested well?”

Sally sighed dramatically. “I fell asleep. Heavy nap. But thankfully, I was woken up by Katrina’s call.”

A knowing smirk crossed Adrian’s face. “That rowdy Colombian,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Sally laughed. “You know her well.”

They fell into step together, walking at an easy pace along the garden path.

“Roberto’s getting the car ready,” Adrian mentioned casually.

Sally grinned. “I figured. You wouldn’t let me just hop into the F-40 without making sure everything is perfect, right?”

Adrian gave her a pointed look. “Of course not. That car is older than you are, you know.”

Sally held up her hands in surrender. “I’ll be gentle.”

Adrian simply hummed in response, steering their walk toward a gleaming swimming pool, its deep blue water still and undisturbed.

“This will be ready to use in a couple of weeks,” he noted, hands in his pockets. “But if you’re impatient, you can use the indoor pool. It’s heated.” He tilted his head toward a beautiful old stone-and-glass building standing beside it.

Sally stopped, staring at the two pools—one outside, one inside—and let it sink in. “We have two pools?”

Adrian smirked. “Technically, yes.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “That’s… so excessive.”

“You’re just like your mother,” he mused. “Bridget said the same thing when she saw it.”

Sally was still wrapping her head around this when they reached another section of the grounds, revealing a pristine tennis court.

“Oh, come on,” she groaned. “Am I supposed to take tennis lessons too?”

Adrian, unfazed, nodded. “Yep. I have an excellent instructor in mind.”

She turned her gaze toward the building next to it, arching an eyebrow. “Let me guess… indoor tennis court?”

“Yep.”

They both burst out laughing.

Sally shook her head. “Dad, this is insane.”

Adrian exhaled, glancing around the grounds. “My father had… grand tastes.” His voice carried a mixture of amusement and nostalgia. “And my mother loved throwing grand parties.”

He fell silent for a moment after mentioning his mother, his gaze lingering on the landscape.

Sally watched him, sensing the shift. Her father’s past was still a mystery to her in many ways—his childhood, his family, the life he had before she was even an idea.

She didn’t press.

Instead, they walked side by side in comfortable silence, making their way back toward the house and then toward the garage, where Roberto was waiting with the car.

--

As Adrian led Sally toward the garage, she could already sense that something was different. The space, usually just a functional area, now felt almost theatrical, as if it were holding something extraordinary within its walls.

Then she saw it.

The black Ferrari F40 sat gleaming under the overhead lights, its aggressive, low-slung stance looking more like a fighter jet than a car. Silver five-spoke wheels gleamed against the deep, mirror-like black paint, which seemed to absorb every bit of light and throw it back in a subtle, menacing glow.

Sally’s eyes flickered toward the yellow prancing horse emblem on the hood and wheel caps, and the realization hit her. Ferrari.

Had she known it was going to be a Ferrari, she would have expected it to be red, like every poster, every movie, every Ferrari she had ever seen. But this one was black. Sleek. Stealthy. Sinister in the best way possible.

Before she could even voice her thoughts, Adrian, watching her reaction closely, said, “The color is what makes it all the more special.”

But then, his expression softened slightly. “Though I’m proud you recognized it as a Ferrari.”

Sally, still processing the car in front of her, barely registered his words. She took a slow step closer, taking in every detail—the way the sharp lines flowed effortlessly into rounded curves, the massive rear wing, the triple exhaust pipes, the way the car looked like it was moving even while standing still.

Adrian gave a small nod toward Roberto. As if on cue, the two of them walked to the back of the car, each gripping the rear tailgate, and together, they unhinged and lifted it up.

Sally’s jaw nearly dropped.

The entire rear section of the car tilted back, revealing what she could only describe as half the car splitting open.

It was a full clamshell design, exposing the twin-turbocharged V8 engine, sitting like a work of mechanical art behind the driver’s seat. The interwoven pipes, carbon-fiber panels, and exposed bolts gave the whole thing a raw, purposeful look.

As Sally stared, Adrian was already moving, pulling out a flimsy-looking narrow support rod and extending it into place.

“It holds up the tailgate,” he said as if reading her mind.

Sally shook her head in disbelief. “That… thing?”

Her father smirked but continued what he was doing, checking the oil level, inspecting a few other things she couldn’t quite follow, his movements methodical and precise.

After a moment, he nodded to Roberto, who helped him gingerly lower the tailgate back into place.

It wasn’t because it was heavy—Sally could tell that just by watching—but rather, the opposite. The carbon-fiber panels were so light, it made the whole thing delicate. Which, for such a ferocious-looking machine, felt like a paradox.

Adrian, noticing her intrigue, glanced at her. “Light means fast.”

She was still trying to wrap her head around it when he motioned for her to follow him around the car. He ran through some technical specifications, explaining why the F40 was built the way it was, how it was Ferrari’s last truly raw supercar, how it was designed with as little excess weight as possible to maximize performance.

Then, with an almost ceremonial gesture, he ushered her to the passenger door and opened it.

Sally peeked inside.

The bright red cloth seats were the first thing to catch her eye, contrasting vividly against the deep black exterior. The door panel was bare, just a piece of carbon fiber with a simple pull strap instead of a handle.

No luxury. No padding. No buttons. Just pure function.

And now, she had to figure out how to get in.

Adrian, sensing her hesitation, gave a small amused smile before reaching for her hand.

“Slide one leg in first,” he instructed, his grip firm but careful.

She did as he said, maneuvering her foot into the deep-set footwell, which felt far lower than expected.

“Now ease in—don’t just drop into the seat,” he added, steadying her as she wiggled into place, her back pressing into the tight race seat, molded for speed rather than comfort.

It was a snug fit. Very snug.

She pulled the racing-style seat belt over herself, clicking it into place as she finally looked up at her father.

He was already settling into the driver’s seat, hands instinctively finding their place on the wheel, the moment feeling oddly ceremonial—as if this were something important.

Sally, still soaking it all in, turned to him, eyes bright with excitement.

“Let’s go?”

--

Adrian turned the engine on.

The car didn’t just start—it came alive.

A deep, ferocious growl filled the garage, reverberating off the walls, vibrating through Sally’s chest, her ribs, her very bones. It was raw, unfiltered power, a sound that didn’t just hit her ears—it settled into her soul.

She felt it in her spine, in her fingertips, like an energy pulsing through the car and into her own body.

Then, with a precise movement, Adrian revved the engine, letting the twin-turbo V8 roar as he slid the shifter into gear. The whole car shuddered, not in discomfort, but like an animal ready to be unleashed.

Slowly, carefully, he crawled out of the garage, the F40’s wide nose clearing the entrance as the sound echoed outside. He brought it to a stop just outside, and with a small smirk, flipped on the headlights.

Sally’s eyes popped open as the headlights did exactly that—popping up from the hood like something out of a movie.

“What—” she blinked, completely caught off guard.

Adrian chuckled. “Pop-up headlights. A thing of the ‘80s.”

Sally grinned. “That’s super cool.”

With a slow, steady hand, Adrian carefully steered the F40 down the driveway, passing through the gated entrance and onto the street.

The noise followed them, not like an unwelcome presence, but as a declaration. It was almost obnoxious, but the car’s presence forgave its sound. People stopped and stared as they rolled past, heads turning, eyes widening.

By the time they reached downtown, the attention had escalated into chaos.

Traffic paused, pedestrians gawked, and phones went up. People snapped pictures, filmed videos, their faces flashing between excitement and disbelief.

Sally, hyper-aware of every set of eyes on the car, felt like she was being watched under a spotlight. Technically, they weren’t staring at her, but sitting inside this roaring, mythical machine, she couldn’t escape the feeling that she was part of the spectacle.

Her father laughed, amused by her reaction. “You’d better get used to it,” he said. Then, with a smirk, he added, “There’s nothing more beautiful than a girl in a black Ferrari.”

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a pair of Ray-Bans, and slid them on effortlessly.

“Glove compartment,” he said, nodding toward it. “There’s a pair for you.”

Sally opened it, finding a second pair of Ray-Bans, which she quickly slid onto her face. The sun—and, frankly, the intense level of attention—was a lot to handle. The glasses helped.

For now.

As they left downtown Zurich, the stares and phones became a little less overwhelming. Slowly, Sally got used to it—the stares, the pointing, the nods of approval from other drivers. It felt… ritzy, luxurious, unreal.

Adrian, keeping his eyes on the road, casually mentioned their plan. “We’ll drive along the lake for a while, maybe stop in Rapperswil-Jona, then head back.”

Sally nodded, as if she knew where that was. As if she had any say in the matter.

But as the city faded behind them and the open road stretched ahead, she didn’t care.

The car accelerated, and she felt the rush—not just of speed, but of the gear shifts, the mechanical precision, the sheer force of the engine pulling them forward.

It was loud—too loud for any kind of normal conversation. So she sat in silence.

And held on.

Adrian didn’t have to break any speed limits to put emotion into his driving. His movements were smooth, controlled, but there was passion in how he handled the car, a deep understanding of what it could do and when to let it breathe.

From her low-slung bucket seat, the world looked different. The lake stretched endlessly beside them, the mountains rising dramatically in the distance, all of it framed by the sleek curve of the F40’s windshield.

Now, sitting this low, she finally understood why they called it a “bucket” seat. The seat hugged as if it was made for her small body. 

Eventually, Adrian eased off the throttle, and they slowed down, turning into a small, paved parking lot beside a quiet village café.

The engine grumbled down to an idle, the heat from the car wafting up into the cool afternoon air as Adrian smoothly shifted into neutral.

Sally exhaled, her heartbeat still catching up with the moment.

--

The café was quaint, the kind of place that felt untouched by time—simple wooden tables, a chalkboard menu with neat handwriting, and the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods. The moment they stepped inside, a tall, older gentleman emerged from behind the counter, his eyes lighting up when he saw Adrian.

Adrian stood up immediately, extending a hand with a rare warmth.

“Sven,” he greeted, a touch of familiarity in his voice.

The older man grinned, shaking his hand firmly. “Adrian! It’s been a while. I heard that noise from down the road—figured it had to be you.” His gaze flickered toward Sally. “And this must be your daughter.”

Sally straightened in her seat as Adrian turned to introduce her.

“Sally, this is Sven, the owner of this place. I stop by here every now and then when I’m out for a drive.”

Sven gave her a nod, his smile genuine. “Pleasure to meet you, young lady. I hope your father isn’t dragging you around too much with his car obsession.”

Sally smirked. “It’s definitely an experience.”

Sven chuckled, patting Adrian’s shoulder before heading back behind the counter. “I’ll bring your usual.”

A few minutes later, coffee and cake arrived—strong, dark espresso and a beautifully plated slice of Zuger Kirschtorte, a local cherry liqueur-infused cake.

Adrian took a sip of his coffee before glancing at her. “So, what did you think of the drive?”

Sally exhaled, still processing it all. “It was incredible. Loud, fast… I could feel everything. It’s like the car is alive.”

Adrian smirked approvingly. “That’s the magic of the F40.” He leaned back slightly. “My father bought it at an auction years ago, but—” he shook his head slightly—“he never really drove it.”

Sally tilted her head. “Why buy a car like this and never drive it?”

Adrian sighed, swirling his coffee. “It wasn’t about the car. He wanted to win. There was some sort of rival in the bidding, and he outbid him just to make a point.” He gave a small, knowing smile. “He could be like that.”

Sally frowned slightly. “So… he didn’t even like it?”

“Oh, I think he liked owning it,” Adrian said dryly. “But driving it? That wasn’t his thing.” He took another sip, then added, “For some reason, though, he decided I should be the proper heir for the Ferrari. Named me specifically to inherit it.”

Sally raised an eyebrow. “And me?”

Adrian smirked. “You get his other cars.”

Sally narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “What other cars?”

Adrian waved a hand dismissively. “Just a couple of old station wagons. Nothing flashy.”

Sally rolled her eyes. “Great. So you get a Ferrari, and I get… a grocery-getter.”

“And most of his assets”, Adrian pointed out. 

Sally nodded, biting her lip. “But you got the plane”, she said, slyly.

Adrian nodded. “The Gulfstream is part of his business assets, which I inherited. You got all of his personal assets.”

Sally nodded, once again, slowly absorbing the background information regarding her grandfather’s life, which so directly defined hers.

Adrian chuckled, but there was something almost reflective in his expression. The conversation drifted to Zurich, the house, life in general, until a moment of silence settled between them.

Sally could tell he wanted to ask her something.

She knew what it was.

Adrian, choosing his words carefully, finally spoke. “I know you have one more day, but… any hints? Any questions?” His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it—a careful balance between curiosity and patience.

Sally thought for a moment before shaking her head. “I do have a couple of questions, but they can wait till later.” She hesitated, then added, “I’m thinking. Diligently. And I’m making progress.”

Adrian studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod. “Fair enough.”

They finished their coffee, paid the bill, and stepped back outside.

The drive home was livelier, more relaxed. The tension of earlier conversations had eased, and as the sun dipped lower on the horizon, the highway stretched out ahead, bathed in golden light.

Of course, the black Ferrari didn’t go unnoticed.

Rubberneckers took their time admiring it, drivers slowed down just to get a closer look.

Sally noticed Adrian sigh slightly, before—without a word—he dropped down a gear and accelerated just enough to leave the gawkers behind, bending the rules of Swiss highway etiquette ever so slightly.

She grinned, holding on as the F40 surged forward into the setting sun.

--

Sally stepped into the elevator, leaning against the mirrored wall as she exhaled deeply. The ride had been exhilarating, but now, her body was feeling it—her shoulders stiff, her lower back aching slightly from the unforgiving race seat. She rolled her shoulders, stretching her neck side to side as the numbers ticked up toward her floor.

With a soft chime, the elevator doors slid open, and she stepped into the quiet hallway, making her way to her apartment.

The moment she stepped inside, she toed off her shoes and stretched, arms reaching up toward the ceiling before flopping onto the couch for a second. The deep cushions were a stark contrast to the spartan bucket seat of the F40, and she let herself melt into them for a moment before forcing herself up.

She needed to freshen up before dinner.

Walking into her bathroom, she turned on the sink and splashed cool water onto her face, letting it wake her up a little. 

As she reached for a towel, something on the counter caught her eye—a neat arrangement of her preferred hygiene products, just as she had discussed with Mia earlier.

That was quick, she thought, pleasantly surprised.

She dried off, pulling her hair up into a loose bun, before grabbing a washcloth and soaking it in warm water. She pressed it against the back of her neck, sighing at the relief it brought to her tired muscles.

She ran her fingers over the familiar items—her favorite shampoo and conditioner, the toothpaste she liked, even the right brand of moisturizer. Then, her eyes landed on the colorful package next to the mirror.

Drynites. She picked it up, turning the package in her hands, curious about the difference. They looked like Goodnites. Different country, different brands, she assumed. A tingle want through her spine as she held the package. She ripped it open and tokk one out. They felt like Goodnites, but these were black and pink. Interesting.

Sally smiled to herself, appreciating Mia’s thoughtful gesture.

Her clothes came off and she stepped into the new Drynite, already feeling comfortable and secure as they settled on her hips. Just right. She checked herself in the mirror and smiled.

Next up: clothes.

She eyed herself in the mirror, still in her casual outfit, screaming little girl. It would do for lounging in her room, but for dinner with her father? Not quite.

Heading into her wardrobe, she pulled out a simple yet elegant dress—not too formal, but just right to feel put together for dinner with her father. The fabric was light and comfortable, draping effortlessly as she slipped it on. She ran her hands over it to smooth out any creases, then added a spritz of her favorite perfume for a finishing touch. Good to go.

As she grabbed her phone, she took one last glance in the mirror. No trace of the Dryinte.

Better.

Now, time for dinner.

--

The living room was quiet, the soft glow of the fireplace casting flickering light across the space. Adrian lounged on the sofa, one arm resting against the back, his posture relaxed in a way that made him seem almost approachable—almost. Across from him, Sally sat with her legs tucked beneath her, turning a half-empty glass of water between her fingers.

They had finished dinner an hour ago, and now it was just the two of them. A rare moment alone.

Sally took a breath, shifting slightly before speaking. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation from last night.”

Adrian glanced at her, giving a small nod. “And?”

She hesitated, then set the glass down. “I have some questions. About… my trust fund. My role as an heiress.”

Adrian’s expression didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes—approval, perhaps? “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll try to answer everything.”

Sally nodded, organizing her thoughts. “I’ve heard different things about when I’ll actually have access to my trust fund. At first, I thought it was 25, but then Olivia said I’d get it at 18. What’s the truth?”

Adrian exhaled lightly, as if he had expected this. “I understand why that might be confusing,” he said. “Here’s how it works. When you turn 18, you’ll have full access to the income generated by your trust fund—the money your assets produce. You’ll be able to spend that however you see fit.”

Sally frowned slightly. “And by assets, you mean…?”

Adrian gave a small smile. “Real estate. Investment portfolios. Shares in businesses. Various financial instruments. The fund itself is structured to produce income and wealth. You’ll have access to that income at 18, but not the assets themselves.”

Sally absorbed this. “And at 25?”

“That’s when you gain control over the assets themselves. You’ll be able to sell property, trade investments, make executive decisions. But as you already do now, you’ll have a highly capable team managing your fund, and ideally, they will do most of the work. That being said, it’s important that you understand the mechanics of it all—so that you can oversee everything properly and make it truly yours.”

Sally nodded, her mind processing the weight of it. It made sense. She wouldn’t be thrown into the deep end at 18, but she wouldn’t be entirely hands-off either.

She shifted slightly. “Okay. What about the money I spend now? My allowance, I mean. How do I have access to that? Only with my credit card?”

Adrian smiled then, a slow, knowing smile. “You don’t.”

Sally blinked. “What?”

“You’re spending my money.”

She stared at him, completely thrown. “Wait—what? I thought I had an allowance. I thought I was spending my own money.”

Adrian shook his head, still amused. “No. You’re spending mine.”

Sally opened her mouth, then closed it again. “But… why?”

Adrian’s expression softened just slightly. “Because you’re my daughter. And because it is my pleasure to provide for you.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You’re learning how to spend, how to manage. It’s far better for you to do that with my money than with yours.”

Sally stared at him, processing this.

“It imposes responsibility,” Adrian continued. “Care. Administration. You’ve done a great job so far. So get on with it. Buy stuff, enjoy life. But be sensible.”

There was something warm in his voice, something that caught her off guard. It wasn’t just about money. It was about trust. About his way of guiding her, of preparing her for something bigger.

Her chest tightened slightly, and for a brief moment, she felt like a child again—safe, looked after. Even the Drynite under her dress – still dry - seemed to reassure her.

She cleared her throat. “Right,” she said, exhaling with a small laugh. “That’s… a lot to take in.”

Adrian simply nodded, waiting.

Sally hesitated, then moved on to the next question. “And my role as an heiress? What exactly does that mean?”

Adrian’s gaze was steady. “It means you would be my right hand. You would shadow my business moves, sit in on decisions, gain insight into how things work. You would act in a social capacity as well—helping shape the public and private image of our family, making the family endeavor more human, more approachable.”

Sally tilted her head. “Like the fundraiser?”

Adrian smiled slightly. “Exactly. But in business as well. And for the estate, our properties, our ventures. It’s about learning how to navigate power and responsibility, how to balance legacy with innovation.”

Sally exhaled, her mind swimming with all of it.

Adrian leaned back against the sofa, studying her. “You don’t have to decide everything right away. Just think about it.”

She nodded, though her thoughts were already tangled up in the possibilities.

After a moment, she pushed herself up from the couch. “I think I’ll head up to bed. My brain needs time to catch up.” And she needed to pee, she didn’t add.

Adrian chuckled, standing as well. “Fair enough.”

She paused, glancing at him. “Thanks. For explaining.”

Adrian nodded. “Goodnight, Sally.”

She gave a small smile before heading upstairs, her mind still sifting through everything.

Tonight had changed something.

And she wasn’t sure yet what to do about it. 

--

Lounging in her wet Drynite and a t-shirt proved relaxaing for Sally. The bulge was warm and pleasant between her legs, and she had made sure it was far from leaking. 

The familiar group chat with Katrina, Clara, and Patricia was active as ever, and she quickly typed out a message.

Sally: Okay, so today was something else.

 

She attached a few photos—a sweeping shot of the lake and mountains, a couple of action shots from the drive, and finally, a selfie of her and her dad in the Ferrari, both of them wearing matching Ray-Bans, looking effortlessly cool.

The chat exploded with notifications.

 

Katrina: NO WAY. THAT CAR. THAT VIEW. 

Clara: You look amazing!! That car is INSANE.

Patricia: I can’t believe you got to ride in an that car. That’s bucket list stuff!

 

Sally grinned at her screen, enjoying the energy of their reactions.

Then Patricia’s next message popped up.

 

Patricia: I’m sending the pic of the car to Charlie. He’s gonna LOVE this.

 

Sally paused, feeling the sudden warmth rise to her cheeks.

Charlie.

She quickly sat up, feeling an odd mix of excitement and embarrassment.

 

Sally: Oh… uh, sure. No problem.

The chat continued, but for a moment, Sally just stared at her screen, suddenly hyper-aware that Charlie—Charlie—was going to see her selfie with the Ferrari.

She exhaled, shaking her head at herself.

Get a grip, Sally.

The moment Patricia mentioned Charlie, Sally’s phone practically vibrated off the couch as Katrina went wild.

 

Katrina: WAIT. CHARLIE?! OMG OMG OMG. Don’t tell Erika—she’ll get JEALOUS. 

 

Sally’s eyes widened, her blush deepening.

 

Sally: Katrina, please. 

Clara: Oh no, here we go… 

Patricia: LOL, I just meant he’d love the car, but okay, Katrina, make this about drama. 

 

Sally sighed, running a hand over her face, though she couldn’t help laughing.

 

Katrina: I’m just SAYING. You and Charlie? Fast cars? Zurich? It’s giving… something. 

 

Sally: It’s giving “stop.” 

Clara: It’s giving “someone’s blushing.” 

 

Sally huffed, grabbing a pillow and dramatically pressing it against her face.

 

Sally: Can we focus on the CAR?! The 1989 Ferrari F40?!

Katrina: Girl, WE KNOW. But also… Charlie. 

 

Sally groaned, but deep down, she felt the tiniest flicker of butterflies.

--

Sally opened a new chat and tapped on Erika’s name, hesitating for just a second before typing out her message.

 

Sally: Hey you. Just got back from a drive with my dad. You need to see this.

 

She attached a few pictures—the stunning lake and mountain views, the sleek black Ferrari, and finally, the selfie with her dad in the car, both wearing Ray-Bans, looking effortlessly cool.

A minute later, Erika replied.

 

Erika: Cavolo, Sally. Quella macchina è assurda. 

Erika: And you? Looking bella, like a superstar. 

 

Sally felt a warm flutter in her chest, grinning as she sent back a smirking selfie, flipping her hair for effect.

 

Sally: I try. 

 

Erika wasn’t about to let that go.

 

Erika: Oh, we’re doing selfies? Say less.

 

A second later, a picture arrived—Erika in a casual oversized hoodie, hair messily tousled, but somehow looking effortlessly cool. She was sitting on her bed, her blue eyes locked onto the camera.

 

Sally stared at the picture for a moment longer than necessary before typing back.

 

Sally: Not fair. You always looking that good? 

Erika: What can I say? Good genetics. 

 

Sally laughed, then before she could overthink it, she tapped the video call button.

The screen flashed, and after a few rings, Erika answered.

 

The image steadied, and there she was—blonde hair slightly messy, leaning against her pillows, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Look who decided to call,” Erika teased, her voice playful, but there was something warm in her gaze.

Sally rolled her eyes but smiled. “I had to. You were looking too good in that hoodie.”

Erika chuckled. “And you? Miss ‘I’m casually cruising in a legendary Ferrari’? I’m surprised you even have time for little old me.”

Sally smirked, leaning back into the couch. “I always have time for you.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything, just looking at each other through the screen. There was something electric about it, even through a phone.

Erika cleared her throat. “So… tell me about the drive. Was it as insane as it looked?”

Sally grinned. “Oh, you have no idea.”

And just like that, the conversation flowed, easy and familiar, their words weaving between playful teasing and something deeper, unspoken but understood.

--

The apartment was quiet, the night settling in around her. Sally moved through her nighty routine on autopilot—brushing her teeth, washing her face, changing into her night diaper and a soft oversized T-shirt. The exhaustion of the day had begun to catch up with her, but her mind was far from shutting down.

Tomorrow was her last full day in Zurich.

And before she left, she needed to give her father an answer.

She pulled back the covers and slid into bed, staring at the ceiling. The black Ferrari, the lake, the mountains, the café, the conversation with her dad—all of it replayed in her head like a slow reel.

She had one more day before she had to face it. Before she had to say yes or no to a decision that could shift everything.

Changing schools. Changing her entire path.

Her father had given her space, but she could feel it in his carefully chosen words, in his patient glances—he wanted to know what she would choose. And she wasn’t sure she had a clear answer.

Not yet.

Sally turned on her side, staring at the dim glow of her phone screen on the nightstand. There were so many voices in her life right now—her friends, her father, even Erika. But this decision? This one was hers alone.

She let out a slow breath, eyes drifting closed.

 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would decide.

 

[Dirty Boy]

Who knows what Sally will decide: on one side her friends, Charlie and her mother, on the other her father and Erika.

[FlyingFox]

1 minute ago, Dirty Boy said:

Who knows what Sally will decide: on one side her friends, Charlie and her mother, on the other her father and Erika.

She will make the right decision, if I know Sally. I won't spoil the fun, but I am busy writing. 

[erik_hamburg]

I really really like this story. It is so much about developing the characters and relationships. And the upcoming decision… so difficult to make! I wonder why she didn’t talk to her mom yet. Does she even know? How would she react and feel about this?

[FlyingFox]

3 hours ago, erik_hamburg said:

I really really like this story. It is so much about developing the characters and relationships. And the upcoming decision… so difficult to make! I wonder why she didn’t talk to her mom yet. Does she even know? How would she react and feel about this?

Thanks! It’s a tricky situation for sure. Sally doesn’t want to bee too influenced by people close to her, as she thinks she must make this decision on her own. But she does take their influences into account. We’ll see what happens!

[FlyingFox]

Chapter 81 – Feels like Home

 

The mid-morning air was crisp and fresh as Sally jogged through the quiet streets, her breath steady, her body falling into a natural rhythm. The familiar patter of her sneakers against the pavement matched the quiet thrum of thoughts in her head.

Her hand brushed against the keys in her pocket—a small yet significant weight. Her father’s house keys.

Mia had handed them to her on her way out, clad in her running gear, apologizing for not having given them to her sooner. “You should have your own keys,” she had said.

Sally’s own keys. Her own house.

Sally tried to push her worries away as she ran. She had woken up wet, and she couldn’t remember when that had happened. She went to sleep dry, and woke up wet. That’s what diapers were for, granted, but she wasn’t supposed to be a bedwetter. It was not the first time it had happened either, and it seemed to be happening more often, lately. 

The thought settled in as she ran, her mind shifting to the decision she had to make today.

She had tried to put it off, to push it to the back of her mind. But there was no escaping it now.

She needed to give her father an answer.

She had asked Theresa if she wanted to come along, but her friend, still sore from yesterday’s intense hiking with her friends, had groaned, “I am not made of stone, Sally.”

So she had gone alone. And maybe that was for the best.

Because this morning wasn’t just about running—it was about thinking.

She needed to find the right words, the right way to say what she had already decided.

Her father’s offer — to change schools, to change everything — was tempting. And, truthfully, she wanted it. She felt like she needed it.

But not yet.

She wasn’t ready to leave school. She wanted to graduate with her friends, to stay with her mom a little longer, to live her normal life—at least until she was an adult.

She had to find a way to compromise, to tell her father in a way that made sense. A way that wouldn’t make it sound like a rejection, because it wasn’t.

Her feet carried her through the neighborhood, her neighborhood. Very Swiss. Very private. The streets were clean and mostly empty, the houses hidden behind high walls and well-manicured hedges.

Yet, the few people she did pass were cordial, nodding slightly as she ran by. A silent, polite acknowledgment.

She let her instincts guide her, following what she thought was a loop around the neighborhood, trusting her sense of orientation.

Eventually, she recognized the street leading home, the familiar iron gate appearing as she slowed her pace.

Perspiring, heart still racing, she reached into her pocket, pulled out the keys, and unlocked the street entrance, stepping into the property.

She climbed the stone steps to the house, breathing in deeply.

Home sweet home.

--

When Sally reached her apartment, she found Mia in her apartment, moving swiftly through her usual routine. Sally always made her bed, but Mia had a habit of straightening the sheets further, smoothing out any creases, and repositioning the blankets just right—a finishing touch Sally had come to recognize as her quiet way of keeping things perfectly in order.

Sally stood by the bathroom door, waiting as Mia completed her quick job, knowing she was about to jump into the shower.

As Mia moved toward the garbage bin, she pulled out the full bag and expertly tied it shut. Sally cringed. There were two diapers and a Drynite. All wet. She could tell the bag was heavy. Mia seemed oblivious to anything out of place, and carried on as usual.

That’s when Sally noticed something odd—there was already another bag sitting in the garbage can underneath it.

She frowned slightly. “Wait… there’s already a bag in there?”

Mia, without stopping, gave a knowing nod. “It helps prevent leaks. If the first bag has a problem, there’s already another one in place.”

Sally blinked, processing that. “That’s… actually really smart.” She turned a bit red, realizing Mia was taking measures according to her diapers.

Mia smiled, pleased that Sally had noticed her resourcefulness. “And at times like this,” she added, lifting the tied bag effortlessly, “I don’t have to waste time lining the can with another one.”

Sally let out a small, impressed chuckle, shaking her head. “Efficient.”

Mia, satisfied with her work, gave her a warm look before heading toward the door. “Enjoy your shower.”

Sally nodded, following Mia las she eft, closing the door - and locking it - behind her.

She ran a hand through her damp hairline, still warm from the jog, and made her way into the bathroom.

Time to refresh.

--

Refreshed from her cold, invigorating shower, Sally felt a new lightness in her body. Clad in sweatpants and a loose hoodie, she stretched out on the living room sofa, her laptop propped on her legs as she typed away, finishing the last of her essays for her teacher.

The Drynite she was wearing felt like a million bucks, and she was glad for the opportunity to relax in her style, with her little secret.

She let out a slow breath, rereading the final paragraph. Once she sent this one, she would be done.

It felt good. Productive. Complete.

She was actually looking forward to returning to school on Monday. Fridays had a way of feeling optimistic, but only if everything was up to date—which, now, it finally was.

Just as she hit send, Mia stepped in, carrying a bowl of snacks.

“Your father is downtown,” Mia said, setting the bowl down beside her. “He’s going to be delayed.”

Sally glanced up. “Oh”. Sally sighed lightly, clicking send on her essay and closing her laptop. “Thanks, Mia.”

She reached for her phone and checked her messages.

One from her dad.

 

Father: Running late. Have lunch without me.

 

Another from her mother.

 

Mom: Swamped with work, trying to get everything up to date. Maybe dinner tonight? Just us?

Sally smiled slightly at that.

She responded to both—a quick “Okay, see you later” to her dad and a “Looking forward to it” to her mom—then set down her phone.

And just like that, the moment deflated.

She had been expecting a conversation with her father, bracing herself for it, even mentally preparing her words. But now, he was busy.

The tension that had built up all morning slowly ebbed away, leaving behind something else—a feeling of anticlimax. She released her bladder slowly into her Drynite, feeling the warmth ground her.

With a small exhale, she reached for a handful of snacks, letting the crunch fill the silence as she turned on the TV.

For now, she’d just wait.

--

Sally was fast asleep on the sofa when she felt a gentle shake on her shoulder. The room was dim, the soft glow of the TV screen flickering with the familiar sound of Gilmore Girls playing in the background.

Her father’s voice broke through the haze of sleep.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

She blinked groggily, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sat up. Adrian was standing over her, his usual composed demeanor softened by the warmth in his eyes.

“Did you have lunch?” he asked.

Sally stretched slightly, still half-asleep, before self-consciously adjusting her hoodie, making sure it hadn’t ridden up or bunched awkwardly, revealing the damp cold Drynite underneath.

“Yeah, I did,” she mumbled, brushing her hair out of her face, trying to shake off the sleepiness.

Adrian gave her a knowing look, then offered, “Coffee?”

Sally nodded without hesitation. “Yes, please.”

Before either of them could move, Mia, who had overheard, appeared in the doorway. “I’ll make coffee right away,” she announced, already heading toward the kitchen.

Adrian glanced at Sally. “Want to have it in my study? If you’re up to it.”

She understood the meaning behind the suggestion. The conversation.

Sally exhaled, rolling her shoulders before meeting his gaze. “I’m up to it.”

But first—bathroom. She needed to get out of this pull-up.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, pushing herself off the sofa.

Adrian nodded, heading toward his study, while Sally walked upstairs to her apartment.

There were some things she just felt more comfortable handling in her own space.

She resorted to tearing off her Drynite, wiping herself down and slipping another Drynite on, feeling the dry comfortable padding make her feel confident and secure.

After freshening up, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror. This was it. Time to talk. 

--

When she finally walked into his office, the scene was already set.

Mia was placing a tray on the table, carefully setting down two steaming cups of coffee, along with a dish of chocolates—a small but thoughtful touch.

Sally took her seat, her hands curling around the warm ceramic cup, feeling the weight of the moment settle in.

She looked up at her father.

Now, she was ready to talk.

--

Sally took a slow sip of her coffee, gathering her thoughts before speaking. She knew this conversation mattered, and she wanted to get it right. When she finally looked up at her father, her voice was steady.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” she began. “And I want to start by saying that I think your idea is a great one. I appreciate that you’re not just letting me drift in this new world, that you’re thinking about my future and how I fit into it. That means a lot to me.”

She set her cup down carefully. “I want to learn. I want to step up to my responsibilities, and I want to be prepared for whatever comes next. I don’t take that lightly. I know that this isn’t something I can just fall into—I need guidance, training, and experience. And I want that. I want to be ready for whatever you need me to be. But more than anything, I want you to trust me. And I want to be worthy of that trust.”

Her fingers traced the rim of her cup as she went on, her words deliberate. “So I’m putting myself in your hands. Whatever training, mentorship, or knowledge I need, I want to start learning now. I don’t want to waste time. I don’t want to wait until I graduate to begin preparing for what’s ahead.”

She paused just for a breath, then continued, her voice calm but unwavering. “The only thing I ask is that I stay in school until I graduate. That doesn’t mean I want to delay my training or push things off. I’m ready to start now, as soon as possible, but I want to do it while still finishing what I started. While still keeping a little bit of normalcy in my life for as long as I can. Once I graduate, I’ll be fully committed. No hesitation, no distractions. Just business.”

She leaned back slightly, folding her hands in her lap. “That’s what I’ve decided,” she finished. Then, finally, she looked at him, waiting.

--

“Bravo.”

Her father’s first words were calm, measured, but unmistakably approving. “You’ve learned diplomacy. Compromise. It is an art. Congratulations.”

Sally let out a slow breath, some of the tension in her shoulders easing, but not entirely. He wasn’t rejecting her decision. He was listening.

Adrian picked up his coffee, taking a thoughtful sip before setting it down. “I acknowledge everything you’ve said, and I appreciate it. You put thought into this, and I respect that. I am inclined to follow your decision.”

Sally almost sagged in relief. Almost.

“But,” he continued, “I only ask for one thing in return.”

She braced herself.

“You come to Zurich every other weekend.”

Sally blinked. “Every other weekend?”

“I want you to get used to being here. Being with me. This isn’t just about business, Sally. This is your home too, and you should feel it that way.”

She stared at him for a moment before exhaling through her nose. “Well,” she said, leaning back, “I guess I’ll be a frequent flyer then.”

Adrian’s lips curved into an amused smile. “You already have the Gulfstream crew at the palm of your hand.”

Sally groaned. “I do not. They’re just great people.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I agree. But let’s be clear: they don’t treat my executive team the way they treat you. When I fly with my lawyers, analysts, or board members, there’s no special treatment. If it were up to Nitaya, she’d toss them each a bag of chips and be done with it.”

Sally let out a laugh, shaking her head.

“But you, Sally? No, you’re a favorite,” Adrian teased, smirking.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. The tension of the moment had shifted into something easier, something lighter.

They bantered for a while, and as the weight of the conversation faded, Sally felt herself relaxing. It was done. She had made her decision, and he had accepted it.

But there was one last thing.

“So… does Mom know about this arrangement?” she asked.

Adrian’s expression didn’t change. “She does.”

Sally stared at him, surprised. “She does?”

He nodded. “I had breakfast with her today at the Baur-Au-Lac. Which turned into lunch. We talked about it extensively. She said she would stand by any decision you made.”

Sally swallowed, processing that. Her mother… agreeing to this. Letting her go every other weekend to Zurich. Trusting her to make this choice.

It couldn’t have been easy.

A soft warmth settled in her chest. “That means a lot.”

Adrian gave a small nod, understanding.

She let the silence linger for a moment before shifting the conversation. “So… my mentors. Who do you have in mind?”

He regarded her carefully. “Besides me?”

“Obviously.”

Adrian set his coffee down. “Olivia.”

Sally wasn’t surprised. “That makes sense. She does manage my trust, after all.”

“She’s a walking encyclopedia when it comes to trust fund and asset management,” Adrian said.

“She is,” Sally agreed. Olivia was sharp, meticulous, and not someone you could fool. If she was one of her mentors, she would be in good hands. “Who else?”

But the next name Adrian mentioned did surprise her.

“Otto.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly. “Otto?”

She had met him only recently, but trust had come effortlessly—something rare between a teenager and an adult. There was an openness to Otto, a way he carried himself that made it easy to relax around him, to talk without filters. Sally had been laughing and playing pool games with him on the yacht within hours of meeting him, slipping into an easy, natural rhythm, as if they had known each other for years. 

Their conversations had been frank, uncomplicated, free of the usual guardedness she kept with most adults. Without even thinking about it, she had adopted him in her mind as an almost-uncle, someone she could joke with, confide in, and instinctively trust.

Adrian nodded. “Otto knows a lot about money, finances, banks, and—more importantly—people. He has excellent contacts and gives the best advice.”

Sally absorbed that, but Adrian wasn’t done.

“In fact,” he continued, “he was instrumental in bringing me and my father back together.”

That made her pause.

Adrian’s father. Sally’s grandfather. A man she never knew, someone who was little more than a name to her.

“We hadn’t spoken in years,” Adrian admitted, his gaze distant, as if recalling a time far removed. “Otto made sure that changed. Thanks to him, I went to Spain to see my father again. I reconnected with him. That was two years before he died. But it was enough of an impression.”

Sally listened quietly, not knowing what to say.

Adrian sighed slightly. “And it wasn’t just that. Otto also pushed me to really get closer to you and Bridget. He kept telling me I needed to do better. That was delayed because of my father’s death, but it goes to show… Otto is a man of consideration. And well known for being a good influence.”

Sally felt a little overwhelmed by it all. Otto wasn’t just some affable family friend—he had been part of something bigger.

She let out a slow breath, nodding as she took it all in.

This was real.

This was happening.

--

Adrian, stretching slightly, glanced at her and said, “Feel like watching a movie?”

Sally, lounging on the couch with a cushion tucked under her arm, raised an eyebrow. “Depends. What movie?”

Adrian smirked. “You pick.”

She shook her head. “No way. If we’re doing this, I want to know what your favorite movie is.”

Her father gave her a knowing look. “Are you sure? It’s old. Ever heard of John Wayne?”

Sally shrugged. “I can handle ‘old.’ Especially if it’s John Wayne”

He stood, and Sally followed him to the living room, walking over to a wooden cabinet beneath the TV, and slid open a drawer, revealing rows of DVDs neatly arranged in alphabetical order. Sally blinked.

“Wait, hold on.” She sat up straighter. “Are we actually using DVDs right now?”

Adrian shot her a dry look. “Yes, princess. Not everything is on a streaming service.”

Sally smirked. “Tell that to the rest of the world.”

He pulled out a case, flipping it in his hand before holding it up. Hatari!—John Wayne’s rugged face on the cover, surrounded by bright, vintage artwork of wild animals and safari scenes.

“This,” he said, “is the one.”

Sally studied the cover. “Okay, so I thought your favorite movie would be about cowboys and shootouts.”

Adrian smirked. “Most people do. But this one’s different.”

She took the case from him, turning it over in her hands. “Do we at least have a DVD player that works?”

He shot her an unimpressed look and walked over to a sleek, nearly invisible DVD player tucked beneath the TV. A moment later, the disc tray slid out smoothly.

Sally exhaled dramatically. “Alright, old man, show me what cinema was like before the internet.” Sally positioned herself on the sofa, fixing her hoodie just right, so it wouldn’t ride up and show her pull-up.

Adrian chuckled, dropping onto the couch beside her as the movie began to load. “Prepare to be entertained.”

And just like that, Hatari! started playing, the rich Technicolor landscapes filling the screen, and Sally found herself stepping into another era.

She had never seen this movie before, but the moment it started, she could tell it was from another time. Not just because of the grainy Technicolor look, but because of the way it moved, the pacing, the entire feel of it.

--

John Wayne, larger than life, played Sean Mercer, the seasoned, no-nonsense leader of a group of animal wranglers in Tanzania, capturing wild animals for zoos. The film was both an adventure and a comedy, blending action-packed chases across the savannah with moments of pure absurdity—like a baby elephant barging into rooms or characters nearly getting trampled by rhinos.

Adrian, watching her out of the corner of his eye, smirked. “You’re thinking it, aren’t you?”

Sally tore her gaze from the screen. “Thinking what?”

“That they could never make a movie like this today.”

She scoffed, shaking her head. “Oh, definitely not. No way.”

Her father chuckled, tossing a piece of popcorn into his mouth. “They actually captured those animals. No CGI, no stunt doubles for the rhinos or giraffes. Just real people, real danger.”

Sally watched as the characters sped through the savannah in open-top jeeps, wrangling zebras and elephants with ropes, dust kicking up around them as the animals fought against capture. It was thrilling, chaotic, completely reckless—and absolutely fascinating.

“Wait—so they’re actually doing that? No effects?”

“None,” Adrian said, shaking his head. “That’s why it feels so different from modern films. Everything you’re watching actually happened. They trained for months to do those stunts.”

Sally let out a low whistle, turning back to the screen. “That’s… insane. Also, probably super unethical.”

Adrian laughed. “Welcome to 1962.”

She watched as Elsa Martinelli’s character, Dallas, a sophisticated Italian photographer, struggled to handle a baby elephant that had taken a liking to her, its tiny trunk yanking at her clothes.

Sally grinned. “Okay, I love her.”

Adrian nodded. “She was a real Italian model before she acted. The studio wanted a Hollywood starlet, but Howard Hawks insisted on her.”

Sally tilted her head. “I gotta say, this is not what I expected when you said ‘John Wayne movie.’ I thought cowboys, not elephant chases.”

Adrian smirked. “That’s why it’s my favorite.”

For the next hour, the film unfolded in unexpected ways—the camaraderie of the wranglers, the sun-drenched landscapes, the playful jazz score that made even the most intense scenes feel lighthearted.

Mia had brought popcorn and drinks, and Sally was enjoying being with her father. In Zurich. Sharing a sofa and a popcorn bowl. Watching John Wayne.

At one point, Sally found herself laughing out loud—really laughing—as a baby elephant stormed through a house, knocking over furniture while Elsa Martinelli tried (and failed) to control it.

Adrian gave her a knowing look. “It gets you, doesn’t it?”

She shook her head, still smiling. “It really does. I get why you love it.”

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the glow of the screen flickering across their faces. It was nice, this kind of quiet companionship—watching something that mattered to him, sharing in a part of his past.

As the movie played on, she felt something unexpected—a sense of belonging, of ease, of a moment she wouldn’t mind staying in for a little while longer. She even let go, easily wetting her pull-up right next to her father.

--

The restaurant was elegant, softly lit, the kind of place where conversations were murmured, glasses clinked gently, and everything felt effortlessly refined. Sally sat across from her mother, both of them dressed to perfection—Sally in her best evening wear, having made the deliberate choice to match the elegance of the night, and Bridget, upon seeing her daughter’s beauty, deciding to do the same.

Now, as the waiter took their orders and left them with appetizers and drinks, their conversation began.

Sally leaned forward slightly, her voice sincere, warm. “Mom, I just wanted to say thank you. For supporting me. For standing by my decision.”

Bridget gave a soft smile but arched an eyebrow. “I appreciate that, sweetheart. But tell me something—why didn’t you tell me anything?”

Sally hesitated, fingers lightly tracing the rim of her glass. “I guess… I was a little lost. I thought I should reason through everything first before saying anything. But, if I’m being honest, I also knew that if I made the wrong decision, you would overrule me. And that thought made me feel… safe.”

Bridget tilted her head, considering her words, then let out a small, amused laugh. “Well, that’s ironic.”

Sally blinked. “Why?”

Bridget smirked. “Because I trusted you so much that I told your father to do whatever you said.”

Sally couldn’t help laughing, shaking her head as she picked up a piece of bread from the appetizer tray. “This sounds like the final scene of Romeo and Juliet—you know, mortal confusion, everyone thinking they need to take charge, when really, it all would have worked out.”

Bridget chuckled. “Luckily, no one had to drink poison.”

They clinked glasses, their laughter lingering between them as they eased into the luxury of their dinner, broaching different topics.

At some point, Sally leaned back slightly, taking a sip of her drink. “I can’t wait to get back to my place in Soho. I miss it.”

Bridget nodded thoughtfully. “Then why don’t we spend next weekend there?”

Sally’s face lit up instantly. “Really?”

“Why not?” Bridget said. “We’ll make a trip out of it. Some shopping, some good food, just us.”

Sally loved the idea. “Okay, yes. Let’s do it.”

Sally hesitated for a moment before smirking slightly. “Actually, speaking of shopping… I found out something interesting the other day.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Sally leaned in a little, lowering her voice just enough to add a touch of mock secrecy. “The credit card I’ve been shopping with? The one I thought was linked to my trust fund? Turns out, it’s not. It’s from Dad’s personal account.”

Bridget’s lips curled into a knowing smile as she took a sip of her drink. “Oh, I know.”

Sally blinked. “Wait—you knew?”

Bridget nodded. “Your father admitted as much during his last visit. I asked him about it, and he said he just wanted to take care of you a little differently. And I approved.”

Sally sat back, processing that. “So… you both just let me think I was using my own money?”

Bridget smirked. “It was technically yours. Just from a different source. Besides, it’s not like we were going to hide it forever.”

Sally huffed a small laugh, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

Bridget’s smile softened. “You’re lucky to have a father who wants to give you the world.”

Sally tapped a finger against her glass. “Yeah. I know.”

They smiled at each other, already mentally making plans for New York, when a maître d’ approached their table, his expression respectful yet intrigued.

“Madames,” he said, “there is a gentleman who wishes to speak with you.”

Sally and Bridget exchanged curious glances before following his gesture—toward a man standing near the entrance.

Otto.

Their surprise quickly turned to delight as they greeted him warmly.

“Otto! What are you doing here?” Sally asked, genuinely pleased.

Otto approached, smiling, his presence effortlessly commanding yet warm. A tall man with a dark complexion, he carried himself with elegant ease, the kind that came from years of confidence and experience. His bushy mustache, meticulously groomed, added to his distinguished look, giving him an air of old-world charm.

He was impeccably dressed, as always—a full tailored suit, rich in fabric and perfectly fitted to his portly frame, exuding both sophistication and comfort. The shiny silk tie, knotted flawlessly, caught the restaurant’s soft light, reflecting his penchant for refined taste and careful presentation.

Despite his formal appearance, there was nothing stiff about him—his eyes were warm, his expression full of genuine amusement as he approached the table, clearly pleased to have run into them. “I was having dinner with some friends and spotted you two on my way out. I thought I’d come over and say hello.”

“Perfect timing,” Bridget said. “Join us for dessert?”

Otto didn’t hesitate, settling into the chair they offered. “Well, if I’m staying, I’ll order a brandy.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly—future plans, Zurich, their upcoming departure. When Bridget mentioned that she and Sally were flying back home tomorrow, Otto’s eyes lit up.

“Tomorrow, you say? Well, my jet is in Zurich. You two should come with me.”

Sally’s eyes widened slightly. “Really?”

“Of course!” Otto grinned. “Tamara and Janice are here too—we’re all flying back together. You can expect fun all the way home.”

Bridget smiled, tilting her head. “That’s a generous offer, Otto. I’ll have to talk to Adrian”.

Otto waved a hand. “Please. Logistics? Leave Adrian to me. You don’t need to worry about a thing.”

Sally laughed, feeling grateful but also hesitant. She knew how important Otto was going to be in her future, but she wasn’t sure how much her father had told him yet.

So instead of saying too much, she simply smiled. “Thank you, Otto. That sounds amazing.”

And just like that, plans shifted once again—Zurich was ending, but the journey home would be anything but ordinary.

--

Sally woke up the way most normal teenagers do—in a completely ridiculous position.

Her dark hair spilled wildly over her face and pillow, some strands stuck awkwardly against her cheek, thanks to the small puddle of drool she had unknowingly contributed to her bed. Her body was curled up, one leg completely entangled in the sheets, while the other was half-draped over the edge of the bed like she had been in the middle of escaping a dream and just… gave up.

Her t-shirt had twisted around her torso, the collar slightly stretched from where she must have tugged at it in her sleep, and her pajama pants had ridden low enough to expose the back of her diaper, and her pant leg up just enough to bare one socked foot while the other remained buried in the tangled mess of blankets.

For a few moments, she simply lay there, eyes barely open, her face buried in the warm pillow she was still hugging like a lifeline.

She repositioned herself on the bed.

Then, awareness crept in.

It was morning. Her last morning in Zurich.

And she felt… happy.

Relaxed, even. Her diaper felt dry, and she was glad for the pang of pressure on her bladder. Maybe her incontinence had only been a phase.

She stretched slightly, rolling onto her back, blinking at the ceiling as a slow, contented smile spread across her face. She let go and voluntarily wet her diaper, feeling the hot liquid pool around her bottom, and lied still while the pressure subsided and the diaper absorbed every last drop.

Her mood was completely at odds with the dreary scene outside. Through the rain-streaked window, she could see the sky was a dull, lifeless gray, heavy clouds pressing low over the city, and a steady drizzle pattering against the glass. Cold, wet, and thoroughly uninviting.

And yet, she couldn’t be bothered to care.

Because today, she was flying home.

Sally sighed deeply, stretching like a cat under the covers, her arms reaching far above her head as her body arched into the most satisfying morning stretch. The warmth of the bed, the softness of the pillow, the quiet hum of rain against the window—it was all too perfect to leave just yet.

She shifted positions, lazily pulling the blankets up higher, cocooning herself in their warmth. One leg stuck out for just a second before she tucked it back in, seeking out the perfect balance of cozy and breathable.

She wasn’t getting up. Not yet.

Instead, she reached for her phone, squinting slightly at the bright screen before unlocking it.

The first thing she saw: a few messages from Katrina and Clara from the night before—probably sent while she was already asleep. The time difference meant they were still wide awake when she had sent them pictures from dinner with her mom.

She opened the chat.

 

Katrina: OMG, you both look so fancy, I feel poor just looking at this. 

Clara: Your mom is GORGEOUS. But Sally, you— girl. 

Katrina: Who even ARE you anymore? This is giving serious “heiress energy.”

Clara: For real. Are you even coming back to school or have you ascended into Swiss royalty? 

 

Sally grinned, rolling onto her side and quickly typing a response.

 

Sally: Relax, I’ll be back Monday. But should I start making people call me Baroness?

 

She sent the message, giggling to herself, then switched over to her other notifications.

Erika.

Her stomach did a little flip as she opened the chat.

The last thing she had done before bed was send Erika the same pictures of dinner with her mom.

Now, Erika was gushing.

 

Erika: Okay. Okay. HOLD ON.

Erika: Questo è ingiusto. INGIUSTO.

Erika: You look so good, I almost threw my phone across the room. 

Erika: I mean, obviously I already knew you were beautiful. Ma QUESTO?? QUESTO???

 

Sally bit her lip, feeling entirely too pleased with herself, her face growing warm despite the cool room.

She stretched again, basking in the glow her friend’s words of admiration, and of the warm diaper between her legs. She let out a deep, content sigh, enjoying the lazy luxury of a Saturday morning with no immediate obligations.

The rain continued drumming softly against the window, her phone buzzed gently in her hand, and the bed was still too inviting to leave.

Sally was just about to set her phone down and sink deeper into the covers when another message from Erika popped up.

 

Erika: Have a great trip today, okay? Not that I’m happy about it. Milan and Zurich already feel too far for us to see each other. The USA? That’s going to be TORTURE. Mi mancherai ancora di più.

 

Sally smiled softly, warmth blooming in her chest. She had known Erika would say something like that, but reading it still made her heart squeeze a little.

 

Sally: I’m going to miss you too.

 

A moment later, another message.

 

Erika: I’m at a café, with my father and mother. Sad. See?

 

She attached a selfie, and Sally tapped to open it.

There was Erika, sitting at an outdoor café in Milan, her blonde hair slightly tousled, one hand wrapped around a coffee cup, her signature half-smirk in place. The picture looked casual, effortless—but then again, Erika always had that way about her.

 

Sally was about to comment on how good she looked when her eyes drifted to the background—and there, unmistakably, were Erika’s parents. Her father, busy with his newspaper. Her mother, busy on the phone.

She laughed, quickly typing back.

 

Sally: You look like Heaven. Nice café. Tell your parents I say hi! 

 

She hit send, still smiling to herself as she rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling, feeling both light and heavy all at once.

Leaving always had a weight to it.

But for now, she had one more lazy moment and the weight between her legs to enjoy before reality called her out of bed.

Lazily, she slid her hand under her pajama pants.

--

A knock on the door interrupted Sally’s perfect Saturday morning indulgence, just as she was debating whether she could justify another ten minutes of basking in the afterglow.

She groaned, half-burying her face in her pillow. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” came the familiar voice of Theresa.

Sally exhaled in relief. At least it wasn’t her father or Mia coming to drag her out of bed.

Still in her disheveled pajama state, hair an untamed mess, face slightly red and diaper straining under her pajama pants, she shuffled out of bed and unlocked the door, pulling it open.

Theresa took one look at her and smirked. “Well, someone’s thriving.”

Sally ran a hand through her wild hair and stretched. “You caught me at my best.”

Theresa stepped inside, eyeing the messy bed and general ‘morning chaos’ vibe of the room, and Sally’s obvious diapered state proclaimed by the bulge under her pajama bottoms, already sagging and displaying the padding. “Clearly.”

Sally blushed, pulled up her bottoms and collapsed dramatically back onto the bed. “Tell me you’re here to say we’re leaving tomorrow instead.”

“Nope.” Theresa grinned. “You’re flying out at midday. Mia will be up soon to get you packed.”

Sally sighed and rolled onto her stomach. “I should’ve pretended to be asleep.”

Theresa chuckled, walking over to the desk where some of Sally’s things were scattered. “You could, but I’d just let Mia handle waking you up. And you know how she is.”

Sally shuddered. “No, thanks. I’ll get up.”

“Good call.” Theresa checked her watch. “You should shower and get something comfortable on for the trip.”

Sally yawned, kicking off her blanket. “We’re flying with Otto, right?”

Theresa nodded. “You are. I’m actually not flying with you.”

That got Sally’s attention. She sat up. “Wait. What?”

Theresa shrugged. “I’m technically on holiday. I’ll be flying to the U.S. on Monday.”

Sally squinted at her. “And how exactly are you getting back?”

Theresa smirked. “Commercial.”

Sally’s jaw dropped slightly. “No private jet?”

Theresa tilted her head. “I’m a normal person, not a Pampered Princess.”

Sally scoffed. “That is a vile accusation.”

Theresa raised an eyebrow. “Is it, though?”

Sally rolled her eyes, then turned serious. “Okay, but at least tell me you’re flying first class.”

Theresa paused, studying her curiously. “Would you prefer I fly economy?”

Sally frowned, shaking her head. “I just hope you’re flying at least business.”

Theresa smirked. “Relax, your father wouldn’t have it any other way. But I appreciate your concern.”

Sally nodded, satisfied. “Good. You know, for all your talk about me being a Pampered Princess, you do enjoy a little luxury yourself.”

Theresa chuckled, crossing her arms. “Flying commercial isn’t that bad.”

Sally shot her a pointed look. “Yeah, I have plenty of experience in that, as you very well know.”

Theresa sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine. Conceded.”

She made a show of looking Sally up and down, taking in the pajamas, diaper still peeking out, messy hair, and general half-asleep expression before giving a mock-serious nod.

“Now, does Pampered Princess need help getting out of her Pampers?”

Sally grabbed a pillow and launched it at her. “GET OUT.”

Theresa dodged, laughing. “Alright, alright, I’m going! But ten minutes, Sally. Or I’m sending Mia in.”

Sally groaned. “Blackmail is illegal, you know.”

Theresa winked. “So is whatever’s happening with your hair right now.”

Sally grumbled under her breath, stretching her arms over her head as she dragged herself toward the bathroom. The morning chill still lingered in the air, but the thought of hot water and a fresh start was motivation enough.

The moment she stepped into the steaming shower, she let out a content sigh, feeling the last remnants of sleep fade away. The water rushed over her shoulders, washing away the sluggishness, the lingering warmth wrapping around her like a reset button.

She wasn’t in there long—just enough time to wake up properly, let the heat loosen her muscles, and scrub off the last traces of bed-head chaos. By the time she stepped out, she already felt lighter, more awake.

Wrapped in a thick towel, she stared at herself in the mirror, running her fingers through her wet hair. There. Human again.

Now for clothes.

She eyed her leggings first. Practical, sure. But… too tight. She didn’t want anything clinging to her on a travel day. Besides, she had additional plans for her travel attire. She opened the closet and took out a Drynite. The black and pink design appealed to her, and she sighed as she pulled them up her legs and set them on her hips, checking the leg gathers.

She grabbed her favorite sweatpants, the ones that were soft, looser, and effortlessly comfortable. As soon as she pulled them on, she knew she’d made the right choice. The Drynites hid under them, the sweatpant waist comfortably hiding them.

Next, her bright blue hoodie—warm, oversized, familiar. She slipped it over her head, the fabric soft against her skin, and instantly felt at ease, like she was wrapped in a little cocoon of comfort.

With a towel still wrapped around her shoulders, she picked up her hairdryer, running it through her dark waves, smoothing them out until they were completely dry and slightly tousled. It made a world of difference—her face looked brighter, fresher, her mood already lifted.

By the time she stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed and put together, she felt like a whole new person.

No more disheveled, sleep-deprived Pampered Princess.

Now, she was awake, refreshed, and ready to take on the day.

--

After a quick breakfast alone in the kitchen, Sally glanced outside and spotted her father standing near the garage, deep in conversation with Roberto. The rain had picked up, drumming steadily against the pavement.

She grabbed an umbrella and stepped outside, making her way toward them. The Drynite under her sweatpants followed her every move, and Sally felt confident and secure.

As she approached, Adrian greeted her with a nod and waved her into the garage. “Come in before you get drenched.”

Sally ducked inside, closing her umbrella, shaking off the light droplets that had already gathered on her sleeves. The moment she stepped in, she took in the familiar sight of the black Ferrari F40, the Porsche 911, and the sleek Mercedes S-Class—her father’s favorites, lined up in pristine condition.

But her attention shifted when she noticed another car, tucked near the far side of the garage.

A brown station wagon.

Older. Utilitarian. Still a Mercedes.

Adrian followed her gaze and gestured toward it. “That one’s yours.”

Sally snapped her head toward him, eyes wide. “Mine?”

He nodded. “You inherited it from your grandfather, remember?”

Sally’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. He had mentioned something before about her grandfather’s cars, but actually seeing it—her car—felt entirely different.

A grin broke across her face as she took a step closer. “I have a car.” She gushed, shaking her head in disbelief. “It’s a station wagon, but I have a car.”

Adrian chuckled, crossing his arms. “Don’t underestimate the looks. That thing has a V8 engine and is too fast for its own good. It’s ten years old, but it flies”.

Sally turned toward him, brow raised. “A V8? In this?”

Adrian smirked. “It can also do supermarket runs,” he added, winking at Roberto, who had overheard and walked over.

Roberto nodded in agreement. “Mia and I use it for shopping, but she’s not too partial to the V8.”

Sally ran a hand over the hood, taking in its dusty but solid form. It was well-used, but it felt strong, reliable, like something that had been built to last.

Roberto sighed, gesturing at the car. “This E-class is too elegant for grocery trips. If you ask me, sir, we need a van—something more practical. I have to haul things for the house now and then, and I’m afraid of damaging this one.”

Sally was barely listening anymore. She had already opened the driver’s door and was peering inside.

The interior was deep brown leather, perfectly matching the exterior, classic but luxurious in its own way. She boldly slid into the driver’s seat, fingers wrapping around the leather steering wheel, letting the reality settle in. Her Drynite felt snug against her as she felt it against the leather seat.

From her position, the Mercedes star stood proudly over the hood, a statement of heritage and elegance.

She wasn’t even old enough to drive, but the moment she sat there, she could already picture herself behind the wheel, driving down the road, wind in her hair, music playing.

It wasn’t a Mustang—her dream car, the one she planned to buy when she turned sixteen—but she liked it.

No, she really liked it.

Adrian, watching her amusement, placed a hand on the roof. “How about we take it to the airport?”

Sally’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“It’s got a huge trunk,” he pointed out. “Might as well make use of it.”

Roberto nodded. “I’ll get it ready.”

Sally grinned, stepping out of the car, already attached to it in a way she hadn’t expected.

She followed her father back into the house, her excitement buzzing quietly.

She had a car.

And she wasn’t even leaving Zurich yet, but a small part of her already couldn’t wait to come back.

 

Chapter 82 – Sweet returns

Mia had been efficient as always—Sally’s suitcases were already packed and taken down the elevator, leaving only a few personal items behind.

“I left just your essentials,” Mia informed her. “Your backpack, handbag, and cosmetics in the bathroom. Everything else is ready to go.”

Sally nodded. “Got it. I’ll go grab those.”

She made her way back to her apartment, her eyes instantly finding her Birkin bag sitting neatly on the couch.

She loved the feel of it—the soft, buttery leather, the perfect weight in her hand. It had quickly become her go-to travel bag, something both practical and indulgent.

She unfastened it and slipped in her Kindle and phone, making sure they were easily accessible. Then, she headed to the bathroom.

Her makeup bag was already sitting by the sink, so she took a moment to freshen up, applying a light touch of concealer, mascara, and a hint of lip gloss—just something simple, enough to feel put together.

Then, just in case, she grabbed a couple of Drynites, tucking them discreetly into the zipped compartment of her Birkin. She smiled at how easy this was becoming.

She made a final check—her laptop, sketchbook, and pencil case were all securely packed in her backpack.

With the backpack slung over her shoulder and the Birkin bag in her hand, she stepped into the elevator for the last time on this trip.

As the doors slid open downstairs, she spotted her mother pulling up outside, this time with Theresa behind the wheel of the black Range Rover.

A smile tugged at Sally’s lips.

Time to go.

--

Bridget stepped out of the Range Rover, the crisp morning air meeting her as she instinctively glanced toward the building. The elevator doors slid open, and there was Sally, striding out with effortless confidence—backpack slung over one shoulder, Birkin bag in hand, her dark hair falling perfectly around her face. 

There was something in the way she carried herself, so sure, so grown up, a quiet poise that made Bridget’s heart swell with both pride and nostalgia. So beautiful. Not just in the way she looked, but in the way she moved through the world, stepping into her own future with grace and strength.

Bridget stepped under the porch cover, shielding herself from the steady rain as Sally emerged from the elevator.

“Morning, darling,” she said warmly, pulling Sally into a tight hug.

Sally hugged her back, taking in the familiar scent of her mother’s perfume, the comforting presence of home already beginning to settle in.

Bridget pulled back slightly, brushing a loose strand of hair from Sally’s face. “I had breakfast with Otto this morning. Tamara and Janice joined us—they’re so looking forward to seeing you. We’ll meet them at the airport.”

Sally grinned. “That’ll be fun.”

Before she could say more, Roberto pulled up, and her attention immediately snapped to the Mercedes station wagon rolling into the driveway.

It looked stunning.

Somehow, despite the rain, Roberto had managed to wash and polish it. The deep, rich metallic brown gleamed under the soft morning light, reflecting the surroundings in its perfectly waxed surface. The chrome accents sparkled, exuding timeless elegance and classic Mercedes style.

Sally nudged her mother, pointing. “Look at that. My car.”

Adrian walked up smirked. “Roberto outdid himself.”

The station wagon backed up smoothly under the porch, and Adrian stepped forward, popping open the trunk.

Roberto climbed out, shaking some raindrops off his jacket, and immediately began loading their luggage into the car.

Meanwhile, Theresa hurried up to Sally and pulled her into a quick but firm hug.

“See you Tuesday,” she said, squeezing her once before stepping back.

Sally smiled. “Enjoy your last weekend off. Safe trip.”

Theresa winked. “You too.”

Bridget and Sally slid into the car, Bridget giving her daughter a knowing look before gesturing toward the front seat.

“Go on,” she coaxed. “Enjoy your new car.”

Sally hesitated for a second, then nodded, climbing into the passenger seat, her Birkin bag resting on her lap.

Adrian adjusted the driver’s seat, fastening his seatbelt with an air of familiar ease, and then, without further ado, they glided away from the house.

Sally waved out the window, catching a final glimpse of Mia and Roberto standing by the porch before the car turned down the road.

Adrian barely waited until they were off the property before giving Sally a taste of what her car could do.

The V8 hummed to life, smooth yet powerful, and as soon as the road opened up, he pressed the accelerator.

Sally felt it instantly—the sudden but graceful surge of speed, the way the car responded effortlessly despite the rain.

She let out an impressed whistle, gripping the armrest slightly as the car glided forward.

“Okay,” she admitted, “this doesn’t feel like a station wagon.”

Adrian smirked. “That’s because it’s not just any station wagon.”

Even the windshield wipers exuded class, moving in a fluid, elegant pattern, making the outside world look like an impressionist painting through the rain-speckled glass.

Sally chuckled. “Even the wipers are fancy.”

Adrian gave an approving nod. “They better be. German engineering.”

They moved through the calm Saturday morning traffic, the rain giving the city a quiet, misty atmosphere.

As they neared the airport, Adrian took a small detour, guiding the Mercedes smoothly around the terminal roads, and effortlessly veered off toward the private terminal, where one jet in particular waited on the tarmac.

Otto’s jet.

--

The Zurich rain hadn’t let up, a steady drizzle misting over the airport as the FBO van rolled smoothly across the tarmac. The Bombardier 6000 stood waiting, sleek and imposing under the gray sky, its distinctive square windows setting it apart from other jets.

Adrian had pointed it out to Sally earlier, noting the model with his usual precision.

Sally, still new to recognizing private jets, had shrugged. “The only difference I can tell is the windows.”

Bridget had reassured her with a small smile. “You’ll love it. I took this jet from New York to Genoa, and trust me, it’s very comfortable.”

As they neared the jet’s open stairs, a Swiss customs van was already waiting beside it. Two courteous officers in crisp uniforms stepped forward, their movements efficient as they checked their passports, stamping them quickly before bidding them a good flight.

The FBO driver, wielding a giant black umbrella, escorted Bridget and Sally up to the plane, shielding them from the persistent rain. At the base of the stairs, a proactive flight attendant—a tall, striking woman with platinum blonde hair neatly secured in a bun—was already waiting to assist. Another crew member stood behind her, equally poised.

Sally climbed the steps first, pulling back her hood as she stepped into the warmth of the cabin.

The moment she entered, Otto greeted her with enthusiasm.

“Ah! There she is!” he boomed, his usual jovial energy filling the space. Behind him, Tamara and Janice waved, clearly pleased to see her.

The atmosphere was welcoming, familiar, despite this not being her father’s jet.

Once greetings were exchanged, Tamara and Janice immediately took charge of Bridget, coaxing her toward the rear seating area, where a glossy wood table was surrounded by plush, cream-colored seats.

“Come on, sit with us,” Janice insisted, settling Bridget in comfortably.

Sally, however, stood uncertainly, unsure where she was supposed to sit. She wasn’t exactly used to being in other people’s jets, so she hesitated, scanning the space for a cue.

Otto, noticing her pause, grinned. “I usually sit up front for takeoff,” he said, nodding toward the forward seats. Then, with his usual commanding ease, he pointed to the seat next to him.

“Sit here,” he said. “We should chat.”

Sally obeyed, sinking into the plush leather seat. As she got comfortable, something caught her eye—a green can of Pringles, sitting perfectly placed in the cupholder beside her.

She glanced up at Otto, genuinely surprised.

“Is that for me?”

Otto laughed heartily, clearly pleased with himself. “Had to check with your assistant to see if you had any special needs.” His eyes twinkled. “She said you did indeed.”

Sally grinned, making a mental note to thank Theresa.

“I hope you enjoy your flight with us,” Otto added with a wink.

Sally picked up the can, shaking her head. “Thank you, Otto.”

Otto simply waved a hand, his expression turning slightly more serious. “Theresa is worth her weight in gold,” he said. “It’s not common to find someone so resourceful and loyal.”

Sally nodded, fully agreeing.

Otto leaned back, watching her. “Don’t lose her, Sally. People like that? They’re priceless.”

Sally looked at him thoughtfully, wondering if this was the beginning of his mentorship—subtle lessons tucked into conversation, casual but intentional.

Before she could dwell on it further, the flight attendant approached, her posture poised and professional.

Otto gestured toward her. “This is Ekaterina, but she goes by Katya.”

Katya gave Sally a warm smile, her Russian accent crisp and delightful as she said, “May I offer you a Vichy Catalan?”

Sally perked up instantly. She was almost going to ask, but then she remembered Theresa. Otto was looking pleased. She just answered, “Yes, please.”

As Katya poured her sparkling water into her glass, Sally smiled and said, “Spasiba.”

Katya’s eyes lit up with delight. “Oh! You speak Russian?”

Sally grinned. “That’s the only word I know.”

Katya nodded. “It is a very good start.”

From the rear of the cabin, Tamara and Janice’s voices carried forward.

“Katya! Champagne and caviar, please!” Tamara called.

Katya gave a gracious nod, seamlessly shifting from playful to professional as she moved toward them.

Just then, a middle-aged man in a perfectly pressed pilot’s uniform stepped into the cabin.

He had a calm, authoritative presence, his neatly cut hair giving him the look of someone who thrived in the skies.

“Captain Glenn Ramsey,” he introduced himself, extending a firm handshake toward Sally. “I believe I’ve met everyone else here.”

Sally shook his hand, offering a polite, “Nice to meet you, captain Ramsey”

Glenn nodded and turned to Otto. “We’ll be leaving in about 15 to 20 minutes—just a slight delay due to the rain, nothing major.”

Otto nodded. “No rush. We have all the time in the world.”

With that, Glenn disappeared back into the cockpit, leaving the passengers to settle in and relax.

At the rear of the cabin, Katya was now serving the champagne and caviar, while Sally sipped her Vichy Catalan, watching as Otto reached for his own drink—a bottle of Perrier.

Otto caught her gaze and smirked. “My tastes aren’t so elegant,” he quipped.

Tamara and Janice chortled.

“Oh, please,” Janice called out. “You’re full of it.”

Sally laughed, feeling the easy camaraderie between them all.

The crew prepped the cabin for takeoff, but the atmosphere remained relaxed, informal.

She leaned back into her seat, feeling the moment settle in.

The plane would take off soon.

--

The jet took off, and as always, Sally was amazed at how quickly the jet reached the sky. Within minutes, Zurich was left behind, and they were breaking through the thick clouds, emerging into the brilliant midday sun. The view was breathtaking—a golden light spilling across the endless sea of white clouds, a stark contrast to the gray, rainy world they had just departed.

As the jet leveled off, the cabin settled into a comfortable rhythm. Katya moved gracefully through the aisle, beginning to serve appetizers and refreshments, while the passengers loosened up, slipping into relaxed conversations.

Otto leaned back in his seat and turned toward Sally. “So,” he said, picking up a small plate from the tray Katya had just placed down. “Tell me, how was your time on the Flying Fox?”

Sally hesitated briefly before answering. “I enjoyed it,” she said, reaching for a slice of smoked salmon.

Otto’s expression shifted slightly, an arch of the eyebrow, a skeptical tilt of his head. “That’s a very polished answer,” he remarked.

Sally let out a soft chuckle, adjusting her posture. “I mean it. It was incredible. But…” She gestured vaguely. “It’s just… a lot.”

Otto nodded knowingly. “I suppose it would be.”

Sally leaned back. “I didn’t grow up with all of this. It takes time to get used to… everything.”

Otto stretched out his legs, his brow furrowing as he took in her words. He swiveled his seat slightly toward her, and instinctively, Sally mirrored the movement, so they were now sitting sideways, facing each other.

He studied her for a moment, then said, “And what about your new friend? Erika.”

The mention of Erika caught Sally off guard. A slight blush crept up her cheeks, though she quickly composed herself.

Otto smirked. “I assume, from that reaction, you two connected well.”

Sally gave a small nod, her mind momentarily flashing back to the endearing moments she shared with Erika. “Yeah,” she admitted. “I made a friend.”

Otto smiled, satisfied. “Good. Stick to your friends. Erika’s a nice kid. The Ferrano family is worth knowing.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Very humble, but very lovable, helpful people. Solid.”

Sally nodded, listening carefully.

“That’s girl has been accused of being on the wild side sometimes,” Otto pointed out. “But with parents and brothers like that, she’s got a strong foundation. And now she’s got you.” He tapped a finger on the armrest for emphasis. “That’s a good thing. For both of you.”

Sally absorbed his words, realizing that Otto was, in his way, reminding her of her own value as a friend.

The conversation shifted, and Otto leaned back. “You know, I was more than happy to help your mother get to the yacht.”

Sally turned to him, intrigued. “Yeah, I never actually heard how that happened.”

Otto smirked. “I almost didn’t join the party—I was busy, had other things going on. But then Adrian called. Once I heard why, I was all for it.”

Sally tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “I sent a chopper for your mother. Brought her to Teterboro. From there, we took off straight to Genoa.”

Sally blinked, genuinely amazed. “Just like that?”

Otto nodded, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Anything for Adrian,” he muttered, almost to himself, before glancing at her. “And for you. You’re part of this too.”

Sally stiffened slightly, sensing the weight behind his words.

Otto pointed directly at her. “You.” His voice was steady, certain. “You are one of us. Remember it.”

Sally hesitated, her fingers lightly tapping the armrest. She understood what he meant, but she wasn’t sure she felt it yet.

Otto must have noticed, because he sighed and elaborated. “It’s not just about money and wealth. Yes, that’s part of it, but it’s more than that.” He tapped his fingers together. “It’s about shared values, shared responsibility. It’s about accountability to society. That’s why this kind of networking is important.”

Sally remained quiet, processing his words.

“We can’t allow ourselves to drift aimlessly, with our money falling out of our pockets, thinking it’ll all just sort itself out.” Otto glanced toward the back of the jet, where Bridget sat with Tamara and Janice, chatting comfortably over their champagne.

“You see those two?” He gestured toward Tamara and Janice, a knowing look in his eyes.

Sally smirked. “Yeah. They make a nice couple.”

Otto let out a short laugh. “They’re not a couple.”

Sally’s brow furrowed. “Wait—what?”

Otto chuckled, shaking his head. “They just do it for show. Have you ever seen them being affectionate with each other?”

Sally thought back and suddenly realized—no, she hadn’t.

Otto leaned in slightly. “Those two went through hell. Bad divorces. Betrayal. A lot of pain. But each other’s friendship saved the day.”

Sally glanced at them again, really seeing them for the first time.

Otto nodded. “I’m like a brother to them. And they’re like your godmothers now.” He tilted his head at her. “So listen to them. Pay attention to them.”

Sally absorbed his words, her gaze flicking toward the back of the jet just as her mother stood up.

Bridget stretched slightly and started walking toward her, her expression warm.

Sally straightened a little, realizing her conversation with Otto was about to end for now.

--

Bridget reached their seats with a graceful ease, a knowing smile already forming on her lips. She rested a hand lightly on Otto’s seat and, with a touch of amusement, asked,

“May I have my daughter for a moment?”

Otto immediately straightened up, ever the gentleman, and placed a hand over his chest in a mock display of deep regret.

“Oh, of course! My sincerest apologies, dear lady!” he said with exaggerated formality, standing up and giving Sally an overly dramatic bow.

Sally couldn’t help but giggle. “You’re so theatrical.”

Otto winked. “Only when necessary.”

He turned on his heel, heading toward the back of the jet, where Tamara and Janice were still engaged in lively conversation over their champagne.

As he approached, he called out, “Alright, ladies, I’m here to keep you two troublemakers in check!”

Tamara barely looked up. “We don’t need a babysitter, Otto.”

Janice grinned. “Although if you insist, you can pour the next round.”

Otto sighed dramatically. “The things I do for you two.”

Sally laughed softly, turning back to her mother—who was now looking at her with an unreadable expression.

Bridget tilted her head slightly, as if debating something, then leaned in just a touch and said, in a casual, matter-of-fact voice:

“Your pull-up is showing.”

Sally’s breath hitched, her fingers immediately gripping the hem of her hoodie, checking instinctively, even though she knew nothing was actually visible.

Bridget watched her reaction closely, her expression unreadable, waiting for Sally to give herself away.

And she did.

Realizing her mother had played her, Sally exhaled and let out a small, amused smile, shaking her head. “You’re sneaky.”

Bridget smirked. “So, you are wearing one?”

Sally sighed, blushing a bit, adjusting herself slightly in the seat. “Yeah. Mia got them for me to use during the day. Just for comfort while traveling.”

Bridget nodded knowingly, her expression softening. “Makes sense. Long flights, lots of drinking”,  she said, eying Sally sip her second sparkling water, “practical choice.”

Sally relaxed, grateful for her mother’s easy acceptance, and gave a light laugh. “I was fine until you made me paranoid.”

Bridget grinned. “Well, I had to check. You were sitting all hesitantly, tugging at your hoodie—it was a tell.”

Sally rolled her eyes, playfully exasperated. “Great. Now I have to work on my poker face.”

Bridget chuckled. “Or just get used to the fact that I will always figure things out.”

Sally sighed, leaning back into her seat. “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Bridget smiled, nudging her lightly. “Just making sure my grown-up daughter still has a bit of that little girl in her. Did you bring any changes?”

Sally nodded, prodding her Birkin bag with her elbow.

“Good girl”, said Bridget, winking.

Sally grinned despite herself, feeling a quiet warmth settle between them. For all the changes in her life, some things—like her mother’s way of knowing everything—never really changed.

--

Just as the warm moment between Sally and Bridget settled, a familiar voice rang out from the back of the jet.

“Alright, ladies! Stop being sentimental and come lose at Parcheesi!”

Tamara’s playful challenge was quickly seconded by Janice. “Yes, get back here. Otto wants to get some work done, which means someone actually has to be productive on this flight.”

Otto, who had been scrolling through his tablet, barely looked up. “Exactly. And it certainly won’t be any of you.”

Sally chuckled as Bridget gave her a knowing look. “You up for it?”

“Obviously.”

With that, they both got up and made their way to the back, where an elegant wooden game table had been set up between the spacious seats. A luxurious Parcheesi board lay in the center, the dice and pieces already waiting.

Sally took a seat across from Janice, while Bridget settled next to Tamara.

“You do know I’m going to win, right?” Sally declared as she rolled her shoulders, preparing for battle.

Janice laughed. “Confidence. I like it. Let’s see if you can back it up.”

The game began, the dice clattering onto the board, laughter and light-hearted banter filling the cabin.

Bridget played strategically, Tamara played aggressively, Janice focused on revenge tactics, and Sally?

Sally played to win.

She moved her pieces with deliberate precision, rolling the dice with flair, occasionally giving an exaggerated fist pump when she got a lucky roll.

As the game went on, Sally couldn’t help but comment on the old-school luxury surrounding them.

“So, let me get this straight,” she said, rolling her dice. “This jet has Wi-Fi, flatbeds, TV, a full bar… and yet we’re playing Parcheesi? That’s what we’re doing?”

Tamara smirked. “Ancient customs, darling. This is a tradition.”

Janice leaned in conspiratorially. “You don’t fly private without a game of Parcheesi. It’s practically an unwritten rule.”

Sally scoffed, moving her piece. “Sounds like a very specific kind of elitism.”

Bridget laughed. “Consider it a rite of passage. If you don’t play, you’re not really part of the club.”

Sally grinned, shaking her head. “Fine, but if I win, I’m renaming this jet The Parcheesi Express.”

Otto, overhearing from the front, let out a low chuckle but didn’t look up from his work. “I’ll allow it.”

The game carried on, filled with playful sabotage and dramatic groans when someone got sent back to start.

When Sally finally won, she threw her hands in the air, victorious.

“And that is how it’s done!”

Tamara and Janice groaned in defeat, while Bridget patted Sally’s arm. “Alright, alright, we’ll give you this one.”

Sally leaned back in her seat, feeling relaxed, entertained, and just the right amount of smug. She rewarded herself by releasing her bladder into her Drynite.

--

Sally had barely settled back into her seat when she caught movement from the corner of her eye.

Otto was watching her, his expression neutral but intent, and then he did something that instantly grabbed her attention—he wiggled his finger at her, beckoning her forward like a teacher summoning a student for a lesson.

She glanced around.

Tamara and Janice were engrossed in their books, their champagne glasses now forgotten on the table. Her mother was in the rear lounge, working on her laptop, lost in whatever project had captured her attention.

There was no escape.

Sighing but curious, she got up and made her way to Otto, taking the seat next to him near the front of the cabin. She tried not to waddle as the Drynite sagged slightly between her legs. She sat down gingerly on the leather chair and rested her arms on the armrests, as if she were holding herself on some turbulence.

Before she could ask why she’d been summoned, Katya appeared as if she had read Otto’s mind, placing a small cup of coffee in front of Sally.

“For you, miss.”

Sally smiled at her, murmuring a polite, “Spasiba, Katya.”

Otto let out a pleased hum, watching the exchange. “Look at that, already making an impression.”

Sally rolled her eyes, stirring her coffee. “I doubt knowing one word in Russian makes an impression.”

Otto shrugged, eyes twinkling. “It’s the effort. People remember effort.”

He leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers before getting to the point.

“Your father asked me to begin a mentorship program with you.”

Sally gave a knowing look, her fingers pausing on the handle of her cup. She wiggled as she felt the wet pull-up tickle her, accusingly. 

Otto continued, his tone calm and deliberate. “He has very clear expectations—not just for you, but for me as well. And when Adrian expects something, he likes to see it happen.”

Sally smirked. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

Otto smiled faintly. “You’re finishing school, yes? Grade ten?”

Sally grinned, shaking her head. “Grade nine. But I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Otto exhaled sharply, acknowledging his mistake with a slight frown, then nodded. “Well, that changes nothing. For now, you’ll finish the school year. That gives us… three weeks?”

Sally nodded.

“Then, we begin.”

She set down her coffee cup. “So, what exactly does that mean?”

Otto rested his arm on the armrest between them, his fingers idly tapping as he laid it out.

“You’ll meet with me regularly. Sometimes in New York, sometimes elsewhere. Your schedule will be worked around school—you’re not leaving, after all.”

He gave her a pointed look, as if expecting her to challenge this.

She didn’t. Instead, she asked, “And Olivia?”

Otto nodded. “She’ll mentor you as well. We’ll coordinate. Between us, you’ll learn about finance, investment, leadership, decision-making—how to manage not just money, but power. How to navigate the world you’re stepping into.”

Sally sat back, absorbing his words. “And you think I can handle all of this?”

Otto smirked. “Your father does. Your mother does. And I’ve seen enough of you to suspect they’re right.”

Sally hesitated, then tilted her head, studying him. “What do you get out of this?”

Otto didn’t look surprised by the question. If anything, he seemed pleased that she had asked it.

He nodded slightly. “There are many reasons. Many good reasons.”

A pause.

“But two matter the most.”

He held up a single finger.

“One, because Adrian asked me.”

Then a second.

“Two, because Bridget agreed to have me mentor you.”

Sally frowned slightly. “That’s it?”

Otto’s expression didn’t waver. “The rest? You’ll find out as you progress. As our mentorship grows. As our relationship grows.”

Sally swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle in.

This wasn’t just about business.

This was about who she would become.

--

A trip to the bathroom gave Sally a very much needed pull-up change. She was familiar with the ritual. There was no compromising with the pull-ups. Shoes off, pants off, pull-up off. Wrap it into a bag and stuff it into the garbage can – hoping nobody gets nosy – and wipe down. Then, do the reverse. Pull-up up, pants up, tie up shoes.  

After freshening up in the luxurious bathroom, feeling refreshed and more awake, Sally made her way back to the front of the cabin, where the atmosphere had turned light and lively.

Tamara and Janice had relocated, now sitting comfortably in the swivel chairs, chatting as they sipped on fresh drinks. Bridget had joined them, her legs crossed elegantly, her expression amused. Otto, ever the picture of casual authority, stood nearby, sipping on yet another Perrier, his sharp eyes twinkling with interest in the conversation.

The mood was warm, familiar, as if they had been traveling together for years.

As Sally approached, Janice looked up and grinned. “Ah, there she is! Just in time. We were making plans.”

“Plans?” Sally raised an eyebrow, taking a seat.

Janice gestured grandly. “My home in Central Park. Any day you like, we’re having a party at my place. You just tell me when.”

Bridget smirked. “That’s dangerous. She might actually take you up on that.”

Tamara leaned back comfortably, swirling the ice in her glass. “And next, we’ll have to tour your penthouse in Soho.”

Sally chuckled, shaking her head. “You can. But I’ve barely made it my home yet. It still needs my art, my things.”

Tamara waved a dismissive hand. “That’s even better. We’ll help. Give you ideas. Make it perfect.”

Janice nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, absolutely. Decorating a home? That’s half the fun.”

Bridget smiled thoughtfully. “The space is fantastic, though. Open kitchen, beautiful terrace overlooking Manhattan and the Hudson.”

Janice sighed dramatically. “See? That’s what I don’t have. A view. My house is grand, sure, but no panoramic skyline.”

Otto, who had been silent until now, let out an exaggerated scoff, shaking his head in mock disgust.

“Janice, please. Your house is the pearl of New York.” He turned to Sally, gesturing grandly. “Gardens, endless rooms, and even a library that would be the envy of The New York Times.”

Tamara burst into laughter. “If only they knew. That’d be front-page news. Scrap the economy section—Janice’s house is the real story.”

Janice rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop. Now you’re making me sound like some secret empress.”

Otto took a slow sip of Perrier, raising an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

Laughter rippled through the group, the conversation flowing effortlessly, filled with light-hearted teasing and warmth.

Just then, Katya stepped in, her presence as graceful as ever.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we will begin our descent into Teterboro shortly.”

Sally glanced at the clock.

Home was just moments away.

--

The rain was relentless, as if it had been following her across continents.

Teterboro was drenched, the tarmac gleaming under the gray sky as raindrops pattered rhythmically against the ground. Sally, already done with formality, pulled up her hoodie, shielding herself as she made a run for the waiting helicopter.

Her mother, in contrast, moved gracefully, walking in dignified fashion, an FBO attendant holding a large black umbrella over her as they made their way to the aircraft.

Sally reached the helicopter first, pulling herself in and settling into her seat, brushing some droplets from her hoodie. By the time Bridget stepped in and took her seat beside her, the pilot was already prepping for takeoff.

The helicopter shuddered slightly as it lifted from the ground, the familiar thrum of the rotors vibrating through the cabin. Rain streaked across the windows, blurring the view as they left New Jersey behind, heading toward Hartford.

Bridget glanced at her daughter, taking in the subtle signs of exhaustion—the slight droop of her eyelids, the way she leaned her head back just a little too much.

“It’s barely 4 PM,” Bridget observed. “You’re tired.”

Sally exhaled, shifting slightly. “It’s not terrible, but… yeah, I feel it.”

“Jet lag shouldn’t be too bad,” her mother mused. “But it’s still a long day, flying from Europe.”

Sally nodded absently, her gaze following the blurred landscape below. “I think I need some time in the studio.”

Bridget turned to look at her fully, her expression soft, knowing.

She reached out and squeezed Sally’s hand, saying nothing.

Sally looked away, her eyes fixed on the endless stretch of wet roads and indistinct patches of land, the rain streaming down the windows in thin, winding trails.

Bridget’s voice was gentle, but teasing. “Going for another masterpiece?”

Sally let out a small, tired laugh, shaking her head. “I think I lost count after my third ‘masterpiece’ attempt.”

Bridget smiled. “So you’re still trying?”

Sally sighed, shifting her grip on her Birkin bag, where her sketchbook was safely tucked inside.

“I brought some ideas with me,” she admitted.

Bridget gave her a knowing look but didn’t push.

Sally glanced back out the window.

There was a lot to think about. A lot to express.

And in the quiet solitude of her studio, she would finally have the space to vent it all out.

--

 

[erik_hamburg]

Wise choice, Sally. But every 2 weeks to Europe… that is quite some travelling. Maybe they extend it a bit, Friday-Monday. 

[FlyingFox]

5 hours ago, erik_hamburg said:

Wise choice, Sally. But every 2 weeks to Europe… that is quite some travelling. Maybe they extend it a bit, Friday-Monday. 

Yes, it will be intense. But summer holidays are almost here and the dynamic will probably be a bit different. 

[FlyingFox]

Three more chapters. I hope you enjoy it.

 

Chapter 83 – Back to Normal?

Sally finished buttoning her black jeans, smoothing them down before pulling on the soft yellow cashmere sweater she had bought in Rodeo Drive. The fabric was warm and comforting, perfect for the unexpected chill in the late-May air. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, giving a small nod of approval. Simple, comfortable, but put-together.

As she reached for her phone, the doorbell rang, a sharp chime breaking through the quiet hum of the house. Sally had barely slipped her phone into the pocket of her jeans when she heard it—the unmistakable shouts of excitement from the driveway, followed by the slam of a car door.

Katrina and Clara.

Sally grinned, already bracing herself for impact as she hurried toward the door.

Sally rushed toward the front door, already grinning, and the moment she pulled it open, a blur of curls and energy nearly tackled her.

“¡Por Dios, mujer! ¡Te extrañé demasiado!” Katrina practically screamed, pulling Sally into a dramatic, all-encompassing hug, rocking them both side to side.

Sally laughed breathlessly, hugging her back. “I missed you too, lunatic.”

“Hey, Clara,” Sally murmured. “I missed you.”

“I know,” Clara replied, her tone gently amused, as if she had always known.

Katrina made a dramatic huff, crossing her arms. “¡Basta ya! Clara gets a normal hug, and I get attacked with insults?”

Sally turned back to her with a smirk. “You literally almost tackled me to the ground.”

Katrina shrugged, unbothered. “I needed to assert my dominance.”

 

--

“Rodeo Drive.” Katrina started, pointing a dramatic finger at Sally, eyes sharp with intrigue. “Explain.”

Sally smirked, already knowing this was going to be an interrogation. “It was great. I bought this sweater there.” She stretched out the soft yellow cashmere, and Katrina reached out immediately, rubbing the fabric between her fingers with approval.

“Hombre, fancy.” Katrina narrowed her eyes playfully, then tilted her head, sensing something. “But… you don’t look like you’re bursting with Rodeo Drive pride.”

Clara, observant as ever, rested her chin in her hand. “You were uncomfortable, weren’t you?”

Sally hesitated, shifting slightly. “It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it. I mean, the stores were beautiful, and the clothes were amazing, but… it felt like another world. Like I was playing a role I wasn’t sure I belonged in.”

Katrina scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Sally, please. You could wear a trash bag and still look like you belong anywhere.”

Clara gave Katrina a look before turning back to Sally. “But you don’t feel like you belong.”

Sally exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “It’s weird. I used to think of shopping as… just shopping. Walking into a store, picking out something I liked, paying for it, and leaving. But this? This felt like an event. Like there were rules I didn’t know about. The people, the way they looked at me… like they were figuring me out.”

Clara nodded thoughtfully. “Because in their world, shopping isn’t just shopping. It’s an identity marker.”

Sally scoffed lightly. “Exactly. And I guess I don’t know what my ‘identity’ is in all of this yet.”

Katrina raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the couch. “So, what? You think you don’t belong in the land of designer bags and overpriced sweaters?”

Sally gave her a dry look. “I just spent two weeks flying on private jets and living on a yacht. What do you think?”

Clara smirked slightly. “You feel like a fraud.”

Sally sighed, sinking into the cushions. “I feel like an outsider.”

Katrina nudged her leg with her foot. “You’re not. You just think too much.”

Clara gave Sally a knowing look, her voice calm but firm. “You’re not an outsider, Sally. You just haven’t realized yet that this world belongs to you as much as it does to anyone else.”

Sally looked away, the weight of those words settling over her.

She wasn’t sure if she believed them yet. But a part of her wanted to.

Sally took a deep breath, setting her coffee cup down on the table, fingers lightly tracing the rim as she glanced at both Katrina and Clara, their usual playful banter momentarily fading into something more serious. There was a shift—a rare moment of real conversation, no teasing, no dramatics.

As she showed them pictures of the trip, inevitably they came to the Flying Fox.

Katrina’s eyes narrowed. “Hold on. That’s where Erika was.”

Sally immediately knew where this was going.

Katrina sat up, leaning way too close, eyes dangerously curious. “Tell me everything.”

Sally sighed, but her smile betrayed her.

She should have known Erika would come up sooner or later.

Sally barely had time to react before Katrina scooted closer, eyes sharp with curiosity, the competitive glint in them unmistakable. “So. Erika Ferrano.” She said the name like it was some kind of challenge, leaning in so intently that Sally had to lean back just to keep some breathing space.

Clara, far calmer but just as interested, rested her chin on her hand. “She looked stunning in the pictures.”

Sally exhaled, a small, almost shy smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Yeah… she did.”

Katrina huffed, crossing her arms. “Tell me. What’s so special about her?”

Sally arched an eyebrow. “What, you jealous?”

Katrina made a dramatic scoff, flipping her wild curls over her shoulder. “Me? Please.” But then she narrowed her eyes. “But just in case—yes. So tell me everything.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head, and leaned back into the couch, stretching her arms over the backrest. “Okay, so first of all, when I first saw Erika, she was in a dress.”

That made Katrina stop mid-breath, eyes widening slightly. “A what?”

Clara’s lips quirked slightly. “A dress.”

Sally nodded, smirking slightly at the memory. “Not just any dress. A party dress. And she was… well. Let’s just say she was not the tomboy everybody tells me she is.”

Katrina narrowed her eyes. “You’re telling me the girl with the shaved side, the pink hair streak, the whole ‘I’m too cool for this’ look was in a party dress?”

Sally shrugged. “And she owned it.”

Katrina looked like she was recalculating reality itself, while Clara simply nodded approvingly. “Good for her.”

Katrina, however, wasn’t done. “And the bikini? What was that about?”

Sally rolled her eyes, knowing Katrina was pushing now. “That was later. I offered her one of mine when we were in my cabin, and she just… changed into it right there.”

Clara lifted an eyebrow. “Bold.”

Katrina sat back with a groan, rubbing her temples. “Oh, Dios mío. I hate her already.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “There is literally nothing for you to be jealous about. You have Clara.”

Clara, ever the composed one, simply turned to Katrina and nodded in agreement. “That’s true. You do.”

Sally smirked at Katrina’s sudden softened expression, the way her bravado dimmed just slightly under Clara’s calm certainty.

“…Fine,” Katrina muttered, though her eyes still lingered on Sally suspiciously. “So. Tell me about the Ferrano family.”

Sally exhaled, rubbing the fabric of her cashmere sweater between her fingers. “Well, Erika’s father is basically a world-famous architect, and her mom is a designer. Big deal in Milan.”

Clara nodded thoughtfully. “That tracks. Ferrano sounds familiar in that space.”

Sally continued. “She has three older brothers, all adults, one married and living in LA. They pamper her like crazy.”

Katrina’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, so she’s the spoiled youngest child. Got it.”

Sally shrugged. “Not exactly. Her parents are… let’s say, very structured. Disciplined. She has freedom, but there are rules. Lots of them.”

Clara nodded in understanding. “That makes sense. When you grow up in a high-profile family, order is important.”

Sally sighed, rubbing her temples as she leaned into the couch. “Yeah. But the thing is… she’s still so different. I don’t know. She just—”

Katrina and Clara exchanged glances, both of them noticing the way Sally’s eyes had softened, the quiet way her voice lingered over Erika’s name.

Clara, ever the observer, simply stated, “You like her.”

Sally paused mid-thought, her lips parting slightly before she closed them again.

There was no use denying it.

“…Yeah,” she admitted softly, rubbing her thumb over her palm absentmindedly. “I think I do.”

Katrina exhaled dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. “Well. Guess I have to approve of her now.”

Sally snorted. “Oh, do you?”

Katrina wagged a finger at her. “Listen. You may have three mentors now, but I was here first. I have to vet the competition.”

Sally laughed, nudging her with her knee. “You’re ridiculous.”

Clara, as always, remained unfazed, simply extending her hand toward Katrina. “Phone.”

Katrina blinked. “Huh?”

Clara didn’t even look up. “I know you’re about to stalk her pictures. Just give me the phone, and I’ll find them faster.”

Katrina’s mouth dropped open in mock betrayal, but Sally burst into genuine laughter, shaking her head as Clara took full control of the situation.

“You two are insane.”

And yet, sitting here, wrapped in the comfort of their easy chaos, she had never felt more at home.

--

“So… there’s something I haven’t really told you yet,” Sally started, shifting in her seat, her voice quieter but weighted.

Clara, ever the keen observer, immediately straightened up, sensing the importance of what Sally was about to say. Katrina, usually the one to jump in with a joke, simply tilted her head, curiosity sparking in her deep brown eyes.

Sally exhaled, running a hand through her hair before continuing. “My dad wants to mentor me. Train me, really. In business, finance, investments—the whole thing.”

Katrina blinked. “Wait, what?”

Clara’s lips pressed together, considering the words. “That’s… a big deal.”

Sally nodded. “Yeah. And he wanted me to leave school for it.”

Katrina sat up straight, eyes widening in disbelief. “Excuse me?! Like, just pull you out? And what? Throw you into a boardroom?”

Sally let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Basically.”

Clara’s expression turned thoughtful. “But you’re still here. Which means… you didn’t let him.”

A flicker of pride crossed Sally’s face. “I didn’t. I stood my ground. I told him I wasn’t ready to leave school, that I wanted to graduate with you guys, to have a normal life for a little longer.” She leaned forward slightly, resting her arms on her knees. “We compromised. I agreed to start the mentorship now, but I’m staying in school. I’ll just be traveling to Zurich every other weekend.”

Katrina whistled, shaking her head in awe. “Damn, girl. You went toe-to-toe with Adrian Weiss and won.”

Sally smirked. “I wouldn’t say I won, exactly.”

Clara’s eyes glowed with quiet admiration. “You held your ground. That’s winning.”

Sally sighed, leaning back. “It’s not just my dad, though. He’s bringing in people to mentor me. You remember that guy from the yacht pictures? Otto?”

Katrina’s eyebrows shot up. “The serious-looking guy in the crisp suit? Yeah, I remember. He looked important.”

Clara nodded. “He had that presence. Like he was used to making things happen.”

Sally exhaled. “Yeah, well, he’s one of my mentors. He knows everything about finance, investments, and connections. Apparently, he was the one who helped my dad reconnect with my grandfather before he passed away. And my dad trusts him completely.”

Katrina let out a low hum. “That’s… intense.”

“And he selected Olivia too”, Sally added.

Clara tilted her head slightly. “And Olivia? She’s the one managing your trust, right?”

Sally nodded. “Yeah. She’s brilliant. Knows the ins and outs of everything when it comes to wealth and management. I’m supposed to learn from her, too.”

Katrina huffed, shaking her head. “Okay, I know you’re all serious about this, but damn, Sal. That’s a lot. You’re, what? Fifteen? And you already have more mentors than some CEOs.”

Sally chuckled, but there was something more weighted behind it. “Yeah. It’s overwhelming. But it also kind of makes sense? Like… I don’t know. Maybe I need to know this stuff. Maybe I need to be prepared.”

Clara’s eyes softened, her voice gentle but firm. “You don’t need to do anything just because someone else says so. You get to choose what kind of life you want, Sally. Remember that.”

Sally nodded slowly, digesting her words, letting them settle.

Katrina reached over, nudging Sally’s knee with hers. “And remember, no matter what, we’re here. So don’t go getting all fancy Zurich businesswoman on us and forgetting your humble volleyball roots.”

Sally laughed, relaxing a little. “I could never.”

Clara smirked. “Good. Because Katrina would absolutely show up to your board meetings just to cause chaos.”

Katrina grinned mischievously, throwing an arm around Sally’s shoulders. “Damn right. Someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

Sally sighed dramatically, but there was nothing but gratitude in her eyes.

She was stepping into something huge, something that still terrified her—but she wasn’t doing it alone.

--

Lunch time came and went, and so did Katrina and Clara. Sally was looking forward to Patricia’s calm and levelheaded presence.

The sound of a car on the driveway pulled Sally’s attention toward the window. Through the glass, she spotted Patricia’s convertible Mercedes, sleek and elegant, pulling up smoothly in front of the house. For a moment, Sally simply watched as her friend climbed out, moving with her usual calm confidence.

There was something different about Patricia compared to her other friends. Where Katrina was all fire and excitement, and Clara a steady, motherly force, Patricia felt like a breath of fresh air—wise, easygoing, but with a quiet depth that made Sally feel at ease.

Sally opened the door before Patricia even rang the bell.

“Finally!” Sally grinned, pulling her into a hug. “I wanted you here earlier!”

Patricia hugged her back, laughing softly. “I know, I know. But I was at church.”

Sally froze for a split second, pulling away to look at her, brows slightly raised. “Church?”

Patricia tilted her head, amused at Sally’s reaction. “Yeah, church. I go every Sunday, you know that.”

Sally hesitated, nodding slowly. “I mean… I knew your family went, but I didn’t think you—like—really cared about it.”

Patricia chuckled, stepping inside as Sally closed the door behind her. “I do, though. It’s important to me. You should come sometime.”

Sally blinked, caught off guard. “Me?”

Patricia shrugged casually. “Why not? You might enjoy it.”

Sally scratched the back of her head. “I’ve never been to church before.”

Patricia smiled, not judging, not pushing—just offering. “Well, if you ever want to, you’re always welcome.”

Sally nodded slowly, still processing, but grateful for the way Patricia made it sound so… normal, like, a cool place to be.

They made their way into the living room, where the late afternoon rainy scene filtered through the windows, casting soft light across the room. Patricia tossed her bag onto the table, stretching a little before flopping onto the couch.

Sally sat across from her, eyes flicking toward the Mercedes parked outside. “So… you got the convertible today.”

Patricia grinned. “Of course. Pity about the rain, though.”

Sally smirked. “I have a Mercedes too.”

Patricia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really?”

Sally chuckled. “Yeah, in Switzerland. I inherited it from my grandfather.”

Patricia leaned in, interested. “What model?”

Sally sighed dramatically. “A station wagon.”

Patricia burst into laughter, shaking her head. “Of course you would inherit a station wagon.”

“Hey!” Sally pointed at her, laughing. “It’s not just any station wagon. It has a V8, and apparently, as my dad says, it’s too fast for its own good.”

Patricia gave her an appraising look, amused. “A sleeper car. Nice. Bet it’s got that classic Benz interior.”

Sally nodded. “Deep brown leather. Feels like a time capsule.”

Patricia smiled, but then her expression turned a little more thoughtful. “So, tell me. What was it like? The whole trip? I don’t mean just the shopping and the yachts—I mean, really. What did it feel like?”

Sally exhaled, sinking into her seat. “It was… a lot.” She stared at the coffee table for a moment before meeting Patricia’s eyes. “Like stepping into a different version of myself. Or a version of my life I didn’t know I was supposed to be in.”

Patricia nodded slowly, her gaze understanding. “And how do you feel about that version?”

Sally hesitated. “I don’t know yet. I think I’m still figuring it out.”

Patricia smiled, satisfied with the honesty in Sally’s words. “That makes sense. It takes time. Just don’t lose sight of who you are in the process.”

Sally smirked lightly. “That’s what Clara said. And what my mom keeps saying.”

Patricia grinned. “Then you should probably listen. We’re all very wise.”

Patricia sat back, a knowing smile creeping across her face. She tapped her fingers against her knee in mock contemplation, then said casually, “You know, Charlie’s very interested in your helicopter rides.”

Sally, who had been mid-sip of her drink, nearly choked, coughing lightly before setting it down. “Oh, please. He just thinks helicopters are cool.”

Patricia’s smirk deepened. “Mmm-hmm. Right. Helicopters.”

Sally crossed her arms, pretending to be unaffected, but she could feel the warmth creeping up the back of her neck. “They are cool! He just wants to know what it was like. That’s all.”

Patricia chuckled but didn’t push further. Instead, she leaned in. “So? Tell me.”

Sally exhaled, grateful for the shift, though she knew Patricia wasn’t fooled in the slightest. She leaned back, letting herself get lost in the memory. “It was insane. I thought we’d be landing somewhere, that the yacht would be in a harbor or something. But no. It was just… in the middle of the sea. And we landed right on it.”

Patricia’s eyes widened. “You landed on the yacht... Like a freaking movie scene! Go, Sally!”

Sally nodded, grinning at the memory. “Pretty much. And flying over the Alps to get there? Unreal. We crossed through clouds, and then suddenly, the mountains were just there—huge, untouched, covered in snow, stretching forever. And then we just kept flying until suddenly, it was all ocean.”

Patricia let out a low whistle, shaking her head. “Okay, yeah. I totally get why Charlie—excuse me, I mean, why everyone would want to hear about this.”

Sally gave her a sharp look, but Patricia just winked. Sally sighed dramatically, shaking her head, but the truth was, she didn’t mind the teasing.

At least not too much.

Sally smirked. “I’ll send him some pictures.”

Patricia’s expression turned slightly mischievous, holding Sally’s phone and swiping through the pictures, her voice casual. “Speaking of pictures… who’s the blonde girl in the turquoise bikini?”

Sally stiffened slightly, then sighed, already knowing where this was going. “That’s Erika.”

Patricia’s smile was gentle, knowing. “Special friend?”

Sally hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. We’re… taking things slow. But yeah.”

Patricia studied her for a moment, then simply said, “Congratulations.”

Sally blinked, surprised. “For what?”

Patricia’s smile was soft, wise. “For feeling something. And for knowing it’s worth taking seriously.”

Sally stared at her for a moment, absorbing that.

Patricia leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “One step at a time, Sally. No rush, no pressure. Just… be present in it. See where it takes you.”

Sally swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. That’s what my mom says. And Erika feels the same way.”

Patricia’s eyes warmed with approval. “Then you’re already doing it right.”

Sally exhaled, feeling unexpectedly lighter.

Patricia always had a way of doing that—of making everything feel a little clearer, a little simpler.

And right now, that was exactly what she needed.

--

Monday morning, the familiar red SUV pulled into the drop-off lane, its engine humming softly as it rolled to a smooth stop. Sally exhaled, gripping the handle of her schoolbag before glancing over at her mother.

Bridget turned to her with a small smile. “Feels weird, doesn’t it?”

Sally smirked. “That obvious?”

Bridget chuckled. “You’ll get back into the rhythm. And hey, no more jet lag excuses.”

Sally rolled her eyes but grinned, unbuckling her seatbelt. “I missed taking the “wed” SUV to school. Thanks for the ride, Mom. See you later.”

--

She stepped out into the crisp morning air, feeling strange in her uniform after two weeks of wearing anything but. The tights were a good choice—the weather was still cool, a lingering reminder of the rainy weekend. She smoothed out her skirt, adjusted her blazer, and slung her bag over her shoulder as she spotted two very familiar figures waiting for her by the entrance. She felt like a real grown-up today, wearing real underwear.

Katrina and Clara.

“¡Mujer, al fin!” Katrina exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “Our missing soldier returns!”

Clara smirked beside her. “Welcome back to reality.”

Sally grinned, jogging up to them. “You guys act like I was gone for a year.”

“You might as well have been,” Katrina huffed, linking her arm through Sally’s dramatically. “We had to survive without you. Do you know how hard that was?”

Clara rolled her eyes. “She’s being dramatic. But it was weird without you.”

Sally smiled, feeling a warm sense of normalcy settle in as they walked into class together, classmates greeting her with nods, waves, and whispered curiosity.

Then—a knock on the door.

A teacher’s assistant poked her head in, eyes scanning the room before landing on Sally.

“Miss Weiss? The principal would like to see you in his office.”

The reaction was instant—a wave of exaggerated gasps, mock horror, and a few playful “RIP Sally” comments thrown around the room.

Katrina clutched her chest. “Noooo, they finally caught you! I told you to hide the evidence!”

Sally groaned, rolling her eyes, but deep down, she felt a flicker of unease. She had no idea what this was about.

“Relax, it’s probably nothing,” she muttered, grabbing her things. “I hope.”

Clara gave her a reassuring nod. “If they expel you, we riot.”

Sally snorted before making her way out of the classroom, leaving behind the buzzing whispers of her classmates.

--

The Principal’s assistant waved her right in, and Sally hesitated when she spotted Mr. McNair, the principal, and Mr. Harper, her class tutor, waiting inside.

Mr. Harper turned, smiling.

The principal gestured to the plush leather chair across from them. “Come in, Sally. Have a seat.”

Sally nodded, sitting down, still feeling unsure about why she was here.

“We just wanted to commend you,” Mr. McNair started. “Your work while you were away, was exemplary. We were very pleased to see how well you handled your assignments.”

Mr. Harper smiled stiffly. “Exceeding expectations, really.”

Sally let out a small breath, relief washing over her. “Oh. Well… I’m glad.”

Mr. McNair nodded. “When your father first requested these extended absences, we were hesitant. But given your academic standing, we allowed it—conditionally. You’ve proven you can handle the responsibility.”

Sally straightened slightly, pleased but also taken aback. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

The principal exchanged a glance with Mr. Harper before continuing. “Your father has asked if this arrangement can be repeated next year. Given your performance, we’ve agreed—so long as your standards remain just as high.”

Sally blinked. “Oh.” She hadn’t expected that. So, this was going to be her life now.

“Of course, exams and final projects come first,” Mr. Harper added. “But we have no concerns about your commitment. Congratulations, Sally. Keep it up.”

Sally smiled, feeling a quiet sense of pride settle in. “I will. Thank you.”

As she stepped out of the office, Mr. Harper walked with her toward class.

“You won’t miss much, don’t worry. They’re covering the Triple Bottom Line today.” He smirked slightly, glancing at her. “A topic I hear you handled exceptionally well in your essay.”

Sally chuckled. “Well, I had some time to think about sustainability while on a yacht.”

He laughed lightly. “Indeed. Now, let’s get you back before Katrina starts another scene.”

Sally stopped walking, hesitating for a moment before turning to Mr. Harper, her expression unreadable.

“Did you tell anyone?” she asked.

Mr. Harper raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting the question. “Tell anyone what?”

Sally exhaled, shifting her bag slightly on her shoulder. “That my first submissions weren’t good enough. That you said they weren’t acceptable.”

For a second, Mr. Harper simply studied her, then a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“No, Sally. I didn’t tell anyone.”

She searched his face, looking for any hint of amusement or condescension, but found none. “That explains it”, she mumbled.

Mr. Harper adjusted the stack of papers in his hand. “After your comeback, I erased any trace of your first submissions. They don’t exist. What exists is the work you turned in after, the work that proved you deserved to be exactly where you are.” He gave a small nod of approval. “You earned this, Sally. You worked hard, and I was proud to keep silent about it.”

Sally felt a warmth spread through her chest, a mix of relief and quiet pride.

He continued, his tone more measured now. “But I do expect something from you. You don’t lower your standard, not now. Not ever.”

Sally smirked, nodding as she resumed her walk. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

--

The moment Sally walked back in, Katrina shot up dramatically.

“SHE RETURNS! WHAT WAS THE VERDICT?!”

Sally groaned, heading to her seat. “Relax, nothing’s wrong.”

Clara smirked. “Disappointing.”

Sally settled in her chair. “They just wanted to talk about my trip and how I handled my homework, and stuff.”

Katrina gasped, clutching her chest. “And?”

Sally shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m not getting expelled.”

The teacher clapped his hands. “Alright, enough dramatics. Let’s focus.”

Sally grinned, feeling relaxed for the first time all morning.

--

After the morning period ended, Charlie approached her.

He held his phone up, looking a little nervous, a little amused. “Uh… Sally. Look at this.”

She frowned, taking the phone.

Her eyes widened.

It was a car spotters’ forum online. And there, in full high-quality shots, was her father’s black Ferrari F-40—driving through Zurich, with her in the passenger seat.

 

The caption read:

 

“Ultra-rare factory black 1989 Ferrari F40—Billionaire Adrian Weiss out on the streets with an unknown passenger.”

 

Some of the comments stood out:

 

“That’s a one-of-one factory black F40. Incredible that it’s actually being driven.”

“Weiss finally takes it out?? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Who’s the girl? Ferrari-chick?”

 

Charlie looked a bit awkward, but proud. “You, uh… kinda went viral again, Gulfstream Sally. Private jets and Ferraris!”

Sally stared at the screen, stunned. She let out a slow breath, then laughed lightly, shaking her head. “Well… that’s new. Thanks Charlie”

Charlie beamed.

--

Lunch felt familiar, comfortable, even with Katrina’s dramatic wailing.

“It’s an outrage! You should be playing in the final games!” Katrina moaned, stabbing her fork into her salad.

Sally smirked. “I missed practice. It makes sense.”

Katrina pouted. “At least you’ll still train with me.”

Sally nodded, taking a sip of water. “Of course. Someone has to keep you from getting lazy.”

Katrina gasped. “Cómo te atreves!”

Clara rolled her eyes, eating calmly. “You walked right into that one.”

Sally chuckled, glancing around the busy cafeteria, feeling the weight of the day settle into something familiar.

Katrina smiled slyly. “I look forward to seeing your beautiful body in the showers, mi amor.”

Sally rolled her eyes. She was back. And for now—that was enough.

--

Tuesday morning. Sally stirred awake, her body curled into a warm cocoon, though the cool morning air slipping under the covers made her shiver. At some point in the night, her blankets had fallen off, and she sighed in relief, grateful she had chosen her warm pajamas. Her diaper was wet – she remembered clearly wetting it sometime in the night – and released her leftover morning bladder, comfortably warming her diaper.

She hugged herself for a moment, considering whether she should go back to wearing her footed onesie for nights like these. Not a bad idea. Her footed pajamas and diaper made for an excellent combination, but only when it was cold.

Dragging herself out of bed, she shuffled to the bathroom, splashed her face with cold water, brushed her teeth, and lazily combed through her messy dark hair before heading downstairs, still in her pajamas. Her diaper could wait.

The kitchen smelled of toast and green tea, though the usual scent of coffee was missing. Sally blinked sleepily as she slid into her usual seat at the table, watching as her mother sat with a mug of tea, rubbing her stomach absentmindedly.

Bridget glanced at her daughter with a small knowing smirk. “You wouldn’t be caught dead having breakfast in pajamas and a wet diaper back in Zurich”, she said as she surveyed Sally waddling in.

Sally yawned, stretching as she grabbed a piece of toast. “That’s different. In Zurich, I had a housecoat. That makes it socially acceptable.”

Bridget huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. “Ah, of course. The housecoat loophole.”

Sally grinned sleepily, taking a bite of toast, before her eyes flicked to the green tea in her mother’s hands. “No coffee today?”

Bridget made a face, pressing a hand lightly to her stomach. “I overdid it last night. That pasta was amazing, but apparently, my stomach wasn’t ready for that level of indulgence.”

Sally smirked. “You mean, you ate too much.”

Bridget gave her a pointed look. “You could say that, or you could say I enjoyed myself.”

Sally chuckled, finishing off her toast, feeling a quiet warmth settle between them. These moments were different from Zurich—quieter, cozier, normal.

Bridget checked the time and sighed, setting her mug down. “I have a meeting downtown. I should get going soon. But you—upstairs. Diaper off. School uniform. Theresa will be here soon.”

Sally groaned dramatically, slouching in her chair. “Do I have to? I’m very comfortable like this.”

Bridget tilted her head. “You could go to school in your pajamas, but I’m sure Katrina would make it a whole thing. Especially about that diaper”

Sally sighed theatrically. “You make a fair point.”

With a final sip of juice, she pushed herself up from the table, stretching one last time before dragging her feet upstairs.

Back to reality.

--

Sally stepped out of the house, pulling her blazer tighter against the morning chill, and spotted Theresa waiting for her in the silver Mercedes SUV at the edge of the driveway. She slid into the passenger seat, letting her school bag rest on the floor, and clicked on her seatbelt as Theresa pulled away smoothly.

Theresa glanced at her with an expectant smirk. “Alright, boss. Back to reality. Sleep well?”

Sally rolled her eyes at the title but smirked. “Like a rock. I think jet lag finally gave up on me.”

She glanced around the car interior, familiar, but something felt slightly underwhelming. She sighed, then shrugged.

“I think I prefer the Range Rover in Zurich.”

Theresa raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely interested. “Want me to swap this one out for a Range?”

Sally blinked at her. “What?”

Theresa shrugged. “I mean, this car is on a monthly rental. If you want something more comfortable and permanent, I can make it happen.”

Sally stared at her. Was she serious? Trading in a perfectly fine car just because she liked something else better? It felt like… overkill.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll think about it.”

Theresa nodded, eyes on the road, completely unfazed. “Sure. It’s up to you. Just know that I’ll take care of it the second you decide. We could go to the dealership, and you can choose anything you like.”

Sally swallowed. There it was again—that feeling of stepping into a life where choices like these were effortless, where deciding on a luxury car was as simple as picking out a new sweater. It still made her uneasy.

She shifted the subject. “How was your trip?”

Theresa chuckled. “Uneventful. Caught up on sleep. Finished a book. Got my share of premium airport coffee.”

Sally smirked. “And how was flying commercial?”

Theresa gave her a pointed look, knowing exactly where this was going. “Flying commercial is fine. You used to fly economy, remember?”

Sally lifted a finger. “Economy plus.”

Theresa rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Anyway, I was in Swiss First. So yeah, sure, I mingled with mere mortals, but I was treated like a queen.”

Sally laughed. “That good?”

Theresa listed it off dramatically. “First-class lounge in Zurich? Divine. Seat on the A330? A private little world. The food? I had filet mignon at 39,000 feet. Well, I didn’t count the feet, but, hey.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, impressed. “I’ve never flown first class before.”

Theresa gave her a knowing smirk. “You only fly private now, princesa. But give it time. With your new travel schedule, it’ll probably happen sooner or later—just out of convenience.”

Sally winked. “I’ll survive.”

As Theresa pulled up to the school entrance, she glanced at Sally and smirked. “Have fun in normal-people land. Try not to cause too much drama.”

Sally snorted as she grabbed her bag. “That’s usually Katrina’s job.”

Theresa smirked. “Then you better keep her in check.”

--

Sally slid into her seat just as the first period began, pulling out her notebook and pen, determined to ease back into her normal school rhythm. But as the lesson unfolded, she quickly realized something strange.

Most of the material? She already knew it.

Thanks to her research for the essays last week, she had absorbed far more than just the assigned topics. She wasn’t just keeping up—she was ahead.

At the front of the classroom, Mr. Wilcox, their science teacher, paced with his usual animated enthusiasm, gesturing toward the whiteboard.

“Alright, class,” he said, underlining a key equation. “We’ve talked about Newton’s Laws. Now, let’s move forward. Who can tell me how Einstein’s laws of thermodynamics differ?”

Silence.

A few students shifted uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact. The room remained still.

Mr. Wilcox’s eyebrows lifted expectantly. “No one?” He turned dramatically. “Come on, people! This is fundamental physics. Give me something.”

From her seat, Katrina slouched, barely suppressing a yawn, while Clara, beside her, twirled a pen between her fingers, clearly knowing but hesitant to answer.

Sally hesitated. She knew the answer—all of it, actually—but she didn’t want to be that student who jumped in too quickly.

Mr. Wilcox sighed, crossing his arms. “Alright, let’s break it down. First law—what does it state? Anyone?”

Still, nothing.

“Alright. Let’s try this. What is energy conservation?”

Sally bit her lip, waiting a second longer, but when no one answered, she finally spoke.

“Energy cannot be created or destroyed—only transferred or transformed.”

Mr. Wilcox snapped his fingers, pointing at her. “Bingo! Yes! The total energy in a closed system remains constant. Good.”

Sally nodded, feeling a small rush of confidence.

“Now,” he continued, leaning against his desk, “we move on to the Second Law. Which tells us what?”

Sally barely hesitated this time. “Entropy always increases in an isolated system.”

Mr. Wilcox’s eyes lit up. “Yes! The measure of disorder always grows! And this is why—” He pointed back at the board.

At this point, a few classmates had started glancing at Sally, half-impressed, half-annoyed.

Katrina, leaning over slightly, muttered under her breath. “Who are you, and what did you do with Sally?”

Sally smirked, keeping her voice low. “I’m reading Einstein’s biography.”

Clara perked up instantly, her interest piqued. “Seriously? That’s amazing.”

Katrina groaned, throwing her head back dramatically. “Ugh. Nerds. Nerds everywhere.”

Sally grinned, but kept her focus on Mr. Wilcox, who was now happily rambling about entropy and the arrow of time.

She had to admit—it felt good. Not just knowing the answers, but actually understanding them, engaging with them.

For the first time in a long while, she felt like she wasn’t just keeping up—she was ahead.

--

Lunch was as lively as ever, the usual mix of chatter, teasing banter, and mid-bite complaints about classes. Sally sat with Katrina, Clara, Patricia, and a few volleyball teammates, enjoying the familiar rhythm of school life.

Just as she was reaching for her drink, Patricia nudged her elbow, placing a slim envelope in front of her.

Sally blinked at it, then at Patricia, puzzled. “What’s this?”

Patricia smirked, her voice light but knowing. “A special delivery. From Charlie.”

Sally’s brows lifted slightly, glancing toward the other end of the cafeteria, where Charlie was sitting with his friends, clearly not looking in her direction.

“Charlie?” she asked, feeling an odd flutter in her stomach.

Patricia nodded, leaning back with an amused expression. “He wanted you to have this. But, you know, actually handing it to you himself? Too much pressure.”

Katrina perked up instantly, already intrigued. “Ooooh, what is it? A love letter? A secret invitation to elope?”

Clara rolled her eyes, but Sally ignored them both, carefully opening the envelope.

Inside was a printed photograph.

She pulled it out—and froze.

It was a perfect shot. The black Ferrari F-40, gleaming in the Zurich streets, her father at the wheel, and herself in the passenger seat, sunglasses on, the very picture of effortless cool.

The girls leaned in immediately, eyes wide.

“Oh my god.” Katrina snatched it before Sally could react, holding it up to the light. “Sally, you look like a total badass.”

Patricia tilted her head, clearly impressed. “Yeah, the internet agrees. You’re officially Ferrari Girl.”

Sally groaned, rubbing her temples. “Please no. Gulfstream Sally was bad enough.”

Clara, who had been quietly analyzing the photo, smirked. “And now we upgrade. International jetsetter and Ferrari passenger. Quite the résumé.”

Sally sighed, shaking her head, but she couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips.

She glanced across the cafeteria, her eyes landing on Charlie. He was deep in conversation with his friends, but she noticed him stealing a quick glance toward their table, as if checking to see her reaction.

Sally, feeling oddly warm at the gesture, lifted a hand and waved in thanks.

Charlie paused for half a second, then waved back, smiling shyly before turning back to his friends.

Katrina wiggled her eyebrows. “Adorable.” Clara smiled, warmly as she squeezed Katrina’s hand.

Sally rolled her eyes, but her cheeks felt suspiciously warm.

--

The afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows over the field as Sally and the rest of the volleyball team lined up at the starting mark. The air was crisp, fresh from the weekend’s rain, but that didn’t stop the warmth of exertion from creeping up their backs as the first whistle blew.

Sally walked onto the field, where Coach Reynolds stood with her arms crossed.

“Are you ready to work?” she asked.

Sally nodded. “Absolutely. I want to train as hard as if I were playing next week.”

The coach raised an eyebrow, skeptical.

Nobody knew how much she had been running and training privately, so she didn’t expect anyone to think she could keep up.

She kept it simple. “I just don’t want to slack off.”

The coach nodded. “Good. Show me what you’ve got.”

The training session was brutal

“Three laps, go!” Coach Reynolds barked.

Sally took off at a steady pace, her breath rhythmic, arms pumping as she kept herself controlled. She could already hear the quick shuffle of feet, the rhythmic pounding of sneakers hitting the track.

Katrina, normally the loudest in the group, was already too focused to talk, her breathing labored but determined. Felicity, one of their strongest outside hitters, kept pace just ahead of Sally, her ponytail whipping side to side with each step.

By the second lap, sweat was starting to bead on Sally’s forehead. The pack had begun to spread out, with the fastest runners pushing ahead while the rest lagged behind, breath ragged. Katrina was a few steps behind Sally, her usual cocky grin absent, replaced with gritted teeth and a deep focus.

The third lap was the hardest. Lungs burning, legs aching, Sally pushed through, forcing herself to keep up her stride, keep moving, keep pushing.

As she crossed the finish, she exhaled sharply, bending over slightly, hands on her knees. Around her, the girls were gasping for breath, some stretching their legs, others collapsing onto the grass for a brief moment of recovery.

“Water break’s over in one minute! Get ready for passing drills!” Coach called.

There was a collective groan, but no one dared complain too loudly.

The team split into pairs for passing drills, a rhythmic back-and-forth of controlled forearm passes. Sally squared her stance, knees bent, arms forming a solid platform as she absorbed each impact, sending the ball cleanly back to Katrina.

The slap of the ball against skin echoed across the court.

“Faster! Keep it clean! No sloppy passes!” Coach called out, pacing behind them.

Sally and Katrina quickened their pace, the ball moving like a metronome between them, the steady thud-thud-thud filling the air. Her arms stung from the repeated impact, but she kept going.

Katrina’s breathing was still heavy from the run, but she was too focused to tease or complain. She gritted her teeth as she dug a difficult pass, sending the ball just within Sally’s reach. Sally lunged slightly, adjusting her stance, meeting it with control, sending it back perfectly.

“Nice work, Weiss!” Coach called out, passing by, nodding approvingly.

Next, it was time for quick sprints and reaction drills.

The girls lined up at the net, eyes locked on Coach Reynolds and her clipboard.

“On my whistle! Move!”

The shrill blast sent Sally into motion. She sprinted toward the back line, then forward again, dropping into a low defensive stance before pushing off and racing sideways toward the opposite side.

Back. Forward. Side to side. Drop low. React fast.

Her legs burned, her breath came in short bursts, but she forced herself to keep pace. Sweat dripped down her back, dampening her jersey as she darted back and forth, keeping her body low and ready, her mind focused.

Katrina, usually known for bragging in between drills, was silent, laser-focused, her face flushed with effort as she kept pushing forward, breath ragged.

“You stop moving, you’re off the court! Stay light, stay ready!” Coach’s voice rang out.

By the end of the sprint sets, Sally’s shirt was sticking to her skin, her calves aching, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

Then came the spiking drills.

One by one, the girls stepped up to the net, taking turns receiving a perfectly set ball and driving it hard into the other side of the court.

Sally wiped the sweat from her forehead, squared her shoulders, and stepped up to take her turn.

Katrina, setting the ball, gave her a tired but determined look. “Alright, Weiss. Show me what you got.”

Sally inhaled deeply, watching the ball as Katrina launched it up in a perfect arc.

She jumped, twisting her body, arm swinging forward with precision and power. Her hand made contact with the ball, a solid, resounding thwack echoing across the court as it slammed onto the floor on the opposite side.

“YES!” Katrina pumped her fist, still out of breath. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Sally grinned, chest heaving, her muscles screaming at her, but the rush of accomplishment made it worth it.

The girls rotated through, drill after drill, the rhythm becoming automatic, instinctual.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Coach Reynolds blew the whistle, signaling the end of training.

“Good session today, ladies. Ice baths if you’re sore, see you at practice tomorrow.”

Sally let out a long breath, rolling her shoulders as she trudged toward the locker room with the others. The girls were already getting undressed for the showers.

Katrina, barely able to stand upright, groaned. “I swear, I lost five years of my life today.”

Sally smirked, peeling off her damp shirt. “You’ll thank me later.”

Katrina shot her a half-hearted glare as she yanked off her knee pads. “I will never thank you. Ever.” 

Darrel, having barely broken a sweat, chuckled. “You two are ridiculous.”

The warm water from the showers was a blessing, easing the stiffness already creeping into Sally’s legs.

Katrina slowly returned to being herself. Shower time was her favorite time as she got to shower next to Sally. 

Sally leaned against the tile wall, letting the water run down her sore shoulders, a small, satisfied smirk on her lips.

“Vamos Sally, ayúdame!”, said Katrina, handing her the soap and turning her back to her. Sally nodded patiently as she helped a playful Katrina wash her back. 

She pushed herself today—and she had kept up.

Tomorrow? She’d do even better.

--

Sally sat at her desk, hunched slightly forward, her pen tapping absently against her open notebook as she stared at the page in front of her. The glow of her desk lamp cast a warm circle of light, illuminating the scattered notes, textbooks, and highlighters surrounding her. Her laptop sat in the background, its screen open to a study guide, while she flipped through her science textbook, scribbling important formulas and concepts onto her review sheet.

Final term exams were next week, and even though she was ahead in most subjects, she still wanted to go over everything thoroughly. Her physics notes were precise, her handwriting neat but slightly rushed, as she underlined key points on thermodynamics, a concept she had practically taught half the class earlier that day.

A soft knock on the door pulled her from her concentration, followed by the familiar creak of the hinges.

“Still at it?” her mother’s voice came from the doorway.

Sally sighed, putting her pen down and stretching her arms above her head, rolling her stiff shoulders. “Yeah. Just making sure everything’s fresh.”

Bridget stepped inside, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I was going to say it’s getting late, but I can see you’re deep in your academic empire.”

Sally smirked. “Final exams, Mom. I can’t slack off now.”

Bridget stepped closer, glancing over Sally’s notes. “I don’t think anyone’s accusing you of slacking. You’ve practically turned this desk into mission control.” She pointed at the towering stack of books. “You even brought Einstein along for the ride?”

Sally followed her mother’s gaze and grinned, tapping the thick Einstein biography sitting beside her. “Light bedtime reading.”

Bridget raised an eyebrow. “Of course. Because nothing says relaxation like the theory of relativity.”

Sally chuckled, closing her notebook with a soft thud, rubbing her eyes.

“Come on,” Bridget coaxed gently. “You’ve done enough for tonight. Get into your pajamas and come to the living room.”

Sally hesitated. “I really should—”

Bridget held up a hand. “Nope. No arguing. You’ve trained, you’ve studied, and if you don’t relax, you’ll fry your brain before the exams even start.”

Sally sighed dramatically but smiled, knowing her mother was right. “Alright, alright. Give me five minutes.”

Bridget nodded approvingly. “Good choice. Want to watch a movie?”

Sally shook her head, patting the Einstein book. “I think I’ll do some reading instead.”

Bridget smirked. “Of course. But if you start seeing equations in your dreams, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that, she headed out, leaving Sally to stretch one last time before closing her laptop and setting her notes aside.

She pulled off her sweatpants and sweater, and reached for her diaper. At second thought, she added a booster to her diaper. It felt great having that extra bulk, she admitted to herself, and her recent travels had prevented her this pleasure.

Clad in her thick diaper, she hesitated as she reached for her pajamas. She remembered her footed pajamas, tucked away in her closet. Now would be a great time to take advantage of the cozy garment, with this leftover cold weather. Plus, her bulky diaper could use some extra support. 

Sally fished out the bright blue footed pajamas with yellow stars and slid her foot in. Cozy, fuzzy, warm. As she slid into it, she could feel her soul sooth to a calm, and zipping the pajama up, well, it basically locked all her worries away.

A few minutes later, Sally emerged from her room wrapped in her favorite footed pajamas, the soft fabric hugging her comfortably as she padded into the living room. The air in the house felt cooler than usual, and she was instantly glad she had chosen the coziest option.

Bridget, already curled up on the couch with a blanket, looked up as Sally approached and smiled warmly.

“Ah, the legendary onesie makes its grand return,” she mused, sipping from a steaming mug of tea. “I was beginning to think you had outgrown it.”

Sally grinned, tugging at the sleeve playfully. “Not a chance. It’s freezing tonight. Practicality over style.”

Bridget chuckled. “I don’t know, I think you’re making quite the fashion statement.”

Sally rolled her eyes with amusement but didn’t argue as she climbed onto the couch, curling up next to her mother. Her mother rested her arm on her body and patted her diapered bottom. The extra padding was obvious to Bridget. 

Bridget had a nature documentary playing softly on the TV, the soothing voice of the narrator describing the vast migration of arctic wolves across a frozen landscape.

Sally settled in, flipping open her Einstein biography, its thick pages cool under her fingertips. She found her place, her eyes following the text as she slowly sank into the world of physics and genius, the sound of distant wildlife on the screen blending into the background.

Bridget glanced over at her, a quiet smile tugging at her lips.

“Only my daughter would find theoretical physics the perfect way to wind down.”

Sally smirked, not looking up. “Hey, someone’s got to do it.”

Bridget chuckled softly but said nothing more, letting the warmth of the moment settle between them.

For now, there was no rush, no pressure, no expectations—just the quiet comfort of home, shared in the simplest of ways. Tuesday evening ended with a heartwarming touch.

 

Chapter 84 – Under Pressure

Sally had gone to bed in a wet diaper. She hadn’t bothered to change it, since the booster gave her plenty of comfort margin to allow her laziness. Not to mention that the thick diaper under her footed pajamas was super comfortable. She wet it some more during the night, and she procrastinated getting out of her sleep attire, even after breakfast. 

Breakfast had been a quick affair, as her mom was still complaining about uneasy stomach, and only had some green tea. That made her frown a bit.

Sally checked her email before getting dressed, her fingers idly scrolling through notifications until one subject line made her pause.

“Fundraiser Speech – Next Steps”

Her stomach dipped slightly as she opened it.

It was from Fiona, with Janet CC’d—the fundraiser organizers she had met in Beverly Hills. Sally scanned the email quickly.

 

Dear Sally,

We’re excited to have you as part of this event! As we begin preparations, we wanted to touch base regarding your speech. Since you’ll be representing the younger generation and speaking on behalf of the cause, we’d love to receive an early draft in the coming weeks to shape the program accordingly.

No rush, and we’re happy to offer ideas or guidance! Let us know how we can help. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts.

Best, Fiona

 

Sally stared at the screen, her mind suddenly blank.

A speech? Already?

She knew she had agreed to do this, but somehow, it hadn’t quite clicked that she would actually have to write and deliver a speech. In front of a crowd. In Beverly Hills.

Her heart picked up speed. She suddenly felt immature sitting there in a soggy diaper and footed pajamas. 

She had no idea how to write a speech. No idea where to even start.

For a few seconds, panic bubbled up, but then a thought grounded her.

Theresa.

Sally had become more and more comfortable relying on her, not just for logistics but for solving problems. Not necessarily problems, but the kind of things she just didn’t know how to handle yet.

Sally got up and zipped her pajama down, gingerly stepping out of it and waddling to the bathroom. She needed to get ready for school.

--

So, as Theresa drove her to school, Sally gathered her thoughts and spoke up.

“Hey, Tess?”

Theresa, eyes on the road, hummed in acknowledgment.

Sally hesitated for only a second. “I need help with something. That fundraiser speech? I just got an email about it. And—I don’t know how to do this.”

Theresa glanced at her briefly before focusing back on the road. Her expression didn’t change, no panic, no concern. Just calm professionalism, as always.

“Alright. We’ll sit down after school and work through this. We’ll make a plan, and by the end of today, you’ll know exactly what to do.”

Sally exhaled, her shoulders relaxing slightly. That was why she turned to Theresa. The way she could take something overwhelming and make it manageable.

“Thanks, Tess.”

Theresa smirked. “What else am I here for? Besides driving you to school in a car you don’t really like.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. She felt better already.

--

After school, Theresa drove Sally home so she could change out of her school uniform. She decided regular jeans and a cashmere sweater would do the work. Casual, but professional. She made a side-glance toward her Ninjama package, visible in the closet, but shook her head, gearing up for a session that would demand her grown-up side.

Then they made their way downtown to Theresa’s office—a sleek, simple yet professional space she rented in a business sector.

“This is where I work during the day,” Theresa explained as they entered. “It’s nothing fancy, but it keeps me connected to Adrian’s team. It also gives me a place to actually get things done without distractions.”

The office was neat and well-organized, with a small meeting room and a TV with a camera setup for online calls. It was a world away from Sally’s school life—a glimpse into the kind of environment she would someday have to navigate herself.

Theresa reached into a mini-bar and fished out a sparkling water for Sally and set a glass next to it. She then powered on the large screen and pulled up a video call.

“I’m going to introduce you to Priya Nair,” she said. “She’s based in Zurich, works in our PR department, and specializes in communication for business matters. She’s going to be your right hand for this project.”

Sally’s brows lifted. “Wait—I have a PR person now?”

Theresa smirked. “You have a lot of things now, kid. Welcome to the family business.”

The call connected, and Priya appeared on the screen—a young woman with deep brown eyes, dark wavy hair neatly pulled back, and a friendly yet professional expression.

“Miss Weiss!” Priya greeted with a warm smile and a smooth Indian accent. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m really looking forward to working together.”

Sally straightened slightly, suddenly aware that this was real. “Same here. And, uh, just Sally is fine.”

Priya chuckled. “Good. And you can call me Priya. Now, let’s talk about this speech of yours.”

Sally’s stomach tensed, but Priya’s confidence made her relax.

“First things first, you don’t have to do this alone,” Priya reassured her. “I’ll be helping with research, outlines, and anything else you need. Everything—except actually doing your homework, of course.”

Sally feigned disappointment, leaning back dramatically. “Well, there go my plans.”

Priya laughed, shaking her head. “Nice try. But, if you ever need research help, I’m happy to guide you. Just… not your actual performance.”

Sally smirked, appreciating Priya’s humor.

Priya leaned forward slightly, her expression reassuring. “First things first, Sally, you’re not doing this alone. We’re going to break it down step by step.”

Sally exhaled, nodding. “That would be helpful, because right now? I have no idea where to even begin.”

Priya chuckled. “That’s exactly why I’m here, Miss Weiss. So, here’s the plan.” She lifted a finger. “One: I’m going to send you some video links on public speaking. They’ll help you get comfortable with delivery, presence, and—most importantly—confidence.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Is there a ‘How to Not Look Like a Total Disaster’ video? Because that’s what I need.”

Priya laughed. “Miss Weiss, if there isn’t, I’ll make you one myself. But trust me, even the best speakers start somewhere.”

She tapped her pen against her notepad, then continued. “Two: I’ll prepare a rough outline of a speech. It won’t be your final version, but it’ll give us something to build on. That way, you won’t be staring at a blank page wondering where to start.”

Sally perked up slightly. “Okay, yeah. That actually sounds… doable.”

“Exactly,” Priya said, flashing an encouraging smile. “And three: we’ll have weekly check-ins. Think of them as progress reports, except way less stressful. We’ll tweak things as we go, so you won’t feel like you’re scrambling at the last minute.”

Sally let out a slow breath, rolling her shoulders. “Alright. I can work with that.”

Priya grinned. “That’s the spirit, Miss Weiss. By the time we’re done, you’ll be a pro.”

Sally gave a skeptical laugh. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Hey,” Priya said, pointing at her playfully, “doubt is the enemy. We got this.”

And for the first time since reading that email, Sally actually believed it.

--

As the meeting wrapped up, Priya closed her notes and stretched slightly, rolling her shoulders. Sally noticed the time on the bottom of the screen—5:00 PM in Hartford.

Casually, she asked, “So, where exactly are you right now?”

Priya smiled. “Zurich. I’m actually at the Weiss offices as we speak.”

Sally blinked, sitting up a little. “Wait, you’re still at work? What time is it over there?”

Priya glanced at the clock on her wall. “Just past eleven.”

Sally’s eyes widened. “It’s almost midnight, and you’re still working?”

Priya shrugged with an easygoing smile. “It happens sometimes. Time zones aren’t always our best friends.”

Theresa nodded knowingly, leaning back in her chair. “Welcome to the world of international business, kid. Get used to odd hours.”

Sally frowned slightly, feeling a twinge of guilt. “Still, I don’t want you staying up late just because of me. We’ll set up times that work for both of us. I mean it—I don’t want you going out of your way.”

Priya smiled warmly, appreciating the sentiment. “That’s very thoughtful, Sally. We’ll figure out a schedule that makes sense. Don’t worry—I’m not pulling all-nighters just yet.”

Sally relaxed, nodding. “Good. Because if you do, I’ll have to start setting alarm clocks just to match your hours.”

Priya chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Theresa smirked, closing her laptop. “Alright, before we turn this into a late-night coffee club, let’s call it a day. Sally, you’ve got enough to think about for now.”

Sally exhaled, feeling lighter than before. “Yeah, I think I do.”

And with that, the meeting ended—leaving Sally feeling less overwhelmed, more prepared, and, for the first time, genuinely excited about what lay ahead.

--

As Theresa pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward home, Sally leaned back in her seat, mentally replaying the meeting with Priya. The conversation had left her relieved yet aware that this fundraiser speech was very real, and it was only the first of many responsibilities coming her way. The fact that Pryia insisted on calling her Miss Weiss still seemed unreal to her.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Theresa suddenly flipped on her turn signal and veered into a lot lined with gleaming luxury SUVs.

Sally sat up, instantly suspicious. “Tess. What are we doing?”

Theresa didn’t answer right away, smoothly maneuvering into a parking space before finally turning to her with a casual smirk. “Oh, you know. Just thought we’d make a quick stop.”

Sally’s eyes narrowed. “A quick stop… at a Land Rover dealership?” She sighed heavily, her arms crossed as Theresa parked smoothly near the entrance. “Tess, seriously? You planned this?”

Theresa, completely unfazed, unbuckled her seatbelt. “Come on, it’s just a look. No one’s forcing you to buy anything.”

Sally muttered something under her breath, but she knew there was no escaping this now. With reluctance, she climbed out of the car, following Theresa toward the brightly lit showroom.

Inside, the space was massive, the floor polished to a mirror-like shine. The overhead lights reflected off the sleek bodies of several Range Rovers, their deep, glossy colors making them stand like luxury sculptures in the vast open space.

A well-dressed salesman, Daniel, was already waiting for them, his professional yet friendly smile in place. He greeted Theresa first, then turned to Sally.

“Miss Weiss, welcome. We’ve put together a selection for you based on what Theresa mentioned you liked in Zurich. No pressure—just take your time and see if anything speaks to you.”

Sally narrowed her eyes at Theresa, who shrugged innocently.

“Efficient planning, that’s all,” Theresa said, smirking.

With a reluctant sigh, Sally turned toward the display in the center of the showroom.

Three Range Rovers were lined up perfectly, each one exuding quiet power and sophistication. The first was a deep navy blue, the second a dark metallic gray, and the last one—the one that caught her eye immediately—was black.

Black with a white leather interior.

Sally paused, stepping closer.

Daniel, ever observant, took note of her interest. “That one’s an Autobiography Long Wheelbase. Black exterior, white Windsor leather interior, full luxury package. 

“Similar to the one you liked in Zurich—except this one is even more refined”, pointed out Theresa.

 

Sally’s hand hovered over the door handle, hesitating. The one in Zurich was black with cream leather, which she had liked well enough. But this? The white leather looked crisp, clean—fresh.

Better.

She pulled the door open, and instantly, the scent of new leather hit her—that unmistakable luxury car smell, the kind that was both intimidating and exhilarating.

“Go ahead, take a seat in the back,” Daniel encouraged.

Sally raised an eyebrow but slid inside anyway, curious, sinking into the plush white seat.

The door shut with a satisfying click, sealing her inside what felt like her own private lounge.

Daniel pressed a button on the center console, and suddenly, two entertainment screens came to life, one on the back of each front seat.

“Individual entertainment systems, wireless headsets, reclining rear seats, climate control for each passenger. You won’t find a more comfortable ride, especially for long trips.”

Sally leaned back, letting the smooth leather support her, taking in the details—the polished trim, the ambient lighting, the sheer sense of space.

Okay. This was nice.

Maybe too nice.

She pressed her lips together, annoyed—not at the car, but at herself for liking it so much.

Theresa, opened Sally’s door and grinned knowingly. “Better than the one in Zurich, huh?”

Sally shot her a look. “Don’t push it.”

Theresa held up her hands innocently. “I didn’t say anything. Although it sure beats an Army Hummer”, she mumbled under her breath.

Sally exhaled sharply, giving the car one last glance before stepping out. She turned to Daniel, hands on her hips.

“I’ll think about it.”

Daniel nodded, completely understanding the dance of decision-making. “Of course. No rush. Whenever you’re ready.”

Sally walked toward the exit, feeling utterly conflicted.

She hadn’t wanted to be put on the spot.

And she especially hadn’t wanted to like it this much.

--

Sally folded her arms, giving Theresa a pointed look as they stepped out of the dealership and back into the crisp evening air.

“Alright, you had your fun. Now, take me to the mall so I can have some girl fun.”

Theresa grinned, unlocking the SUV. “What, picking out a luxury SUV wasn’t fun enough for you?”

Sally rolled her eyes, climbing into the passenger seat. “Tess, luxury SUVs are your fun. I need a proper dose of retail therapy before I start dreaming about leather interiors and fuel efficiency.”

Theresa chuckled, starting the engine. “Alright, alright. Mall it is. You planning on raiding the boutiques or just grabbing snacks and pretending we’re shopping?”

Sally pretended to think. “Why not both? Fashion and food? Sounds like a perfect balance.”

Theresa shook her head, pulling out onto the road. “Fine, but if we end up in a store where everything’s covered in glitter and costs a ridiculous amount for no reason, I’m waiting outside.”

Sally grinned. “That’s fair. But you’re carrying my bags.” Sally was growing up, but she was going to have some fun in the process.

Theresa groaned as they sped off toward the mall, but the small smile on her lips said she didn’t mind one bit. She changed the subject. “So… how’s the running going?”

Sally narrowed her eyes, instantly suspicious. “Fine. Why?”

Theresa shrugged. “Just wondering if you’ve been slacking while living the high life.”

Sally scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me? I ran solo in Zurich, remember? Because someone—and I won’t name names—said she wasn’t made of stone after hiking all day.”

Theresa snorted, shaking her head. “Alright, fine, point taken. But let’s test that dedication—five-thirty AM run tomorrow. What do you say?”

Sally nodded without hesitation. “Done.”

Theresa side-eyed her, smirking. “That easy, huh? If you’re late, I know where your bedroom is.”

Sally grinned. “Tess, have I ever been late?”

Theresa sighed dramatically, conceding. “No, actually. You’re freakishly punctual… for a teenager.”

Sally leaned back smugly. “Thank you. I try.”

Theresa chuckled, shaking her head. “Alright, alright. Let’s just get you to this mall before you start getting cocky.”

--

Back home, Sally sat at her desk, the glow of her laptop screen illuminating her face as she pulled up the fundraiser materials. At least the diaper under her pajama shorts – it was getting warmer again - gave her that grounding feeling she was so thankful for. She could do this.

She needed to brush up on the charity’s initiatives—understanding the mission, the goals, and the people it helped.

Bridget knocked lightly on her door, stepping inside with a cup of tea in hand. “How’s it going?”

Sally sighed, sitting back in her chair. “It’s… a lot. But it’s good. I have a plan now.”

Bridget nodded approvingly, setting the tea down on the desk. “It’s a big step, Sal. But I know you. You don’t take things lightly. You’ll do this right.”

Sally looked up at her mother, a small smile forming. “I just realized… this is my first real responsibility. My first step into everything Dad’s been preparing me for.”

Bridget smiled softly, squeezing Sally’s shoulder. “And? How does that feel?”

Sally exhaled, glancing back at her laptop screen.

“Like I have a lot to live up to. But also… like I really want to do this.”

Bridget studied her for a moment, pride in her eyes. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Like I have a lot to live up to. But also… like I really want to do this.”

Bridget studied her for a moment, pride in her eyes. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Sally studied her mother carefully, noticing the way she cradled her tea, her movements a little slower than usual. Something about the way she held herself didn’t sit right.

She tilted her head, concerned. “How are you doing?”

Bridget lifted her gaze, her expression calm but weary. “I’m taking it easy. Hence the tea.” She gestured slightly toward the steaming cup, as if that alone proved she was handling things.

Sally frowned, unimpressed. “You look like you’re fasting or something. What did you even have for supper?”

Bridget paused for a fraction too long, then sighed. “I… didn’t, actually. But I’ll be fine.”

Sally’s frown deepened. “Mom, that’s not exactly reassuring. You’ve been having stomach pains since yesterday. You should see a doctor.”

Bridget shook her head lightly, giving her a small, tired smile. “I just need to take things easy. If it persists, I promise I’ll go. But for now, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Sally exhaled, clearly not convinced. “You always say that. And then, next thing I know, you’re pushing through work like nothing’s wrong.”

Bridget reached out, squeezing Sally’s hand reassuringly. “I hear you, Sal. And I will go if it doesn’t get better. Deal?”

Sally sighed, still watching her carefully. “…Deal. But I’m holding you to it.”

Bridget smirked, taking another slow sip of her tea. “That’s my girl. Always keeping me accountable.”

Sally rolled her eyes, but inside, she was still uneasy.

She’d just have to make sure her mother actually followed through.

As her mother left, Sally took a deep breath and turned back to her notes.

She wasn’t just coasting anymore.

She was stepping up.

--

Thursday morning the house was quiet, still tucked in the last moments of sleep, the soft glow of the hallway lights casting a warm hue over the polished floors.

Theresa let herself in, shutting the door quietly behind her, and checked the time. 5:30 AM.

She smirked. No Sally.

Figures.

Shaking her head, she headed up the stairs, her footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. Maybe she forgot to set her alarm. Maybe she hit snooze one too many times. Either way, Theresa knew exactly what needed to be done.

Stopping in front of Sally’s closed bedroom door, she knocked softly, waiting a few seconds.

Nothing.

Theresa knocked again, this time a little louder. “Sal? You up?”

Silence.

Yep. Definitely forgot her alarm.

With a quiet sigh, she turned the handle and stepped inside, careful not to startle her too much.

Sally was curled up, blankets askew, her dark hair spilling over her pillow, the slow, rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing confirming she was completely out.

Theresa smirked to herself—this kid. Always punctual, always prepared, and yet… human after all. She gazed at the visible diaper poking out of Sally’s shorts, obviously wet.

Leaning down, she placed a gentle hand on Sally’s shoulder and gave her a soft shake.

Nothing.

She tried again, a little firmer.

Sally stirred, mumbling something incoherent as she slowly started to emerge from sleep, her brows knitting together in confusion.

“Mmm…?”

Theresa chuckled. “Rise and shine, princess. It’s running time.”

Sally groaned, pressing her face deeper into the pillow before the realization hit her all at once.

Theresa.

Morning.

The run.

Her eyes fluttered open sluggishly, squinting up at Theresa. “Oh… crap.”

Theresa laughed, straightening up. “Yeah, someone forgot to set their alarm.”

Sally pushed herself up onto her elbows, blinking blearily, still half-dazed from sleep. Then, as she became aware of the situation, she instinctively tugged the blanket up over her torso, realizing her oversized shirt had ridden up slightly in her sleep, and the sleep shorts made no effort to hide her wet diaper.

Not that it really mattered—it was just Theresa—but still, old habits.

Theresa, ever observant, noticed the quick movement but said nothing, just smiling stiffly as she crossed her arms. She hadn’t meant to intrude into Sally’s private moment.

Sally let out a groggy sigh, running a hand through her messy hair. “Give me five minutes. I’ll be down.”

Theresa raised an eyebrow, feigning suspicion. “Five real minutes? Or the kind where I have to come back up here?”

Sally narrowed her eyes sleepily. “Real minutes. I promise.”

Theresa pretended to consider this, then nodded. “Alright, you get off for free this time.” She turned toward the door, then glanced back, grinning mischievously.  She made an effort to sound extra jovial, as Sally was looking a little insecure right now. “But next time? Cold jug of water.”

Sally let out a sleepy laugh, flopping back onto her pillow for one last moment of comfort. “Noted. Now go before I change my mind about running.”

Theresa chuckled, closing the door behind her as she made her way downstairs.

Sally sighed, stretching lazily before forcing herself up. She quickly shed her pajamas and untaped her diaper.

Five minutes. 

This time, she wouldn’t be late.

--

As they finished their run, Theresa slowed to a stop, catching her breath easily while Sally bent forward slightly, hands on her knees. The morning air was crisp and fresh, the first light of sunrise casting a golden hue over the quiet neighborhood.

Theresa patted Sally’s back approvingly. “Three miles. Not bad for someone who almost slept through it.”

Sally shot her a look, still breathing heavily. “I told you—five minutes and I was ready.”

Theresa smirked. “Yeah, yeah. Keep telling yourself that, champ. Now, go clean up before you make me regret this morning of productivity.”

Sally rolled her eyes but grinned, making her way inside as Theresa followed.

“Guest bathroom for me,” Theresa announced as they entered the house, grabbing her bag from where she’d left it by the door. “Try not to use up all the hot water, princess.”

“No promises,” Sally called back over her shoulder, heading up to her bedroom.

Once inside, she peeled off her running clothes and hopped into the shower, letting the warm water soothe her muscles. The early morning run had been harder than she expected, but it felt good—an accomplishment before the day even started.

By the time she dried her hair and buttoned up her crisp school blouse, she was fully awake and ready for the day. She pulled on her skirt and blazer, smoothing everything down before heading downstairs, where the scent of breakfast hit her instantly.

At the kitchen table, Bridget was sipping coffee and eating an omelet—a sight that made Sally pause for a second.

Her mother was actually eating properly.

Bridget noticed her hesitation and smirked slightly. “What? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Sally sat down across from her, grabbing a slice of toast. “Just making sure I’m not hallucinating. You’re actually having breakfast?”

Bridget raised an eyebrow, sipping her coffee. “I did say I’d take it easy. Can’t run on an empty stomach forever.”

Sally smirked. “See? Progress.”

Theresa entered a moment later, freshly showered and back in her usual business-casual attire. She grabbed a coffee from the counter and gave Sally a pointed look.

“Now that we know you won’t sleep through a morning run, let’s talk about Friday.”

Sally groaned, taking a bite of toast. “One step at a time, Tess. Let me recover first.”

Bridget laughed softly, watching the two with amusement as they finished up breakfast.

As the morning sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, the conversation drifted toward Friday. Bridget stretched slightly, sipping her coffee. “I’m looking forward to New York. It’ll be nice to have a weekend there.”

Sally brightened instantly, her toast momentarily forgotten. “Oh, same. I already miss Soho.”

Bridget tilted her head, smirking slightly. “You’ve never actually spent a night there, and yet, it already feels like home?”

Sally grinned, pushing a stray hair behind her ear. “Exactly. It’s mine. I just haven’t lived in it yet.”

Bridget chuckled, understanding completely.

Sally leaned forward, suddenly thoughtful. “I want to bring some of my art—maybe a couple of my paintings—to try on the walls. Start making the space feel more me.”

Bridget nodded approvingly. “That’s a great idea. You’ll have time to play around with the setup. Maybe even do some furniture shopping.”

Theresa, who had been listening as she sipped her coffee, finally chimed in. “We can head out right after school on Friday. If we time it right, we’ll be in New York for dinner.”

Sally raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Wait—so we’re driving this time? No helicopter?”

Theresa chuckled, shaking her head. “If we’re planning to haul your entire art gallery with us, yeah, we’d better drive.”

Bridget nodded, amused. “Besides, a helicopter would be overkill. It’s only a couple of hours by car, and since we’re leaving early afternoon, we’ll be going against the Friday rush.”

Sally pretended to sigh dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Fine. I guess I can handle a normal road trip for once.”

Theresa snorted, nudging her coffee cup aside. “Oh, please. You’ll be asleep within the first forty minutes.”

Sally pointed a finger at her. “That is a false accusation.”

Bridget laughed softly, lifting her coffee mug. “Mmm… we’ll see.”

Sally huffed playfully, but deep down, she was looking forward to the drive, too—the conversations, the music, the ease of the open road leading her toward her own space, her own home.

Sally’s eyes lit up. “Perfect. That means I can finally see it at night. I bet the terrace view is amazing after dark.”

Bridget smiled, picturing it. “You’ll love it. There’s something about looking out over the Hudson at night that makes everything feel alive.”

Theresa smirked slightly, setting down her mug. “And I assume you’re already planning where we’re eating?”

Sally gave a mock gasp. “Tess, do you even know me? Of course, I am. We’re doing something fun, not just your boring ‘business dinner’ places.”

Theresa rolled her eyes. “Fine. But no places with menus that require a flashlight to read. I refuse.”

Bridget laughed. “Well, at least we know where everyone stands.”

Sally sighed happily, already mentally planning the weekend—setting up her space, exploring the city, feeling her place in it.

Soho was waiting for her.

And this time, she was going to make it feel like home.

--

A little while later, with her backpack slung over her shoulder, Sally followed Theresa to the car. The familiar silver SUV waited in the driveway, its engine humming softly as Theresa opened the door for her.

As they pulled away, Sally leaned back in her seat, feeling the first real sense of routine settling back in.

The trip to Zurich had been a whirlwind, but here she was—back to school, back to her normal rhythm.

At least, as normal as things could be now.

--

As Theresa steered the SUV down the familiar streets toward school, Sally sat quietly for a moment, staring out the window. Something had been sitting in the back of her mind since this morning, and now that it was just her and Theresa, she finally spoke up.

“Hey, Tess?”

Theresa glanced at her, sensing the hesitation in her voice. “Yeah?”

Sally shifted slightly, adjusting her backpack on her lap. “Have you… talked to my dad lately?”

Theresa raised an eyebrow, then returned her attention to the road. “I spoke to him yesterday. Why? Have you talked to him?”

Sally shook her head, looking down. “No, not really. Not since Zurich.”

Theresa sighed knowingly. “Sal, if you want to talk to him, just do it. You are his daughter. You don’t need an excuse.”

Sally huffed, frowning slightly. “I do want to talk to him. About the fundraiser, actually. But I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

Theresa gave her a look. “Sally. He took you to Beverly Hills himself. You are the face of this thing. If anyone has a personal interest in it, it’s your dad.”

Sally bit her lip, considering that.

Theresa continued. “If you really want to go through your speech with him, set up a meeting. Use the office space. That’s what it’s there for.”

Sally stared at her, surprised. “Wait—you mean, like, a real meeting? Like, professionally?”

Theresa smirked. “That’s what this is, isn’t it? A professional event, a business responsibility? You want his insight—schedule a meeting with him. Take control of it.”

Sally sat in stunned silence. The idea had never crossed her mind—setting up an actual, structured meeting with her father. It was bold.

Daring.

Could she really just do that?

Theresa pulled into the school drop-off lane, slowing the SUV as Sally spotted Katrina and Clara waiting for her.

“Think about it,” Theresa said, putting the car in park. “But don’t overthink it.”

Sally exhaled, nodded, and grabbed her backpack. “Thanks, Tess.”

Theresa winked. “That’s what I’m here for. Now go—before Katrina thinks I kidnapped you.”

Sally laughed, hopping out of the car and waving to her friends as she approached.

But even as she greeted them, her mind was elsewhere.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled out her phone and opened her messages.

 

Sally: Hey, Dad. How are you? Where are you today?

 

It didn’t take long for a response.

 

Father: Guten Morgen, Sally. I’m in Frankfurt.

 

Sally nodded to herself. He went to Frankfurt a lot.

 

Her fingers hovered over the screen for a moment before she finally typed:

 

Sally: I wanted to talk to you about my speech for the fundraiser. I have to put together a text, and I’d like to go through it with you. Get some ideas.

 

A pause. Then—

 

Father: That’s a good idea. Let’s set a time.

 

Sally blinked, pleasantly surprised.

 

Sally: Would after school work for you? I can set up an online meeting.

 

A longer pause. Then—

 

Adrian: You’re setting this up yourself?

 

Sally swallowed, suddenly wondering if she’d overstepped.

 

Sally: Yeah. I figured it’d be the best way to go through things properly.

 

Her phone buzzed with his reply almost immediately.

 

Adrian: I’m impressed. Send me the invite. I’ll be there.

 

Sally stared at the message, a slow smile forming on her lips.

She had done it.

She was taking control—and her father approved.

--

Theresa pulled into the driveway, the soft purr of the SUV breaking the quiet afternoon air. Sally climbed out, adjusting her backpack, feeling the weight of the day behind her but knowing she still had something important ahead—her first real business meeting with her father.

Bridget wasn’t home yet, so Sally headed straight upstairs, slipping out of her school uniform and into black jeans and the peach silk blouse she’d bought in Rodeo Drive. The fabric felt smooth against her skin, a mix of luxury and comfort. She ran a brush through her hair, slipped into a pair of chic but comfortable flats, and took one last look in the mirror.

Professional. But still her.

When she came back downstairs, Theresa was already waiting by the door. “Ready?”

Sally exhaled, nodded. “Yeah. Let’s do this.”

They drove into downtown Hartford, where Theresa’s office was located. As soon as they arrived, Theresa moved with efficiency, setting up the conference room, positioning Sally at the head of the table, directly in front of the screen and camera.

Sally sat down, smoothing her hands over her jeans, realizing just how official this felt. She nodded as Theresa opened a Perrier and poured it into a glass next to her.

Theresa took her seat at the side—not as a friend, not as an older sister figure—but as her assistant.

Sally swallowed. This was it. A business meeting. With her father.

The screen lit up.

Her father appeared in a well-lit conference room, a backdrop of a modern, professional office behind him. Even on video, he commanded the space, dressed sharply, his presence exuding calm control.

He looked at her and gave the faintest of smiles. “Sally.”

Sally straightened instinctively. “Hi, Dad.”

Adrian nodded toward Theresa. “Theresa.”

Theresa smirked slightly, leaning back in her chair. “Boss.”

Adrian’s lips twitched in amusement, then he turned his full attention to Sally. “So. Your first official business meeting.”

Sally nodded slowly. “I guess it is.”

Her father studied her for a moment, then inclined his head slightly. “Alright. Let’s get to it.”

Sally shifted slightly in her chair, feeling the weight of the conversation settle over her. This wasn’t just small talk—this was a real discussion, and she needed to make the most of it.

“I know this event is important,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “And I understand that my role isn’t just symbolic—I’m actually expected to represent something. But that’s where I feel… uncertain.”

She exhaled, tapping her fingers lightly against the table. “I don’t want to just go up there and repeat what people expect to hear. I want to connect. To actually say something that makes them think, that makes them want to be part of this. But I don’t know how to do that. What am I supposed to tell these people to make them care? How do I take this vision and make it something they feel?”

She looked at her father, hoping for a structured answer, maybe a blueprint to follow. Instead, Adrian leaned forward, steepling his fingers, his expression thoughtful.  “The purpose of this fundraiser is bigger than just collecting money. It’s about shaping the mindset of those who are newly successful—the ones who made it on their own, built something from the ground up. Many of them never had the opportunity to be part of charity efforts before. We’re introducing them to that world, helping them realize their wealth can do more than just grow—it can give back.”

Sally listened intently, letting the weight of his words settle in.

“Your role,” Adrian continued, “is to bridge that gap. You’re the honorary junior MC—not just standing there reading off numbers. You’re the representation of the next generation. You’ll be speaking to the donors, but also the recipients, giving them something they can connect with.”

Sally thought for a moment, then asked carefully, “What’s the message supposed to be?”

Her father hesitated. Just slightly.

That caught her attention.

“That, Sally, is up to you.” He leaned back slightly, his gaze steady. “It should be your message. Something real, something that speaks to them. Not just a script. If it doesn’t feel personal, it won’t resonate.”

Sally’s mind whirled with possibilities.

Adrian watched her for a moment, then asked, “Do you know what stakeholders are?”

Sally nodded immediately. “They’re anyone who has an interest or investment in something—whether it’s financial, personal, or even social.”

Adrian smiled faintly, nodding in approval. “Good. That means you understand why this speech matters. The stakeholders aren’t just the people writing checks—it’s also the ones who will benefit from those checks. They all need to hear something that makes them believe in this.”

He turned to Theresa. “Put her in touch with Priya. She’s a genius at refining speeches. She’ll help Sally prepare properly.”

Theresa nodded. “Already done. They’ve met, and we’ve started working on it.”

Sally spoke up quickly. “Priya’s great. She’ll be a huge help.”

Adrian’s expression softened just slightly, his gaze assessing her. “You’ve taken more initiative than I expected. I like that.”

Sally felt warmth spread through her chest.

“Theresa,” Adrian continued, “set up any meetings between Sally and me as needed. She should feel comfortable reaching out whenever she wants.”

Theresa nodded, already making notes. “Got it.”

Sally glowed in her father’s presence, feeling like she was truly stepping into something bigger.

Adrian leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly. “Is there anything else? Any business?”

Sally hesitated, then suddenly, she felt bold.

“Actually… yes.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Sally took a breath, her voice just a little softer. “Theresa suggested something about the car. Since the Mercedes is a rental, she took me to see some options. I just wanted to ask if it’s… okay for me to choose one myself?”

She felt shy asking it, like she was crossing a line, but she was curious to know his response.

Adrian smiled, amused. “I take it that means it won’t be a German car?”

Sally grinned sheepishly, shaking her head. “Nope.”

Adrian sighed dramatically, though his expression was clearly entertained. “British, then?”

Sally made a face, then nodded.

Her father exhaled, shaking his head slightly as if in defeat.

Then he smirked. “Only the best for a Weiss.”

Sally felt something warm bloom in her chest at the way he looked at her.

Adrian turned to Theresa, completely at ease. “Theresa, get her the car she wants.”

Theresa nodded, already ahead of things, and was texting Daniel, the Range Rover salesman.

Sally sat back, feeling something she hadn’t expected to feel today.

She had stepped into something new—something real.

And for the first time, she felt like she was in control.

 

Chapter 85 – Special Treatment

As the evening settled over the house, Bridget found herself climbing the stairs toward Sally’s art studio. She had expected to find her daughter covered in paint, lost in creative chaos, but instead, Sally was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by canvases, carefully sorting through them.

She was dressed comfortably—loose sweatpants over her diaper and a soft, oversized sweater—but instead of painting, she was studying her work with a quiet intensity. Some pieces were leaning against the walls, others stacked in careful piles. A few still bore unresolved brushstrokes, hints of paintings that weren’t quite done but close enough to bring along.

Bridget leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching for a moment before speaking. “Looks like someone’s making decisions.”

Sally looked up, smiling slightly. “Trying to.”

Bridget stepped inside, glancing over the canvases. She had always loved Sally’s art—raw, expressive, sometimes abstract, but always emotional. It was a window into her daughter’s world.

“So, what’s the plan? Taking everything, or just a few pieces?” Bridget asked.

Sally sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I don’t want to take too much. Just a few pieces that I feel fit the space. I want to start making Soho feel like mine, but I don’t want to rush it either.” She gestured to a medium-sized canvas propped against the wall. “That one’s coming for sure.”

Bridget tilted her head, stepping closer. The piece was a moody, impressionistic take on the ocean, brushstrokes wild yet controlled, like movement frozen in time.

“I like that one,” Bridget admitted. “It has presence.”

Sally smirked. “You mean it’s dramatic.”

Bridget chuckled. “That too.” She nodded toward the pile of brushes and paints stacked nearby. “Are you taking supplies with you, or buying new ones there?”

Sally thought for a moment, tapping her fingers against her knee. “I think I’ll take some basics—my favorite brushes, a few paints. But the bulk of the supplies? I’ll get those in New York. It’ll be easier than trying to haul everything there.”

Bridget nodded, pleased with the practicality of the plan. “That makes sense. Plus, shopping for art supplies in New York might be fun. You’ll start to make connections with the city. Find your rhythm there.”

Sally looked down at one of her half-finished pieces, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “Yeah… I want to make it mine. Not just a place I stay—but a place I live.”

Bridget watched her for a moment, then glanced toward Sally, an idea forming. She knew Sally was taking her time making Soho feel like home, but maybe it was time to think bigger.

“You know, if you really want to make that place yours, you could do something with the terrace.”

Sally looked up, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

Bridget gestured slightly, as if picturing it in her mind. “The upper terrace—the gazebo. You could enclose it in glass, turn it into a real art studio. Imagine it—a space with natural light, your own private sanctuary to paint. No clutter inside the apartment, no worries about making a mess. Just a place designed for you.”

Sally blinked, caught off guard. The terrace was already one of her favorite things about the penthouse, but she had never thought about transforming it. She had been so focused on just moving in, she hadn’t considered what it could become.

She glanced toward her mother, processing the idea. “That’s… actually kind of perfect.”

Bridget smirked, crossing her arms. “I do have good ideas now and then.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “I mean, it makes sense. I was thinking about what to do with my art there. This would give me an actual space, separate from everything else.”

Bridget nodded, pleased. “Exactly. And you don’t have to do it all at once. Start with bringing some pieces, see how you feel in the space, and then we can talk about renovations.”

Sally grinned, feeling a spark of excitement. “Okay. Let’s start with getting some canvases and supplies there. And then… maybe I’ll start thinking bigger.”

Bridget squeezed her shoulder affectionately. “That’s my girl.”

With that, they turned their focus back to Sally’s artwork, carefully choosing which pieces would make the first trip to Soho—the first real step in turning her penthouse into a home.

--

Bridget nodded toward the selected canvases, hands on her hips. “Alright, these are the ones, then?”

Sally glanced at the small collection they had set aside, a mix of finished and nearly finished works. “Yeah. I think these will work for now. I’ll see how they look in the space and go from there.”

Bridget checked the time, then exhaled. “I’ll pick up some bubble wrap tomorrow, and we’ll get these packed properly before we leave. No sense in moving them if they aren’t protected.”

Sally grinned. “Wouldn’t want my masterpieces ruined.”

Bridget arched an eyebrow playfully. “Exactly. So that’s settled. Now, onto something more pressing.”

Sally tilted her head, suspicious. “Like what?”

Bridget folded her arms, giving her a knowing look. “Like the fact that you have exams next week. Have you actually studied, or have you been too busy playing future gallery owner?”

Sally sighed dramatically, dropping onto the couch in the studio. “I knew this was coming.”

Bridget sat on the armrest, nudging her leg. “You knew because you also know I’m right. Look, I love seeing you excited about New York, but don’t lose focus. I don’t care where you are—here, Soho, Zurich—you need to put in the work. You need to carve out time to study this weekend.”

Sally grumbled but nodded, knowing her mother had a point. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll make time. I promise.”

Bridget gave her a pointed look. “No, you’ll schedule time. Otherwise, it’ll be Sunday night and you’ll suddenly remember you never opened your textbooks.”

Sally rolled her eyes, but smirked. “You really don’t trust me, huh?”

Bridget smirked right back. “I trust you to need a reminder. That’s my job.”

Sally leaned her head back, groaning. “Fine. I’ll study. I’ll even schedule it. Happy?”

Bridget stood up, satisfied. “Much. Now, let’s go downstairs. I’m in the mood for tea. And you can tell me which subjects I need to quiz you on. But first, go change your diaper.”

Sally groaned again but followed her mother out of the studio, knowing there was no escaping a little accountability—and knowing deep down, she needed it. She pulled up her sagging diaper and waddled out of the studio. 

--

Sally stretched lazily, feeling the warmth of the morning air filtering through the windows. It was finally warm again—the kind of morning that made pajama shorts and a short t-shirt feel like the ultimate comfort. Even her diaper – slightly wet, peeking out of her shorts – felt like a nudge to full happiness. She padded barefoot into the kitchen, still basking in the luxury of not having to rush anywhere just yet, not even to the bathroom.

And then she saw her mother’s breakfast.

A plate of saltine crackers. A glass of apple juice.

Sally stopped mid-step, her easy morning mood dimming.

Bridget was picking at a cracker absentmindedly, her expression neutral—too neutral, like she was trying not to let on how miserable she felt. This was not a normal breakfast. Not for her.

Sally sat down across from her, folding her arms, and just… stared.

Bridget sighed before even looking up. “Oh no. The Glaring.”

Sally didn’t blink. “Am I supposed to just ignore this?” She gestured pointedly at the plate. “You’re eating like you’re recovering from the flu.”

Bridget took a careful sip of juice, then met Sally’s eyes with a calm expression. “I’m fine.”

Sally narrowed her eyes. “You’re supposed to travel today. In your ‘fine’ condition.”

Bridget gave her a patient look, like she was dealing with an overly concerned nurse. “It’s just stress, sweetheart. I’ve been taking things easy, and it’s helping.”

Sally didn’t buy it.

Bridget, seeing the skepticism, tried to lighten the mood. “And hey, if I do get sick in New York, at least I’ll be in the best city for any kind of specialist. Maybe I should schedule a spa day as a preventative measure.”

Sally didn’t smile. Not even a twitch.

Her mother sighed, setting the cracker down. “Sally.”

“You should see a doctor.”

Bridget tilted her head. “And what’s the doctor going to say? That I should eat plain food and rest? Because, surprise, that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

Sally leaned back in her chair, arms still crossed.

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe her mother—it was that she hated seeing her like this. Her mom was always composed, always handling everything, and to see her picking at crackers like her stomach was against her was… unsettling.

Bridget reached out and squeezed her hand. “I promise, if this doesn’t clear up, I’ll get checked out. But I already feel a little better. Really.”

Sally sighed, gripping her mom’s hand in return, but still not feeling totally reassured.

The sun was bright outside, the air perfectly warm, but the morning didn’t feel as light as it should have. Even her diaper didn’t give her pleasure.

--

The morning drive to school had been uneventful until Sally’s phone lit up with an incoming call. She glanced at the screen. Otto.

Sally picked up immediately, a smile already forming. “Guten Morgen, Otto!”

Theresa, hands steady on the wheel, glanced at her briefly but remained silent.

Otto’s voice came through, calm, warm, but as direct as ever. “Morning, kiddo. How’s life back in the trenches?”

Sally chuckled, shaking her head. “Not as glamorous as cruising on the Mediterranean, that’s for sure.”

“Ah, the tragedy of routine,” Otto sighed dramatically. “But don’t worry, you’ll be back in the clouds soon enough. Speaking of which—your father mentioned you’ll be in New York this weekend. I was thinking we should meet. Get a coffee, talk, have our first session. Nothing formal, just… two smart people figuring out the future. Oh, and I have a friend you will want to meet, too.”

Sally’s smile widened, already liking the idea. There was something reassuring about Otto, the way he made her feel like she belonged in conversations far bigger than her age should allow. He never talked down to her.

“I’d love that,” she said sincerely. “Where and when?”

“I’ll text you the details later today, let you know where to find me.”

Sally hesitated for half a second, then let a hint of mischief creep into her voice. “And if I don’t feel like finding you?”

Otto let out a deep chuckle. “Then I’ll have to call in the Swiss Guard to track you down. Maybe send Katya with a tray of caviar to lure you out.”

Sally laughed, shaking her head. “Alright, alright. No need for bribes, I’ll be there.”

“Good. And, Sally—” Otto’s voice softened, just a little. “I’m looking forward to this. Really.”

Sally felt a warmth settle in her chest. He meant it.

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. “Me too, Otto. See you soon.”

“See you soon, kiddo.”

She hung up, slipping her phone into her lap. The car was quiet again.

Too quiet.

Sally glanced over at Theresa, who was still staring at the road, her expression unreadable.

Theresa hadn’t said a word.

That was strange. Normally, she’d at least make a comment, maybe tease her about her ever-growing list of powerful connections. But now?

Nothing.

Sally could feel the tension in the air, like an invisible weight between them.

She glanced over at Theresa, who kept her eyes on the road, her grip on the steering wheel just a little tighter than usual.

Sally frowned. Alright. If Theresa wasn’t going to ask, she’d tell her anyway.

“That was Otto,” she began casually. “He wants to meet in New York for coffee. Just an informal session. You know—part of the mentorship program.”

Theresa finally reacted, a slight lift of her brows. “Mentorship program?”

Sally blinked. “Wait—you didn’t know?”

Theresa shook her head, her voice even. “Nope. First I’m hearing of it.”

Sally sighed, shifting in her seat to face her more. “It’s something my dad set up. Otto is going to mentor me, along with Olivia, and guide me through business, finance, networking—basically, helping me transition into all the responsibilities I’ll have in the future.””

Theresa nodded slowly, processing that. “Alright. That makes sense.”

But there was something off in her tone.

Sally didn’t let it go. “But?”

Theresa exhaled sharply, drumming her fingers lightly on the wheel. “No ‘but.’ Just… be careful.”

Sally’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Be careful? Of Otto?”

Theresa didn’t answer immediately, which was enough of an answer in itself.

Sally leaned in slightly, reading the tension in Theresa’s posture. “You don’t trust him, do you?”

Theresa let out another measured breath, adjusting her grip on the wheel. “It’s not about trust. I just don’t like him.”

That took Sally off guard.

Theresa wasn’t the type to dislike someone without reason.

Sally sat back, studying her. “You’ve barely met him. What exactly don’t you like?”

Theresa was quiet for a moment, as if debating whether to say it out loud. Then, with a small shrug, she said, “He’s a bully.”

Sally blinked, startled. “Otto? A bully?”

Theresa nodded firmly, her jaw tight. “He’s pushy. The type of man who expects the world to move when he snaps his fingers. Guys like that? I’ve dealt with them before, and I don’t like them.”

Sally knew exactly what Theresa meant. Her time in the Navy.

She had mentioned that to Sally before—about officers who threw their weight around, who barked orders like they owned the people under them, who thought their authority made them untouchable.

Sally leaned forward slightly, choosing her words carefully. “Otto is… direct. But I don’t think he’s like that.”

Theresa gave a side glance, unconvinced. “He called me about you, you know. Before the flight. Wanted to know all your preferences, if you had any ‘special needs,’ as he put it.”

Sally tilted her head, smirking slightly. “And that’s a bad thing? He just wanted to make sure I was comfortable. I mean, that’s why I found a can of Pringles waiting for me on his jet.”

Theresa rolled her eyes. “Yes, because nothing says ‘mentorship’ like a can of Pringles.”

Sally paused, her smirk fading slightly as she studied Theresa’s face.

Then, with quiet concern, she asked, “Was he rude?”

Theresa hesitated, then shook her head. “No. Not rude.”

Sally’s brow furrowed slightly. “Did he insult you?”

Theresa let out a short breath, as if the thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. “No. Nothing like that.”

Sally tapped her fingers lightly against her knee, thinking. “Had you seen him before? Like, face-to-face?”

Theresa shifted slightly, gripping the wheel a little tighter before answering. “No. Just that call.”

Sally cleared her throat gently, choosing her words carefully.

“You know, sometimes we get the wrong impression of people just through indirect contact. A phone call, a text, an email—it doesn’t always reflect who they really are.”

Theresa’s eyes flicked toward her, unreadable.

Sally continued, her voice calm but assured.

“Otto is… very direct. Yeah. He has that big presence, that commanding way of speaking, and I get why that might rub you the wrong way. But he’s also one of the friendliest and most sincere men I’ve met.”

Theresa’s expression softened slightly, but she didn’t say anything.

Sally glanced out the window, then back at her. “Actually, he had nothing but admiration for you.”

That made Theresa blink. “What?”

Sally nodded, smirking slightly now. “Yeah. He was really impressed by how you handled things with Katya on the plane, how you helped get everything set up for the trip home. Said you were sharp, efficient, and—his words, not mine—a real asset.”

Theresa let out a small scoff, but there was no real bite to it.

Sally turned to her more fully, her voice softer now.

“And honestly? He was right. You take care of the little things. The details that no one notices but that make all the difference. I appreciate that.”

Theresa remained silent for a few moments, her fingers flexing against the steering wheel as she absorbed Sally’s words.

Finally, she exhaled and offered a slow, thoughtful nod.

“Maybe I misjudged him, then.”

Sally grinned, nudging her playfully. “That’s all I ask. Give him a fair shot. Just… maybe don’t try to throw him overboard next time you see him.”

Theresa laughed, shaking her head. “No promises. But I’ll try.”

Sally leaned back in her seat, satisfied.

Theresa, meanwhile, stole a glance at her and felt a quiet admiration grow—not just for Sally’s loyalty, but for her level-headedness, her ability to see people for who they really were.

Maybe Otto wasn’t the only one she had misjudged.

--

The classroom hummed with restless energy as Mr. Harris wrapped up the final lesson of the week. The anticipation of exams—and the looming freedom after them—hung in the air.

He adjusted his glasses, giving the class a measured look. “Alright, listen up. Your final exams begin Wednesday and will wrap up Thursday. Two days, and then you’re officially done with ninth grade.”

A mix of groans, whispers, and nervous glances rippled through the students.

“You’ve worked hard, so keep up the momentum. Study, review your notes, and don’t try to cram everything the night before.” Mr. Harris paused, as if sensing half the room already planning to do just that. “I wish you all luck. Now, go enjoy your weekend.”

As soon as he dismissed them, the classroom erupted into conversation.

Sally was zipping up her bag when Clara and Katrina appeared on either side of her, their expressions equal parts resigned and envious.

Katrina slung an arm around Sally’s shoulder, groaning dramatically. “Exams. Why do they exist? And why do we have to suffer through them while you get to ‘study’ in Soho?”

Sally sighed, already feeling the heat creep up her neck. “I’ll actually be studying, you know.”

Clara arched a skeptical brow. “Mmm. Studying between brunches in expensive cafés and overlooking the Manhattan skyline?”

Katrina mock-gasped. “Oh no, such hardship.”

Sally rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay, yes. It sounds nice. But I’ll still be studying hard enough.”

The two lovers exchanged an amused look, before Katrina grinned mischievously. “Sooo… when are we getting invited? A proper sleepover in Soho? You do need to break in that fancy apartment, right?”

Sally snorted, shaking her head. “And make my place the next target for school gossip? Hard pass.”

Clara leaned into Katrina with a smirk. “We wouldn’t do anything scandalous. Much.”

Katrina pressed a dramatic hand to her chest. “We would never betray your trust.”

And just to cement the scene, she turned and kissed Clara sweetly on the lips, making a few passing students glance their way.

Sally shook her head, amused. “You two are impossible.”

She glanced outside just as Theresa pulled up in the SUV. Her escape.

“Anyway, I have to go.” She started toward the door, then threw them a last remark over her shoulder. “Once I’m settled in New York—after exams—we’ll talk sleepovers.”

Katrina cheered, and Clara smirked knowingly.

Sally slipped into the SUV, shutting the door with a satisfied smirk of her own.

--

Theresa smoothly backed the SUV into the garage, the soft purr of the engine cutting off as she put it in park.

Sally sighed dramatically, slumping against the seat. “You know, I wanted a proper road trip in the new car. Some breaking-in miles. This feels like a betrayal.”

Theresa smirked, unbuckling her seatbelt. “Well, unless you wanted to drive it off the lot with no plates, no insurance, and me getting arrested, we have to wait. Paperwork takes time, even for rich people.”

Sally rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She knew better than to try to rush Theresa’s level of efficiency.

She hopped out and headed toward the house, where her mom was already pulling her suitcase toward the garage. Sally grabbed her own bag and followed, only to find an extra suitcase sitting by the door.

Bridget caught Sally’s questioning glance and smiled. “Extra things. Some toiletries, a few essentials.”

Sally gave her a look. “You mean my diapers.”

Bridget patted the suitcase lightly. “Exactly.”

Sally smlied. Her mother thought of everything.

Theresa, in perfect efficiency mode, took both suitcases and expertly maneuvered them into the trunk. With one final adjustment, she pressed the tailgate button, and the back of the SUV lowered smoothly into place.

Bridget slipped into the back seat, adjusting herself comfortably, while Sally walked to the passenger door and froze.

Sitting there, perfectly wrapped in bubble wrap and strapped in by the seatbelt, was her own artwork.

She blinked. “What—?”

Theresa, standing beside the car, gave a smug tilt of her head. “Sorry, Miss Weiss. But I suggest you sit in the back, where the real comfort can be found.”

Sally huffed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. It was ridiculous. But also… thoughtful.

She climbed into the back, sliding in next to her mom. “You could’ve just put them in the trunk.”

Theresa grinned as she started the engine. “And let them get crushed? I think not. You can suffer for your art.”

Sally shook her head, amused, as the SUV rolled out of the driveway and onto the road, heading toward New York. She had to admit, though. The beach seat was more comfortable than she gave it credit for.

--

She didn’t even realize when she drifted off.

The last thing she remembered was the quiet hum of the road, the faintest shimmer of New York in the distance… and then nothing.

Sally stirred, the sensation of slowing traffic and the rhythmic hum of the tires over the road pulling her out of sleep.

Blinking groggily, she lifted her head and realized where they were.

The FDR Drive stretched ahead, winding along the East River, the skyline of Manhattan bathed in warm golden light.

It wasn’t dark yet—the early evening sun was still hanging over the city, casting a soft glow that reflected off the glassy skyscrapers and shimmered across the river. The sky was a rich blue, streaked with wisps of pale clouds, with the promise of sunset still an hour or two away.

She rubbed her eyes, sitting up straighter as the familiar sight of bridges, waterfront parks, and clustered rooftops came into focus.

Bridget glanced over at her, smiling. “We’re here.”

Sally yawned, stretching. “Wow… I really knocked out.”

Theresa smirked, eyes still on the road. “Like a rock. I was about to check if you were still breathing back there.”

Sally rolled her eyes, but the teasing made her grin.

Outside, the city pulsed with life, the streets bustling with yellow cabs, the honks of impatient drivers mingling with the hum of air-conditioned buildings. A warm summer breeze rippled through the trees lining the parkways, and pedestrians walked in clusters, some already dressed for Friday night plans.

Sally watched it all, feeling the thrill of arrival settle deep in her bones.

This was it.

New York.

Her city.

--

The Revell Building sat on a quiet side street, tucked just off the pulse of a busier Soho avenue, where the sounds of New York life—chatter, the occasional honk, the rumble of delivery trucks—melted into the background rather than overwhelmed.

As Theresa pulled up, the late afternoon sun cast a golden glow over the classic red-brick facade, the black fire escapes climbing like veins along the front. The street itself was calm, a contrast to the energy just a block away.

Rafa was already stepping out from the lobby, his keen eyes assessing the SUV with casual ease.

“Welcome home, ladies,” he greeted with a wide grin, opening the building’s glass doors. “Miss Weiss—long time no see.”

Sally smirked as she stepped out, stretching her legs. “Haven’t even spent a night here yet, Rafa. You’re making me sound like a ghost.”

Rafa chuckled, eyeing the loaded trunk. “Looks like that’s about to change. Need a hand?”

Theresa, ever the efficient one, had already popped the tailgate and begun lifting out the suitcases. “I’ll take you up on that, Rafa. You take these—” she gestured to the bigger luggage, “and we’ll get the rest.”

Bridget pulled out her extra suitcase of home comforts, while Sally grabbed her art supplies, careful with the bubble-wrapped canvases.

Within minutes, everything was stacked neatly into the private elevator, and Rafa pressed the button, his ever-watchful gaze making sure nothing was out of place.

Sally exhaled, watching the doors slide shut. It was really happening.

--

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse, and Sally was greeted with the familiar, spacious, but still impersonal feel of the place.

The massive windows caught the shifting warm hues of the city, the skyline stretching into the golden-hour glow. From here, she could see the rooftops of Soho, a partial view of the Hudson, and just beyond, the familiar pulse of the city she had always loved visiting—but now had to claim as her own.

She let the moment settle, standing still in the entrance, taking it in.

The apartment was beautiful, there was no denying that. But it didn’t quite feel like home yet.

Her mother set her bags near the kitchen. “So, what’s first? Unpacking or collapsing onto the couch?”

Sally exhaled. “A little of both?”

Theresa dragged in the last of their things and clapped her hands together, business-like. “Alright, you’re officially settled in. My job here is done.”

Sally turned. “You’re leaving already?”

Theresa smirked. “I have meetings. Work. A life. But don’t worry—” she pulled a sleek black card from her pocket and handed it to Sally. “Sheba’s your driver for the weekend. Call or text her anytime, and she’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

Bridget took the card, reading it over. “Thank you, Theresa.”

Theresa nodded, then faced Sally with a knowing look. “Try not to get into trouble. And don’t go overboard with those Pringles.”

Sally rolled her eyes, smirking. “No promises.”

With that, Theresa strode back to the elevator, and within seconds, she was gone.

And for the first time, it was just Sally and Bridget.

Bridget sighed, stretching her arms. “Well, we’re here. Should we start making it feel like home?”

Sally glanced at the wrapped canvases, then back at the massive, open space before her.

It was a new beginning—and she was finally ready to make it hers.

--

The soft hum of the city outside blended into the quiet domesticity of unpacking. The apartment felt strangely still, like it was waiting to be lived in, to be filled with something more than just furniture and clean lines.

Bridget was already hanging up Sally’s clothes, holding up a silk blouse with a scrutinizing look. “Formal section? Casual section? Or ‘I-don’t-know-where-this-goes’ section?”

Sally, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through folded clothes, smirked. “Put it in the ‘I’ll figure it out later’ section.”

Bridget arched a brow. “That’s not a section.”

Sally shrugged, tossing a pair of black jeans onto the growing pile. “It is now.”

Her mother sighed theatrically but complied, carefully hanging the blouse in the closet.

A moment later, Bridget turned, holding up a handful of socks. “Drawer? Or are we living in organized chaos?”

Sally grinned. “Sock drawer, obviously. But mix them up. No one has time for matching.”

Bridget made a small sound of disapproval but didn’t argue.

Then came the undies.

Bridget held up a bundle, peering at her. “Folded or stuffed in a drawer? Oh, you got more thongs! Do they get a separate section?”

Sally glared playfully. “Are you really going to judge my underwear organization system?”

Bridget grinned, tossing them into the designated drawer. “Just making sure you’re civilized.”

Sally rolled her eyes but smiled. This—this small, mundane ritual of sorting and organizing—felt like home, felt like something familiar in the midst of all the change.

And then, Bridget reached for the second suitcase.

Sally instantly knew.

A slow grin spread across her face as she unzipped it.

Toiletries.

“Ah. The essentials,” Sally murmured, pulling out her familiar bottles of shampoo, face wash, and perfume. Once they were out, the plastic packages were displayed. “Pink? You got me pink diapers?” Sally frowned at the four packages of diapers neatly tucked into the large suitcase. She was sectretly delighted. “What happened with variety?”

Bridget smirked. “I figured you’d like them. A way to welcome you to your new home. Or your first new home.”

Sally nodded in approval, stacking the packages neatly in the closet.

It was a small thing, but with every diaper package stacked, every bottle placed, every familiar scent settling into the space, the apartment felt less foreign—a little more hers.

--

By the time dinner arrived, neither Sally nor Bridget had the energy for anything more elaborate than unpacking boxes and ordering in.

Sally had found a local restaurant that delivered quickly, and within twenty minutes, she was riding the elevator down to the lobby to grab their order.

Rafa gave her a knowing nod as she stepped out. “Already part of the neighborhood, huh?”

Sally grinned, holding up the takeout bag. “Step one of survival. Food.”

She made her way back up, the warm scent of grilled salmon and roasted vegetables filling the apartment as she unpacked it onto the kitchen counter.

They ate heartily, the first real meal since their journey, and Sally felt a quiet relief watching her mother eat. Bridget, despite her complaints of indigestion earlier, was happily working through her plate, looking much more herself.

Between bites of perfectly flaky salmon, they discussed the next steps for making the apartment functional.

“We need food staples,” Bridget mused, spearing a roasted carrot with her fork.

Sally nodded, swallowing. “Definitely. Can’t live off restaurant delivery forever.”

“You mean, we shouldn’t.”

Sally smirked. “Same thing.”

Bridget shot her a knowing look before glancing at her phone. “There’s a farmers market not too far from here. Maybe we can check it out tomorrow.”

Sally perked up at that. “That sounds… surprisingly fun.”

Bridget smiled. “Because it is. And because I know you love fresh strawberries.”

Sally grinned, popping a piece of roasted zucchini into her mouth.

Sally popped a roasted carrot into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Sounds perfect. But—just so you know—Otto scheduled our first meeting at eight. He said coffee, but I have a feeling he’ll feed me.”

Bridget raised a brow, amused. “So, you’re being mentored and catered to. Not a bad deal.”

Sally grinned. “Exactly. Which means you can sleep in, get some actual rest. When I get back, we can go farmer’s market hunting.”

Bridget sighed theatrically, sipping her tea. “Sleeping in sounds dangerous. I might get used to it.”

Sally smirked. “Live a little.”

Dinner wrapped up slowly, their exhaustion settling in, but it was the good kind of tired. The kind that came after a long day well spent.

 

They curled up on the couch, Sally now changed into her comfy summer pajamas—soft cotton shorts and a loose, breathable t-shirt. Her new pink diaper was peeking out of her shorts, but she didn’t care. 

Bridget scrolled through the streaming options, settling on a lighthearted movie they both barely paid attention to.

The city lights flickered through the windows, and for the first time, Sally truly felt like she was in New York.

--

By the time Sally made it to bed, she felt boneless with exhaustion—but content.

She collapsed onto her bed, stretching out, letting the plush mattress mold to her perfectly.

It was too warm to be buried under covers, so she kicked them off, leaving only a light sheet tangled at her feet.

The apartment was perfectly climate-controlled, no unwanted humidity or chill, but still, there was something about sleeping without a blanket that made her feel freer—like she was floating. She pulled her shorts off. The pink diaper peeked at her from under the hem of her shirt. She smiled. She laid back.

She lay there, staring up at the ceiling, eyes half-lidded as her mind drifted.

Through the thick, soundproof windows, she couldn’t actually hear the city, but she imagined it.

She could picture the soft hum of traffic, the occasional distant wail of a siren, the rhythmic thrum of life continuing outside her cocoon of comfort.

And above it all—the skyline.

Sally shifted slightly, stretching her legs and sinking deeper into the mattress, her body finally giving in to the weight of exhaustion. She released what meager reserves she had in her, feeling her diaper warm up ever so slightly. She only had had a Perrier for dinner. 

The cool sheets felt smooth against her skin, the air inside the apartment perfectly balanced, leaving her neither too warm nor too cold—just comfortable enough to lull her into stillness.

 

Her eyes flickered toward the expanse of glass windows, the cityscape stretching far beyond her reach, yet so close she could almost touch it.

The skyline glittered with life—windows lit up like stars, taxis weaving through the streets below, a city that never truly slept.

She imagined it—the low hum of activity, the muffled conversations of late-night wanderers, the distant echo of a siren rolling between the buildings.

Even without the sound, she could feel it.

New York was breathing, moving, existing beyond the silence of her apartment.

She rolled onto her side, tucking an arm under her pillow, her lashes fluttering as her mind drifted between wakefulness and sleep.

There was something comforting about it all—about being high above the streets, wrapped in a world of her own, yet still connected to everything below.

Her thoughts blurred, snippets of the day melting together.

 

The ride into the city.

Unpacking with her mother.

Her art strapped into the seat like a precious passenger.

The golden hour glow filtering through the windows.

Grilled salmon and roasted vegetables.

Farmers market tomorrow.

Soft laughter on the couch.

 

Her body grew heavier, her breathing slower, deeper.

She was here.

This was home now.

With the Manhattan skyline watching over her, Sally closed her eyes—and slept.

--

The soft chime of her alarm broke through the early morning stillness, pulling Sally from sleep. She blinked groggily, stretching slightly, her limbs still heavy with warmth from the bed.

For a moment, she considered burrowing back into her pillow, but then she remembered—her first meeting with Otto.

With a sigh, she pushed back the covers, careful not to make too much noise. Her mother was still asleep, and she intended to let her rest.

She moved quietly through the room, untaping her diaper and rolling it into a ball. She pulled on a casual but polished outfit—dark jeans, a crisp white button-up, and a lightweight jacket. Effortless but put together.

Tugging a comb through her hair, she let her natural waves fall into place, then slipped on her watch and a pair of simple earrings.

Satisfied, she padded into the kitchen, where the courtesy Nespresso machine sat neatly on the counter. The capsules had been left as a welcome gift from Philippe, her real estate agent, and she had to admit, they came in handy now.

She popped a capsule in, listening to the machine hum to life, filling the space with the rich aroma of coffee.

As she took her first sip, she checked her phone—a new message from Sheba, her driver:

 

In position whenever you’re ready, Miss Weiss.

 

Sally smiled faintly, impressed by the professionalism. She grabbed her bag, took one last sip of coffee, and stepped into the private elevator.

--

As the doors slid open, Rafa was already waiting in the lobby, his usual sharp eye scanning her over.

“Up early for a Saturday, Miss Weiss,” he commented, amused.

Sally smirked, adjusting the strap of her bag. “Apparently, business doesn’t sleep.”

Rafa nodded toward the curb. “Your car is waiting.”

Sally turned, stepping outside—and there it was.

A black Cadillac Escalade, sleek and polished, its dark tinted windows blending into the morning shadows.

The driver’s side door opened, and out stepped Sheba—a tall, strong-built Black woman, dressed in an impeccable chauffeur’s uniform, moving with the quiet confidence of someone completely in control of her job.

She pulled open the rear door, then turned toward Sally, giving her a nod of respect.

“Miss Weiss, I’m Sheba. It’s a pleasure.”

Sally gave a polite smile, immediately sensing Sheba was someone who commanded respect without demanding it.

“Nice to meet you, Sheba.”

Sheba gestured to the open door. “I’ll be at your disposal for the weekend. If you need anything—routes, stops, refreshments—just say the word. There’s a minibar between the  seats, feel free to help yourself.”

Sally slid into the plush leather captain chair, the interior cool and luxurious, and buckled her seatbelt.

Sheba took her place behind the wheel and adjusted the rearview mirror, meeting Sally’s gaze. “Where to, Miss Weiss?”

Sally pulled up the address Otto had given her. “217 West 57th Street.”

Sheba did a double take, her brows lifting slightly in surprise.

“Central Park Tower?” she asked, clearly impressed.

Sally glanced briefly at her phone, confirming the address, then looked up at the towering skyline ahead. “That’s what it says.”

Sheba gave a slight nod, offering no further questions. “Tallest residential building in the Western Hemisphere,” she remarked. “Some of the most expensive real estate in the city. You ever been?”

Sally shook her head. “First time.”

Sheba left it at that, keeping her focus on the road.

The drive continued in comfortable silence, the hum of the city filling the gaps. Sally appreciated that Sheba wasn’t the prying type—just professional and efficient.

Still, after a moment, Sheba spoke again, more out of natural politeness than curiosity.

“I’ve only been inside once, picking up a client. The place is… something else. Whole different world.”

Sally hummed in acknowledgment, watching the glass skyscrapers blur past. She had no doubt Otto would pick somewhere just like that for their first meeting.

Minutes later, Sheba pulled onto 57th Street, the massive structure of Central Park Tower coming into full view.

She brought the Escalade to a smooth stop at the front entrance, shifting into park with quiet efficiency.

“Alright, here we are. You want me to wait, or you’ll text?”

Sally unbuckled her seatbelt. “I’ll text. Should be a couple of hours.”

Sheba nodded, stepping out quickly to open the door for her. “Take your time, Miss Weiss. I’ll be nearby.”

Sally gave her a small nod of appreciation before turning toward the entrance, adjusting her blazer as she took in the imposing, gleaming tower ahead.

Without hesitation, she strode toward the lobby doors, ready to see what Otto had in store for her.

--

Otto opened the heavy wooden door with a smooth push, stepping aside to let Sally enter first. The moment she crossed the threshold, her breath caught in her throat.

The views.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed an unreal panorama of Central Park, stretching out in a lush green expanse, the city skyline wrapping around it like a steel-and-glass embrace. Beyond that, New York sprawled endlessly, streets like veins threading through its towering structures. The vastness of it all made her feel small—and yet, somehow, part of something larger.

Otto, noticing her reaction, smirked. “Feels different when you’re this high up, doesn’t it?”

Sally nodded, stepping forward instinctively. “It’s like… seeing the world laid out in front of you.”

Otto folded his arms, glancing out at the skyline like an old friend. “This place? Pure indulgence. A purchase straight from the heart. No profit, no resale plans. Just the kind of place that makes you stop and remember why we work so damn hard.”

Sally turned to him, arching a brow. “So, you do have a heart.”

Otto chuckled. “I keep it well hidden. Don’t spread the word.”

With that, he gestured for her to follow him through the spacious, tastefully decorated living area. Sleek, modern furniture contrasted with touches of warmth—bookshelves filled with worn volumes, a grand piano standing quietly in the corner, a tray set with a pot of coffee and delicate porcelain cups. The space felt lived in, not just a trophy penthouse.

“Come on, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” He led her toward an open-concept seating area, where a woman was already standing, watching their approach with a warm smile.

She was gracefully elegant, effortlessly stylish in a cream-colored blouse and tailored slacks, her dark hair loosely pinned up. Her sharp yet inviting features hinted at an ageless charm, and her deep-set eyes, lined with just a touch of makeup, carried the kind of quiet confidence that came with experience.

Otto gestured toward her with a casual wave. “Sally, meet Isabella Moreau. Isa. She’s been putting up with me for more years than either of us would like to admit.”

Isa stepped forward, her heels making a light click against the polished floor. “And yet, here I am. Either I’m a saint, or he’s not as terrible as he pretends to be.” She turned to Sally with an appraising glance, then smiled. “Chère, it’s a pleasure. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

Sally, feeling instantly at ease, extended her hand, but Isa bypassed the formal shake and pulled her into a light embrace instead, kissing the air beside each cheek in the effortless way of a true Parisian. Sally blinked but recovered quickly, grinning.

“I—uh, same here.” Sally smiled, feeling instantly at ease. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Otto scoffed as he poured himself a coffee. “You see that? I bring her into my home, and she’s already taking Isa’s side.”

Isa smirked, settling into her seat. “Well, cher, can you blame her?”

Sally chuckled, glancing between them, already sensing the easy familiarity between the two. She had a feeling this was going to be a far more relaxed conversation than she had expected.Isa rolled her eyes. “Oh, Otto, don’t be dramatic. Sit, sit—let’s talk.”

As Sally took a seat in one of the soft, oversized chairs, she realized something.

She wasn’t nervous anymore.

And, judging by Otto’s smirk and Isa’s knowing glance, they knew it too.

--

Isa reached for the silver tray on the coffee table, lifting the lid to reveal a selection of delicate pastries—golden croissants, flaky pain au chocolat, and small fruit tarts, each one looking impossibly perfect. A soft, buttery aroma filled the air, making Sally realize just how long it had been since her early-morning Nespresso.

“You must have coffee,” Isa said, already reaching for an elegant porcelain cup. “Otto pretends he knows how to host, but he’d let you sit here starving if I weren’t around.”

Otto snorted, but didn’t argue. “She’s French. Everything revolves around food.”

Isa shot him a look before handing Sally the steaming cup. “Don’t listen to him. He enjoys every bit of it.” She added a small plate with a croissant and a raspberry tart before settling back into her chair with a satisfied sigh.

Sally took the coffee with a grateful nod. It was rich, smooth, perfectly brewed—the kind of coffee that made instant regret the invention of drive-thru chains. She took a careful sip, then leaned back into the comfortable chair, eyeing Otto with curiosity.

“So, was this part of the plan?” she asked, glancing between him and Isa. “Or do I just happen to be lucky enough to get the best mentorship introduction ever?”

Otto smirked. “Let’s just say Isa invited herself.”

Isa lifted a brow, looking entirely unbothered. “Someone had to make sure he didn’t frighten you off within the first five minutes. And I wanted to meet you.”

Sally smiled at that, breaking off a piece of her croissant. “Well, I appreciate the intervention. I was expecting something a lot more… intense.”

Otto leaned back, sipping his coffee. “Oh, don’t get comfortable. This is just the warm-up.”

Isa waved a hand dismissively. “Ignore him. There’s plenty of time for all that. Today, I just want to know who you are, chère. Tell me—what does Sally Weiss love? Beyond the obvious—art, travel, fast cars.”

Sally blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the question. She glanced at Otto, who just gave her an expectant look, clearly interested in her answer.

She took a thoughtful sip of her coffee, then smiled.

“I love learning things that make me see the world differently.

Otto’s expression remained unreadable, but Isa’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile.

“Now that, my dear, is a very good answer.”

--

Isa studied Sally for a moment, her smile lingering as she reached for her own coffee. “You love learning things that change your perspective. That tells me you’re curious, but also selective. You don’t just want to know things—you want to know the right things.”

Sally hesitated, then nodded. “I guess that’s true. I don’t like wasting time on things that don’t interest me. If I’m learning something, I want it to matter.”

Otto set his cup down with a quiet clink. “That’s a good instinct. You don’t have to be an expert in everything. You just have to know what’s worth your time. The trick is figuring that out.”

Isa tilted her head slightly, still watching Sally closely. “So, what’s worth your time right now? Besides school. What’s something you want to learn? Not because you have to, but because it excites you?”

Sally thought about it, breaking off another piece of croissant as she considered her answer. “I want to be more confident speaking in front of people. I know I have this fundraiser coming up, and I want to do it well. But also… I don’t just want to sound prepared. I want to sound like I believe in what I’m saying.”

Otto nodded slightly, as if he’d been expecting this. “Good. Because that’s something you’ll need, not just for this fundraiser, but for the rest of your life. People will listen to you, whether you like it or not. What they take away from it depends on how well you use your voice.”

Isa’s gaze softened. “And confidence isn’t just about how well you deliver a speech, chère. It’s about how well you know yourself. The best speakers aren’t the ones who memorize words perfectly—they’re the ones who know exactly what they stand for.”

Sally sat with that for a moment, rolling the thought over in her mind.

Otto leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on the table. “You have time to figure that out. But let’s start small. You said you want to get better at public speaking. What’s stopping you now?”

Sally hesitated before admitting, “I hate the idea of people judging me. I know they will, and I know it’s part of life, but… I don’t like feeling like I’m on display.”

Otto’s lips twitched slightly, as if she’d just confirmed something for him. “Good. That’s honest. Now, tell me—do you think people judge you more when you hesitate or when you own what you say?”

Sally exhaled. “I guess… when I hesitate.”

Isa smiled. “Then that’s your first lesson. If you’re going to say something, say it like you mean it. Even if you’re unsure. Especially if you’re unsure. It’s better to be bold and wrong than hesitant and ignored.”

Otto gave a small nod of approval. “And that’s why Isa’s here. She says things better than I do.”

Isa chuckled, but didn’t argue. Instead, she turned back to Sally. “So, tell me about this fundraiser speech. What do you want to say?”

Sally hesitated, then admitted, “I don’t know yet. I’ve thought about it, but every time I try to put words together, they feel… shallow. Like I’m saying what people expect, not what I really want to say.”

Otto sat back. “That’s because you’re trying to sound right instead of real. So let’s start from the beginning—why does this cause matter to you? Forget the event, forget the donors, forget the speeches. Why do you care?”

Sally looked down at her cup, tracing the rim with her finger. She hadn’t put it in words before, not even to herself. But now, in this quiet, expectant space, she felt the answer forming.

She looked up at Otto, then at Isa.

“Because I know what it’s like to be given a chance. And I want other people to have that too.”

Isa’s smile grew. “And there it is. The heart of your message. Now, we just need to help you say it.”

--

Isa poured herself another cup of coffee, her gaze thoughtful as she regarded Sally. “Your mother… you speak about her with such warmth. It’s beautiful. Tell me about her.”

Sally blinked at the sudden shift in conversation, but she smiled, settling back into her chair. “She’s… everything. The one person I know will always have my back, no matter what.” She glanced down at the rim of her coffee cup, tracing it absentmindedly. “She’s strong, but she doesn’t show it in the obvious way. She’s not loud, not overbearing. But I’ve never once doubted her. She’s steady.”

Otto nodded approvingly. “A foundation. That’s important.”

Isa tilted her head slightly, watching her. “And your father?”

Sally hesitated, but only for a moment. “He’s different. But I think… I think he’s trying. And I think I want him to.”

Otto studied her for a beat, then nodded. “Good. It means you’re giving him a chance. And he’s smart enough to take it.”

Isa smiled warmly. “That’s what matters. Love—true, deep love—creates a foundation. And when you have that, you can grow into whoever you want to be.”

Sally let that settle in her chest, letting the warmth of their words sit with her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever thought about it that way before.

Otto leaned back, resting his arm on the chair’s armrest. “Speaking of your father, I hear you’ve been making quite the entrance into the car world.”

Sally rolled her eyes, but she grinned. “Oh no. Let me guess. You’ve seen the pictures?”

Otto smirked. “Hard to miss. A factory-black Ferrari F-40 doesn’t exactly slip under the radar. Especially with the right passenger.”

Isa arched a brow. “You like cars? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Sally laughed. “I don’t just like them—I think they’re art.”

Otto raised an eyebrow. “Art?”

Sally nodded, leaning forward slightly. “Think about it. A well-designed car… it’s like a sculpture. The lines, the way it moves, the way it’s crafted. It’s a balance of power and beauty. Just like a painting or a sculpture—it’s about how it makes you feel.”

Isa’s lips curled into a slow smile. “Now, that is an interesting perspective. And not one I’ve heard often.”

Otto chuckled. “Well, that explains the Mustang.”

Sally groaned. “Let it go, Otto.”

Isa laughed softly, but then her expression softened, as if something had shifted in the conversation. She and Otto exchanged a brief glance, something unspoken passing between them.

Sally felt it. A subtle shift in energy.

Isa turned back to her, voice gentler now. “And your own art? You’ve never really said why it matters to you.”

 

Sally hesitated, the warmth in her chest cooling slightly. The car crash. The sense of insecurity. The diapers. Her safe space. Her growth.

She shrugged lightly, staring at the remaining swirl of coffee in her cup. “I don’t know. It’s just… something I do.”

Otto’s gaze sharpened slightly, but he didn’t press. “A tool, then. A way to make sense of things.”

Sally nodded. “Something like that.”

They didn’t push further. They didn’t need to. Otto and Isa weren’t blind—they had both seen people use different outlets to manage stress, grief, emotions too big to process all at once.

But they let her keep that part of herself untouched, for now.

Sally glanced at her phone and straightened slightly. “Oh—I should get going. My mom is probably wondering where I am.” She quickly sent a text to Sheba, letting her know she was ready.

Otto stood, stretching his arms. “Not bad for a first meeting.”

Isa rose with a soft smile. “Not bad at all. We’ll do this again, Sally. I have a feeling we’ll be seeing quite a lot of each other.”

Sally nodded, her heart unexpectedly full. “I’d like that.”

As she made her way toward the door, Otto clapped a hand lightly on her shoulder. “You’re off to a good start, kiddo. We’ll make sure you get where you need to be.”

She stepped into the elevator, feeling something she hadn’t quite expected.

A sense of belonging.

A sense that this?

This was only the beginning.

--

Sally leaned back against the plush leather seat of the Escalade, watching as the buildings of Midtown blurred past the window. The morning sun had climbed higher, casting warm light onto the bustling streets of 7th Avenue, but she barely registered it. Her focus was on her phone.

Still no reply from her mother.

She frowned, tapping the screen again, checking for any new notifications. Nothing. Strange. Her mother wasn’t the type to ignore messages, especially when she knew Sally was out. Maybe she was just distracted, busy with something.

Or maybe she wasn’t feeling great.

Sally chewed her lip, thinking back to last night. Bridget had actually eaten well—grilled salmon and vegetables, finishing her plate without hesitation. That had reassured Sally at the time, made her believe her mother was on the mend. But still, there had been something in the way she moved, the careful way she sipped her tea, as if testing her own body’s reaction. Not quite cautious, but aware. Sally told herself not to overthink it—her mother had insisted it was just stress. But even so, she made a mental note to keep a closer eye on her today.

The car slowed as they turned into the quieter streets of Soho, the energy shifting from the chaotic rush of Midtown to the more relaxed, stylish atmosphere of downtown. As they pulled up in front of her building, Sheba climbed out swiftly, opening Sally’s door before she could even reach for the handle.

“I know, I know,” Sheba said before Sally could complain. “I’m too used to doing it. Can’t help myself.”

Sally huffed a small laugh but appreciated the gesture. “Thanks, Sheba.”

Sheba nodded. “Call me when you need me. I’ll be close.”

Sally grabbed her bag and stepped toward the entrance, where Rafa was already waiting by the elevator, holding the door open for her.

“Miss Weiss, welcome back.”

She flashed him a small smile, distracted. “Thanks, Rafa.”

The elevator ride up felt routine, her earlier worries slipping to the back of her mind. Now that she was home, the familiar comfort of her surroundings settled in. Her brief exchange with Sheba, Rafa’s usual welcome—it all felt normal, grounding. She was already thinking about what her mother might be up to, maybe still lounging in bed or making coffee. The soft chime of the elevator pulled her from her thoughts as the doors slid open. 

Sally stepped forward—and froze.

A chill ran through her, as if the temperature in the room had dropped.

Her mother was on the sofa, curled on her side, arms wrapped around her stomach, her body tense with pain.

Sally’s breath caught.

Bridget’s face was pale, almost gray, her forehead damp with sweat. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes squeezed shut. Her entire body was rigid, as if bracing against something unbearable.

“Mom?” Sally’s voice came out small, unsure, her heart pounding.

Bridget let out a low groan, blinking her eyes open slowly at the sound of Sally’s voice. The moment their gazes met, Sally saw something she had never seen in her mother before.

Real pain. Deep, relentless, unyielding.

Bridget swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… didn’t sleep a wink. The pain—nothing helps. Everything just makes it worse... I left my phone in my bedroom, and well, couldn’t get it”, she said, weakly.

Sally dropped her bag to the floor and rushed to her side, hovering, uncertain of what to do. Her mother’s hands were pressed to her abdomen, just under her ribs, and every few seconds her body shuddered slightly, as if even breathing hurt.

Sally felt a creeping sense of panic.

This wasn’t just a stomachache.

This was bad.

“Okay. We’re going to the doctor,” Sally said, her voice firmer than she felt.

Bridget gave a weak shake of her head. “I don’t think I can walk.”

That single sentence hit Sally like a slap of cold water.

She had never—never—seen her mother in a state where she couldn’t physically move on her own.

Sally’s breathing picked up slightly, her hands feeling useless at her sides. She had to think. Fast.

Her mother needed help.

And it was up to her to figure out how to get it.

--

[Dirty Boy]

I hope it's nothing serious, i first thought Bridget might be pregnant

[kerry]

23 hours ago, FlyingFox said:

Three more chapters. I hope you enjoy it.

Out of curiosity, why do you post three chapters at a time? I have to carve out a long block of space each time you post just to read it... Shorter postings, maybe more frequently—daily?—would be easier to handle.

[FlyingFox]

16 hours ago, Dirty Boy said:

I hope it's nothing serious, i first thought Bridget might be pregnant

Not morning sickness, for sure. At least she's in a great location for medical attention.

 

42 minutes ago, kerry said:

Out of curiosity, why do you post three chapters at a time? I have to carve out a long block of space each time you post just to read it... Shorter postings, maybe more frequently—daily?—would be easier to handle.

The reason I post in larger blocks is that I find it essential for maintaining the natural flow of the story. Writing in longer segments allows me to fully develop ideas, emotions, and pacing in a way that feels immersive and cohesive. If I were to break up these sections into smaller, more frequent posts, it could disrupt the rhythm of the narrative and make it harder for readers to experience the story as intended.

Additionally, from a creative standpoint, shorter and more frequent posts can be challenging for me as a writer. When I get into the flow of storytelling, I like to let the ideas take shape organically without constantly stopping and starting. Publishing in larger chunks ensures that each update delivers meaningful progress in the story rather than feeling fragmented or rushed.

That said, I truly value reader engagement and always want my work to be enjoyable and accessible. While I may not be able to shift to daily postings, I’ll certainly keep your perspective in mind moving forward. Thank you again for reading and for sharing your thoughts—I appreciate your support!

[jen1234]

appendices????  911

[erik_hamburg]

Very good chapter. I love to see Sally growing in her role, in her life. Some very true words in there as well. Whatever you say, say it with confidence. Whenever you hold a speech, make sure to own and believe in the message. 
 

So on to the hard things. Stomach issues, the pain, etc. could be a lot. With the fever and pain I could see different things. Appendicitis being the most obvious one, but there are other options. Diverticulitis with intestinal rupture could be another one. I don’t really think about cancer at this stake. Symptoms seem to have come up quite suddenly, which indicates some sort of heavy inflammation. 
 

looking forward to more!