I’m thirty-six.
I’m divorced, I have a mortgage, and a son who replies to messages with just one word: “okay.”
I flew to Thailand with one goal—no men.
Only the sea, mango, and an inner rebirth.
On the very first day, I was knocked over by an inflatable flamingo.
The culprit is a young instructor, tanned to indecency, with the smile of a man who’s never been told “no.”
I said it. I know how to say “no.”
He didn’t believe me.
Fourteen days. One hotel.
An instructor who teaches not only how to stay on your board.
And a woman who’s firmly decided: no romances, and especially nothing with “underage guys.”
Spoiler: none of us turned out to be as smart as we thought.
18+. Humor, passion, and a ten-year age gap that nobody counted.