In the drawer of my newly acquired house, a place I had yet to call home, I stumbled upon a bottle of lubricant.

Cathy Short, whose cheeks were aflame with embarrassment, confessed that she and Jack Short had succumbed to their passions, unable to restrain themselves. Cathy and Jack were my husband's parents.

My stomach churned with disgust; this was the new bed my husband, William Short, and I had purchased, still untouched by us.

In a surge of anger, I reclaimed the keys from Cathy and Jack.

Yet, a month later, that bottle of lubricant reappeared on the bedside table, accompanied by a pair of torn black stockings.

...

The house, freshly renovated, still breathed in the winds of change as it aired out.

A typhoon loomed on the horizon, prompting me to rush over and secure the windows.

It was then, in a casual pull of the bedside table, that I found the lubricant again.

A blaze of fury ignited within me. The significance of this object, known to those who had sex experiences, was all too clear.

Cathy also came to close the windows and caught sight of what I held. Her face mirrored the crimson of shame.

"Yvonne, Jack and I were just..."

She stammered.

"We were still young at heart. When we saw these new things, we couldn't resist."

I was furious.

This was my room and my bed, untouched by William and me.

Yet, they had desecrated it.

"You have your own rooms! Must you soil my bed with your indiscretions?"

Cathy was visibly discomforted and offered a slew of apologies.

"Jack and I share a strong bond, as you know.

"We're only in our forties, after all, and it's natural to have sexual desires."

Cathy then promised to replace the bed at once.

I watched in silence as she went to the furniture store and purchased an exact replica.

I then reclaimed the keys.

I couldn't allow them entry before I officially moved in. The thought of them, overcome by excitement, potentially having sex in my room was too repulsive to entertain.

The more I dwelled on it, the more the disgust festered within me.

Cathy seemed merely sad, offering no further words.

She simply surrendered the keys.

Yet, the more I pondered, the more I wished to discard the entire room, not just the bed.

But this was the house I had bought with my hard-earned money, and as repulsive as it felt, I had to endure it.

Nights became restless. Unable to bear the torment any longer, I confided in William.

Avoiding my gaze, William momentarily flustered and offered the same tired excuses.

"Yvonne, my parents are only in their forties, and it's normal for them to have sex.

"Their closeness should bring us joy, shouldn't it?"

I kicked him.

It wasn't their closeness I begrudged but the sanctity of my own space they had violated.

For a time, Cathy and I coexisted under the same roof in the old house.

An unspoken tension hung in the air.

The images of their sex in my new home haunted me.

Each recollection was a fresh wave of nausea for me.

Cathy and Jack were young and progressive in their ways.

They affectionately called each other "Honey" and "Baby."

Their public displays of affection were unfettered by our presence.

Once, I had seen their bond as something to celebrate.

Now, it only filled me with an overwhelming sense of sickness.

The thought gnawed at me relentlessly: if they could defile my new bed, what of the old one?

The possibility was undeniable.

By day, I toiled away, leaving Cathy to cradle my daughter, Mia, in my bed.

I had never before suspected Jack of joining her, but now, the thought gnawed at me.

In a desperate bid for clarity, I installed a camera in the room.

Through the lens of my workplace, I watched as Cathy cooed over Mia.

Her solo vigil was unbroken until Jack appeared, clad only in shorts, and settled beside her.

They embraced, and their lips met in a passionate kiss.

A wave of fury surged through me with a primal urge to rush home and teach them a harsh lesson.

Yet, their actions remained within the bounds of a tender moment; nothing more scandalous unfolded.

Jack eventually departed, leaving Cathy to continue her slumber with Mia.

The mere thought of their presence on my sheets was enough to make me retch.

I almost vomited at the thought.

I forwarded the surveillance footage to William.

I hoped for understanding, but instead, he berated me, accusing me of invading his parents' privacy and branding me a peeping Tom.

Shit!

His reaction only fueled my ire.

I thought, "How could his father so casually lounge on my bed in his shorts? Their actions were so shameless, so why did William expect no one to speak of it?"

The lack of boundaries was insufferable.

I stormed home, and Mia was already awake, playing contentedly by herself.

Dressed in their usual finery, Jack and Cathy were engrossed in the television show.

My unexpected return unruffled their composure. They continued as if nothing was amiss.

Such displays of affection were commonplace when we were all together, a testament to their enduring bond that I once admired.

I had even shared snapshots of their embraces on social media, envying the love that seemed ageless.

I also wished that William and I could still be so sweet when we grew old.

But now, the image of them entangled on my bed tainted my view, replacing admiration with revulsion.

"Yvonne, why are you back so early?" Cathy approached me.

I brushed her off. My mind was filled with disgust.

I marched straight to my room, stripping the bed of its linens and tossing them into the trash downstairs.

Cathy persisted in her inquiries.

But my anger boiled over.

"What am I doing? It's filthy," I spat out.

"It's filthy like that bed. I don't want it anymore. I'm discarding it."

Her cheeks flushed, but Jack cast a suspicious glance at me.

"What bed is filthy and lost?" he questioned.

I thought, "Why were they still feigning ignorance?"

Cathy tugged at his sleeve, silencing his interrogation.

I remade the bed with fresh linens and relocated Mia's belongings to the living room, sealing my bedroom door.

"Don't enter my room anymore. I'll place Mia in the crib in the living room from now on," I declared.

Cathy nodded with a concession, while Jack seemed displeased.

"Why disturb her in the morning when she's sleeping soundly?

"Is she sleeping well if you carry her from your room to the living room?

"Wouldn't it be nice for Cathy to go and keep her company, just like before?"

"No, it wouldn't!" I snapped.

My voice was trembling with barely contained rage.

My mind was a montage of those intrusive images of their possible sex.

No matter how hard I tried, the shadow lingered.

Jack was poised to confront me, but Cathy intervened, pulling him away.

That night, William berated me.

"You're out of your mind. My father is right. Why are you tormenting our daughter?"

"I can't stand your mom sleeping in my bed," I retorted.

"Then how could you tolerate it before? Why are you suddenly losing it now?"

The chasm between us felt insurmountable.

I let my emotions spill forth.

"That's because I didn't know before that they slept on my bed! William, you can stand your parents in our bed, but I can't.

"I just can't stand it, okay?"

Realizing the volume of my voice, William quickly covered my mouth.

"You're insane. Why are you shouting? Why are you making a scene about this?"

I pulled his hand away and continued shouting.

"You also know this kind of thing can't be known to others. You still have some dignity. I thought you didn't want that."

William's anger flared.

He pushed me onto the bed.

"I told you not to talk nonsense. My parents are also human beings. They also have sexual needs.

"Imagine if we were in our forties and our son and his wife forbade us from having sex. Could you accept that?"

"You're insane. I wouldn't care how much noise they made during their sex behind closed doors.

"But they are not allowed to do it in my room."

"Enough. They only came to sleep with Mia. You saw it yourself. They didn't do anything."

As William spoke, he moved to remove my clothes.

I reacted instinctively to kick his stomach.

I thought, "Shit!

Men were bastards.

At this moment, he could still think of having sex."

How could I possibly comply?

I flung open the door and stepped out. Jack and Cathy were standing in the living room with displeasure.

They had obviously overheard my conversation with William.

I didn't care if they were unhappy because I had said it intentionally for them to hear.

I wondered if they would still maintain any sense of decorum at home and if they would ever commit such shameless acts again.

I picked up Mia, ready to return to my room, but Jack blocked my path.

"Yvonne, I heard what you said. You can't say whatever you please.

"Especially, you can't slander others about matters like this."

It was ridiculous!

Jack felt wronged.

"Then why did you do those things? If you do them, why can't people talk about it?"

Jack blushed.

"What did we do? Did you see us do anything?"

"Do you expect me to witness it? How shameless."

As we teetered on the brink of a full-blown argument, Cathy, still clinging to a semblance of dignity, pulled Jack back to their room.

Jack continued to mutter as they walked away.

"What did she mean? What did we do to make her so angry?"

I couldn't help but laugh at their pretense.

I might not have concrete evidence about their sex in my new house, but who else could it be if not them?