She lived a measured life—nothing could happen—until he appeared. A young, stubborn guy wins her over, and she’s afraid of becoming attached to him. He says “I love you,” and she waits for betrayal. He is eleven years younger.
And she doesn’t want to be just a stage in his life—a step he’ll step over.
But with his arrival, her life suddenly sparkled with different colors. The temptation to feel loved is too great. Common sense and passion toss the woman around like a little boat in a storm—heart flutters and rises to the heavens, then shatters into splinters from pain.
Is there a happy ending for relationships like these?
Contains profanity.