June 11th
It was the day Andy had been eagerly waiting for, his 18th birthday was quickly approaching.
He had meticulously planned every detail for that special day, making it the best yet.
Andy was going to spend the entire night with Abby, his girlfriend
The two would cuddle close, watch a movie, share kisses, and culminate the night with intimate moments. Everything was perfectly arranged.
His dad was out of town on one of his frequent business trips. He felt guilty about leaving this time, especially since it was the first birthday Andy was celebrating without his mother.
Andy knew it was difficult for him to be away, but duty called, he told himself. At least he left his credit card, so he wouldn't go short.
Andy glanced at my phone: "5pm—only a few hours left," he thought with excitement building.
He reached for his phone and dialled Abby's number. It rang several times before going to voicemail.
"Huh, she usually answers after three rings. Anyway, I'll just pick her up," he muttered to myself.
He grabbed his car keys and set out on the 40-minute drive to her house.
It felt like no time at all because he was too excited to notice the distance passing.
Finally, he arrived at Abby's house—a luxurious two-story home nestled in the suburbs.
Andy parked by the roadside, trying to stay inconspicuous. Walking up to the front door, he gently knocked, but there was no answer.
He looked down and spotted a spare key she kept hidden underneath a flower pot.
"She really should find a better place to hide this," he thought, slipping the key into the lock and turning it softly.
The door swung open, revealing a quiet, dimly lit house. The only sounds were the hum of the refrigerator and the whirl of the vacuum cleaner.
He paused in the entryway, wondering if she was even home. He took out my phone and dialled her number again, expecting her to answer—she always had her phone nearby.
Suddenly, he heard her phone ringing from upstairs. "Oh, so she's home," he whispered to himself, trying to stay calm. Maybe she was just sleeping.
Climbing the stairs, he kept calling —her phone was ringing from her bedroom. He hesitated, then cut the call and approached her door.
It was slightly ajar, shadows playing across the doorway.
As he drew closer, he heard another voice—male and unmistakably not hers. The words were unmistakable, even through the muffled sound: "Spread them wider."
"Oh my God," he thought, uncertain whether she was watching porn or something else. His hand instinctively reached for the handle.
Pushing the door open, I made my presence known.
"Hey, Abby, I came to get you for... my... birthday party..." he said, but his words caught in his throat. The brightness of her smile vanished instantly, replaced by shock and disbelief.
"Andy!" Abby screamed as Andy took in the scene inside. Max, my best friend since childhood, was mid-thrust inside her. She quickly covered her face, overwhelmed with embarrassment.
Max didn't say a word; he just stared at Andy—his expression cold, judgmental, as if blaming him, as if this was somehow Andy's fault.
Andy felt his stomach tighten. He shut the door and then reopened it, desperate to determine whether he was dreaming or if this was real.
Sadly, he knew it was all too real—and it was laughing right in my face. by shock and disbelief.